Once Upon a Texas Christmas

by Winnie Griggs

  Seth was somewhat bemused by the speed at which her thoughts moved. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Very well. I’ll work with Darby to start rearranging furniture. He can work on it as he has time.”

  Seth tried to take control of the conversation again. “Hold on. We should wait until the new parlor is complete before we find a new use for the current one. Our guests’ needs come first. Mr. Hendricks assures me that’s only three to four weeks away.”

  She waved aside his concern as if it was inconsequential. “We’ve already curtailed our services during construction, and informed our guests that certain amenities are temporarily suspended. This just becomes another.”

  Then her eyes widened as if she’d suddenly received inspiration. “In the meantime, since we no longer have a full complement of guests to feed, we can shut off a portion of the dining room to serve as a temporary parlor for any guests who would have need of one. In fact, we can use the privacy screens from our unused guest rooms to do it so there won’t be any delay on that account. And carving that space out of the dining room will have the added benefit of keeping it from looking so empty at mealtime.”

  Again she’d come up with an unorthodox solution to a logistical problem. “That could work,” he said thoughtfully.

  “Of course it will.” She flashed a brilliant smile. “Transforming the parlor into an office was a marvelous idea.”

  It sounded almost as if she was trying to give him a pat on the head.

  But she was still chatting away. “The new office will be large enough to hold two desks so we can both work at the same time if we need to, rather than taking turns.”

  That was the second time she’d made reference to both of them working in the office. Had she felt excluded before? He supposed he had considered it his personal domain, allowing him first claim on it. Miss Fulton had seemed content to restrict her use to the times he was occupied elsewhere.

  Apparently she hadn’t been as content as he’d thought.

  How would it be sharing the space with the talkative Miss Fulton? Would he be able to get any work done?

  And was he actually looking forward to finding out?

  * * *

  Abigail sought out Darby as soon as she left the office, and explained what needed to be done.

  “First, we’ll need to clear the west end of the dining room,” she instructed after she’d explained the new purpose for each of the rooms. “We can store the extra tables and chairs in some of the unused guest rooms. And while you’re at it, gather the privacy screens from those same rooms. We’ll use them to partition off the section of the dining room we’re converting into our temporary guest parlor.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She tapped her chin. “You can do some of this on your own, but you’re definitely going to need some help with the bulky and heavier pieces. When school lets out, why don’t you get your brother, Odie, to help? I’ll pay him four bits for the afternoon and he can take his meal in the dining room for free.”

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  Darby went right to work and under her occasional direction, he spent the rest of the day moving furnishings around from one room to another.

  While Darby worked on the changes needed in the dining room, Abigail returned to the office and began to organize and box up the files, correspondence, blueprints and other papers in preparation for the move across the lobby. Mr. Reynolds had disappeared—he was probably working with the Hendrickses again—and she felt a little uncertain about going through his things. But it wasn’t as if she’d be reading his mail or prying into his personal business.

  Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a box and began carefully packing up the items from the top of the desk. As she worked, an item on the corner of his desk caught her eye. It was an envelope addressed to a Jamie Shaw in care of the Bridgerton Academy for Boys.

  Was Jamie Shaw the youth who’d written to Mr. Reynolds? And who was he to the man?

  Of course he could also be an adult—a headmaster or instructor at the school. But, remembering the youthful handwriting on the letter he’d received, she didn’t think so.

  Abigail placed the letter in the box and went back to clearing the top of the desk. But she couldn’t stop thinking of Jamie Shaw. Whoever he was, she felt an immediate sympathy for and kinship with him. She knew how lonely living at a boarding school could be. She hoped this Jamie was having a better time of it than she’d had.

  Would it be too forward of her to ask Mr. Reynolds about him? He would likely tell her it was none of her business. But fear of being rebuffed had never stopped her before.

  Unfortunately, Abigail didn’t have an opportunity to broach the subject with him right away. The two of them kept missing each other as she worked with Darby to get all three rooms set up just right. Even when they paused for lunch, Constance came by to chat.

  By late afternoon everything was done. The new guest parlor had been partitioned off and furnished with a number of pieces from the original parlor. Abigail stood at the entrance and looked around, pleased to see that it had turned out just as she’d imagined. The only problem the guests who used this temporary parlor might encounter would be noise carrying over from the dining room.

  She turned to Darby and his brother. “Great job, boys.” She reached into her pocket. “Odie, here’s the money I promised you for your help. Darby, you’ll have a little extra in your pay this week as well.”

  With a smile and another thank-you, she sent the boys on their way.

  Next she made a quick stop in what had been the office and, as expected, found it empty. A good sweeping and cleaning was all it lacked to be ready for her to begin setting up her library. With it empty like this, she could really appreciate how much space she would have. Already she was mentally picturing how she would arrange her bookshelves and the other touches she would add to make it a more inviting space.

  Closing the door, she headed for the one-time parlor that had been transformed into the office. Stepping inside, she gave a little sigh of satisfaction. The room now contained two desks—though the one Abigail had allocated to herself was a smallish writing desk that had been part of the original furnishings of the parlor. No matter, it was more than she’d had before and it meant she would no longer have to share Mr. Reynolds’s desk.

  There was also the bonus of a nice-sized worktable that she’d had moved in here from one of the storerooms. Now they would have a proper place to lay out work plans, blueprints and furniture catalogs when the need arose.

  She’d also told Darby to leave a couple of the more worn but comfortable chairs and a settee when he was moving the furniture. Those pieces gave the room the cozy, welcoming feel she’d hoped for. And the bookcases and cabinets that had been transferred from the office were now, thanks to her, polished and the contents better organized.

  She couldn’t wait for Mr. Reynolds to see it. Would he appreciate all the little extra touches she’d added? Abigail envisioned many a productive hour, working side by side with him. This would make them more effective business partners.

  Perhaps it would lead to stronger mutual appreciation and respect?

  “I must say, it looks good.”

  Abigail started guiltily at the sound of his voice. Thank goodness she’d had her back to the door. Getting herself under control, she turned to see Mr. Reynolds looking around, his expression reflecting approval.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “We will certainly have more room to work in here.” He nodded toward her desk. “And I see you found a work place of your own.”

  “No more need to share,” she agreed. Then she waved a hand. “All the papers and such from the top of your desk are in those boxes, waiting for you to arrange as you see fit.”

  He moved toward the desk. “Sorry to have left you to deal w
ith this on your own. But I can see I left it in good hands.”

  She smiled, warmed by his praise. “Darby did most of the actual work, I just pointed to what needed to be moved where.”

  That earned her a smile. “The skill of a good supervisor.”

  “And a good hotel manager.”

  He made a noncommittal sound and continued toward his desk without meeting her gaze.

  Should she let it go? No indeed. “Don’t you agree that a good hotel manager should have strong supervisory skills?”

  He finally turned, meeting her gaze. “Of course. Along with a number of other skills.”

  “Such as?”

  “Good people skills. The ability to anticipate needs of both the business and the customers. The ability to face unexpected problems without panicking. The ability to deal with staffing issues.”

  “And how do you think I fare in those areas?”

  “To be honest, Miss Fulton, I haven’t observed you in action enough to be able to evaluate. But I do know that there is one area that you are lacking.”

  She tried to brace herself. “And that is?”

  “Experience.”

  “Everyone has to start somewhere.”

  “True. But one rarely starts at the top.”

  “Well, I still have two months to gain that experience, don’t I?”

  He merely rolled his eyes at that. “Thank you again for getting things set up today. But if you’ll excuse me, I want to get my papers organized and filed properly.”

  Apparently she was dismissed. With a flounce, Abigail turned and left the room.

  It was already past five o’clock so she headed home. As she marched down the sidewalk she tried to get her temper under control. The man could be so infuriating!

  But she supposed he had a point. He hadn’t had enough time to observe her in action, and without any experience to back her up, how was he to know if she could handle such an important job on her own? She would just have to do her best over the coming weeks to prove to him that she was capable.

  But what would it take?

  That night, when she said her prayers, she turned it over to God.

  Heavenly Father, help me prove myself. I’m not asking for any major disasters to come our way, just some opportunities to show what I can do. But in this and all things, Your will be done.

  Now if she could just have enough faith to leave it in God’s hands.

  Chapter Ten

  Seth stared at the closed door. He’d seen the disappointment in her eyes and it had made him feel like a bully kicking a puppy.

  She obviously had her eye on the hotel-manager job. He should have told her outright he already had someone else in mind for the job, but he’d been too cowardly to completely extinguish her hope.

  He didn’t know which was worse—killing all hope from the outset, or letting her have her hope and then disappointing her when he eventually hired someone else.

  Perhaps, before the time came to make the decision, she would have changed her mind or done something to show she wasn’t right for the job.

  But the nagging suspicion that he’d be proven wrong about that kept him from sleeping well that night.

  Despite how irritating the woman could be, he couldn’t help but admire her spirit and optimism.

  * * *

  When Seth entered the office on Friday morning it was obvious Miss Fulton had already been there. Fresh flowers, arranged in a china vase, perched proudly on the worktable. An ormolu clock sat on her desk. A small framed sketch of a dandelion sat on the table near the settee.

  On the fireplace mantel, he spied another sketch, this one of a frog on a lily pad.

  She had certainly made herself at home. It appeared she was trying to take their new office and turn it back into a parlor.

  Ah well, he supposed he could live with a few feminine touches, so long as she didn’t go overboard with it.

  The more important question was, did this display mean she was no longer upset?

  Still wondering, he stepped into the lobby to find her talking to Larry and Darby. Larry appeared to be on his way out and Darby stood behind the counter, elbows resting next to the guest register.

  Both men, who’d been informally chatting with Miss Fulton, came to attention when they caught sight of him. Normally he would have been pleased by the reaction, seeing it as a sign of respect. So why didn’t he feel that same sense of satisfaction this time?

  Miss Fulton turned to greet him and she, at least, looked pleased to see him. “Good morning.” The smile accompanying her greeting drew one from him in return.

  “Good morning. I noticed you added a few personal touches to the office.”

  “I hope you don’t mind. I thought it needed a little warmth.”

  “It’s your office, too.” He waved a hand toward the dining room. “I was just going for some breakfast. Care to join me?”

  As they took their seats at one of the tables, Seth was relieved to see she had returned to her sunny-mannered self. Was it not in her nature to hold a grudge? Or was she still convinced she could sway him to her side?

  Once Della took their orders, Seth moved to a topic that seemed safe. “When do you plan to set up your library?”

  Her expression grew animated. “Soon. I want to free up the space in Daisy’s restaurant as soon as possible. She’ll be so excited to be able to accommodate more customers.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Did you speak to Mr. Hendricks about what we want to do with the front desk?”

  “I did. And he doesn’t think it will take much. He told me he should be able to get to it sometime in the next few days.”

  “Good. I won’t open it to the public until that’s all squared away. Which shouldn’t be a problem since it will take me some time to get everything organized once I move the books from the restaurant.”

  Della brought out their orders and conversation ceased while they were served.

  Once Della departed, Seth picked up his fork. “Will you need some help moving your books?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

  “I wasn’t going to offer my own services,” Seth said dryly. “but if you would like to ask Darby to help you, I can cover the front desk while he’s otherwise occupied.”

  “Thank you. I may just take you up on that.”

  It galled him that he was useless to help in a situation like this. The best he could hope for was to succeed well enough at business that he could hire folks to handle manual labor for him.

  * * *

  Even though Mr. Reynolds’s expression remained impassive, Abigail sensed he was frustrated. It must rankle for a young and otherwise healthy man such as himself to be limited by his injury.

  And it was strange she could pick up on his feelings this way.

  When they’d finished their meal, Abigail dabbed her lips and then put aside her napkin. “I’ve made some decisions on the decor of the lobby and dining areas,” she told Mr. Reynolds. “As we discussed, I’m prepared to go over them with you when you have a moment.”

  A flash of surprise crossed his face, as if he hadn’t expected her to follow through on his request to be consulted. But he recovered quickly. “If you like, we can do it now.”

  She stood. “My things are in the office.”

  He stood as well and swept a hand in the general direction of the office. “Lead the way.”

  When they entered the office, Mr. Reynolds moved toward his desk. “Let’s get to it.”

  Abigail moved instead to the worktable. “I think I can show you better over here.” She rested a hand on the stack of catalogs she’d placed there earlier and waited for him to join her. “Right now I’m focusing primarily on the public areas of the hote
l—the lobby, restaurant and guest parlor.”

  He came up beside her, studying her materials. For a moment Abigail was thrown off-kilter by his closeness. It was as if her senses were suddenly heightened. She could feel the warmth of his presence, hear the sound of his breathing, smell the hint of coffee that clung to him.

  “Walk me through what I’m looking at.”

  His words broke the spell and she quickly tried to pull her thoughts together. “As I said before, I want to play off of the rose in the hotel’s name, but using it as a sort of subtle motif rather than going overboard.”

  She held out her hand. “Here are swatches of the fabric I plan to use for the front drapes.”

  He took the cloth she held out, fingering them as he studied the pattern and colors.

  His expression didn’t give away any of his thoughts.

  Feeling the need to fill in the silence, she explained further. “As you can see, there are two separate pieces. One is very lightweight and almost sheer.” She touched it lightly, loving the pale pink shade that was shot through with green sprigs. Did he like it?

  “This second fabric is much more solid without feeling overly heavy. The maroon shade plays off the sheer print beautifully. When you layer them together, the effect is stunning.”

  “And where do you plan to use these?”

  “They’ll be fashioned into drapes for the lobby. When we want to let lots of daylight into the area, we can simply pull back the heavier layer. When we want to have more privacy or block out the view, we pull it closed.”

  He nodded, still not expressing either approval or disapproval.

  She lifted another piece of fabric. “The chairs and settee in the lobby are still good solid pieces. And I really like the rosettes carved into the arms and back. But the cushions are worn and faded. So, rather than replacing them altogether, I plan to simply reupholster the pieces in this fabric.”

  This one was a soft but heavy fabric with ivory and green stripes. The green was an exact match for the green shade in the curtain fabric. Would he pick up on that?