A Matter of Marriage (5 page)

“I
haven’t been hired, Doc. That’s up to Miss Fairbanks.”

“So
it is,” the doctor said, sending her a pointed look.

She
squirmed, lifting and lowering one shoulder, then the other. Alex deserved a
job, more than a job, after what he’d done for her, but her unanticipated
attraction to him and her more-than-in-passing curiosity about him worried her.
If she hired him, she feared she might start looking for him everywhere she
went in the hotel. She might even seek him out, which she mustn’t do as a
married woman.

“Are
you sure you want to work for a woman, Mr. MacLean?” she asked.

“I
don’t care who the boss is, as long as I’m paid a fair wage.”

Julia
liked that he wasn’t bothered by her gender. “Do you have any references?”

“Sorry.
I haven’t stayed anywhere long enough.”

She
exchanged glances with the doctor. Alex had just given her a reason not to hire
him, but he had also been honest with her, and she valued honesty. “I
appreciate your candidness. Where have you been?”

“Los Angeles, Colorado Springs, Omaha, to name a few. I’ve gotten as far north as Canada and as far south as Texas.”

“You’re
a drifter then.” Had his wife’s death led him to a life on the road?

He
shrugged. “That term is as good as any.”

She
felt an inkling of relief. She could do what was right and hire him, knowing he
wouldn’t be around long enough to cause her any trouble or embarrassment. But
would she have enough time to help him ease the sorrow she’d seen in him? “How
long do you intend to stay?”

“I
don’t know. Probably until I have enough money to move on. Miss Fairbanks, I’m
a good carpenter and a hard worker, and I’d be proud to work on a structure as
beautifully designed as the Hotel Grand Victoria. I can promise you, no matter
how long I stay, you’ll get your money’s worth.”

“I
don’t doubt it, Mr. MacLean.” Though she barely knew him, she believed him,
trusted him.

“Do
I have a job then?”

“Yes,
but you won’t start until Dr. Dolan allows it. While you are recuperating,
you’ll be my guest in the hotel. Once you are fit, you can move to the boarding
house up the street or into one of the employee rooms on the top floor of the
hotel, should one become available.”

“I’ll
move into the boarding house today.”

Dr.
Dolan glanced from one to the other and muffled a laugh.

She
pursed her lips. “Mr. MacLean, I want you to be my guest. You put yourself at
risk for me this afternoon, injuring yourself in the process. I intend to
compensate you for that as best I can.”

“Hiring
me is all the payment I need.”

“But
it is not enough to satisfy me.” She gripped the folds of her skirt. “Mr.
MacLean, as you can imagine, I have a great deal on my mind right now. I would
really appreciate it if you’d let me do this one small thing for you. If you
don’t stay here as my guest, I will worry that you’re not taking care of
yourself.”

He
raised his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t want you to worry, Miss Fairbanks.”

“So
you’ll stay?”

“Yes.”

“Thank
you.” She smiled at him, feeling a giddy happiness she was afraid to dissect. “I’ll
show you to the lobby so that you can register.”

“Appreciate
it.” Alex turned to Dr. Dolan and shook his hand. “Thanks, Doc. I’ll be seeing
you soon, and you’ll pronounce me fit to work.”

“I’ll
make that pronouncement when it’s time, and no sooner. Perhaps four or five
days from now,” he said as Julia opened the office door. “But it’ll be longer
if you do anything to exacerbate your injuries. In the meantime, hot baths
should ease some of the stiffness you’ll be feeling.”

Preceding
the men into the hallway, Julia heard a rapping at the cottage’s front door.
She opened it to Tilden, one of her bellboys. He stood as stiffly as an army
officer. His dark hair, shot through with gunmetal gray, was impeccably groomed
beneath his uniform’s pillbox hat. His personality was as formal and sober as
Theo’s was lively and cheerful, but in the nine months he had worked at the
hotel, he’d shown himself to be a dutiful employee.

“Does
someone need the doctor, Tilden?”

“No,
ma’am. This telegram came for you.” He handed her an envelope. “Mr. Chalmers
instructed me to deliver it immediately.”

“Thank
you.”

“What
is it, Julia?” Dr. Dolan asked, coming up behind her.

She
turned. “A telegram. Hotel business, no doubt, and probably important. Mr.
MacLean, would you mind letting Tilden take you to the lobby while I stay
behind and read this?”

“Only
if you promise to keep an eye out for falling flowerpots.”

She
understood his meaning perfectly, and she found herself basking in the
blanketing warmth of his concern for her. She smiled up at him. “I promise I’ll
be careful.”

“Then
I’ll be going,” he said, a huskiness in his voice that hadn’t been there before.

But
he didn’t go. He stood over her.

She
gazed up at him, her heart thumping faster and louder. Alex’s current
preoccupation seemed very different from his earlier lapses.

“I
will look for you later,” Julia heard herself say. “I always like to check on
my guests.”

He
tipped his head to her, twice. “Until later then.” He finally turned away,
reluctance in his movements.

She
watched as he motioned Tilden onto the shell path ahead of him. He glanced back
once, his gaze dropping to the telegram in her hand. Questions had returned to
his eyes.

Dr.
Dolan shut the door behind them. “Nice fellow, and good looking if you can see
past the scar. Not much for smiling, though.”

Now
that the doctor mentioned it, Julia realized she had not seen Alex smile. He
hadn’t laughed either, not even when Dr. Dolan brazenly commented on his need
for a barber.

“He
sure enjoyed looking at you,” he went on, hooking his thumbs in the waistband
of his pants. “Too much, now that I think about it. I expect your future
husband would not approve. Mr. MacLean should probably move on sooner rather
than later.”

“You
may be right.” Though Phillip wouldn’t care about Alex’s interest in her, she would
be a married woman with a reputation to uphold. “Now I had better take a look
at this.” She waved the envelope and sat on the bench.

“I’ll
be in my office if you need me.” He shuffled down the hallway.

She
opened the envelope, extracted the telegram, and started to read.

BROKE LEG IN FALL FROM TRAIN DURING
TRANSFER IN DENVER STOP WILL NOT GET TO CALIFORNIA STOP SORRY STOP PHILLIP

Julia
gasped. Her hand shook, rustling the flimsy paper. Phillip was injured, badly
enough that he couldn’t travel. He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t coming.

This
was a disaster. Her concern for him warred with the devastation of what his
injury meant—she would lose her home. She’d done everything possible to comply
with her father’s stipulation. But it wasn’t enough. Even if she could board a
train this very minute, it would not get her to Denver in time for her to
secure a marriage license and meet her father’s deadline. She didn’t even know
where to find Phillip. The poor man, and his poor leg. She felt responsible. If
it weren’t for her and the money she offered him, he would never have left Philadelphia.

Tears
blurred her eyes, and a sob escaped her throat. She was going to lose the Hotel
Grand Victoria. Everyone and everything she loved would be at the mercy of new
owners.

The
telegram slipped through her fingers, fluttering to the floor as she buried her
face in her hands.

*   *   *

Alex
fell into step beside the bellboy, his mind still on his hostess and her
enchanting smile. For a moment there, he’d lost himself in that smile, in the
way Julia Fairbanks made him feel cared for and special. He even forgot the
past three and a half years of his life.

But
he couldn’t forget for long. The losses and injustices he’d suffered had been
carved more deeply into his soul than the scar etched into his face.

He
pushed his hands into his pockets and thought of Julia again. Hopefully, she
really would be careful. Whoever had thrown that flowerpot probably wouldn’t
try again right away, but there was no telling.

Tilden
glanced back him, as if to make sure he hadn’t lost his charge.

“I’m
still here,” Alex said, looking forward to settling in. He might even lie down
and sleep for a while to rest his ribs. However, he’d likely end up dreaming
about Miss Fairbanks. Not that he would mind dreaming about her—just looking at
her made his body react like it hadn’t in a long time—but he did not welcome
dreams of the impossible. She was his employer. Worse yet, she belonged to
another man, their wedding only a day away.

Alex
discovered he didn’t like thinking about her with another man, especially when
he conjured up images of her on her wedding night. He pictured her lying in the
center of a wide bed, her glorious, silvery-blond hair cascading over the
pillow. Some of it draped her naked breasts, the myriad fine strands
strategically veiling …

Alex
shook the arousing image away. Maybe a nap wasn’t such a good idea. “Tilden,”
he said, trying to think about something else, “who was the Hotel Grand
Victoria’s architect?”

“I
wouldn’t know, sir. That question hasn’t been asked of me in the months that
I’ve been here.” He picked up the pace. “I’m sure Miss Fairbanks could
enlighten you.”

“I’ll
ask her then.” Though it’d be hard to concentrate on architectural details when
Julia was doing the describing.

At
the hotel’s entrance, wheels crunched over the drive as a carriage pulled up
bearing two stylishly dressed couples. A wagon piled high with trunks and cases
followed. The horse tossed his head, and the harness jingled.

“Will
you excuse me, sir?” Tilden said. “I must see to the new arrivals. You’ll find
the registration desk inside.”

“Thank
you.” Alex left the bellboy and entered the hotel’s Rotunda, a large, elegantly
appointed lobby with marble tile flooring and tall ormolu sconces. Huge vases
of fresh-cut flowers—yellow daffodils, purple iris, and green foliage—decorated
ornamental Chinese sideboards. Seating areas included plush, back-to-back red
velvet banquettes and a grouping of dark wicker chairs.

Coquettish
giggles made Alex look up to a second-floor gallery. Two young women paraded
there, both of them smiling down at him—until they saw his face clearly. Their
smiles froze, and their fans halted in mid flutter.

He
ground his teeth, then remembered Julia’s reaction to her first sight of his
entire face. She had not been repelled by his injury. She didn’t even ask about
it, as many people did, giving in to their morbid curiosity. In the doctor’s
office, Julia barely noticed it once he removed his shirt. He chuckled at the
memory, enjoying himself. He could not deny how good it had felt to attract a
beautiful woman’s attention for the right reasons.

He
dismissed the women staring down at him and strode to the registration desk, his
step lighter. He shoved aside the distinct feeling that his hostess might have unintentionally
claimed a corner of his tortured heart.

The
clerk, a sallow, weasel-faced man around his own age, was speaking into the
telephone. Alex had seen a few telephones before, but the idea that people
could hear each other over a wire still amazed him.

While
he waited for the clerk, he ran a hand across the desk’s smooth finish and
finely carved oak trim. When the clerk finished, he said, “This is a fine piece
of workmanship.”

“It
serves its purpose.” The clerk’s haughty, disapproving gaze slid over him,
landing on his dusty, faded shirt.

Alex
again ran his fingers over the woodwork.

“Do
you mind?” The clerk huffed out a breath. “This is not a museum open for public
inspection. I suggest you be on your way.” He waved his arm toward the front entrance.

Alex
felt his eyebrows lift. This had to be the infamous Mr. Chalmers. “You’re
supposed to be courteous to your guests.”

“I
don’t see a guest.” The weasel folded his arms over his torso.

Flexing
his fingers, Alex squinted back and agreed with the doctor. Julia needed to get
rid of the man. “I’m here to register.”

“There’s
nothing available. Try the boarding house up the street.” He turned his back
and busied himself at the wall of pigeonholes.

Alex
fisted his hands. Dr. Dolan had said he wasn’t to exert himself, but teaching
this weasel some manners would take no effort at all. However, he didn’t think
Julia would thank him for it. She needed Chalmers more than she needed him. Besides,
he’d only end up drawing attention to himself.

He
uncurled his fingers. “Your insolence won’t be forgotten, Chalmers.”

The
weasel’s hand paused in the act of stowing a key. He spun around.