CHAPTER SEVEN
Mavis looked at the calling card Mr. Glass had given her before they’d left his office that morning. “This is it,” she said, glancing at the gold paint on the large window. “Mademoiselle de Sells.” She returned the card to her reticule. “I’ll bet the food is delicious.”
Eden had turned out to be larger than Belle had anticipated. Instead of just one or two straight streets, the town contained a multitude of smaller, curvier roads and alleyways that connected to the large main street, as well as others that splintered from it. This charming area made Belle think the street planner had tossed a handful of noodles onto the wall and then said, “There, that will do. No newcomer will ever be able to find his way out.” Here, the lane was narrow and there were buildings lining it. And surprisingly, even though Main Street, on which the hotel was located, was dirt, the smaller alleyways were paved in cobblestones. Darkness had yet to fall, but flickering lanterns hung along the route, making the area feel inviting. Many of the shops stood vacant, waiting to be leased. Although quite bare of detail, they reminded Belle of drawings she’d seen of Italy, Paris, and London. At least this area of town coaxed her in. She was surprised just how much she liked it.
A smile appeared on Katie’s lips for the first time since the morning. “I hope it’s delicious. I’m embarrassed to say I’ve worked up quite an appetite. I think I could eat one of those huge steaks we saw along the way in the train stations. I’m feeling quite unladylike.”
“It’s the mountain air,” Belle replied, realizing she was hungry as well. “Or maybe it’s all the searching we did in the cemetery. There were so many gravestones. Even with five of us, investigating the churchyard was a task.” She looked down at her feet. “And my toe still aches from stubbing it. I wonder if Mr. Glass has arrived? Or Mr. Harding?”
“Look.” Emma discreetly pointed to a figure coming their way. “There’s Mr. Harding now. Our partner.” He was looking the other way and hadn’t yet seen them.
Mavis palmed her gloved hands nervously. “Should we wait, or go inside? I feel like a fish out of water. I doubt my every move. What’s proper here in Colorado?”
“Let’s go in,” Lavinia whispered, reaching for the door. “Hurry. Mr. Harding makes me nervous. Hopefully Mr. Glass is already inside, at the table.”
“Too late,” Belle said under her breath. “Smile, girls. He’s seen us. Entering now would be impolite.”
Blake’s step faltered, but only for a moment. Then he came on, a strained, uncertain smile on his face.
Does he find this as difficult as we do? Jealousy stirred when Belle realized he’d shared every day with their father for the past eighteen years, but his own daughters hadn’t had a single moment.
He stopped and touched the brim of his hat. “Good evening, ladies.”
Belle smiled, then remembered how rudely he’d grinned when Lesley had been tossed from the room. He was taller than she’d noticed, and certainly strong, but he wore the same black string tie he’d had on that morning, and somehow it didn’t suit his sun-darkened skin and wind-mussed hair. She pictured him on horseback, shouting orders and laughing at a ribald joke. So unlike Lesley, who rarely changed from his business attire.
Not trusting herself to say anything genuinely polite, she waited for Mavis to respond.
“Good evening, Mr. Harding,” Mavis said. “It’s nice to see you again. The weather couldn’t be any prettier.”
“You’re right about that. This is the best time of year in Colorado. Temperate.”
His gaze shifted Belle’s way, but lingered for less than the beat of a butterfly’s wing. She could see why the man frightened Emma. She was sure his eyes could see into her soul. And at the moment, the jagged line that ran down his neck looked more noticeable than ever. Emma edged closer to her.
“Were you able to find the restaurant without a problem?” he asked. “Sometimes newcomers find our streets a bit confusing—especially in this part of town.” He looked around, seeming ill at ease.
“We were, thank you,” Mavis replied, glancing at the door.
He sprang forward as if just now realizing they were waiting for him to oblige. “Please, allow me,” he said, opening the door.
A wave of delicious aromas cascaded from the tiny restaurant, enveloping Belle. Her mouth watered. “Thank you, Mr. Harding.” She stopped behind the others crowded into the tiny reception area, well aware Mr. Harding was only a step behind. She realized she did remember him.
Perhaps it’s his voice. I remember something about him being angry with me. Could that be?
The establishment seemed so different from the few she’d glanced inside in the main part of town. The entry was lit with lanterns, and a very pretty young woman stood at a desk by a closed door. She was dressed in a frilly white frock, and her face lit up like the sun when she smiled.
“Welcome to Mademoiselle de Sells,” she said with a French accent. Her gaze touched on each of the sisters’ faces, then landed on Mr. Harding. “Your table is ready if you’d like to be seated.”
“Thank you, Amorette,” Mr. Harding said, the hard edges of his personality seeming to melt away. “Is Henry here?”
When she shook her head, the abundance of corn-silk–colored curls around her face and shoulders bounced and bobbed. Belle had a hard time looking away.
“No, monsieur. He is not.” She glanced at a rectangular metal clock resembling a carriage that sat on a shelf behind her. “You are a few minutes early. Knowing Henry, he’ll be along soon.”
A look of panic briefly crossed Blake’s face. “I’m sure you’re right. If you’ll show us to our table, we’ll wait for him there.”
Her bright smile reappeared. “Very well. Please follow me.”
The dining room was beautiful. The bricked-in room only had five tables—four small and one larger that sat in front of a window. A courtyard outside provided the view. The large table was set for seven but could have easily held more. They were the only diners so far. A candle burned in the center of each snowy-white tablecloth, with long fingers of wax cascading over the brass candlesticks toward the tables. Baskets of flowers were attached to the walls. The shiny wooden floor was spotless. All in all, Mademoiselle de Sells was enchanting.
“This is lovely,” Lavinia whispered, her gaze moving around the room.
Blake pulled out a chair for each of them, Belle last, and then took his seat across the table from her. She unfolded her napkin and placed the cloth on her lap. No menus were offered.
“Thank you, Amorette,” he said, making the name sound like a caress.
Are the two of them sweethearts? Why doesn’t Lesley say my name like that? As agreeable as her beau was, he’d never invoked shivers down her spine like Mr. Harding’s voice did. Belle was surprised to feel a pang of jealousy.
Blake gifted the waitress with one of his rare smiles. “Can you please ask Jean-Luc to send out something to drink?”
Mavis looked at Belle, her expression unreadable, and Belle remembered the reason they were there. Are we just supposed to sit silently through dinner, mutely agreeing to whatever Mr. Harding and Mr. Glass, friends of Father’s, want us to do? No. Belle knew what she wanted. Take the payout, and as soon as a respectable time had passed, head straight home, where she’d accept Lesley’s proposal at his parents’ party. Down the table, Katie touched the rim of the pretty china teacup in front of her, and Lavinia chewed on her bottom lip, a horrible habit she’d picked up on the train ride west. Where has our gumption gone?
“So today we went in search of our father’s grave,” Belle stated, not liking the picture of incompetence they were creating for Mr. Harding, the man their father had given fifty percent of his ranch. She looked across the table.
We aren’t a group of wallflowers, so we’d better stop acting like we are.
Mr. Harding’s brows shot up. “You did? I’m sorry. I should have anticipated you might want to see John’s grave. It’s not in the cemetery, but out at the ranch.”
“Yes. A man driving a wagonload of wood enlightened us on that point. Said Father used to hire him every year to supply the orphanage.”
“That would be Nels Carson. I’ll be happy to show you around the ranch tomorrow, if you’d like. Henry and I thought you’d be tired from your trip and would need a day or two in town to rest. But that can be remedied first thing in the morning, if you’re up to it.”
Belle looked around at her sisters, who said nothing. “We’re up to it, Mr. Harding. We didn’t come all this way to stay in our rooms and sleep, I can assure you.”
“Fine, then.”
There was a note of irritation in his tone. Maybe he didn’t like being corrected. It was wrong of her to provoke him, but remembering his rude grin earlier, she added, “I assume Lesley will be welcome.”
“I don’t see why not.”
Mr. Glass entered the room, Amorette leading the way—as if anyone could get lost in the postage-stamp–size establishment. He stopped to hang his hat next to Mr. Harding’s on the way.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting. I got caught up in paperwork, and I lost track of the time.” He looked around the table at all the expectant faces. “I assume everyone had a pleasant day? And time to rest? Coming all the way from Pennsylvania is no small feat. Again, I apologize for my tardiness.”
A man emerged from what Belle thought must be the kitchen door with a round tray and glasses. He placed them on the table, left, and returned quickly with a bottle of red wine. He opened and poured.
“Compliments of your father,” Mr. Glass said. “He wished he could be here when you arrived, but I know he’d still be glad that his daughters are finally in Eden.”
Everyone lifted a glass, sadness in their eyes. Belle watched Mr. Harding over the rim of her glass as she sipped her wine. On the rare occasions he did smile, it was more with his eyes than his lips. His nature seemed serious, and he left most of the talking to Mr. Glass.
But Father trusted him wholly, and that says a lot.
After a few minutes of chitchat, Mr. Glass got serious. “I’ve been contemplating what you said earlier. About not receiving any letters or support from your father. I took the time this afternoon to put together a few documents listing the funds he sent throughout the years. You’re welcome to come to my office and review them.”
“Thank you, Mr. Glass,” Belle said. “I, for one, would like to see that.”
“I’m at your disposal at any time.”
Jean-Luc was back with the first course. At this restaurant there were no choices, only what the chef had prepared. That was fine with Belle. The cold mushroom bisque was superb. She promised herself that before she left town she’d sneak back for another serving. The thought made her smile. When she looked up, she found Mr. Harding gazing at her.
A loud pop sounded outside, followed by several more.
Belle flinched. Gunshots. Again?
The others startled and gasped. Katie, who had lifted her water glass, dropped the tumbler to the tabletop.
“What the devil?” Blake barked, pushing back his chair.
More gunshots. A lantern in the courtyard exploded into a shower of glass that hit the window with a clatter. The echo of galloping hoofbeats quickly faded away.
Deep-voiced French words, sounding like obscenities, could be heard coming from the kitchen, and Amorette stuck her head into the dining area and looked around, wide-eyed.
Blake excused himself and went outside. With her napkin, Emma helped Katie mop up the mess. Lavinia’s face had lost all color.
At ease, Mr. Glass lifted his wine and took a sip. “I’m sure that was nothing to be worried over.”
Belle placed a hand on her galloping heart. “Are random gunshots a regular event here? A bullet almost came through our hotel window earlier today.”
Emma’s eyes were as large as saucers. “It could have killed any one of us.”
Mr. Harding returned just in time to hear these comments as he settled back in his chair. “All’s quiet now,” he said. “Probably a cardsharp caught cheating at one of the saloons.”
“If he’s cheating, is he an outlaw?” Katie asked, shock giving way to curiosity. “Maybe he killed his opponent with those shots.”
“If that’s the case, Clint Dawson, the sheriff, will deal with him,” Mr. Glass assured them. “Our sheriff keeps a steady hand on the happenings in Eden. You won’t hear many guns. They’re few and far between.”
Emma spoke up. “We won’t if we don’t stay.” With a tipped eyebrow, she challenged her sisters. Her face was deathly white, and her hands shook as if she’d been out in a snowstorm.
The heart of the conversation had yet to be discussed. Emma’s comment wiped the smile from both men’s lips.
Having his daughters in partnership at the ranch was John’s dream, but not Blake’s. Things would be so much simpler for him if they decided to take the payout and go home, despite the financial hardship it would entail. He felt like a turncoat, but the words had come from Emma, not him. He couldn’t stay his curiosity any longer. “Is that your decision, then? To take the lump sum and return to Philadelphia? Six months is a long time.”
Henry shot him a dirty look.
“Our father’s wish is not our own,” Belle supplied, echoing Blake’s thoughts. “We have lives to live back in the city. We won’t give those up easily.”
Mavis arched her brow in Belle’s direction. “Not all of us, Belle. I look forward to the challenge of staying in Eden, and the change of pace. It’s almost as if my dream has been placed in my lap. I’ll not run away in fear.”
“No one is running,” Belle replied forcefully but kindly. “We’re being practical instead of romantic.” She reached out and touched Lavinia’s hand. “Isn’t that right?”
Lavinia hesitated. “I love our home, of course, but I also truly enjoyed our walk around Eden this morning. The view of those far-off mountains is breathtaking. Something I could get used to. And back in Philadelphia, we’ll have to find somewhere new to live.”
Belle almost looked like she was going to be sick. Blake glanced at Katie, his hope growing. “And you, Katie? How do you feel about the decision at hand?”
She shrugged. “I’m confused. Much like Lavinia, I want a little of both.”
Henry, the sly ol’ fox, smiled like he had an ace up his sleeve. “In that case, now’s the time to share a little surprise. This morning you all suffered a major shock, so were in no condition to hear any more.”
Mavis tipped her head. “And what surprise would that be, Mr. Glass?”
“About ten years ago”—he smiled at Mavis, the one already in his corner—“you would have been thirteen. John began thinking about the ranch house, which remains almost exactly as it was when your mother gave birth to you five. Investing in a larger house for just him and Blake felt foolish. Instead, he had plans drawn up for a structure befitting a prosperous ranch such as the Five Sisters, and his beautiful five daughters, in case you returned. And also a smaller structure attached, with a covered porch—for Blake. He wanted to be prepared, but not wasteful. The plans are ready, a building site with a view of the mountains chosen, and the ground prepared. The lumber list is at the mill. After the passage of five or six years, his hope began to fade, but he gave me the authority to begin the project as soon as you arrived and proclaimed you were staying, even for just the six months. He wanted you to be comfortable.”
“You mean after he died,” Katie choked out. “Isn’t that right? He knew we were never coming back.” Large tears rolled down her face, and Emma took her hand in comfort.
Mr. Glass nodded. “As soon as your decision is made and the verdict is to stay, I’ll give the go-ahead, and Blake will hire carpenters. With agreeable weather the new home would be finished within a month or two, if not sooner. The decorating will be up to you five.”
All the girls sat with stars in their eyes, thinking about a grand new house. Decorating. Parties. The same look Blake remembered Mavis and Belle, as small girls, wore the day their pa surprised them with a freshly constructed dollhouse made from wood off the ranch. Emma, who had been around three, scurried back and forth grabbing the small furniture and messing things up as Belle and Mavis tried to kindly intercede. After Celeste took the girls away, John stored the dollhouse in the barn loft for many years. One season, Blake discovered it was gone. He assumed John had finally given it away to some family or the orphanage.
Belle set her wine goblet on the table. “Are you trying to bribe us, Mr. Glass?” she asked, frowning.
Yes, Blake thought, but in solidarity with his friend, he said, “Henry wouldn’t bribe anyone, Miss Brinkman. Especially not John’s daughters. You’re free to go anytime you want.”
“Blake . . . ,” Mr. Glass said, low, shooting him a look of warning.
The chastising gaze Mavis sent to Belle almost made him smile. Clearly, more was going on at this supper than the players wanted the opposition to see.
“I’m not trying to sweeten the pot,” Henry said to Belle. “Your father’s done that for me. But I won’t beat around the bush. He wanted you to stay. Make Eden your home. That has been his ardent wish from the moment your mother left with all of you in tow. I wasn’t around back then, but Blake was. He’s attested to that fact many times.” He cut a look at Blake, a smile pulling the corners of his lips as if a fond memory had taken hold. “We’ve heard about you all for many, many years. It’s really nice to finally meet.”
Put in her place, if kindly, Belle’s face turned a pretty shade of pink. If it wouldn’t have been bad manners, he’d have happily pointed it out.
“Please, accept my sincerest apologies,” she said. “My comment was uncalled for. Whatever reasons I had, they were not enough to be rude to either of you. You’re just trying to do our father’s bidding.”
Henry chuckled. “John always said you were spirited, Belle. And I can see that he was right. Eden needs a woman like you.” He smiled around the table, nodding. “Like all of you. You would make a difference here. Just this last day, I’ve felt a hum in the streets. It’s because of your arrival. People are curious. They’re sitting back to see what you do. I honestly can say I hope you’ll stay. Don’t disappoint them.” He looked at Mr. Harding. “Or us.”
In a move that even surprised Blake, Henry glanced at the ceiling of the restaurant as if he were looking up to heaven. “Or him. Your father, John Brinkman.”