A Love All Her Own

by Janet Lee Barton

  She was still thinking about the sermon when the service ended and she and Marcus followed his parents back to their home. Mrs. Wellington’s dining table was set with fine china and crystal—for twelve. Before Abigail had a chance to become nervous, several of the people she had been introduced to earlier arrived, and she strived to remember their names. The minister and his wife arrived last, and everyone seemed to want to talk to Abigail.

  “We are so glad to meet you, Miss Connors,” a man she’d been introduced to earlier said. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your family. How long are you planning on staying in Hot Springs?”

  “I’m not certain. I’m looking into some things for my father.” Abigail spoke the truth. She was going to do as requested, and she had no idea when she was going home. No time soon—that was for sure.

  “Would you happen to know the Joneses? They are dear friends of ours and moved to Eureka Springs a couple of years ago.”

  “No, I don’t believe I’ve met them. It’s possible my parents would know them, though.” Abigail felt faint for a moment. If they knew people in Eureka Springs, it was possible they’d heard about her wedding being called off and had heard any number of things about her.

  “We’d love to have you to dinner one evening soon,” his wife said.

  Her tone was very nice and friendly, and Abigail tried to put her fears to the back of her mind. “Why, thank you.” At least it would get her out, and she supposed she should get to know some of the people in town. It might be that she would be staying for quite some time. Abigail just wished she could remember their names. “That would be lovely.”

  “I’ll send you an invitation this next week, then.”

  “I look forward to it.” She was going to have to ask Marcus who the couple was, because hard as she tried, she couldn’t recall their names.

  But she did remember the next person who came up to her and asked if she’d be free for lunch during the next week. Abigail had been introduced to the young woman and her husband before church—and recalled that her name was Sally Monroe.

  “I’m certain I will be available,” Abigail said. Sally appeared to be about her age, and she was quite nice. “I’d love to have lunch.”

  “How about Tuesday? I could meet you at your hotel, and we could have lunch there.”

  “That should work fine.” They set a time, and Abigail found herself looking forward to getting to know Sally better. She didn’t really miss her friends in Eureka Springs as much as she thought she might. And that, too, was strange to her for she saw some of them almost every day.

  Mrs. Wellington called everyone to the table, and Abigail wasn’t disappointed to find herself sitting next to Marcus. He’d almost disappeared into the background while others had come up to speak to her. Now he leaned near and whispered, “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. I just wish I could remember that couple right across from us.”

  “They are the Bransons: Peter and Emily.” His voice was low and for her ears only.

  “Oh, thank you. They want me to come to dinner soon.”

  “You’ll enjoy yourself. They are very nice people.”

  As the meal progressed, they all seemed to go out of their way to make Abigail feel welcome in their town. The minister and his wife were very nice, also.

  “We’re very glad you joined us today. It’s sometimes hard to go to church when you are away from home.”

  Abigail didn’t want to admit that there’d been times at home when it had been hard for her to go. “Your church has a very good feeling to it. Everyone was very friendly and welcoming.”

  “We hope you’ll join us again.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  The afternoon passed quickly. After dinner, they played a game of croquet in the big, shady backyard, and Abigail enjoyed herself immensely. After everyone else had left, the Wellingtons insisted that she stay for a light supper, and by the time Marcus took her back to the hotel that evening, she didn’t feel quite so alone in a new town.

  He walked her to her room and, after checking inside, joined her just outside the door once more. “What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow? Didn’t we decide on around ten?”

  His smile showed his dimple, and as Abigail looked into those blue eyes, her heart fluttered against her ribs. “Yes, we did. I’ll be ready.”

  “Good.”

  “I’m sure you’ve had second thoughts about telling my father you’d be responsible for me. Between doing what you’ve been hired to do and doing what your family expects you to do, you certainly have your work cut out for you.”

  He leaned against the door frame and looked into her eyes. “Yes, ma’am, I believe I do.”

  The look in his eyes kept her from taking offense.

  He shoved himself away from the door frame and gave her a push. “Lock up. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “See you then,” Abigail breathed as she backed into her room. She shut the door and turned the key.

  “Good night,” Marcus said from the other side.

  She could hear him walk away as she whispered, “Good night.”

  ❧

  Marcus walked out of the hotel after he’d had a word with Morgan and Ross, who were changing shifts. Abigail didn’t know just how true her words were. He certainly did have his work cut out for him. . .and the biggest part of it was making sure he didn’t begin to care too much for his client.

  He’d watched her this afternoon at his parents’. She wasn’t nearly as confident as she would like everyone to think she was. And she seemed a little. . .apprehensive, especially when the Bensons had first gone up to talk to her. She’d turned quite pale for a moment. He wondered why. There was so much he didn’t know about Abigail Connors, and the more he was around her, the more he wanted to know about her. He’d put a man on it first thing tomorrow.

  Marcus glanced up at her window and fought the urge to wait until her lights went out before heading for home. He had an agent there in case she needed anything, and he’d see her the next day. He chuckled and shook his head. Abigail Connors was taking up entirely too many of his thoughts.

  ❧

  Abigail was glad to see Bea early the next morning. She’d washed her hair and needed the maid’s help in making herself presentable. Bea also gathered the gowns that needed to be pressed and the other garments that needed to be washed and took them down to the hotel laundry for Abigail.

  “Thank you, Bea,” Abigail said as the young woman put her hair up for her.

  “You are welcome, Miss Connors. I’m glad to do it. I talked to the manager, and he said that if you need me to help you on my days off, I could. So just let me know what you might want me to do for you and what time you need me. One of the regulars who’d taken a month’s leave is back, and I’ll only be working on Tuesdays and Thursdays now.”

  “Oh, well that will work out wonderfully for me. What are you being paid for your day here?”

  Bea told her, and Abigail nodded. “I’ll pay you that for each day you come to help me out. I’d like you on Saturday mornings and the weekday mornings that you aren’t working. If I need you to help me get ready for a special evening function, do you think you could do that?”

  “Of course! I’d be happy to.” Bea’s smile was wide.

  “Good. I’ve been able to make myself presentable, but I have to admit that I’ve missed my housekeeper. She always helped me get ready to go out. I’m hoping to learn more from you so that I can manage on my own better.”

  “I’ll be glad to help,” Bea said. “It’s really not that hard. You’ll do fine.”

  Her sweetness touched Abigail. It was nice to hear encouraging words, even if they were from someone she barely knew—and a maid at that. Not normally one to exchange small talk with servants, Abigail surprised herself by confiding in the young woman, “Thank you, Bea. I hope so. But I’m afraid I’ve been quite spoiled.”

  By the time Marcus came t
o pick her up to visit the bathhouses, Abigail felt she looked very nice. She’d chosen a blue-and-brown-plaid walking dress, accessorized with a blue hat and parasol. Bea had arranged little curls to peek out from under the hat on Abigail’s forehead, and she felt quite stylish when Marcus arrived.

  He looked quite nice and professional in his suit and bowler. Seeing that dimple flash as he smiled gave her that fluttery feeling again, and she wasn’t sure she welcomed it. She wasn’t even sure what it meant as she’d never experienced it before.

  “You look very nice this morning,” he said as they went downstairs. “Have you decided which bathhouse you want to visit first?”

  She shook her head. “I thought maybe we’d just start out from here and visit the closest one first.”

  “That sounds good to me. It’s a lovely day out. Would you like to walk?”

  They stepped outside. Noting the blue, cloudless sky, Abigail nodded. “Yes, let’s. It will be easier than getting in and out of a buggy, anyway.”

  Marcus chuckled. “That’s what I thought. Besides, this way you can see more of the city up close.”

  Abigail did feel a little nervous as she and Marcus set out for the first bathhouse. This was the first time her father had ever sent her to look into any kind of business venture for him, and she wanted to make him proud. “What is the difference between the springs at home and the ones here in Hot Springs?” she asked as Marcus took her arm and steered her out onto the walk.

  “They are totally different. The springs here are hot.” He grinned down at her. “Hence the name of the town. The springs in Eureka Springs are not hot. They are known for what many believe to be their mineral healing properties. Our springs start out at around 143 degrees and have to be cooled before they can be used in the bathhouses. Many people who have suffered from ailments have found that the hot waters have helped them. Others come because they think the hot baths are good for them and that they make them feel better.”

  They arrived at the Big Iron Bathhouse first, and after introducing herself to the receptionist, Abigail asked if she could make an appointment.

  “For a bath? My dear, look around you. We have several people waiting now. No, we cannot accommodate you now.”

  “No, I don’t want a bath. I’d like to make an appointment to tour the facility.”

  “You mean you don’t want a bath? You just want to look around?”

  “That’s right.” Abigail didn’t feel she needed to explain any more than that.

  “Well, I’m not sure. You’d have to talk to the manager about that.”

  “That’s what I’m wanting to do. Is he in?”

  “No. He won’t be back until this afternoon.”

  Abigail didn’t want to lose her temper with Marcus standing right beside her. “All right. May I make an appointment for tomorrow?”

  The receptionist looked at her book. “He can probably see you this time tomorrow.”

  “That will be fine. Please put me down for that.” She handed her a business card her father had made for her, calling her a representative of the Connors Bank of Eureka Springs. “Please tell him I am representing my father’s bank.”

  The receptionist’s tone quickly changed. “I’ll be glad to, Miss Connors. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The lobby had been somewhat dim, and Abigail opened her parasol against the brightness of the light outside.

  “You handled that very well.”

  “Thank you. She wasn’t very helpful, was she?”

  Marcus chuckled. “Not until she found out your father is a banker.” He shook his head. “It always bothers me when people are treated differently depending on their circumstances or how they look. I guess that is why I think so much of your father. When I went in, he didn’t know that I was the grown son of his good friends. I didn’t want that to be a factor in whether or not he gave me a loan.”

  “He is a very special man.” It suddenly struck Abigail that the deferential treatment she’d always received had been more because of her father and his position in town rather than anything she’d ever done. She wondered why she’d never really thought about it before. Deep down she knew the truth, but had she thought it was her right to be treated so well just because her father was so well thought of—or because of how wealthy he was? If so, how impertinent of her.

  They were at the next bathhouse before she had time to reflect further, and Abigail was relieved. She didn’t much like the turn her thoughts had taken. The Old Hale Bathhouse was nicer than its name implied, probably because it had been renovated.

  “There are regulations and inspections on a regular basis. If the government decides improvements need to be made, they are made. Otherwise, their licenses can be taken away,” Marcus explained.

  The manager was available, and he showed her what he could while they waited for one of the rooms and a tub to be cleaned so that she could see that. “When bathers come in, their valuables are given to us, and we put them in our safe,” the manager explained. “Then they are provided with fresh sheets and towels. The towels are to dry off with after the bath, and the sheets are to wrap in for the rubdown. The bathers provide their own mitts and bathrobes. An attendant oversees the bath. The tubs are scrubbed clean after every bath, and the rooms cleaned and readied for the next bather.”

  “And how long does the bathing take?” Abigail asked.

  “Around twenty minutes, a little more or less, depending on the bather.”

  They toured the facility and then saw the room that had just been cleaned. The marble room had a stall.

  “The stall is at about 150 degrees, and the baths are at 98 degrees,” the manager explained. “Obviously, going from one to the other creates a kind of shock to the body, but it is what invigorates our clients—once they’ve perspired out the impurities, relaxed in the bath, and been rubbed down by our attendants.”

  By the time they arrived back at the front desk, they’d seen several people emerge from their rooms, some looking invigorated and others quite drained.

  “I assure you that those who look a bit the worse for it will be feeling totally different after a rest.”

  Abigail certainly hoped so. She might be looking into this business venture for her father, but after this morning, she had no intention of trying it out for herself. She thanked the manager for his time, and she and Marcus walked out into the bright sunshine.

  “Do you want to go to the next bathhouse, or would you like to take time for lunch?” Marcus asked. “There is a restaurant down the street a little ways that I think you’d enjoy.”

  “Yes, I think I’d like that. Thank you. I feel a little drained myself.”

  “It’s because of the heat and the humidity inside the bathhouses. There’s no way to get around that.”

  “I suppose not, with the water so hot. I don’t think I realized just how. . .muggy it would feel inside one of those rooms.”

  Marcus led her farther down the street to a small restaurant, and Abigail breathed a sigh of relief that it felt cool inside. After looking over the menu, she chose a French salad, a cup of bouillon, and tea.

  After the waiter left, Marcus turned to her. “We have several more bathhouses. Do you want to continue to visit them today?”

  “Maybe one more, if we can see the manager. The rest can wait until tomorrow or the next day. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

  Marcus looked at her and shook his head. “Whatever else I might need to do can be worked around you.”

  “But—”

  “Abigail, are you trying to get rid of me?”

  His dimple flashed, and her heartbeat sped up. “No, of course not. Besides, I know that if I should go anywhere without your knowledge, one of your agents will be right behind me.”

  “I’m glad you realize that. It will make me worry a little less when I’m not there.”

  “Then I take it that I can leave the hotel should I need to do some shopping?”

  “Of course you
can. I don’t want you to feel as if you are a prisoner, and I’m certain that’s the last thing your father intended when he asked me to make sure you are safe while you are here.”

  “Good.” Abigail found herself smiling at him. “I’m glad you realize that.”

  Marcus threw back his head and laughed. “I think we are beginning to understand each other. I will be accompanying you to any events you may want to attend, though. Parties, the opera—that kind of thing. We need to be clear on that.”

  Somehow the idea of him escorting her only gave her a warm feeling and a sense of safety. “We’re clear. I suppose you need to know that I’ve hired one of the part-time maids to work for me on her off days. And should I go out to the post office or shopping, she will most likely accompany me.”

  “I’d like to have her credentials checked out.”

  “All right. I’ll get them to you. She seems very nice and has been quite helpful to me. I’m sure she will check out just fine.”

  “In the business I’m in, I’ve found you can never be too sure. I hope she does check out.”

  Abigail did, too. While she didn’t want to go home, she was used to a life filled with friends and family. To her surprise, she even missed her housekeeper. Abigail had confided in her from time to time, and although she never really asked for her opinion, still she was someone to talk to. Now, Abigail found that she did miss all that. She liked Bea and was looking forward to have someone to talk to when she wasn’t with Marcus or his family.

  And she was relieved that she would be able to come and go from the hotel for more than one reason. She didn’t want to count on Marcus for everything. She’d looked forward to seeing him much too much today, and she didn’t welcome that feeling. . .not at all.

  Six

  Abigail gave Bea’s references to Marcus when he came to pick her up the next day to visit several other bathhouses on her list.

  He handed the papers to the agent. . .she believed his name was Nelson. She’d been introduced to him the day before, but because Marcus had someone at the hotel nearly twenty-four hours a day, she was still a bit confused on who was who.