Hearts Entwined

by Karen Witemeyer

  Papa leaned across the space between them to put his hand on her knee and squeezed. “Being a good man and being the right man are two different things, dear.”

  Marianne clasped her hands together and stayed her argument.

  “Trust me, Marianne. You will be much happier with David. You might not be able to see it now, but you will.” Mother took Papa’s hand and intertwined their fingers. She leaned her head on his shoulder and smiled up into his eyes. “Please tell me you’re leaving all work behind. You promised me this vacation would be nothing but a few weeks of you and me and relaxation.”

  So that was the end of the conversation? Her feelings weren’t worth talking about for more than five minutes?

  “Of course, love.” He kissed Mother’s temple. “I’ve been just as eager for time alone as you.”

  “But with the Peterson account being so difficult . . .”

  Marianne turned her head away from her snuggling parents and watched the mix of horses and automobile traffic out her window. For her entire life, she’d seen them look at each other as if they’d married the best person in the world. But right now it made the thought of sending David that letter, where she’d wondered if they should revisit the idea of marrying despite their lack of romantic interest, a touch too painful.

  She knew David loved her, and she loved David, but more in the manner of siblings. They’d grown up together, lived on the same block, and knew each other’s secrets. But could she feel more for him?

  Closing her eyes, she just couldn’t imagine David and herself cuddled up in a carriage. Rather, she might dare him to try a handstand in the moving vehicle while he teased her about getting tongue-tied around Calvin.

  She could imagine David standing at the front of the church beside Calvin as his best man, but to switch them around? Could she give up her feelings for Calvin when she wanted the same kind of love her parents had?

  Though if both Calvin and her parents remained opposed to any type of suit, she might not have a choice.

  Chapter

  3

  Behind his desk at Kingsman & Son, Calvin flipped through the requisitions, making sure all were in order. Mr. Kingsman was in quite the lather this morning. Not that his boss was ever the happy sort, but he’d already barked at Calvin twice, and he’d only been there for fifteen minutes.

  A knock sounded on the outer door, and Calvin winced. Whoever was out there would regret his timing. Days like today reminded Calvin of what a godsend Mr. Kingsman’s son David was. If he weren’t off on a business trip right now, he’d come out to shield the unlucky visitor from his father’s thunderous attitude.

  But the visitor would not be saved by David today, not unless Calvin could convince whoever was behind the door to return later. He shoved his seat back, but only raised himself an inch before he stopped.

  Marianne.

  She turned to shut the office door, her rose-colored dress swirling with the action, and then she whirled back to look at him, a tentative smile upon her lips. Just a mere shadow of the grin she’d flashed at him the first day she’d walked into this office.

  Of course, on that day, he’d grinned right back.

  Two years ago, he’d stood and come around his desk, boldly taking in her frothy yellow dress and the bit of red in her cheeks. How lucky was he to get to talk to a woman this fine? “How might I help you?”

  The woman had looked him up and down, as well, then smiled even bigger.

  He grinned right back. Strange how she’d made it hard for him to breathe just by walking in—but he wasn’t going to complain too much.

  A woman this lovely could steal his breath any day.

  Now, if she were just as nice as she was beautiful, he might be tempted to give up his commitment to bachelorhood. “Do you have an appointment?” He tried to recall if there were any women’s names on the calendar, but he’d been so overwhelmed with his new job duties he’d not looked at the schedule.

  In the three weeks he’d been working there, no women clients had come in. He took another glance at the intricate details of this woman’s dress, her fancy handbag, and the jewels at her throat. His insides took a tumble. What had he been thinking to smile so boldly at a woman who was clearly out of his reach? Of course no woman of his social standing would have reason to venture into the office of Kingsman & Son.

  “No appointment.” She looked over his shoulder toward the younger Kingsman’s office, then at Calvin’s desk. “What happened to Mr. Davis?”

  Seemed she was a return client. “He works for Peterson’s Hotels now.”

  Her delicate brows knit in the most adorable manner. “Mr. Kingsman fired him?”

  “No, he was offered more money.”

  She cringed as if she’d just stepped on a hornet. “Oh dear, I can’t imagine Mr. Kingsman took that well.”

  He shook his head. But considering her expression, she knew “not taking it well” was an understatement without him saying so.

  “Mari!” The door behind him opened, and David walked out of his office. He threw a file folder onto Calvin’s desk, then walked straight over to their visitor, swallowing her in an embrace. He stepped back from her a second later yet kept one hand on her arm. “How was your trip to California?”

  Calvin returned to his desk, shaking his head at himself. He’d never had a chance with this woman.

  “It was terrible. Spent most of our time on Uncle’s yacht.”

  “Yachts aren’t that bad.”

  “They are when Aunt Martha’s on it. You’ve met her enough times to know.”

  Calvin stifled a huff. He’d never been outside of Missouri, let alone on a yacht. And he couldn’t even begin to imagine being on one enough times to find it tiresome.

  “I’m sorry. Calvin?”

  He looked up at David, who truly did look sorry for something. “Yes?”

  “I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just hadn’t seen Mari for over a month.” He held out a hand toward each of them. “Calvin, this is my friend, Marianne Lister. Mari, this is my new secretary, Mr. Hochstetler.”

  Calvin couldn’t help but let his mouth gape—whether more from David feeling he had to apologize for failing to introduce his lowly secretary to a woman of her station, or the fact that he’d nearly flirted with the heiress to the Lister fortune.

  “Would you like to join us for lunch?”

  “Wh—what?” Surely David hadn’t just asked him to join them. These were two of the wealthiest young people in Kansas City, their fortunes well-known and well-discussed. Did David think he could afford wherever they were about to go?

  “Lunch?” David smiled as if making an ordinary request. “Mari’s birthday was last week. Since she was out of town, I didn’t take her out for her lemon meringue birthday pie. I’ve made sure she’s gotten one since the year she turned twelve.”

  Not only lunch, but a birthday lunch? He’d known David was a good man the second he’d met him, but had David forgotten Calvin was his secretary? “Uh, I’m afraid I’m behind on work.”

  Besides, he wasn’t sure he wanted to sit through lunch watching a man he could never compete with flirt with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Are you certain, Mr. Hochstetler?” Miss Lister’s deep blue eyes looked as if she sincerely hoped he’d reconsider.

  “I’m certain.”

  David stared at him as if he could see into his thoughts.

  If David figured out he’d been instantly attracted to a woman who was obviously going to be David’s bride one day, he’d likely lose his job immediately.

  David looked as if he really were disappointed he wasn’t coming, but nodded his head to acknowledge his decision before turning to leave with Miss Lister. She glanced over her shoulder as they walked away and smiled at him again.

  He had to be imagining things. There was no way she was looking at him as if she found him intriguing. He was—

  “Calvin?”

  He jumped in his seat.


  Marianne stood in front of his desk, looking at him with one fine eyebrow raised.

  How long had she been calling his name? “Uh, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “Good thoughts, I hope?” Though her smile was nothing more than a wisp of what it had been that first day they’d met, his heart fluttered the same way it always did when she smiled at him—in a way it never should have fluttered at all.

  She was meant for David, even if they weren’t courting as he’d first assumed, and he would not hurt David for all the world. And he certainly didn’t want to hurt her—though it seemed he had to. But she’d recover.

  He stood, knocking down a pile of folders he’d forgotten were behind his chair. When had he become so clumsy?

  Likely when she’d nearly knocked him over by admitting she had feelings for him.

  Which wasn’t supposed to happen. Those were supposed to be all on him.

  For he’d not been able to tamp down those initial butterflies of attraction she’d created when she’d walked into the office two years ago, and discovering she was just as lovely on the inside hadn’t helped him toss out a single one of those butterflies.

  Though he hadn’t helped himself one bit by allowing himself to enjoy gazing at her whenever she wasn’t looking, breathing in the smell of her soap as she walked past, admiring the way she fancied herself up on Sundays, picking out her voice in the choir, pretending it was possible for a man like him to marry a beautiful songbird like her.

  But it wasn’t possible. “Miss Lister, what brings you here?”

  Please, God, don’t let her have come to talk to me. My heart cannot take it.

  Calvin gave a side glance toward his boss’s door. “David hasn’t . . .” He didn’t want to talk about David too loudly since he and his father were not on the best of terms at the moment. “David hasn’t returned from Teaville.”

  “I actually came to see Mr. Kingsman.”

  He grimaced. “You may want to postpone such a meeting. He’s not in a good mood.”

  “That’s all right, he should be happy enough with why I’ve come.” At her side, a flash of white caught his attention. Was she on some business errand for her father?

  But she was rarely ever involved in his business matters.

  Calvin ran a hand through his hair. “I’d advise calling out before knocking. Your voice might halt the bark he’ll likely answer with.”

  She nodded and yet continued to stare at him, her fingers running along the sides of an envelope, around and around as if sealing the edges.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll let you get to your business, then.” He broke his gaze from hers, but not before glimpsing the hurt expression that crossed her face. He knew she’d feel slighted by his not engaging in small talk, but he had to stop every last bit of the attraction, from his side as well as hers. If his boss sensed any romantic interest between them, he’d be out on his backside faster than one could snuff a candle. Mr. Kingsman was determined David and Marianne would marry someday.

  Without a word, she swept past his desk toward Mr. Kingsman’s office. Her tentative request to enter was followed by the rumble of his boss’s exasperated voice.

  Calvin picked up his pen and tried to find where he’d left off on the last requisition, but for some reason his ability to comprehend words had jumped off a cliff. He might as well forget about working until she left. He kept his pen poised, however, so as not to appear open for conversation once she exited his boss’s office.

  If only she wasn’t so kind and eager to help. Women who occupied her level of society normally acted as if he weren’t good enough to be the dirt on their shoes. And if they had dared to offer their love to a man of his station and were rebuffed, they would have made him pay.

  Yet Marianne had just come in and offered him a fragile smile.

  Hopefully her feelings would fade long before his did, if they ever would.

  A minute later, she came out of Mr. Kingsman’s office, and Calvin kept his head down, hoping to avoid another awkward conversation—one where his heart clogged his throat and her voice got breathy and raw. Hopefully this heavy cloud of stifled feelings would one day lift and they could be comfortable with one another again—just not too comfortable.

  Her soft footsteps hesitantly padded across the wooden floor, but instead of passing by, they came closer. Her hand slid into view on the corner of his desk.

  “Yes, Miss Lister?” He didn’t look up while marking the page with a random stroke he’d have to correct later.

  “Won’t you reconsider?”

  His heart thumped hard, and his hand stilled—probably a good thing since he wasn’t even sure what he’d been writing. Why did she insist on torturing him with dreams he could not have? “Reconsider what, Miss Lister?”

  “Us.”

  He laid down his pen, keeping his gaze on the page before him, and let out a stuttered breath. “The reasons are self-explanatory,” he said as quietly as possible.

  She moved closer, her skirt unsettling the papers hanging off the edge of his desk. She stopped beside him.

  It was rude to keep from looking at her, but if he did, he was afraid of what he’d see in her eyes.

  How long had he dreamed she’d look at him the way she had when she put her hand on that silly kitten he’d stuffed in his pocket? Or when she’d declared her feelings for him?

  It was quite possibly the worst thing that had ever happened to him. His dreams had become reality, and he’d had to shove them away.

  She crouched beside him, laid a hand on his arm, and leaned forward.

  He tried to breathe evenly—and failed.

  “Your jaw is tight, your chest is stiff, and you’ve just written something completely illegible on that paper.”

  He grabbed a stray page to cover whatever else he’d scribbled.

  She leaned closer, her breath tickling his ear. He had to do something other than act witless, something like kiss her—

  He gripped the edge of his desk and held on as if he were teetering atop a cliff, which he was in a way, one that had sharp rocks at the bottom where his career would die a quick and painful death.

  “The problems with us marrying aren’t as self-explanatory as you believe.”

  He breathed as evenly as he could. “You might have dreamed up a fine wedding, but have you thought much past that?”

  “Yes.” Her hand rubbed against his suit coat’s sleeve, almost making him jump out of his seat.

  He couldn’t continue talking to the top of his desk, so he turned and saw exactly how close she was. If Mr. Kingsman came in and saw where her hand rested . . .

  Calvin scooted his chair to the side. “You couldn’t have,” he whispered. “Both your parents and Mr. Kingsman would be angry I’d broken up the marriage they’ve all but arranged between you and David. Not only would your parents likely disinherit you, but they might disown you. You’d not be able to run to them when times got tough.” He knew what it was like to be abandoned by one’s parents, and he refused to be the reason that would happen to her.

  “You know David and I don’t love each other like that.”

  “Maybe not, but if you don’t marry each other, your parents will expect you to make comparable matches, and I’m not even close.”

  The hope in her eyes dimmed, and she put a hand to her heart. “Who says I need a wealthy husband to be happy?”

  He wanted to reach out and caress her face, her crestfallen expression hopefully indicating she was at least starting to understand. “You don’t know what it’s like not to have money.” He tilted his head toward the windows, where they could see the mills and factories Mr. Liscombe had built across the street. “You don’t know what it’s like to live like those men, women, and children who work the cotton and linseed mills. Their shifts begin so early the sun has yet to show above the horizon. If the women are not at home raising a brood of children, they’re working long hours in the factories.”

  He pushe
d out of his chair and headed toward the window, for the longer she stayed hunkered down beside him, the more likely Mr. Kingsman would see them and assume the worst . . . or the truth anyway.

  He walked over to the picture window and pointed toward the cotton mill, keeping his voice low enough that Mr. Kingsman wouldn’t be alerted. “If you understood what that life was like—what it could end up being with me—you’d have no feelings for me whatsoever, I assure you.”

  She stood and crossed over to the window beside him. Why did she have to keep coming so close? If she kept this up, he might be insane enough to admit he wanted her this close for the rest of his life.

  “But you aren’t that poor, and you’ve got a good job—”

  “That I’d lose the moment Mr. Kingsman realized I’d taken you away from David.”

  “And so you could find another job.”

  He shook his head. “That’s easier said than done.” Especially since Mr. Kingsman was powerful and vindictive enough to keep him from getting another job in Kansas City if he so chose.

  He turned to look out the window again. “My father was a lawyer, earned about what I do, I’d suspect. But he got disbarred when a case went wrong for an important client. His name was besmirched, and he couldn’t find anything to do but general labor. He couldn’t sustain his family. . . . We were torn apart.” Which was why Calvin now saved all he could, but his savings would never be big enough to keep Marianne content if he hit hard times—which was practically guaranteed if he ruined Mr. Kingsman’s plans for his son to marry into the Lister fortune.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know, but that doesn’t mean it’ll happen to us.” She stepped closer, laying her hand on his arm again. “Are there other reasons you don’t want to marry me besides the fact that you think we’ll suffer hardship?”

  Her voice had gained a hopeful lift to it again, but how? What had he said to encourage her? “The fact is, hundreds of working women wish they were you.” His mother certainly would have. “But no one dreams of being them.”

  “That’s not true.” Her hands planted on her hips. “No woman dreams of being nothing more than a set of numbers to be transferred from one rich man’s portfolio to another’s.”