He saw nothing but her, felt nothing but her, heard nothing but her.
That moment could have lasted forever if Mrs. Simmons hadn’t called out, “What’s happening? Are you all right? I smell smoke.”
Anna pulled away. “Ma’s worried.”
Reality crashed in, and as the heat dissipated, so did his certainty. He should never have kissed Anna. That kiss would give her false hope of a future together, but he was even further from being able to provide that future than the day he’d met her. A woman like her deserved the world, and he could give her nothing. He should never have succumbed to temptation. Her glowing smile confirmed his worst fears.
“Anna?” Mrs. Simmons questioned from very near.
Brandon cleared his throat. “It’s just the oil lamp,” he called out. “Nothing at all.”
Unlike the kiss.
* * *
Even after she’d been sitting at their little table for a quarter hour, Anna couldn’t control her racing heart. He’d kissed her. Brandon had kissed her, and it was so much better than she’d imagined. She would never have guessed that a man as strong and reserved as Brandon could show such tender affection.
She had to keep looking at her tea to hide the glow in her cheeks while Brandon explained the mishap in the crawl space. Somehow he managed to make it his fault, that he’d startled her. His gallantry only made her heart beat more wildly.
“Thank God no one was hurt,” Ma exclaimed when he finished. “No harm done.”
Despite increasing blushes, Anna had to set the record straight. “I’m afraid his coat is ruined.”
Ma’s attention flitted back to Brandon. “We must get you another one, then.”
“Nonsense.” Brandon showed the scattering of burn holes in the lining. “They’ll never show and don’t affect the warmth one bit.”
“Well, then, I’ll mend it,” Ma insisted.
Brandon, of course, refused. “It’s nothing. I’ve put worse holes in coats with less cause.”
Anna doubted that. Brandon was meticulous in every way.
“It’s certainly more than nothing. Thankfully you arrived when you did,” Ma said for the umpteenth time. “I’m sure the Lord’s hand was in it.”
Brandon didn’t recoil when Ma mentioned God. In fact, he seemed quite willing to deflect the praise elsewhere. “Anyone else would have done the same.”
“No, they wouldn’t. I was right here, but I couldn’t squeeze past that dresser,” Ma said, apparently forgetting that she’d done just that moments before Brandon showed up. “You’re a hero, an absolute hero, and heroes deserve a little pampering. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t Anna and I fix you a nice supper tonight? I’ll make some gingerbread for dessert. Anna said she was going to start a pot roast. Is there still time? Oh, dear, it has gotten late.”
Anna let her mother babble on. She couldn’t put two thoughts together, especially when she looked up and caught Brandon gazing at her. Then her cheeks would heat all over again, and she was sure Ma must know that they’d kissed.
“Maybe you should have waited to explore, dearest.” Ma was clearly talking to her, but Anna had caught only the last sentence.
Brandon, though, must have heard the entire conversation. “Why were you in that crawl space? I’d blocked it off so you wouldn’t use it.”
Anna gulped. He knew about the crawl space? Then either he’d already taken the treasure from the room or there had never been any to begin with. Considering his insistence there was no lost fortune and the financial state of the bookstore, it had to be the latter.
She hoped she didn’t look too guilty. “I was curious. After I discovered it, that is. Ma lost her ring.” She was explaining things all backward, and Brandon looked confused.
“My ring!” Ma exclaimed. “I’d nearly forgotten with all the excitement. To think that old wedding band caused all this fuss. You must think I’m a silly old woman.”
He smiled indulgently at her. “Not at all, Mrs. Simmons. A wedding ring is one of the most important things in a woman’s life.”
“And a man’s,” Ma hinted, none too subtly.
Anna hid her face in her hands.
Thankfully, Brandon didn’t take the bait. “I’m sure your husband treasured his. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that he passed at such an early age.”
As always, Ma’s eyes misted when Papa was mentioned. “He was a good man.” She patted Brandon’s hand. “As was your father. He took care of us after my Harold passed.”
“He did?” Brandon and Anna said simultaneously.
After his initial surprise, a frown settled in. “Let me guess. He sent you money each month.”
To her shock, Ma confirmed his guess. “And only charged a dollar a month for rent.”
Percival Landers had rented them the house for next to nothing and sent Ma money? “Why would he do such a thing?”
Ma shrugged. “He said he wanted to make sure the garage stayed open. He wanted to help.”
Charity. Anna felt the icy tentacles of pity wrap around her heart. Was Brandon like his father? Had he kissed her only because he knew she’d never been kissed? Her cheeks burned, this time with shame.
Brandon didn’t notice. “That doesn’t sound like Father. He always put money before people.”
Ma clucked her tongue. “Now, now, we can’t always know a person’s heart. Clearly he felt responsible for us, and I thank God for your father’s generosity. Now, what do you say we get busy with supper?”
Ma rose to her feet, putting an end to the conversation, but her revelations continued to tumble around Anna’s mind. Why would a man who had sent them money each month suddenly sell their house without notifying them? And when had the payments stopped? Or had they? Hendrick resented Brandon’s father. Maybe that’s why. Brandon certainly looked as confused as she was. Only Ma seemed unfazed, as if life was percolating forward as normal, but it wasn’t.
Everything had changed after that kiss.
* * *
In the days that followed, Anna scoured the house for clues while Brandon was at the bookstore. She had plenty of time to do so since Brandon worked late and refused to let her work without pay.
First, she crawled up into the attic, which was filled with cobwebs and nothing else. An empty attic? Who heard of such a thing? But there it was. Empty. So she busied herself with the second and first floors. She checked every inch of wainscoting for hidden doors. She looked behind every book in the library. She checked every drawer for secret compartments. In the end, she had to admit defeat. Except for the desk drawers that Brandon kept locked, she’d checked everywhere. Though she longed to see inside those drawers, she had to admit that they couldn’t contain a secret compartment or he would have found it.
That left her nowhere. Maybe Brandon was right, and there was no hidden fortune. And no explanation for his father’s odd payments to Ma. In any case, her efforts had run their course. Until she could think of another place to look, all she could do was clean and dream up some other way to save Brandon’s bookstore.
He wouldn’t talk about it, of course. Oh, she’d asked, but he’d brushed aside her concerns.
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
But she did worry. She did want to help. She wanted him to trust her. If he’d just kept the popular-fiction section, he’d be turning a profit by now. She had no doubt.
Each day she lingered after preparing supper, hoping Brandon would stop in the kitchen and talk to her. She longed to hear about his day, to offer consolation, to be the partner that she was sure he wanted after that marvelous kiss. Instead, he bolted straight to the library and closed the door before she could get there, as if he was afraid to see her.
So she brought his supper on a tray and knocked on the door.
“Just leave it
outside,” he’d call out, and she’d reluctantly retreat.
“Why won’t he talk to me?” she finally complained to her mother.
“He’s under a great deal of stress, dearest. I’m sure he’ll come around once this rough patch has passed.”
Anna wasn’t so sure it would pass. His expression grew grimmer by the day. His shoulders slumped. He looked like a man already defeated.
“You’ll find a way,” she would call out as he passed on his way out of the house in the morning. “Never give up. Mr. Carter didn’t.”
If he heard her, he never let on. He just retreated deeper and deeper into himself.
She had to find that hidden fortune. That was the answer. He must think so too because he spent all his time in the library. Sometimes he even fell asleep there. She’d hear him head upstairs when she entered the kitchen in the morning.
So she concentrated her efforts on that room. Each day, different books lay open on his desk. When she finished cleaning, she would sit at the desk and leaf through them. They were mostly journals and ledgers written by his ancestors. The dates ranged back into the late 1840s, when the house was first built. In an odd way, they were fascinating.
Soon she became engrossed in the details of their lives, reading until the grandfather clock struck five o’clock and she had to prepare supper for Brandon, who would be late, and Ma, who would be hungry.
The journals detailed daily purchases and expenditures. They noted incidents with servants, livestock or the stable. One day a horse might take a stone in its hoof. The next might list the number of calves born. Many days included commentary on the weather. At least she assumed the cryptic notes referred to the weather: “E2, 9, whiteside, midnight” or “S10 then E, 3, sunny blooms.” Those she could explain, but not the ones that began “city of gold.” What city of gold?
She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Plenty of frustration and unusual entries, but not a single clue. And no maps. She’d found nothing that could remotely be considered a treasure map, and nothing explained where to locate this city of gold.
Downstairs, a door banged shut.
Anna shot to her feet and hastily put the book back to the page that Brandon had been reading. It couldn’t be six already. No, daylight still streamed through the window, and the clock read three-ten. What was Brandon doing home so early?
She rushed to the library window, which overlooked the carriage house and driveway. His car wasn’t parked out front. Her heart pounded. Brandon wouldn’t have walked home, nor would he have put the car away in the middle of the afternoon.
Then who had just come in the house?
Ma? Not likely. She wouldn’t walk through the snow without assistance.
Anna moved to the fireplace and picked up the cast-iron poker. It had enough weight to knock out any man.
The hallway floor creaked. Whoever it was, he was coming straight toward this room.
She tiptoed to the door and stood behind it, positioned so she could crack the man over the head.
The knob began to turn. Heart racing, she lifted the poker.
The door opened, and a tall man strode into the room. She swung the poker downward but must have given herself away because he leaped aside, arms out in surrender.
“Goodness, girl. What are you doing?” It was Reggie, though not dressed as finely as normal.
She dropped the poker and pressed a hand to her waist to calm her tattered nerves. “Oh, Mr. Landers. I didn’t know you were in town. I thought you were at college.”
“Clearly I’m not.”
“Yes, well, I didn’t know that. I thought you were an intruder. I didn’t see Brandon’s car. I looked, but it wasn’t out front.” She was babbling, but at least he’d started to grin.
“No harm done. I didn’t realize you were here either.” He glanced around the room then at her. “Cleaning, are you?”
She swallowed hard. She’d taken off her apron. “I, uh, was...resting a bit.” She forced a smile. “Brandon lets me read his books. We’re both interested in archaeology.”
“Are you?” Reggie looked skeptical. Considering no book was lying open other than the journals on the desk, he had every right to be.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “He loaned me Mr. Davis’s book on his excavations in the Valley of the Kings.” She truly was babbling, and he looked decidedly uninterested. “I should get back to the kitchen to prepare supper.”
That was the first thing she’d said that he agreed with. “Sounds like a first-rate idea. I’m half-dead from hunger. What are you making?”
She’d planned a simple beefsteak, but that wouldn’t take three hours to prepare. She scrambled for something that sounded like it would take longer. “A meat pie.”
“I can hardly wait.” He wandered over to the desk and glanced at the journals before looking up. “Is there anything else?”
“No, sir.” She slipped from the room and hoped Reggie wouldn’t tell Brandon that she’d been snooping.
Chapter Eighteen
Anna had to watch her step when Reggie was at the house. The tension between the brothers was thick. Something had happened to send Reggie home from college, but rather than discuss it, the two men appeared to be avoiding each other. Brandon left early in the morning as usual, while Reggie lingered in bed until eight o’clock. He then requested she bring a pot of coffee to the library. He seldom talked to her, simply waved at the table where he wanted her to set the coffee service. The moment she left the room, he locked the door.
He had to be searching the room, almost certainly for the lost fortune. There was no other explanation for his behavior. He never took a book out of the room. He never opened the daily newspaper. So as far as she could tell, he didn’t read at all.
After the noon hour, he left the house and didn’t return until late, well past supper. As far as she could tell, Brandon and Reggie seldom spoke. She doubted Brandon knew what his brother was doing.
One morning, Anna managed to catch Brandon before he scurried out the front door.
“You need to know something about your brother.”
He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and for a moment the gloom lifted and concern softened his features. “Has he done something to offend you?”
His tenderness melted her heart. “No. No.” She shook her head. “But he is acting strangely.” She glanced around to make sure Reggie wasn’t standing on the staircase behind her.
Brandon’s brow furrowed. “In what way?”
She took a deep breath. This felt awfully much like snitching, but Brandon needed to know that his brother was working behind his back. “He locks himself in the library all morning.”
“And?”
“And then leaves the house until after you’ve retired for the night.” The accusation sounded petty. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but seeing as Eloise said he was looking for the lost fortune, I thought you should know.”
Brandon looked exhausted, more than ever, and it was only seven o’clock in the morning. “Let him look. He won’t find anything.”
“Shouldn’t you warn him that he’s wasting his time?”
Brandon’s lips threatened a smile. “Does your brother take your advice?”
“Well, no. Not usually.” She cast around for one instance when he had. “All right, never, but that doesn’t mean your brother is like mine. After all, you’re older, and I’m Hendrick’s little sister.”
The smile broke through, warming his features. “Not so little anymore.” He touched a finger to her jaw. “Not at all. If I were him, I’d listen to my little sister.” He sighed. “I should have listened to you from the start.”
Anna trembled under his touch. His gaze left no doubt that he cared for her, and his words confirmed it. “Then I can work at the bookstore agai
n?”
“Patience.” His eyes glistened in the soft light. “Give me a little more time.”
She seized on the hope in his words. “Then my prayers have been answered. The bookstore will stay open.”
His smile vanished. “It’s going to take more than prayers to keep it open.”
She wanted to tell him that prayer was exactly what it would take, but he wouldn’t listen, not yet.
“It must be his decision,” Ma had said last Sunday. “When he walks through the church door on his own, then you’ll know he’s ready.”
Anna wasn’t the patient type, yet that’s what everyone wanted from her. Wait and see. Wait, wait, wait. She could barely stand it.
“Don’t worry about Reggie,” Brandon was saying. “He’ll give up treasure hunting soon enough and realize he has to work to make his way in this world.”
“At the bookstore?”
Brandon laughed. “Definitely not. I can think of no one less suited.” He opened the door.
She missed the feel of his hand on her cheek and wished he did not have to leave so soon. “Am I suited?”
A peculiar mixture of longing and distress flitted across his face before the impassive mask returned. “You are suited for many things. Reach for your dreams.”
He stepped onto the porch and hurried down the steps to his automobile. Anna stood a moment in the doorway, feeling every bit like the wife saying goodbye to her husband. The barriers of employer and maid had vanished long ago, and the kiss had confirmed it. He cared for her, perhaps even loved her, but before he could admit it, he needed to get the bookstore on its feet. Brandon was that type of man.
She stepped back and shut the door before the icy winter air filled the hallway. His departure always left a barren pit in her stomach that couldn’t be filled except by him. She would wait anxiously all day and hope to see him at suppertime.
She leaned against the door and shut her eyes.
“Well, well, well.” Reggie’s voice set her nerves on edge. “Wasn’t that cozy?”
Anna gulped. How much had he heard? Hopefully not the entire conversation. She had checked to make sure he wasn’t up yet. He never rose before eight. So why was he here now?
Legacy of Love Page 19
