Always (31 page)

When Melissa raised her head, Emily was glad to see a knowing smile. “Emily Winters, I do love you, and I am happy you’re finally home where you belong, but why do I get the feeling that my quiet and peaceful life is about to change?”

“Don’t be silly!”

But when Melissa turned her back to retrieve the teakettle from the stove, Emily couldn’t fight a sly smile of her own. Karl Becker’s interest in the “new” Melissa had not escaped her notice. He had sown his wild oats in the past, but that was no drawback as far as Emily was concerned. When he was ready to settle down—and she sensed that the time was about to come—he would settle down very well for the right woman. Perhaps Melissa’s life was about to change, after all.

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was two days later when a knock came at the print shop door. Emily looked up from her account book to the wall clock in her father’s office. It was already past six p.m. Earlier that day, she’d promised her mother and Karen that she would be home for supper. She would have some explaining to do.

At a second knock, Emily set down her pen, capped her inkwell, and pushed up from her chair. She was officially closed for the day, but she would be happy to accept any customer with an order. Malcolm Davenport had lowered his rates, and it was already having an effect on her business. One look at her account books had confirmed the worst.

Despite her morning job with Karl and her family’s help, she was barely making a profit. Also, she was still without credit to borrow money for more supplies. She needed hard cash to get through the next couple of months—cash she didn’t have. The only thing that might save her now would be a timely increase in work orders, but that wasn’t likely to happen. Not with Malcolm Davenport’s ruthless price-cutting to thwart her.

When she opened the door, she found a friend instead of a customer. Leaning on his cane, Karl Becker tipped his stovepipe hat and grinned. “I thought you’d still be working, Miss Emily. I have good news. May I come in?”

“Good news?” Emily tried not to sound as defeated as she felt as she gestured for him to enter. “I hope that means you’ve brought some business.”

“In fact, I have.” He reached into his coat pocket and extracted a folded sheet of paper. “David has decided to pull all of his printing business from Denton’s.”

She unfolded it to see that it was a blank sheet of Mr. Stauffer’s business stationery. “What’s this?”

“If you can duplicate the letterhead, we can start with a five-hundred-sheet order.”

Emily felt a lump rise in her throat. “Oh, Karl...”

“Now, don’t go all maudlin on me, Miss Emily. This is just business, after all.”

“But I do appreciate—”

Karl held up a hand. “I’m only the messenger. You did such fine-quality work on my business cards, he was happy to place a new order.”

“Thank you,” she said, adding the stationery to a stack of other orders on a nearby desk. “I’ll have it ready by early next week if that will do.”

“That will do just fine, but that’s not the reason I came. I assume you saw Gallagher’s article in yesterday’s paper?”

At his unexpected mention of Ross, Emily had to force down certain scintillating memories of that past Sunday afternoon. The mere thought made her blush like an overripe peach, and Karl was too astute to miss such a reaction. “The article about Arnold Gibson, you mean. Um, yes. Yes, I did. I was very impressed.”

“Impressed?” Karl raised an eyebrow. “I was more surprised by his uncensored candor than impressed, but now that you mention it, I suppose he did make a somewhat stirring presentation.”

“That’s high praise coming from you.” Emily turned away and headed for the job press to clean up for the night. She wasn’t doing a very good job of repressing unchaste thoughts. Her cheeks were burning even as they spoke.

“Apparently Ross’s article is already garnering some results. I had to speak with the chief of police on some other business this afternoon, and I mentioned it to him. He’s heard from a few other people about that article, too. It seems that, after reading about the incident in the paper and seeing Stacy’s injuries for themselves, Miss Bea’s whole quilting circle is in a righteous flurry.”

Emily was unable to repress a laugh as she soaked a rag in turpentine and set to work wiping down the inking mechanism. “Now, that surprises me. Then again, Miss Bea has been known to work miracles.”

“She’s apparently taken Stacy under her wing, which puts a whole new light on the subject. With upstanding citizens like Miss Bea and Melissa Carpenter seeing to her welfare, not to mention Gallagher’s article, Stacy’s case now has all the makings of a soul-stirring social cause for the church ladies. What’s come out of all this is that the chief asked me to bring Stacy down to speak to him a couple of hours ago. He’s ready to press charges against Gibson. If all goes smoothly, he’ll appear before Alderman Chase tomorrow morning.”

Upon hearing this, the glimmer of an outrageous idea formed in the back of Emily’s mind. Perhaps the timing of Arnold Gibson’s court appearance could work to her advantage. Then again, she could be grasping at straws. “Tomorrow morning, you say?”

“Yes. After escorting Stacy and Miss Carpenter home myself, I couldn’t resist coming by to share the good news with you.”

“I’m glad you did. I needed some good news about now.”

“Why? Things not going well?”

Emily shrugged as she removed the last traces of ink from her equipment. She didn’t want to get onto the depressing subject of her business troubles. “Nothing that I can’t take care of myself.”

“Say, do you need any help with that? You look busy. Have you had supper yet?”

She laughed. “No, you’ll get your clothes dirty. Yes, I am busy, and no, I haven’t had supper yet.” She dropped her soiled cleaning rag into an empty coffee tin at her feet and began removing the metal chase from the bed of the press. “I was just about ready to clean up and head home when you knocked.”

“Then perhaps we can grab a bite at the Railroad Eating House. There’s another matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Oh? Sounds mysterious. Don’t keep me on pins and needles.”

“Well, it’s about Miss... uh, Melissa Carpenter.”

“Melissa? How is she?”

“She appears to be quite well.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I asked her to go riding with me this weekend.”

Emily smiled to herself as she carried the chase over to a table. “And what did she say?”

“She said no.”

“Hmm.” Emily worked quickly to disassemble the metal frame and reveal the pages she’d set and printed earlier.

“She said she was far too busy with her work to be pointlessly gallivanting around town.”

“Oh.”

“Does she have a beau?” Karl blurted.

“Not at the moment.”

“Then, it doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

“That she declined my offer. What could she possibly be thinking?”

Emily rolled her eyes at Karl’s high opinion of his masculine charm. “Perhaps she’s not interested in being trifled with.”

“Trifled with?” He sounded surprised. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Emily took a font case from one of the composing desks and moved back to the worktable. “Your reputation is... how shall I say it? Slightly blemished from an overabundance of frivolity when it comes to women?”

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, what do you think I should do about Melissa?”

Emily’s fingers moved swiftly to replace the used type, plucking and dropping each letter, space marker, and symbol into its proper compartment.

“What have you done when this sort of thing has happened in the past?”

“What sort of thing?”

“When a woman said no to you.”

“No woman ever has.”

She stopped and stared at him. “What do you mean, ‘no woman ever has’?”

Karl shrugged. “Just what I said. No woman has ever said no to me.”

“That’s preposterous.”

“It’s the truth.”

Emily studied him critically before returning to her task. He was going to need more work than she’d thought. “All right, then. Use your imagination. What do you think you would have done if a woman ever
had
said no?”

“I imagine I would have cut my losses and moved on to the next one.”

“The next woman who caught your fancy?”

“Yes.”

“Then, why not try that?”

“But I—” He paused and Emily sensed him stewing for a moment before he finished. “I don’t think I want to move on just yet.”

“I see.” She let him stew a bit more before offering a new solution. “If you’re determined to win Melissa, perhaps you should leave off with your usual sweet talk or whatever it is you do, and instead go straight to the heart of the matter.”

“Which is?”

Emily looked to see that Karl was bent forward, waiting intently for her answer. “Show her that you’ve changed, that you’ve become responsible and dependable.”

He just stared at her.

“Show her that you’re serious,” Emily clarified.

“Serious?”

“You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Well... yes,” he said, straightening with a thoughtful frown. “I suppose so. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Indeed?” she asked back. “Perhaps you should consider volunteering at the Home for Friendless Children. I’m sure they could use your legal advice with adoptions. That might convince Melissa that you’ve left the irresponsibility of youth behind.”

Before Karl could reply, there came another knock at the front door. He cocked his head and arched an eyebrow. “Busy at this time of the evening, aren’t you?”

“Not normally, but I’ll take any business I can get. Could you see who it is? Tell them I’ll be with them in a second. I’ve got my hands full of turpentine and ink.”

“My pleasure.”

As Karl went for the door, Emily crossed to the back of the shop to find the washstand behind a storage cabinet. Standing over the basin, she poured some fresh water, then began scrubbing at her stained fingers with a bar of soap. Upon hearing Karl greet her latest visitor, however, she froze in midstroke.

“Well, well, speak of the devil. Mr. Gallagher himself.”

No,
Emily thought. She couldn’t bear to face him. Not after what had happened Sunday.

“What the hell are
you
doing here?” Ross demanded .

“I might ask the same of you, Gallagher. I know for a fact that you’re supposed to be engaged to the other one, but you just keep insisting on buzzing around this one.”

Emily squeezed her eyes shut and willed her galloping heart to slow. As was its habit of late, however, her body paid no heed whatsoever to her mind’s commands. Her face was growing so hot, it felt as if she’d taken fever, and her hands were shaking. Damn Ross Gallagher. What did he want now? He’d told her that he didn’t love Johanna, yet she had heard that he’d turned up at the Fulton House with the Davenport family just last night. Either he’d lied to her or he felt that love had little to do with marriage. Either way, Emily was furious with him. He was playing her for a fool. Even worse, she was furious with herself for losing all common sense and succumbing to temptation a second time. Good Lord, she could barely think.

"... a word with her in private, if you don’t mind,” Ross was saying. The tension in his voice suggested that Karl was about sixty seconds away from having his nose broken again.

“Why, I don’t mind at all,” Karl said flippantly, “but I’m not the one to ask.” He raised his voice. “Miss Emily? Gallagher claims he wants a word with you in private. I told him that we’re on our way to supper and that if he wishes to confer with you, perhaps he should endeavor to come by during normal business hours. What do you think of that?”

Knowing that she either had to face Ross or flee rabbit-like out the back door, Emily wetted a clean towel and pressed it to her cheeks. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

After tucking away some stray hairs, she removed her apron, smoothed her skirt, and told herself to be calm. A moment later, she was stepping out from behind the cabinet. She rolled down her dress sleeves in a casual manner and wore what she hoped was a serene and unruffled expression. “Good evening, Ross.”

Ross stood just inside the front door, glowering at Karl and carrying a parcel wrapped in newsprint and twine in one hand. The instant his gaze shifted to her, however, Emily felt another blush creep over her cheeks. She spoke quickly to squelch it. “What brings you by after hours?”

“I have something for you.” He shot another glare at Karl. “But I wasn’t planning on an audience.”

Karl merely smiled and touched the brim of his hat. “I can wait for you outside, Miss Emily.” He paused significantly. “If that’s what you want?”

That was not what she wanted, but she’d have to face Ross some time. Better now in private than accidentally on the street with Johanna on his arm. “That will be fine, Karl. Thank you.”

Ross waited for the door to close behind Karl before he turned back to Emily. His tawny brown hair was combed back, but, as always, stubborn wisps had broken free to fall over his forehead. The cut of his jaw was squared, the shape of his handsome mouth distressingly reminiscent of sensual delights. He had no business looking so good to her at the end of a workday.

“It appears that the police will be pressing charges against Arnold Gibson,” he said.

“I heard.”

Emily knew he hadn’t come by just to tell her about Gibson’s troubles, so she folded her arms and waited until he spoke again.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

He held out the wrapped parcel. “This is the first half of my manuscript.”

Emily stared at the parcel. Even when they were children, Ross had never allowed anyone, not even her, to read his work before he deemed it finished. “I don’t understand.”

“I want you to illustrate for me.”

Emily was left without words. Why was he coming to her with this now? Then, she remembered another parcel wrapped in newsprint, one with a blue ribbon tied around it. A box of soft French pastel crayons and a card that read,
It’s lonely by the creek these days. I miss you. Can I have my illustrator back?
Guilt. Ross felt guilty about what had happened in his parlor, and this was his way of smoothing things over. Well, it wouldn’t work. Not this time. “Perhaps you should seek a professional artist.”