Not tears. Please, not tears. Why did women break down at the slightest thing?
“I shouldn’t have accepted such a large wage.” Her voice clotted and roughened. “I knew it was too much.”
The tenderness he’d tried to abolish returned with a vengeance. He couldn’t see Anna suffer for his mistakes. He had to put a stop to this.
“It’s what I offered,” he said, “and I wouldn’t change a thing. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
She sniffled. “But I shouldn’t have pressed you for the popular-novel section.”
“It was a wise suggestion, and one I’ll implement as soon as I can afford to do so.”
“Then you’re not closing the store permanently?”
He’d considered the grim possibility just minutes ago. “Not if I can find enough money to keep it operating.”
“Find?” She bit her trembling lip. “Then you haven’t found it yet?”
“No.” He wouldn’t get her hopes up. The bank might not give him a loan.
“And your brother hasn’t found it either?”
“My brother? What does Reggie have to do with applying for a loan?”
“A loan?” Her distress changed to confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Now he was perplexed. “A bank loan. What are you talking about?”
She stared, wide-eyed, every bit the innocent he’d come to adore. Faint pink colored her cheeks and made the freckles on her nose stand out.
Her lips trembled as she spoke. “Finding the lost fortune.”
He could barely hear her. “The what?”
Her eyes sparkled. “I’ll help you find it. Together we can do it.”
Love battled with horror. Of all the things she could have said, none hit him harder. If she searched his library looking for clues, she’d discover the horrible truth.
“There is no lost fortune,” he said emphatically.
“But Eloise Grattan told me that Sally and Reggie are looking for it.”
“What?” He couldn’t even place this Miss Grattan. “Tell her she’s wrong.” At least he thought she was wrong. Reggie wasn’t looking. True, he’d come to Pearlman several times this winter, but he stayed at the Neidecker house and made no effort to call on him. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t visiting the house while Brandon was at the store. Suppose he was searching for the treasure? Brandon remembered the odd way Reggie had behaved last night in the library. He’d pulled dozens of books out of the bookcases and leafed through them as if looking for something stuck between the pages.
“But she seemed so certain,” Anna said, almost pleading for him to change his mind.
He wouldn’t.
“Tell her she’s wrong. There is no fortune.” His hunt through the family’s records had led to that conclusion. The only thing his ancestors had hidden was how they’d made their fortune. That nasty little secret would stay buried if he had any say in the matter.
“Are you sure? Mr. Davis thought he’d found Tutankhamun’s tomb, but he hadn’t. What if there is money hidden somewhere? Wouldn’t that solve everything?”
Brandon recoiled. Sure, he could use money, but not blood money.
Excitement danced in Anna’s eyes. “We’d be like Mr. Carter, hunting for the lost tomb.”
Disgust and something worse, shame, slammed into his gut. He could not have her looking into his family’s past. “How many times do I have to tell you? There is no hidden treasure.”
“But the money—”
“Stop talking about money,” he shouted. “My business is mine alone. Not yours. Stay out of this.”
Her expression fell, and she stepped back, as if afraid of him. The innocent excitement vanished behind a wall of hurt. She blinked rapidly to stem tears.
Brandon exhaled in frustration. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just wanted her to stop talking about this lost treasure as if it would solve all their problems.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” He reached out, but she shrank even farther away. Now he’d done it, ruined everything between them. Considering his past, maybe it was for the best. He retreated and gave one parting volley. “No lost fortune is going to save this store.” He looked bitterly at the empty storage shelves. His dream was over.
* * *
Anna couldn’t stop shaking after she left the bookstore. Brandon had changed. Gone was the tender soul who’d set aside his cane to whisk her onto the dance floor in front of Pearlman’s elite. Something dark had seized him and wouldn’t let go.
It had to be the business losses. A man like Brandon wouldn’t admit defeat. He would try to carry the burden alone, even if it crushed him.
His denial of the hidden fortune only proved that it must exist. Eloise was right. Reggie must have been searching, and Brandon had joined him. Clearly they hadn’t found it yet. Maybe they weren’t looking in the right place. Maybe she could find what they’d missed.
If she did, he might forgive her for looking at his ledger. That little peek had cost his respect, and she bitterly regretted doing it. But he would never have told her the business was failing. The only way she could help was if she knew.
As she raced up the hill to the carriage house, she formulated a plan. Brandon would be tied up at the bookstore, and now that she was no longer working there, she’d have more time to clean his house—and more time to search. If she could find the fortune, she could give it to him—every last penny—and not only save his bookstore but also regain his confidence.
The ideas clicked together with each hurried step. She’d have to plan her search. The archaeology books and articles she’d read stressed the necessity of organization. She’d start in the most likely place—the attic. Next she’d search the little-used rooms on the second floor. The library was an ideal spot to hide things with its many books and old vases and such. No room had more nooks and crannies. The kitchen? Not likely. It had to have been added fairly recently. The parlor also seemed an unlikely spot. Something would have been discovered in such a well-used room.
“Where are you going in such a hurry, sis?” Hendrick pulled alongside her in Mr. Kensington’s Packard.
She pulled her coat tighter, wishing she’d taken the time to button it when she’d rushed out of the bookstore. “Home.”
“Give you a ride?” He inched the car up the hill, keeping pace with her.
“It looks like you’re delivering a car. You shouldn’t be taking me home.”
He stopped the car, leaned across and opened the passenger door. “I’d like to talk with you.”
Anna’s stomach plummeted at his serious tone. “What’s wrong? Is it Ma?”
“Nothing’s wrong.” He patted the seat. “Join me.”
Though she’d rather start searching the attic, she got into the car. A fishing pole nearly stabbed her in the ear. “I didn’t know Mr. Kensington fished.”
Hendrick pushed the pole farther back. “I’m going to throw a line in the river after I drop off the car.”
“Oh.” She waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. “I don’t suppose you wanted to talk to me about fishing. What’s wrong?”
“I am.” He put the car in gear and headed slowly up the hill. “Or I might have been.”
Anna stared. Her brother never admitted mistakes. “How?”
He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “About your employer.”
“Brandon?”
He cringed. “I’m having a hard time getting used to you calling him by his first name.”
“He’s more than an employer,” she admitted, remembering the feel of his arms around her on the dance floor. “Well, at least I thought he was.”
“Thought? Did he hurt you?” Hendrick practically shouted. “Because if he did...” He let the threat
lie unspoken.
“No,” she hurried to answer. “It’s just that he won’t let me help him.” She hesitated, wondering if she should tell Hendrick that Brandon was in financial trouble. He was her brother and absolutely trustworthy, but Brandon wouldn’t want anyone to know. Still, if no one knew, no one could help, and help was exactly what Brandon needed. “Please don’t tell a soul, but I don’t think he has the kind of money we thought he did.”
Hendrick let out his breath. “Then what I heard is true. I’ve been hearing rumors of unpaid bills and requests for extension on credit.”
Anna’s gut knotted. She hated to think of Brandon struggling in any way. “He’ll pay his debts. I know he will. He’s the most honest and honorable man I’ve ever met.”
Hendrick shot her a glare.
“After you, of course,” she added. “Tell everyone that he’ll pay.”
Hendrick nodded as he pulled the car to a stop in front of the carriage house. “I want you to know that you and Ma will always be welcome at our house.”
She jumped out of the car. “That won’t be necessary. This is just a rough patch. Everything will turn out.” Hendrick looked skeptical, so she added, “Thank you, though.”
She slammed the car door shut and rushed into the carriage house. Ma looked up from her mending.
“Why are you home so soon, dearest? I thought I heard a car. Did Mr. Brandon close the bookstore early?”
Anna didn’t have time to explain. “Hendrick brought me home. After I change, I’m going to the house to cook supper.”
“At this hour?”
“I want to make a pot roast.” Those took long enough that Ma might believe her. Anna didn’t want to share her plan with her mother and get her hopes up.
Anna ducked into the bedroom and pulled her work dress from the peg in the closet. While the roast cooked, she could search the attic, which was bound to be dusty and full of cobwebs.
Quickly she changed, topped the dress with an apron and donned a sweater to ward off the attic’s chill.
“Anna,” Ma called from the other room. “Will you look behind the dresser for my wedding band? It rolled there this morning.”
“Why do you insist on taking off your ring when you wash your hands?” Anna grumbled. She was anxious to scour the attic before Brandon returned from the bookstore. After that angry denial, he wouldn’t appreciate her looking for the lost fortune. Not until she handed it to him, that is.
“I don’t want to lose it down the drain.” Ma had feared drains from the moment Hendrick installed kitchen plumbing in their old house. To her it was a dark hole that swallowed up everything that came near the sink. That was no different here. So she took off her ring and set it on the dresser whenever she washed up. “Your father spent every cent he had to buy it for me.”
Her wistful tone sent a wave of bittersweet regret through Anna. Papa. She nipped her lip to prevent tears. Why did he have to work on that old truck? Why did the jack collapse? It happened more than a dozen years ago, and Ma still thought of him every day.
She pulled up her stockings, stuffed her feet into her shoes and set about moving the chest of drawers. She pushed. She pulled. The heavy oak dresser wouldn’t budge. She’d have to remove everything from it. That would take forever, and Brandon could return at any time.
“I’ll do it when I get back,” she informed her mother as she stepped into the sitting room.
Ma had moved to the table, where the late-afternoon light was better. She looked up from the mending, pins bristling from one corner of her mouth.
“Why don’t you use a pincushion?” Anna reached into her mother’s sewing basket and pulled out the cushion she’d made for her years ago. It still didn’t bear one pin or pinhole. Ma kept her pins in a rusty old cold-cream tin.
“I don’t want to ruin your handiwork.” Somehow Ma could speak from one corner of her mouth while keeping the pins in the other. “It’s such a pretty cushion.”
“No, it’s not. It’s lopsided and poorly stitched.” Anna would never make a good seamstress.
Ma set down the shirt—the man’s shirt—she was mending.
“Whose is that? Hendrick’s? Is Mariah too busy with the orphanage to mend his shirts?”
“Now, Anna, I wanted the work. I need to work.”
“Well, you don’t need to be mending Hendrick’s shirts.”
“This isn’t your brother’s shirt. It’s Mr. Brandon’s.”
Anna almost choked. “You’re mending Brandon’s shirts?” He was doubtless paying her. No wonder his finances were suffering. She had to put a stop to this.
“I asked him if I could do anything for him, and he was kind enough to bring me some mending.”
Anna sighed. Her mother looked happy, and Anna hated to take away something that brought the color back into her cheeks. “We can’t accept any more money from him,” she said softly, sitting in the other chair. “I think he’s in a bit of financial trouble.”
Ma wasn’t surprised or flustered. “I know, dearest, but I’ve been praying the Lord will provide his daily needs.” She tilted her head slightly, the whisper of a grin gracing her lips. “And perhaps a bit more.”
“I don’t think it’s working.”
Ma smiled softly. “The Lord answers in His time, not ours.”
Anna fought impatience. “Well, I hope He hurries. Brandon is so upset. It’s as if he...” A thought darted into her head. “As if he’s lost hope.”
Ma nodded solemnly. “That happens when someone loses touch with the Lord.”
“He’s pushing everyone away.” She’d felt that wall creep between them like the icy cold of a cellar.
“Oh, dearest, I’m so sorry.” Ma patted her hand. “I’m sure it’s just temporary. You’ll see. Mr. Brandon cares for you a great deal, and that kind of affection never hides for long. Once things have settled a bit, he’ll be back to his old self.”
“He cares for me?” She’d barely let herself hope that he did. “How do you know?”
“A woman knows,” she said coyly.
“But how?”
“It’s in the little things. The way he looks at you when he knows you’re not watching. The way he hurries to catch the door before you reach it. How he walks taller and surer when you’re by his side.”
Anna marveled at Ma’s words. Could it be true? Did he really care for her? “Is that how Papa was with you?”
“Oh, yes, but I was too blind to see it at first.” Ma chuckled, lost in memories. “He had to practically hit me over the head before I noticed him. Such a fool I was, looking for things that didn’t matter.”
“What things?”
“Oh, I thought I wanted the most handsome boy in town. He had money too. All the girls fussed over him.” She shook her head. “But he was vain. I didn’t see it at first, but thank the good Lord I came to my senses and realized your father was the man for me.”
Anna swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She always got teary-eyed when Ma talked about Papa. How they loved each other. Though she was only seven when Papa passed, she remembered the way they’d hold hands watching the sunset from the front porch. That was their time together, and neither she nor Hendrick dared interrupt it.
Then it had all come to an end.
“I’m sorry, Ma,” she said, her words coming out all teary.
“Oh, dearest.” Ma dropped her mending and hugged Anna tight, which only brought more tears. “We had a good spell together, and we’ll see each other again in the next life. Sometimes I think he’s watching over us now.” She gave Anna one last hug. “Now, you’d better head up to the house.”
Anna wiped her eyes. “Not until I find your ring.”
The house would still be there tomorrow. She could check the attic after Brandon left for
the bookstore in the morning.
She and Ma had stuffed the four drawers of the oak dresser to the brim. That’s what gave it the extra weight. She removed all their belongings from the drawers and set them on the bed. Then she slid out the drawers. She felt around on the floor inside the now-empty dresser but found only dust.
She’d have to move the thing. After wiping her hands on her apron, she tugged on one end of the dresser. It skidded ever so slightly across the rough plank floor. Goodness, this thing was heavy. She’d have to put her weight into it. At last, with a great deal of scraping and screeching, the dresser moved away from the wall.
Unfortunately, it also blocked the waning light. Anna struck a match and lit the oil lamp that they kept on the tiny table by the bed. She walked it across the narrow gap and held it low so she could spot the ring.
There it was, right next to the wall. In fact, it was jammed in the gap between the plastered wall and the plank floor, right where a seam rose vertically to...
Anna pushed the lamp closer. Why on earth was there a vertical seam in the wall? Upon closer examination, she found two seams, running parallel about shoulder-width apart. A door. It had to be a secret door. She followed the seams up. They ended at the chair rail—a long, rough board nailed across the entire wall. If it was a door, it should have a gap at the top, but she could find none below or above the chair rail.
How odd. Why would someone cut into the wall for no reason? It must be a door, even though it didn’t have a handle, hinges or a visible top.
She pressed the side seam, and the wall rocked slightly.
What on earth?
She knelt and pushed along the edge. Was this a secret passage? A hidden room? Could the lost treasure be right here? She looked for a knothole, a knob, anything that could serve as the mechanism for opening the door and found nothing. No matter how hard she pushed along each edge, the wall or door or whatever it was only jostled.
“Please, Lord,” she whispered, “we need this.”
“Are you all right?” Ma called from the other room.
“Yes, Ma. I found your ring.” She scooped it up and put it in her pocket.
Legacy of Love Page 17
