Mr. Wells entered the office and stood by the door, his thumbs through his belt loops. If he had taken that stance to try to look intimidating, he needn’t have bothered—Wendell was already plenty intimidated, but he knew what he had to do, and that conviction had forged like iron in his soul. He had already taken the money from the safe, anticipating that Mr. Wells would be by, and he held out the envelope with a hand that was unusually steady.
“Here you go,” Wendell said. “I’ve spent the day thinking, as you suggested, and I’ve decided that this arrangement doesn’t suit me. I appreciate the offer, but I’d just as soon extricate myself.”
Mr. Wells’ dark expression grew darker. “You realize that I won’t be able to offer you the protection you’d otherwise receive as one of my associates,” he said.
Wendell wasn’t sure what he meant by that. All he knew was that he felt uncomfortable, and he needed out. “I think this will be best for both of us.”
Mr. Wells reached out, took the envelope, and slid it into his breast pocket. “I’m sorry to lose your help. You are still holding those properties for us, I hope? That is what the contract states.”
“That’s right. I’m holding them.”
Mr. Wells nodded. “Very good. Have a good day. I wish things had ended differently.”
Miss Chapel showed up in the corner of the room just as Mr. Wells closed the door. “He’s a cheerful fellow,” she said dryly, walking over to the window and peering out as he strode away.
“Do you know anything about him?” Wendell asked. He didn’t know what he was expecting—maybe that her angel intuition would kick in or something.
“No, just that I don’t trust him. I told you, angels don’t know everything, and some of the things we do know, we aren’t allowed to share. Otherwise, the point of life would be wasted. We learn to walk by faith, you see.” She turned back. “But I do know that you’re taking Miss Stoker to dinner tonight.” Her face, which had been solemn, was now wreathed with smiles.
“Yes, I am.” Wendell smiled in return, feeling like a schoolboy. The whole thing seemed too good to be true, and yet it was true, and it was happening to him of all people. “I doubt it will be a grand romantic event, but I think it will add another layer to our friendship, and at this point, that’s what I want most of all. I want to be friends with a woman before I marry her. I believe that’s the best way to ensure that we’ll be happy.”
Miss Chapel nodded, smiling even more broadly. “You’ve impressed me once again, my dear Wendell. Oh, I’m glad I was given this assignment—it will be a pleasure to see all the good things that happen for you.”
She left a moment later, and Wendell moved to lock up the office. He paused, though, wondering if he should take his pistol. What a silly thought—who would take a pistol with them on a dinner date? The thought persisted, though, so instead of arguing with himself over it, he took the holster and weapon out of the safe, strapped them on, and then went home. He could put up with the bulk of it on his hip if it meant that the little voice in his head was appeased.
An hour later, he held Ariadne’s chair for her at Graham’s Grub, then walked around the table and took his own seat. A few people at surrounding tables glanced their way with curiosity—taking a young lady out for dinner was almost as much of a public announcement as sitting next to her at church, but Wendell didn’t mind if tongues started to wag. He had every intention of proposing when the time was right, and it might do this town some good to realize that she was being courted. He wondered if she herself realized that was his intention. She might not, but he’d make sure of it by the time the evening was over.
“I’ve never eaten here,” Ariadne said, studying the menu. “What do you recommend?”
“I get the roast beef and mashed potatoes quite a bit, but maybe you like something a little less simple.” Suddenly he was plagued with doubt. Was this restaurant nice enough? It served good, hot, filling food, but she was likely used to restaurants with waiters in fine suits and violinists in the corners.
“I love roast beef,” she replied. “I don’t eat it often because I always bake it into shoe leather, but it’s one of my favorites.”
“You surprise me a little bit more every day, Miss Stoker,” Wendell said, chuckling.
“I do? How so?”
“Every time I make some sort of evaluation of you, I find that I’m completely wrong. You’re just as sweet and lovely as I expected, but you’re also down to earth and comfortable.” He’d probably said that in the most awkward way imaginable, but when she smiled, he saw that she wasn’t offended.
“I could say the same, Mr. Thurgood. I didn’t think we’d have anything in common, and I’m delighted to have been wrong about that. Let’s stop making decisions about each other and simply ask questions, all right? We’d get along much better that way, I think.”
“Agreed.”
The waiter came by and brought them water, then asked what they’d like to eat.
“Who’s cooking tonight?” Wendell asked.
“Alexander,” the boy replied.
“Perfect. He makes the best mashed potatoes. We’ll both have your roast beef dinner plate, please.”
As the waiter scurried off to the kitchen, Wendell turned back to Ariadne, feeling sheepish. “Now I’ve given away how often I eat out,” he said. “I know the names of the cooks in all the restaurants.”
“All the restaurants?” she said with a chuckle. “This area is growing larger by the day. How do you keep up with them all?”
“I’ve made a concerted effort, and I’ve also drawn up a chart,” he replied, and they laughed together. Oh, how he loved to hear her laugh. It came easily and effortlessly, and he knew it was genuine. She felt no need to pretend to be amused—she was delightfully herself, and he was falling more in love with her by the minute. He still questioned whether he had the right to ask such a young woman, with so much life in her, to saddle herself to an older man who could likely never keep up, but he wouldn’t dwell on that. He’d enjoy this evening and every minute he was able to spend with her.
The waiter brought their food, and it was delicious, as always. When a shadow fell across the table a moment later, Wendell thought it was the waiter returning to check on them, but instead, it was Mr. Wells.
“Hello,” he said, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two of them. “So, here you are, out for dinner.”
“As you see,” Wendell said easily.
“When Miss Stoker turned me down earlier and said she was coming out with you, I thought perhaps she was just making an excuse.”
Ariadne looked uncomfortable. “I don’t make excuses, Mr. Wells. If I didn’t want to come, I would have said so outright. I wouldn’t have put Mr. Thurgood in that position.”
“I see. It just seemed so unlikely that the two of you would spend any time together, I thought perhaps you were casting around for the name of any man you could find.”
Ariadne looked down at the table, and Wendell was incensed. Who was this man to level such accusations at her? He came to his feet. “Could we step out into the hallway and discuss this? Not only is Miss Stoker becoming upset, but we’re creating a scene.”
Mr. Wells glanced around at their fellow diners, who weren’t staring outright, but were certainly paying attention to what was going on. “Very well,” he said, and followed Wendell out into the hallway.
Once they were out of earshot, Wendell said, “Why are you choosing to ruin Miss Stoker’s evening? This sort of behavior is beneath you, Wells.”
Mr. Wells clenched his jaw. “Let’s say I don’t enjoy it when another man comes along and steals something that belongs to me.”
“I’ll admit it, I did ask Miss Stoker to dinner after you said you wanted to do the same, and I was glad my invitation arrived first. I think she should have a choice, and to know that she is valued. She doesn’t belong to you, Wells, and she doesn’t belong to me. She belongs to herself, and you’d do well not to forget it again.” Wendell had tried to keep his voice low, and as a result, he was now speaking through his teeth. “I also hope that you’re not punishing Miss Stoker for the fact that I broke our alliance today. She has nothing to do with it.”
Mr. Wells shot Wendell a look. “I never mix business with pleasure, sir. This situation with Miss Stoker has nothing to do with our conversation earlier, and any feelings I might have developed for her won’t keep me from doing what needs to be done.” He turned and strode off, his fists clenched at his sides, leaving Wendell to calm down before returning to the table.
When Wendell took his seat, he noticed that Ariadne’s cheeks were moist. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. He hated the idea that anyone had made this sweet girl cry, and he worried that he’d been the cause. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked Mr. Wells to step out.
“I’m fine,” she replied, fishing for her handkerchief. “I don’t know why he felt the need to act that way, but you . . . you were wonderful. No one has ever stepped out into the hallway for me before.”
Wendell smiled, relieved. “I believe that one should always be able to enjoy one’s roast beef in peace. It’s what our progenitors settled this land for, you know.”
She giggled even while wiping her eyes. “My progenitors fought a war with your progenitors, I believe.”
He gave her a look of mock dismay. “That’s because they wanted all our roast beef for themselves!”
The rest of the meal was spent in lighthearted banter, and at the end, they took a stroll through some of the quieter neighborhoods that had been newly built. The smell of freshly cut wood was on the breeze, and Wendell inhaled deeply. This town would grow and grow, and he would get to be a key part of it. It was an exciting thought.
Even more exciting was the thought that perhaps this young woman might want to share his dream with him. She needed to know—she needed to be given a chance to think about it.
As they came around the corner that would lead them back to the tea shop, he reached out and touched her arm. “A word, Miss Stoker?”
She paused and turned toward him. “Of course.”
He tried to center his thoughts. “I believe it’s only fair that I tell you a secret, something that I’ve held in my heart for some weeks now.”
“Oh? What kind of secret?” Her voice was light, as though she expected him to be telling another joke.
He took a step closer, his hand still on her arm. Perhaps that wasn’t appropriate, but he couldn’t bring himself to remove it. “You caught my attention from the first moment we met, Miss Stoker, and with each day that passes, I find myself growing fonder of you. I realize that we’ve only just begun to get to know each other, and perhaps someone else will come along and sweep you off your feet before we ever have a chance to explore what this might be, but I want you to know where I stand. I cherish your friendship, and I’m eager to see where this could lead.”
She looked up into his eyes, and he wasn’t sure what he saw there. The light from the moon overhead was just enough to give him a glimpse of more unshed tears. “I believe I’d like to explore that too,” she whispered.
He wanted to kiss her. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her. A little voice in the back of his head told him it was too soon, however, and he decided he’d better obey. For all he knew, that little voice was Miss Chapel, and she’d give him a lecture if he didn’t heed her. Instead, he gave Ariadne’s arm the gentlest squeeze, then escorted her home, reminding himself with each step that building a future happened a day at a time, not in a rush.