Memory's Embrace (27 page)

“Would that I could say the same,” Emma said petulantly. “Tess, they have arrested Rod! Thanks to you, the bank had him arrested! And he’s not going to be released until he gives them back the money he borrowed from your account!”

Emma’s attitude nettled Tess. She flung her handbag down onto the shop’s carefully dusted countertop and shrugged out of her cloak. “Borrowed? Emma, he stole that money from me.”

“He did not! He only borrowed it!”

“Taking funds from someone’s bank account without their knowledge, let alone their permission, is theft, Emma, not borrowing.”

“How could you, Tess? How could you let this come about, when you know what’s happened to Mama? Haven’t I got enough problems without having my husband thrown into the hoosegow?”

“I happen to have a few problems of my own, Emma—not the least of which is my injured husband.”

Emma subsided a little at the mention of Keith; indirectly, his shooting was her fault, and her recognition
of the fact appeased Tess to some degree. “What am I going to do?”

Tess sighed. Lord, she was tired, and she still had to ferret through those dratted, musty tomes in the back and figure out how to develop a photograph. “If I were you, Emma, I would go to Cedrick Golden and ask him to return some of the money Rod invested in his play. I’m sure the bank would drop the charges against Rod if they had their funds back.”

“Why should I go to Cedrick Golden?” blustered Emma. “You’re the one who started this by demanding that the bank make good on the money that Rod borrowed from you in good faith!”

Tess shook her head in quiet, furious amazement. “You’re not actually suggesting that I turn my money over so that Rod can be free, are you?”

Once again, Emma subsided, though her chin jutted out defiantly and her eyes were narrow. “I thought you were my friend!”

“I am your friend, Emma,” Tess sighed. “But I’m not your guardian angel. This is one problem that you and Rod are going to have to solve yourselves.”

Tears blossomed in Emma’s eyes, Tess was determined not to be moved by them. Perhaps, by smoothing things over for Emma whenever she could, she had done her friend a disservice. How could a person possibly become strong if they never had to work things out for themselves?

“I’ll show you, Tess Bishop. I’ll go to Cedrick Golden. I’ll straighten this whole matter out, without”—she paused to snap her fingers—“this much help from you!”

With that, Emma swept Tess up in a quelling glare,
lifted her chin, and left the shop. Smiling to herself, Tess went to the back room, found the book she needed, and set about learning how to develop the photographic plate she had taken the day before, of Banker Filbertson.

She was so engrossed in the looking up of formulas and the mixing of chemicals that she barely heard the tinkle of the bell over the shop’s door. “I’ll be right there,” she called out distractedly, frowning at the dusty book and the shallow pan of chemicals she had already prepared.

“I can wait,” answered an annoyed masculine voice, and Tess stiffened. Cedrick Golden. Her caller was Cedrick Golden.

After drawing a deep breath and smoothing her hair and skirts—she had not taken time to change her clothes or give her hair proper attention, she had been in such a hurry to develop Mr. Filbertson’s photograph—Tess reluctantly left her work.

“Cedrick,” she said, in greeting, stepping through the curtained workroom doorway, her smile polite but by no means welcoming. “May I help you?”

Cedrick looked distracted and more than a bit nettled. “Emma tells me that I must return Rod’s investment in my play.”

Why tell me? Tess wondered, but she said nothing. Something within her urged her to wait.

“I am not pleased by this,” Cedrick complained, his eyes wandering about the shop in a quick yet aimless sort of way. “I am not pleased at all. An investment is an investment, after all. A deal is a deal.”

“I agree completely,” said Tess, still keeping her
distance. “In this case, however, Rod invested my money, not his own.”

Now, the emerald eyes found her face, and Tess was jolted by the stark desperation she read in their depths. There was something feverish about Cedrick, something almost obsessive. “Never fear,” he said, with carefully moderated annoyance. “I have made the necessary arrangements. No doubt, your brother is already free.”

For some reason, Tess couldn’t say thank you, though she was, for Emma’s sake and Emma’s alone, grateful. “That was fast,” she observed, remaining in her doorway, arching one eyebrow as if to say, “but what has any of this to do with me?”

“What could I do?” Cedrick’s narrow shoulders, cloaked by a pristine linen shirt and a bottle-green jacket of the finest quality, moved in a fitful shrug. “Emma would have it no other way. She ranted and raved until I had no choice.”

Tess was secretly proud of Emma, though she hid that. She also suppressed the sigh of impatience inspired by an encounter to which she could see no point. “I really am quite busy,” she said.

Cedrick was instantly flushed, and his eyes, as green as his jacket, snapped. “I see. What a provider that husband of yours must be. Imagine asking such a wife to work in a common shop!”

Now it was Tess who flushed. Anger surged through her in a heated wave, bracing her, causing her to thrust out her chin. “I did not marry my husband to secure myself a provider, Mr. Golden. I married him because I love him.”

“Love! It isn’t his ‘love’ that you want!”

At last, Tess understood why Mr. Cedrick Golden had put in his appearance on this otherwise pleasant day. He was angry about her marriage to Keith. As if it were any of his business! “Perhaps your interest in most people hinges on what they can give you, Mr. Golden,” she said, with cool dignity, the cloth that covered the workroom doorway bunched in one hand, “but my outlook is somewhat different.”

Cedrick’s voice was a low, sardonic drawl. “You know as well as I do that you’ve married into one of the richest families in the country. Your wounded swain may be fooled by your appearance of fresh-faced independence, Tess, but I am not. I am an actor myself, and I know a theatrical production when I see one, whether or not it is played out on a stage.”

Nothing he could have said would have insulted Tess more. When she’d fallen in love with Keith Corbin, she’d known nothing of his family or their money. And she sincerely didn’t care whether she ever saw a dime of it or not. She wanted only to be near her husband, whether that involved traveling in his wagon, from town to town, or remaining here, in her shop, while he worked at some other profession.

But Cedrick Golden had no right to any explanations or denials. Who did he think he was?

“I have work to do, Mr. Golden,” Tess said stiffly. “If you’ll just excuse me, please.”

She turned to go back into the shadowy workroom, back to her task of developing Mr. Filbertson’s portrait, considering the conversation to be over. Angry as she was, it was a moment before she realized that she’d made a mistake.

Cedrick Golden had followed her.

Until that time, Tess had, for the most part, regarded this man as a pest, persistent at times, but relatively innocuous. Now, her every instinct told her that, under certain circumstances, he could be very dangerous indeed.

She stepped around the worktable, with its clutter of books and chemicals, to put some barrier between herself and him. “Please leave,” she managed to say.

He ran one index finger down a page in one of the books. “It’s dark in here,” he observed lightly. “No windows.”

A chill crept up Tess’s back. “Darkness is required for the development of photographs,” she replied evenly. “Please leave now, Mr. Golden. As I said, I have work to do.”

“Photographs,” he repeated idly, tracing the outer edge of a pan of developing fluid with one slender index finger. “Yes. The profession you prefer over the theater.”

Tess was edging toward the door leading back into the shop. “Please, don’t touch that. Th-the chemicals contain acid—they can be dangerous.”

Cedrick looked up, assessed Tess with shadow-veiled eyes, and gave a chortle of smug amusement at her obvious attempt to escape him. “Are you afraid of me, my dear?” he asked, in a soft, disdainful voice.

“No,” lied Tess, gaining the doorway and backing through it. Just as she did so, the bell above the front door chimed briskly.

Tess doubted that, however bad business might become, she would never be more grateful for the appearance
of a customer than she was at that moment. She turned, smiling nervously.

The visitor was a woman, and she was, with her lush, cinnamon-colored hair and shamrock-green eyes, stunningly beautiful. “Tess?” she said, with an inquiring smile.

Forgetting all about Cedrick Golden and his quietly threatening manner, Tess nodded. Some instinct told her that this glorious, self-assured creature had not come to have her likeness taken.

The woman smiled again. “My name is Banner Corbin, and I believe I am your sister-in-law.”

Tess went to take the extended hand, which was gloved in elegant kid. “Mrs. Corbin, I’m so glad to meet you.”

Bright laughter rang in the little shop. “And I’m happy to meet you, too. Happier than you could possibly know. But, please—call me Banner.”

Cedrick came out of the back room just then, and his presence embarrassed Tess. What would Banner think?

Wise green eyes assessed Cedrick and then Tess herself, revealing nothing of whatever impression might have been made. Cedrick muttered a few words of farewell and, looking exasperated, took his leave.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your work,” said Banner, peeling off one glove and then the other. “I can come back tomorrow if that would be better.”

“Oh, no!” Tess protested quickly. “Don’t go, please. I—I want to get to know you.”

Banner smiled. “As we all want to get to know you, Tess. The family, I mean.”

“I’ve met Keith’s brothers,” Tess flushed at the
memory of their finding her asleep on the couch in the elegant suite at the Grand Hotel.

Banner had obviously heard the story from the men, one of whom must be her husband, and she looked amused. “I’m sorry that they frightened you that way,” she said, after a short silence. “They can be overwhelming, to say the least. Adam, the dour one with the dark hair, is my husband.”

Tess remembered Adam. For all his seriousness, he’d seemed the kinder of the two men and she had liked him. “He was very nice to me,” she said, mostly to make conversation.

Banner laughed. “And Jeff was obnoxious. I hope you won’t hate our mutual brother-in-law, Tess—he’s really a very good man. It’s just that he has never mastered subtlety.”

Now, Tess laughed, too. “He certainly hasn’t. My Lord, he scared me to death!”

“Jeff often has that affect on people.” Banner sighed and reached up to unpin her hat. “Might I sit down for a few minutes? When we received the wire saying that Keith had been shot—well, we all panicked. I was elected to come and investigate, and the steamer trip seemed to take forever. Following that, of course, I hurried to the hospital as quickly as I could, and now I’m simply exhausted.”

Banner Corbin was clearly a vital, energetic woman, but she did look tired. “Do sit down,” Tess invited quickly. “I’ll go upstairs and make you a cup of tea.”

“Certainly not,” said Banner, settling herself into one of the row of wooden chairs set out for less’s customers. “I know you were working when I came in.
Just go back and finish that, and then perhaps we could talk more and visit Keith again, together.”

“How is he?” Tess asked softly, chagrined that she had not done so before. What with the incident with Cedrick and then the unexpected visit from Banner, she had not thought to inquire.

“Irascible,” was the instant reply. “Keith makes a dreadful patient. All he can talk about is getting out of ‘that place.’”

Through the shop windows, the bank across the street was clearly visible. Tess was reminded of her responsibility to deliver Mr. Filbertson’s portrait that day. “I should be finished very soon,” she said, turning back to her work even though there were a thousand questions she wanted to ask about Keith.

The portrait of Banker Filbertson, the first Tess had ever developed, came out well, and on the first try, too. After hanging it to dry, on the small line stretched across the back of her workroom, she washed her hands and stepped into the shop again.

Banner was still sitting in her chair near the windows, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes closed. At Tess’s return, she opened them and smiled brightly. “Finished already? You must be very good at what you do.”

Tess shrugged. She had a lot to learn about photography, but she did possess a natural talent and she was proud of that. “I’m an apprentice, of a sort, I guess. I don’t have anyone to teach me, so I have to study on my own.”

“It’s difficult for a woman to engage in a profession, I know,” Banner observed thoughtfully.

Tess was surprised. Banner had spoken as though she
had a profession herself, and that seemed unlikely, considering the status of her husband’s family. “You do?”

“I’m a doctor,” Banner replied succinctly. “I share Adam’s practice in Port Hastings.”

Tess’s mouth dropped open. Owning a shop was daring enough, for a woman, but being a doctor was almost unheard of. “Keith didn’t tell me that,” she said, after a few moments of amazed silence.

Banner laughed. “The Corbins take such things in stride. My mother-in-law is a suffrage crusader and a journalist, and Jeffs wife, Fancy, was an entertainer until her marriage.”

“And Jeff made her stop working?”

“Fancy’s heart was never in her work, if you know what I mean. She’s happy to be a wife and mother.” Banner did not speak with derision, but with quiet affection. “You’ll like Fancy. She’s very special to all of us.”

Suddenly, Tess was hungry to hear more about Keith’s family; it was as though, by knowing them, she might know him better, too. “Isn’t there a daughter, too?”

Banner’s smile was fond. “Yes. Melissa. She’s just finishing college.”

Tess listened eagerly as her sister-in-law told her about every member of the family, including her own three children and Jeff and Fancy’s young son, Patrick. She was startled when Mr. Filbertson came into the shop, looking harried.