“I’ll get it for him,” Sawyer said, not a trace of humor in his voice. “You head on home.”
The unexpected kindness sent a twinge of guilt through her, followed by a wave of gratitude. Sawyer wasn’t laughing at her. He cared. “Thank you. I don’t know why—”
He stopped her with an upraised hand. “Perhaps his vision is poor at that range. It’s the only excuse I can imagine. Clearly, you are no housekeeper.”
She couldn’t hold back a smile. Sawyer Evans had a good heart. “If you have a moment tomorrow evening, we can go over the sketches and discuss future plans.”
His shoulders squared even as his expression softened. “I’d like that.”
So would she. More than he could know.
* * *
Sawyer had never been this nervous, even when he was courting Julia. Then again, both sets of parents had assumed for years that he and Julia would one day marry. Mother had spoken of it often, with a dreamy look in her eyes. Father had stated it as he would any business deal. The Spencers owned a dozen hotels. Father owned railroads. The match would bring the two together into an empire that would one day control America.
Sawyer ruined that by tiring of Father’s machinations and enlisting in the war. Unlike other engaged women, Julia hadn’t wept or proclaimed undying love at the news. In retrospect, she hadn’t given him a great deal of affection at all. She’d never once looked at him the way Pearl looked at Roland or Amanda looked at Garrett. Sawyer dreamed of one day seeing that starry-eyed gaze that told everyone the couple’s world began and ended with each other, while still keeping God at the center. He’d even hoped that Fiona would be the one.
At the appointed hour the following day, he paid a call at the boardinghouse and was greeted at the front door by Dinah. She was scrubbed clean with her hair pulled up with a ribbon.
“Good evening, Mr. Evans,” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable. “How are you tonight?”
That was rehearsed.
“Fine. I’m here to see Fiona.”
Dinah’s smile vanished, replaced by a pout. “Don’t you like my new ribbon? A gentleman ought to say somethin’ when his gal dresses up special for him.”
Saturday night, Sawyer had tried to gently inform her that he was not interested. Apparently his words didn’t sink in.
“I don’t have a gal.”
“’Course you do. You got me.” She threaded her arm around his.
He extricated himself. “Is Fiona here? She said to meet her after supper.”
Dinah’s lower lip stuck out a bit farther. “In the reading room,” she said with a huff. She then stomped off muttering, “Men can’t see what’s right in front of ’em.”
Sawyer stifled a smile as he closed the front door and removed his gloves, hat and coat. This time Dinah had gotten the message. He was not interested in anyone but a certain fiery redhead whose letter in response to his advertisement still nestled in a vest pocket near his heart. The advertisement! Maybe Roland was right, and he should write a response to each inquiry. Then Dinah would stop pestering him. Then Fiona would know he was the one seeking a wife—eventually.
That gave him pause. She’d forgiven him. That much was clear, but she hadn’t given any indication she liked him as more than a friend. The letter-writing would have to be confined to regrets. Last night she’d been humiliated when Mr. Stockton thought she was a maid. The man must be blind. Fiona was stunning, regal and exquisitely dressed. No man in his right mind would think her anything but a lady. Yet Sawyer had made his own gaffes last night, something he intended to remedy tonight.
“Sawyer!” Fiona swept into the hallway while he was still making sure his boots were clean. “You’re right on time. We just finished supper.”
A wonderful aroma of roast beef filled the air. His stomach rumbled. The fare at the hotel dining room hadn’t been as tempting.
“Did you get anything to eat?” She led him toward the room set aside for reading and writing letters.
“A little.”
Fiona took that answer as a negative. “Mrs. Calloway! Sawyer will eat the leftover roast beef.” She vanished into the kitchen and returned moments later with a plate heaped with thick slabs of beef, mashed potatoes and gravy. “Let’s go to the dining room. It’s more private anyway.”
Once there, she extracted silverware and a napkin from the sideboard. She then assembled his place setting as if he were dining at the finest establishment in Chicago.
“Thank you. I didn’t expect to be fed.”
“Better than the food at the hotel?” Fiona had a twinkle in her eye. “Go ahead. Taste it.”
Had she made it? Sawyer hesitated, suddenly awkward. “You’re not eating?”
“Already done.”
He stared at the plate. The meal smelled delicious, but what if taste didn’t measure up to aroma? Best ask a blessing on the food—and on his choice of words. He didn’t want to end up walking on tenterhooks the way he had last night.
After praying for God’s blessing, he picked up his knife and fork. Fiona watched every move. He cut off a piece of beef. It was so tender he didn’t need a knife. After swathing it in potatoes and gravy, he put the whole thing in his mouth. The flavors melted on his tongue. He leaned back in the chair, eyes closed.
“This is the best roast beef I’ve ever eaten.”
She settled into the chair beside him. “It is?”
Her eagerness gave him the answer. He opened his eyes. “You made this?”
“I did. With a little coaching from Mrs. Calloway.”
“My.” That’s all he could think to say. His mouth was watering for another bite. “This is delicious.”
Then he dug in, and in no time devoured the entire plate of food. When finished, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “That was delicious.”
Fiona chuckled. “You didn’t need to rush so. I wouldn’t have taken it from you.” She sobered. “Did you have to compete with your brothers for food?”
Sawyer took a drink of water so he didn’t have to answer right away. He only had the one brother, Jamie, who idolized Father. He always had. Sawyer’s stepping down gave him the opportunity he’d hungered for since they were boys scrapping over toys and the best seat in the carriage. But food?
“No. I only have one brother, and he’s three years younger than me.”
“Only one.” Fiona said that wistfully. “Any sisters?”
Sawyer wiped his mouth and hands on the napkin and then pushed his empty plate aside. “No. Shall we get down to business?”
“Don’t like the personal questions?”
He supposed he deserved that. “They’re all right. Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“Many. Both older and younger.” She pulled out a sketchbook and opened it to a page marked with a ribbon. “Here are my ideas for the hotel dining room.”
Sawyer wondered for only a moment about her brief answer before the sketch captured his attention. He pulled it close. “You did this between last night and now?”
“Of course.”
“And cooked supper?” He ran a finger over the exquisitely detailed drawing. “When did you have the time?”
“The nights and days are long at present.”
At present. Once her niece arrived, her time would be occupied. “Since no ships have arrived.”
She nodded.
“When do you expect your niece?”
Fiona heaved a sigh. “Lillibeth didn’t say.”
Lillibeth? Sawyer instantly had visions of a family holed up in the Appalachian Mountains. “Where did you grow up?”
“New York City.” Her fierce gaze told him not to ask more personal questions, but he had to know one thing.
“Where did you learn to draw like this?”
> All the tension left her. “First from Mr. McCarthy. He lived in the same building. Then the stage designers. At first they thought it peculiar for a singer to ask what they did and how they did it, but they showed me their work and then taught me how to sketch and design rooms.”
Though she’d been careful not to say so, he suspected she’d grown up in the tenements. With her Irish name and the few bits she’d told him, she must have come from a deeply impoverished background. That only made her rise in the New York singing world more remarkable. It also explained her defensiveness.
“They might have taught you a thing or two, but you have real talent,” he said.
She glowed under the compliment. “Do you like the design?”
He moved the sketchbook a little so the light fell directly on the page. “The furnishings are both functional and elegant without being osten—overblown.”
She caught his near blunder with a raised eyebrow. “Ostentatious?”
“I heard someone say it recently.” Hopefully she’d believe that.
“Louise. She’s always spouting off long words.”
Whew. He’d dodged that one. To distract her, he went back to the sketch. “I wonder if the wallpaper is too...frilly for a dining room.”
She stiffened. “It’s exactly what was used in a tea room frequented by the social elite.”
“Ah.” Just what he needed to avoid. “But, as you said, I’m not likely to have many of society’s elite visit Singapore.”
She relaxed and let out a brief laugh. “You’re right. I did say that. Perhaps something more reserved.”
“I believe Roland has some samples at the mercantile that we can look through. Shall we meet there at six o’clock tomorrow?”
“We?” She brightened even more. “You want to look at them together?”
She wanted to spend time with him. The thought made his pulse accelerate, but he had to keep his head and play the calm businessman. “It’ll be faster that way. We can each choose our favorites and then compare in order to come to a decision.”
“I’d like that.”
The sigh in those words made him look her way. Was that a starry-eyed gaze she’d just given him?
* * *
Fiona spent the next day pondering the mystery that was Sawyer Evans. One moment he overflowed with compliments. The next he held her at arm’s length. At times she could almost believe he felt something for her, but then he would make some comment to dash her hopes. If he wasn’t so alarmingly handsome and gentlemanly, she could dismiss him out of hand and step into a loveless marriage with no regrets.
A day in the kitchen had distracted her from the looming problem of her charge’s imminent arrival and her increasingly impoverished condition with no husband in sight.
Sawyer had lifted her spirits with his confidence in her abilities and tender concern over the way Mr. Stockton had dismissed her the night before. Moreover, she rather enjoyed spending time with him.
He did seem better educated than the average lumberjack or saw operator. He appeared to stick to a strict set of moral standards. From what she’d heard, he never entered one of the saloons and listened intently to the sermons on Sunday. He was always well-groomed, and his Sunday clothes were finer than any she’d seen on another lumberman. Oh, they were old and slightly out of fashion, but the cut was too good for ready-made.
All in all, Sawyer was a solid, upright man. Though Fiona had dreamed of giving her niece the finest tutors and vocal instructors, life in a hotel wouldn’t be that bad. More and more, Fiona could picture it. Unfortunately, Sawyer didn’t, and that left her waiting for an answer from the man who placed the advertisement, the man she’d once hoped was Mr. Stockton.
At six o’clock, she wandered the displays in the mercantile, waiting for Sawyer. The thought of him standing next to her perusing samples made her heart beat a little faster.
“Are you certain I can’t help you?” Pearl asked.
Fiona jumped, startled from her daydream. “I’m certain.” Then she reconsidered. “Sawyer said that Roland had some wallpaper samples. Perhaps I could begin looking at them.”
Pearl’s eyes widened. “You and Sawyer Evans?”
“For the hotel.” Fiona tried to ignore the heat flooding her face. She could not remember the last man she’d blushed over. A neighborhood boy who brought her a tired wild daisy? She couldn’t let Pearl think she was sweet on Sawyer. “He hired me to help with the refurbishing.”
“Oh. I see.”
Fiona didn’t miss the trace of disappointment in Pearl’s exclamation.
“Strictly business,” Fiona reiterated. “Does Roland have any samples?”
“Well, I believe he does. Let me go upstairs and ask him. Tell anyone who inquires that I’ll be right back.” She hurried through the back door and upstairs to the apartment she and her husband shared.
Fiona waited near the counter for her return. None of the customers appeared eager to purchase anything, but she did have a good view of the front door. She would see Sawyer the moment he walked through it.
“Did you see him?” The hushed statement, followed by giggles, came from behind a nearby display of waterproof raincoats.
Fiona knew the ladies well enough to recognize Linore’s voice. She was probably with Dinah. Doubtless they meant Sawyer, who would soon walk right into their midst. In fact, the doorbell rattled that very moment, and Sawyer stepped inside.
The giggling increased, followed by fruitless attempts by Dinah to hush her friend.
Fiona had to stop Sawyer before he got to them, or the pleasant evening looking through wallpaper samples would never occur. She abandoned the counter and hurried to greet him.
His smile upon seeing her sent every concern fleeing.
“I got here as soon as I could,” he said. “I hope you didn’t wait long.”
“Not long. Pearl went upstairs to ask Roland about the wallpaper samples. She should be back any moment.” Fiona looked behind her, but neither Pearl nor Dinah and Linore were there. “We could discuss table linens while we wait.” She guided Sawyer across the store and away from the giggling girls.
Though he didn’t look thrilled about going over fabric, he didn’t protest. Since the only other customers were workers from the mill, that section of the store was empty.
“Excuse me, Fiona, but I have to tell Tuggman something.” Sawyer crossed the store in a few long strides, talked to the mill worker and returned just as Pearl stepped out of the back room, her arms laden with squares of wallpaper. She headed for the counter and set the paper on the end while she tallied Mr. Tuggman’s purchases.
“The wallpaper.” Fiona headed for the counter, but Sawyer didn’t follow. She turned to ask why.
He was frowning, arms crossed and gaze directed across the store. What had upset him now?
She returned. “You’ve changed your mind?”
“You said you wanted to talk about tablecloths and napkins.” His words were just as grumpy as his stance.
“That was only to pass the time. Now that the paper samples are here, we should go through them.”
“How long can it take to decide on linens? If I even need new ones. The old linens look fine.”
Yes, something had clearly upset him. “You might choose a different quality of fabric.”
His frown deepened. “I can’t afford to change everything. Not right away.”
Fiona’s heart sank. His means were as tight as she’d guessed. He must have sunk everything into the hotel. A man like Sawyer wouldn’t take on more than he could handle. He wouldn’t take on a wife and daughter.
“All right,” Sawyer said suddenly. “We can look at the wallpaper now.”
Startled from her thoughts, she looked up to see Sawyer already heading across the room. No one was a
t the counter. Aha. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at wallpaper samples, he didn’t want to do so in front of his coworker—now his subordinate since he was manager at the mill. Fiona recalled the way Pearl had brightened when she told her that she was going to look over samples with Sawyer. People made assumptions. Sawyer must have realized that. She should have recognized how awkward this would be for him. As far as she knew, most people weren’t aware that he was buying the hotel. If they saw him looking over wallpaper samples with her, they would assume he was courting her.
If only that was possible.
When she reached the counter, she stood close to Sawyer and watched as Pearl laid out the first set of samples.
“Too flowery.” Sawyer pointed at two of the samples.
“I agree.” Fiona could practically feel his breath on her cheek. “But the striped one might work.”
“It might, if it was a different color. It’s too...”
“Pink?”
“Exactly.”
“Does it come in other colors?” Fiona asked Pearl even as she heard movement behind her.
“Let me check.” Pearl stepped to the side. “May I help you, ladies?”
Fiona turned to see Linore and Dinah, just as she’d suspected.
They quickly averted their gazes and muttered, “No, ma’am.”
“Oh, Dinah, I have a letter for you.” Pearl turned to the cubbyholes that served as mailboxes and pulled out an envelope.
Dinah appeared surprised at first and then overjoyed. She and Linore scooted out the door, speculating about the letter.
“I wonder what that was all about?” Fiona said.
Pearl glanced at Sawyer and shook her head. “I wouldn’t know.”
She then smiled at Fiona, as if to say that it was nothing of concern.
“Shall we look at the next samples?” Pearl asked.
Time flew past while Fiona and Sawyer looked over each wallpaper sample. In the end, they both agreed on a simple pattern in ivory with a narrow china blue stripe. Sawyer didn’t even ask about the cost. When Pearl gave him some figures, he told her he would place an order once the purchase of the hotel was complete.
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