“Miss Daire.” Patrick interrupted her thoughts. “I see you have already made the acquaintance of our coachman, Fabrizio Ricci.”
“You may tell Patrick when you will leave. I will bring the car for you.” Fabrizio nodded respectfully and walked away.
Her mysterious rescuer was not a guest from the Continent. He was one of the hired help. Natalie stared thoughtfully at his departing back.
Chapter 3
Natalie!” A familiar voice called her name. It belonged to Eleanor Royal, one of the circle of friends she palled around with in Denver. She could be outspoken but fun, the kind of person her father expected her to associate with. Unlike her mysterious rescuer from the previous evening. Natalie cast a longing look at the door through which the coachman had disappeared and greeted her friend. They entered the dining room together and observed as a waiter floated a fresh tablecloth over a window table and laid out two place settings.
“I expect we shall be here several days.” Eleanor tucked her napkin in her lap. “I love the Brown, but I fear it will become boring.”
“Not at all. We shall just have to organize parlor games and other activities, as we did at school.” Natalie paused. “Speaking of school, I expected to see you at Thalia’s party. We had a wonderful time.”
“Father refused to let me go when the snow started falling. It’s just as well. Have you ever seen a storm like this?”
Natalie stared out the window. Down here on the ground level the prospect was truly frightening. Snow climbed the lower half of the window.
A querulous voice interrupted her thoughts. “Waiter!” An older woman, hair falling in precise silver waves, bellowed and jutted out her chin. A small, round man rushed to her side. “Yes, Mrs. Rushton?”
“I have two butter knives and no dinner knife. The standards at the Brown have deteriorated.”
The poor man dashed away and returned with a fresh set of silverware. The cantankerous older woman didn’t bother to thank him.
I hope I can avoid her at mealtimes. Natalie chastised herself for the unkind thought. No, God said to love everyone, not only pleasant people. Perhaps she could do something to cheer the older woman.
Natalie realized that she was staring. She turned her attention back to Eleanor. What would her friend think if she told her she wished she could go outside and build a snowman as they had when they were children? Eleanor had always preferred to stay inside where it was dry and warm. So instead, Natalie described her arrival at the Brown the night before.
“You mean to say that you drove in this weather? I don’t want to drive those scary things. But you go bravely about in that splendid car of yours.” Eleanor peered at Natalie’s forehead. “Were you hurt in the accident?”
Natalie tugged at the curl covering the bruise. “Only a small bump. Really, it was nothing.”
“And tell me more about the handsome stranger who rescued you. How romantic.”
“How providential,” Natalie corrected. “God sent me help when I needed it.” She paused. She wasn’t ready to tell her friend about her rescuer’s true identity as the hotel’s coachman. Nor would she admit her interest in him. She wanted to discover more about him, and she thought she knew how to make that happen. “I expect you shall see him soon enough. Now, let’s see if the desk clerk will show us to a room that we can use for parlor games.”
Natalie waited until Eleanor returned to her room to freshen up before she approached Patrick. “I believe the guests will become restless because of the snow.” She smiled in the way that usually won her way. “I am planning some parlor games, and I would appreciate the help of someone on the hotel staff.”
The redheaded clerk smiled back, a coconspirator. “And did you have someone particular in mind, Miss Daire?”
“I thought perhaps some of the staff cannot perform their normal duties because of the snow. Someone like—Mr. Ricci?” She blushed as she said his name.
“Certainly. No one will require his services in the garage today. Did you have a room in mind for the party?”
“I was thinking of the Ladies’ Ordinary.” Natalie mentioned the facility used for ladies’ club activities. “Only for this occasion we will welcome male guests and children.” Patrick confirmed the availability of the room and completed arrangements for a high tea service.
Later in the day, Natalie made her way to the room by herself. She was envisioning the arrangement of chairs when she heard the door open. Eleanor swept in, followed by Fabrizio. He looked as handsome as ever, if a bit uncertain. “Mr. Ricci. I’m so glad you could join us.” She walked toward him, hands outstretched.
He bowed low over her hands, a lovely Continental gesture. “I am glad to be of service.”
“And have you met my friend, Eleanor Royal?”
“Signorina Royal.” Fabrizio acknowledged the introduction.
Natalie loved the way “signorina” rolled off his tongue. She would have to study Italian.
“Oh, do let’s dispense with formalities.” Eleanor insisted in her usual blunt style. “We are planning a party, after all. We must be on a first-name basis. As you know, I’m Eleanor, and Miss Daire’s given name is Natalie.”
“As in Buon Natale.”
For a brief moment, Natalie thought that Fabrizio was calling her pretty, and she felt heat creep into her cheeks.
“In Italian, Natale means Christmas.” Fabrizio’s explanation deflected some of the heat.
“Why, that’s the same thing Natalie means in English. Her birthday is the day before Christmas, you know,” Eleanor gushed.
“Which is still a few weeks away.” Natalie wanted to get the attention off herself. She did not want to mention her coming-of-age party, and the inheritance that came with it, in front of Fabrizio. She suspected that the quiet coachman would retreat even further into himself if Eleanor revealed that. “While today we are holding a party for people stranded here at the hotel. What do you think? Shall we arrange the chairs in small circles or in a large grouping?”
“I understand that Molly Brown seats everyone in a large U-shape.” Eleanor giggled. “So her guests can meet new people.”
Molly Brown did not set Denver’s society standards, but Natalie liked the plain-spoken, kindhearted matron. “Then that’s what we shall do. We may be spending several days together, and it would be good to become better acquainted at the outset. Let’s get started.”
Natalie’s hopes to learn more about Fabrizio seemed doomed to failure. Never speaking unless spoken to, he moved with quick, precise movements, never a step out of place. She remembered how easily he moved over the snow on the skis. Every now and then a smile passed across his face. Perhaps he was thinking about his sweetheart. He could even be married. Why did the possibility leave her with a pang in her heart?
They finished arranging the room with time to spare. Eleanor wrote the names of people, places, and things from the Christmas story for a get-acquainted game. Fabrizio clasped his hands together and trained his eyes on the floor when he spoke to her. “May I do anything else to help you, signorina?”
She wished he would say “Natalie” again. It warmed her heart like the glow of Christmas candles and a cup of hot, spiced cider. But he wouldn’t; Eleanor’s suggestion to use first names probably made him uncomfortable. Guilt hit her. The poor man had arisen hours before she had, repaired her windshield, braved the weather, and then spent the afternoon helping them set up for the party.
“I hope you will join us for the tea—as our guest.” She made it an invitation, not an order.
“That would not be wise.” Fabrizio seemed determined to respect the social boundaries that separated them.
Natalie racked her brain for an excuse to see him again. The perfect answer came, one that would address two problems. “There is one thing you could do for me.”
“Anything, signorina.”
“Please invite Mrs. Rushton to join us for tea. And escort her if she needs help.” Natalie suppressed a giggle at
the surprise that flitted through his eyes.
“Fino ad allora. Until then, Signorina Daire.” He sketched a bow and left the room.
Fabrizio’s feet whispered along the plush carpet to Mrs. Rushton’s room. He could have left word of Natalie’s invitation at the front desk. He should have left it there. Everyone in the hotel avoided the old lady if possible. Her temper was legendary, and she expected perfect service, regardless of the circumstances. She would not welcome his intrusion.
But Fabrizio could not bring himself to disappoint Natalie. In his private thoughts, he savored the sound of her name. It suited her, with her golden hair shining like an angel’s halo around her head, her richness of spirit, as well as purse, that spoke in everything she did. Her dress probably cost more than his entire family spent on clothing in a year’s time. But away from her, he allowed his thoughts to linger on how the blue fabric brought out the color in her eyes. He scolded himself. The likes of Natalie Daire were not for the likes of Fabrizio Ricci.
He hesitated at the door to Mrs. Rushton’s room then knocked. He expected a maid to answer, but instead Mrs. Rushton herself cracked the door open. “Yes?” Dressed in a robe and shoulder wrap, she looked elderly and frail, not at all like the terror of the entire hotel staff.
Fabrizio cleared his throat. “Signorina Natalie Daire invites you to tea in the Ladies’ Ordinary this afternoon.” He handed her an ivory envelope.
“Nonsense. I always have tea in my room.”
“The signorina asks for you especially.” Fabrizio didn’t know why he made the extra effort. The guests would enjoy the party more without the presence of the grumbling older woman. Still, Natalie asked for Mrs. Rushton in particular. “She thinks the guests, they will be bored in all this snow.” He paused and added a final word. “She asks me to escort you to the tea.”
Mrs. Rushton’s face lined in a frown, but she did not speak.
“I will come for you in an hour.” Fabrizio left before Mrs. Rushton could refuse. He had done as Natalie wanted. Maybe now he could get the lovely heiress out of his mind. Hotel gossip buzzed about the fortune she would inherit from her grandfather on her next birthday. Fabrizio smiled. He also received a legacy from his grandfather—his name. If he could be the man his grandfather was, as brave in coming to a new country and as dedicated to his family, he would consider himself rich.
Fabrizio went to the kitchen for a bite of lunch. Conversation centered on the news from St. Clara’s Orphanage.
“Those poor Kinder, freezing in this terrible snow. They say the place has run out of coal.” Braum, the heavyset German cook, stirred soup at the stove.
Fabrizio winced. St. Clara’s housed a multitude of orphans, many of them from Denver’s Italian community. They would indeed suffer without coal to heat the home.
“The Denver Post has offered to send wagonloads of coal,” a maid mentioned. “But I don’t see how they’ll get through the snowdrifts.”
Fabrizio’s thoughts flew to his own family. Did they have enough coal? He looked at the able-bodied men sitting around the staff table. How he wished he could have made it home. His parents counted on him to help with the heavy work. His only brother, the eldest child, had married and lived with his new wife and their little ones. His four younger sisters could only do so much. If only he could find a way home. Maybe he could hitch a ride with one of the Post’s wagons. The road to the orphanage passed near his house. Perhaps, if his manager would release him from work …
An hour sped by, and he returned to the fourth floor to escort Mrs. Rushton to the tea. He determined not to let Natalie cajole him into staying. Staff did not dine with guests. A smile tugged at his mouth. Not only that, but he did not want to be the only gentleman present. Since the Ladies’ Ordinary was the hotel’s clubroom for women, men might hesitate to brave the gathering.
A transformed Mrs. Rushton answered his knock. Her beaded dress shimmered with Christmas splendor. A hint of a smile suggested her pleasure at Natalie’s invitation.
“Signora Rushton, you are lovely.”
The smile vanished. Had he spoken aloud? Fabrizio could not believe his folly. Mrs. Rushton might accuse him of familiarity to the manager. But aside from a little color in her powdered cheeks, she did not respond. “Shall we take the elevator, Signora Rushton?” He feared the steps to the eighth floor, where the tea was located, would prove too much for the older woman.
“I am not an invalid, young man.” That was classic Mrs. Rushton.
“Signorina Daire asked me to escort you.”
“Daire’s daughter? She’s a sweet young thing.” The compliment surprised Fabrizio, and he almost missed the fact that she handed him a small mesh bag. “Since Natalie insists, you may carry my reticule.”
Mrs. Rushton paused on the eighth-floor landing to catch her breath. Natalie must have spotted their approach, because she dashed forward to greet them. “Mrs. Rushton! I am so glad that you decided to join us.” Natalie took her arm and led her to the open door. She looked over her shoulder and mouthed “thank you” to Fabrizio. At that moment, he felt as though he would do anything she asked. He followed close behind.
Loud voices laced with laughter leapt through the door. Eleanor greeted Mrs. Rushton and pinned a piece of paper to the back of her dress. INNKEEPER’S WIFE. Fabrizio wondered if the appellation was intentional; he could imagine Mrs. Rushton turning away a young couple, even if the wife was pregnant. Through the open doorway, he could see a few men and several children mingling with female guests. Natalie led Mrs. Rushton to the seat of honor.
Fabrizio hovered near the door, watching the gaiety, remembering happy gatherings at home. He was preparing to leave when Natalie returned. “You will join us for tea, won’t you?” Steady gray eyes pleaded with him.
A few minutes ago, Fabrizio had felt ready to do anything this beautiful woman asked of him.
He would do anything, that is, except to cross the social barriers that stood between them, as thick as the Great Wall of China.
Chapter 4
Natalie watched Fabrizio’s departing back. He looked good in his uniform, so broad shouldered, so quietly strong. If only he would have agreed to stay. Not a single man at the tea captured her interest as he did. How had he managed to convince Mrs. Rushton to attend the party? Natalie had sent the invitation but had not expected the woman to accept. She surprised her by showing up, dressed to the nines, and a kind word for “that nice young man who carried my reticule.” A brave young girl hovered near her, giving her clues about the name pinned to her back.
Natalie lingered a moment, until Fabrizio disappeared around a corner, and then wandered to the window. Snow swirled in the air. She doubted that anyone would leave the hotel tomorrow either, whether staff or guest. Patrick had assured her that the hotel generated its own electricity and drew water from an artesian well. They did not have to fear the loss of power.
The afternoon tea achieved a moderate success. Too late, Natalie realized that she had not invited the staff, and none attended. They must be as bored and stressed as the guests. Social distinctions paled in the face of their shared experience, snowbound by the weather. People already referred to the storm as “Denver’s big snow.” It was certainly the worst that she had ever seen. She decided that she would plan a mixed activity for staff and guests together, perhaps a carol sing. Everyone sang the same songs of the season. Even better, she knew the right man to help her set up the music room. She invited her guests to return that evening for another event.
After the tea ended, Natalie sought out Patrick. She reserved the Ladies’ Ordinary for the following day. “Tonight I’d like to hold a carol sing and invite the staff to join in. What time is most convenient for them to attend?”
The clerk murmured a protest, but Natalie insisted. He agreed that most of the kitchen staff as well as the maids would be finished by half-past nine. She beamed. “Please be sure to let everyone know that they are invited.”
“And would you be ne
eding Mr. Ricci to help you set up for the party?” Patrick suggested.
“Please.” Natalie knew her cheeks must look nearly as red as the Irishman’s hair.
The carol service dominated conversation during the staff supper. Fabrizio had not decided whether to join the celebration.
Braum stirred a bubbling pan. “I am making hot cocoa to bring.” He hummed a few phrases in German.
What was that tune? “Oh, Christmas Tree,” that was it.
Most of the hotel staff intended to go. Fabrizio was torn. He loved music. His family probably whiled away hours of snowbound tedium singing around the fireplace. The thought tugged at his heart. Did he dare spend more time in Signorina Daire’s presence? She already occupied more of his thoughts than she should; she crept in at all hours of the day. That afternoon, he had helped her move the piano and chairs. When she sat down to play, the chords flew like an arrow from the keys to his heart and lodged there.
After the music started, he could not stay away. He found a chair next to Patrick in the back row. Natalie had changed into an emerald green dress, and lights from the chandeliers danced on her golden hair. She announced each selection in her clear soprano voice. Fabrizio lost himself in the songs, humming through unfamiliar verses, adding a bass line to others. Patrick sang tenor. When Fabrizio closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was at home with his family, singing in four-part harmony.
When they started “Silent Night,” Natalie changed her routine. “I’ve heard a story about this carol. I’m not sure if it’s true or not. The organ at St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf, Austria, broke down on Christmas Eve. So the assistant pastor, Joseph Mohr, wrote a song that he could accompany with his guitar. It would be lovely to hear the song in the original language. Surely someone here speaks German?”
“Ja, I do.” The chef, Braum, raised his hand.
“Splendid.” Natalie smiled. “Would you be willing to sing it for us in German? We would all enjoy it so much.”
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