“If you link your professional reputation to this wild-eyed scheme, you’ll pay for it when he can’t deliver. New York may seem like a big city, but your reputation will be in tatters if this thing goes south. Alex Duval is nothing but trouble. And both experts he hired are civil engineers. He should have had a structural engineer on the team for better insight.”
Bruce continued with his litany, and the worst thing was that almost everything he said was correct.
But how did he know so much about this, anyway? Roy and Claude must have conveyed a lot of information, but when she asked them about it the next morning, they denied telling Bruce anything about what kind of engineers Alex had consulted. They didn’t even realize he’d consulted experts at all.
Which meant Bruce still had a spy in Duval Springs.
Chapter
Eleven
Eloise arrived at Alex’s office on Friday morning to review the budget proposal. She braced herself for an anemic document swelling with overblown language but few concrete facts.
“Are you all right?” she gasped upon seeing him slumped behind his desk. He was unshaven, with shadows beneath his eyes and lines she’d never seen before.
He straightened immediately and summoned a grin for her. “We’ve been working on this budget around the clock,” he said. “My hand to God, I don’t know how you accountants can stay awake juggling all those awful numbers. But we got it done! Here.”
She held her breath while flipping through the stack of papers he handed her. It was written according to the example she’d provided. Page after page listed the town’s expenses, and the volunteer work was assigned to people who promised to donate their services for no compensation. The timeline looked tight but was in order. His narrative summary of the project was straightforward and soberly written. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She hadn’t really thought he could do it, but at first glance, it looked good.
“I’ll need a few days to double-check your numbers,” she said.
“Double-check them now. I want to get moving on this thing.”
She slanted him a glance. “A complete audit takes time and shouldn’t be rushed.”
“But I want to hold the vote tomorrow. Can you get it to me—”
“Absolutely not. You can’t vote until the townspeople have at least two weeks to review the proposal.”
Alex gestured to the window. “Don’t you see what’s going on outside? The railway bed is almost fully dug. We’ve received a delivery of pebbles and plan on laying it down tomorrow. Everyone wants this to happen.”
She folded her arms across her chest, prepared to do battle, for it looked like Alex was going to be intransigent. “You don’t know that until a formal vote is held. That means no hand-raising at a town hall meeting where people feel pressured by their neighbors. I’m talking about a closed ballot vote with an informed electorate. You need several hundred copies of this proposal printed and distributed.” She flipped through the document to study the list of incidental supplies. “I don’t see any allocation for the cost of printing and distributing this proposal. That will cost—”
“I’m not printing a copy for everyone. My secretary will type five copies, and they’ll be available for review at the public library.”
“That’s not how it’s done—”
“It’s how we do it.”
“Everyone needs their own copy for private study. This sort of decision takes proper consideration.”
“Maybe people in New York have money to splash around on documents no one will read, but as a working man, I have more respect for my budget. Five copies on reserve at the library. And if you look at the list of volunteers, you will see that my secretary has already agreed to donate typing services for correspondence and paperwork.”
Eloise wondered if this was what he had sounded like in the army. He projected forthright command and firm determination. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was a tiny bit thrilling.
“Ten copies,” she countered.
“Done! And we vote tomorrow.”
She found her backbone again and shook her head. “Absolutely not. Maybe no one else will read this document, but I will, and I need a few days. I’ll have it back to you on Monday, your secretary can type it up, and then you can vote on Saturday. That is as far as I will budge.”
His face was a combination of amused frustration and anticipation. This was exhilarating for both of them, even though it shouldn’t be.
“Fine!” he agreed. “I want you to be here for the vote, on the town square as we read out the results. We can set off fireworks when it passes.”
“If it passes.”
But in her heart she desperately hoped it would, for somehow the quest Alex envisioned was the most exciting adventure story she’d ever taken part in. She only hoped the ending would be a happy one, for with Alex, there were no guarantees.
The Saturday evening vote was going to be a triumph, and Alex had planned a grand festival to celebrate.
His motives were twofold. First, the town deserved a party to mark the official beginning of their move. More importantly, he wanted Eloise to be a part of the festivities. Years ago she had confided to him how eagerly she watched their town festivals through the telescope in her turret bedroom. Fourth of July holidays, autumn harvests, even the barbershop quartet concerts held on the bandstand during long summer evenings were fascinating to her. He’d always taken such gatherings for granted, but the lonely girl on the mountaintop craved the chance to attend.
This would be the last festival ever held in Duval Springs, combining the town vote with the traditional autumn harvest festival. Eloise loved maple candy, and on Friday morning, he commandeered the hotel kitchen to make a huge batch that would be given away for free at the festival. He kept the kitchen doors open so he could hear when Eloise arrived to send her weekly report to her supervisor in the city.
The scent of maple enveloped the kitchen with its warm, sweet aroma as he stirred the simmering liquid, but the instant he heard her voice, he moved the pot to the back burner. He strolled down the hallway to watch as she dictated her message to Kasper at the hotel’s front counter. She looked spectacular, decked out in another of those fancy city getups, this time in peacock blue. It gave him pleasure just to watch her primly report the status of her work and the fact that she was ahead of schedule. She was so good at everything she did, and he couldn’t help being proud of her.
“Come on back to the kitchen,” he coaxed the moment she paid Kasper for the wire. “I’ve got maple candy on the stove.”
She quirked a brow at him. “Maple candy is my weakness.”
“I remember.” He instantly regretted the comment. Eloise was prickly about protecting their private business, and he shouldn’t have alluded to their past, especially since Kasper was paying full attention. Kasper Nagy might be the laziest man in the entire valley, but he loved gossip.
“Come on back,” he urged, and to his relief, she followed. He set the pot back over the heat and resumed stirring, then invited her to tip in the chopped walnuts while he updated her on the progress of the festival. “Hercules went to Kingston to buy fireworks, and a couple of farmers brought in wagons for hayrides. The barbershop quartet will sing. Those pies on the cooling rack over there are ready to go, and of course . . .” He tipped the pot so she could see inside. “The world’s best maple candy. Can I convince you to come?”
She looked pensive as she watched him pour the first batch of maple into the candy molds. “I’ve always envied those festivals,” she said, the wistfulness plain in her voice.
“I know. This will be our last one, and you should be there.”
She still looked reluctant as she shook her head. “It would cause trouble with Bruce. He and I have grown very close over the past year. Especially since my mother died.”
Alex set down the pot to give Eloise his full attention. “I saw her obituary in the local paper. I’m sorry.” The obituary hadn’t even
mentioned Eloise’s existence, yet another slight for the redheaded child who’d never been wanted.
“It’s okay,” she said quietly.
“It’s not okay. I know you weren’t close after she sent you to live with Garrett, but her death had to hurt, and I’m sorry.”
Eloise hugged herself and stared at the floor, looking like she was struggling to form a question. She finally peeked up at him and spoke in a hesitant tone. “Did you hear anything about the circumstances of her death?”
He shook his head.
“A few weeks before she died, she approached me to do some accounting work for the family business. It was right after her husband died, and I thought she might be trying to reach out to me. Make amends for having cast me aside all those years ago. I was so happy—thrilled, really. I agreed to help without a second thought.”
Her face was troubled, and he ached, knowing that this reunion with her mother had somehow been disastrous. “What happened?”
“The financial books she gave me were fraudulent. She was trying to get revenge on my cousin Nick over some ancient grievance, and she used me to do it. The police got involved, and when everything unraveled, I was left holding the bag.” At his appalled look, she rushed to explain. “I don’t think she meant for it to happen that way.”
“Don’t defend her. She’s not worthy of your loyalty.” He couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept of a mother putting her own daughter in such peril, but the humiliation on Eloise’s face made it impossible to doubt her. “What happened?” he finally managed to ask.
“Well, I was fired from my job,” she said. “No one wants to employ an accountant accused of fraud. Nick knew I’d been duped, and he pulled a lot of strings to get me this job with the state. Anyway, my mother committed suicide, and it was a messy death. It was almost two days before she died, and Bruce went with me to the hospital. Even after everything she’d done to me, I couldn’t abandon her at the end. She was an unhappy person with no hope and no faith. I felt sorry for her.”
Alex covered her hand with his own, wishing he could offer better comfort, but Eloise hadn’t finished.
“Bruce stayed with me at the hospital the whole time, and we were never closer. I knew he could never acknowledge me as his daughter while my mother was alive, but she’s gone now, and I hoped that might change. I still hope for that.”
Her voice trailed off, and Alex’s heart split wide open. How could he fix this for her? Part of him wanted to take out an advertisement in a newspaper and spill the truth to the world. It was in his nature to fight for the people he loved, and standing aside while Eloise accepted the atrocious treatment by her family violated his every instinct.
“If you want Garrett to acknowledge you, ask for it. Demand it. If you want, I’ll go up that mountain and demand it on your behalf.”
She choked back a gulp of laughter. “Oh good heavens, no!” she gasped. She looked partially appalled but mostly amused, and pure, clean laughter bubbled out. Why was she laughing? He was serious.
“Say the word and I’ll go right now,” he offered.
“Oh, Alex,” she finally said. “Thank you for your willingness to help, but your plan would be a howling disaster.”
“Not howling,” he corrected. “Maybe a little disastrous, but howling?”
“It would howl,” Eloise assured him with amusement still lurking in her eyes, and he was at least grateful he could lighten her mood.
“I would do anything in the world for you,” he said. “Always. Show me a dragon to slay. A mountain to climb. Just ask.”
She hadn’t moved from her position against the back wall, but her entire countenance had shifted. Pleasure flushed her cheeks, and she gazed at him with undiluted happiness.
“At the very least, come to the harvest festival,” he prompted. “The vote is going to be a landslide victory, and you deserve to be there. None of this would be happening without the work you did for us.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll come.”
She still hadn’t moved, but he closed the distance between them and leaned in, almost touching his forehead to hers. A connection hummed between them, and the longing to tug her into his arms was almost unbearable. Her face was only inches from his, and if he lowered his head just the tiniest bit . . .
A clicking rattle drifted down the hallway, a message coming into the Western Union telegraph station. Eloise pulled back and looked down the hall, where Kasper Nagy roused himself from the bench to start receiving the message.
“I’d better go see if that’s for me,” she said. “It could be a reply from my boss.”
She was gone before Alex could stop her. He battled an almost irresistible urge to yank her back to the privacy of the kitchen and away from anything having to do with New York. For a few minutes, the magic of what they’d once had was here again. The old Eloise was back, and he’d do anything to keep her here for good.
He swallowed hard and planned carefully. Eloise might have loyalties to the city, but for now she was here in the valley, and that meant he had a home-field advantage.
And this time, he’d fight hard.
Chapter
Twelve
Eloise looked forward to the harvest festival with unseemly anticipation. Maybe it was a little foolish, for these events seemed tailor-made for children, but she so desperately wanted to attend. She kept it a secret from Bruce. It might endanger their fragile relationship, and she could probably escape the house without him even noticing.
It was the first weekend of October, and most of the demolition team had returned to the city for a visit with their families. Fletcher had promised them all a monthly trip home, and she had been looking forward to seeing baby Ilya again, but the chance to attend the festival in Duval Springs won out. Claude, Roy, and Enzo all had wives and children they were eager to see and left for the city first thing on Saturday morning.
She would settle for a telephone call back home to hear baby Ilya’s voice again. Bruce had a telephone in his home, but the closest one to Eloise’s apartment was in the pharmacy on the first floor of the neighboring building. She had instructed Tasha to delay placing the call until Ilya could be on hand. It was ridiculous, because he only knew two or three words, but even hearing his jabbering was something she craved.
Tasha didn’t call until late in the afternoon. Eloise raced to the back hall, where the telephone had been installed on the other side of the electrical box. She grabbed the receiver in excitement.
“I’m so sorry,” Tasha said about the tardy call. “First the baby was throwing up his lunch, and then he took a nap. I didn’t want to wake him.”
“Of course not!” Eloise said. “But he’s all right now? Can you hold the receiver to his face so I can hear him?”
“I am,” Tasha said. “He’s not making any noise.”
“Tickle him a little.”
Tasha must have obeyed, for a moment later her precious boy made some gulpy squeals that sent Eloise’s heart soaring. Someday she would have a baby of her own. As soon as she returned to New York City, surely this unwelcome fascination with Alex would fade, and she could concentrate on finding a solid, dependable man like Fletcher Jones.
It had been unusually generous of Fletcher to fund monthly trips for the team to go home. Normally he was such a stickler for every dollar. As she hung up the telephone, she wondered if he had expected to see her this weekend. Perhaps it had been a mistake to stay. Harvest festivals were for children, and she was a grown woman.
But she rushed to get ready because she didn’t want to miss a single moment, and the telephone call had delayed her longer than expected. As soon as she tidied her hair and put on a dash of powder, she slipped out the back door and headed to the stables. The horse had made plenty of journeys between Bruce’s home and the village, and she didn’t need to guide it as they set off through the woods. It was so different from the city. There was no bustle of traffic or vendors hawking their wares. Only a faint r
ustle in the trees and the dull thud of horse hooves on the autumn leaves carpeting the ground.
She crouched over the horse’s neck to ride beneath a low-hanging branch. Pain slashed across her back, followed by a loud crack. The horse panicked, breaking into a gallop, and she started sliding out of the saddle. She grasped the horse’s mane to keep from tumbling to the ground. A searing pain, like a line of fire, slashed across her back. Had she been shot?
Oh good Lord, she’d been shot!
She tried to pull herself back into the saddle, but the scorching pain made it impossible. The horse kept galloping, and she slipped a little farther with each hoofbeat.
Gravity won and she fell, hitting the ground hard before tumbling down the hillside. The speed of the tumble left her breathless. She couldn’t stop. Grass and dirt flew in her face until she rolled against some kind of outcropping and crashed to a halt.
She lay flat on her stomach, praying she hadn’t broken anything on the way down. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
What happened? The pain felt like fire at the top of her back, but she couldn’t twist around to see. What was she supposed to do now? The horse was gone, and she’d fallen a long way down the ravine. She didn’t think she could stand, let alone climb back up to the road.
Maybe a hunter had shot her, but didn’t they usually hunt at dawn? Bruce always traveled with bodyguards, and tensions in the valley were hot. But why would someone shoot her? She was helping these people, everyone knew that.
A twig snapped somewhere. “Quiet!” a hoarse voice whispered.
Eloise held her breath and listened. It sounded like someone creeping through the woods up near the road. Part of her wanted to summon them for help, but she was pretty sure she’d just been shot. Could she trust them?
“Do you see her, Pomo?” a different voice said. “I think we missed.”
The breath froze in her lungs. Maybe they were talking about a doe or some other animal, but she’d be stupid to assume that. She’d fallen a long way down the ravine and lay atop a bunch of ferns, her yellow dress making her a bright target in the mossy forest. Fear gave her strength. She shoved herself forward, aiming for the lumpy outcropping of limestone a few yards ahead.
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