скачать книгу бесплатно
She stiffened. What business was that of Terrance’s? “He didn’t want anything. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was to see him. We barely spoke past acknowledgment of each other before Mrs. Flynn interrupted us.”
He paced the length of the store, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling. “Great. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
“What do you mean?” It wasn’t like him to be so agitated. She moved to the counter and removed her gloves and her bonnet and waited for an answer.
He barely acknowledged her words. “Last I heard, the military released him. I didn’t think he would have the nerve to show his face around here again.”
“Why ever not?”
He met her gaze. “It was a dishonorable discharge.”
That caught her attention. She immediately stiffened. “Dishonorable! No. I can’t believe that. He would never...”
Terrance snorted lightly. “It’s been a long time since he lived here. Circumstances, good or bad, change a man.”
“No. Not that much. Not Tom.”
He dismissed her words with an irritated wave of his hand. “You are quick to come to his defense, considering how he treated you in the past.”
“I’m not coming to his defense... I just cannot fathom that he would do anything deemed dishonorable.” Everything about Tom in the military had screamed justice.
“Like I said, a man can change.”
She realized suddenly that her brother had not shared any of this with her at the time. “You knew they let him go and didn’t tell me?”
Terrance did not seem to hear her. “I wonder who he is working for now.” He stopped pacing and looked at her as if she could supply the answer.
Slowly she removed her shawl and hung it back on the peg. She didn’t know anything about Tom’s job here, and whatever she revealed her brother would try to twist and turn to his fortune. He’d always been that way. It didn’t seem her place to say anything. If he wanted to know more, he should ask Tom. “Why are you upset, Terrance? I’m the one he left. I’m the one who had to face things before. Not you.”
He swallowed, his expression a curious mixture of speculation and worry. Then his shoulders relaxed. “I don’t want to see you hurt. That’s all. What he did before took you years to put behind you.”
He had always blamed Tom...and she was tired of it. “That was as much due to what Preston did as it was due to Tom. Preston nearly ruined this town when he pulled out his backing. That wasn’t Tom’s fault at all.”
“No. It was yours.”
She refused to feel any guilt, although Terrance tried his best to blame her. In her heart she knew that she’d made the right decision. With Tom, she had realized what love was for the first time and she couldn’t go back to the watered-down affection she felt for Preston even if it did mean giving up the man’s fortune—something her brother couldn’t seem to understand. She felt that way even though in the end nothing had worked out as she had hoped. She had learned to adjust, learned to live with her choice. She had moved on. Terrance was the one who wouldn’t let it go. “It wasn’t my fault and I wish you would stop saying that. I made the right decision for me. It’s in the past and it’s over.”
“That’s just it. You are different whenever Barrington is around. I don’t like it and I don’t trust him around you. He’s not good enough for you.”
She knew what he meant about being different. She felt it inside herself. It seemed that Tom was the only one who kicked up emotions and nerves that ran shallow beneath her surface. In the intervening years she’d had opportunities to be courted, but had always rebuffed her would-be suitors—finding gentle excuses as to why she wasn’t interested. Tom overshadowed everyone and everything for her—he always had. And now even the thought of him back in town caused a reaction, a tightening in her gut. She hated the sharp, anxious sensation that had taken up residence inside. It would not control her. She would not let it. And yet she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of Tom since he rode into town.
“I don’t know why you are worried. He’s not in town to renew anything with me. If that were the case he would have contacted me years ago after I wrote to him. Like he said, he’s here about a job.”
Terrance eyed her as if he wasn’t sure he believed her.
“In my limited experience, any job he takes has precedence over any other part of his life. He’ll be gone in no time and without a second thought toward me, I assure you. You have no need of concern.”
“Like before.”
She pressed her lips together, the thought painful despite the passage of years. “Just like before.” She couldn’t afford to let down her defenses. Not for a moment. Tom was the wind and she could no more tie him down than she could a cloud.
“Good. Then we understand each other on this because I don’t want him around you.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat. “Now, let’s get down to business.”
A leaden weight sat like a jagged rock in her stomach as she walked to the counter to get the store ledger. Every Sunday after their dinner, just as it had been with Father and Mother, they went over the past week’s receipts. She remembered Mother saying once that Sunday was supposed to be a day of church and rest, but her words had fallen on deaf ears. Father kept right on checking the books. And now with Terrance managing his store in San Diego, Sunday was his one chance to go over the records together. In the past year, Terrance had become even more diligent at double-checking her figures, as if he were looking for ways to squeeze more money out of the little store.
He opened the ledger to the start of the month, scanning the neatly recorded figures. He made notes on a separate piece of paper where she had already listed a few items to reorder.
While he assessed what needed replacing, she stood by the counter and studied him. He used to tease her. When she wore her hair in pigtails, he used to tug them to irritate her. All that was long ago. Over the years they’d grown apart—his ambition for social standing and wealth such a different approach than the things she cared for. Anymore, they seldom saw eye to eye. He was her brother, and she cared about him, and she wanted to keep her promise to her mother. Yet she wondered, at low times, if he really cared much for her at all.
In some ways, once he moved to the city, things became better. They weren’t with each other day in and day out. He could no longer criticize and judge her and she no longer had to worry about measuring up to his standards—at least not daily. Now only on Sundays.
And today, well, he must be concerned for her considering the way he spoke of her not getting hurt by Tom again. Inwardly she sighed. There was no need for worry on that account. What happened between Tom and her had occurred too far in the past to revisit.
“How are the small coffee grinders selling?”
“Must we talk about business today?”
He raised his gaze from the ledger in front of him, using his finger to keep his place in the book. “We do this every Sunday. I need to know what’s going on here to make good decisions for both stores.”
She thought that interesting on one level because she was the one who managed this store; he just double-checked her figuring. “Is it enough for you? Running the store in San Diego?”
“I’m working on plans to expand. And, as I mentioned, running for a seat on the commerce board. Never hurts to be the first to know about new property.”
“No. I suppose that’s a good idea.” However, it wasn’t what she meant at all. She tried to explain herself more clearly. “I’m not talking about business. I mean... You never talk about having a wife or family. Don’t you ever feel lonely at times?”
He huffed and leaned back in his chair, obviously amused by her question. “A wife? Children?” His smirk held an ugly condescension. “Tethers? No. At least, not while I’m building my business. Later on?” He shrugged. “Maybe. A son would be nice to pass the business on to.”
His words sliced through her. Children weren’t tethers. A family wasn’t something that pulled you down. And yet even before she’d asked she had the premonition he would feel differently than she did.
“Now, if you don’t mind, let’s get back to the coffee grinders.”
She did mind actually. He didn’t seem to understand the concept of an afternoon off. “Three out of the five are sold. Mr. Cornwall wants one. They were an excellent idea.”
He hunkered down again over the book for the next ten minutes, his muddy-brown hair falling forward over his forehead.
Finally, he folded his notes and tucked them in his pocket. He stood, shoved his arms into his new coat and plopped his derby on his head. “Do you have last year’s ledger?”
The request was an odd one. “In the back room.”
“Will you get it for me?”
She nodded and turned to do his bidding. What was going on?
In the storage room, she opened an old trunk against the wall and removed the top ledger. There was one for every year her family had owned the mercantile, twenty in all. She returned to Terrance and handed him the book.
“Will you be back before you leave town? I’ll put the kettle on for tea.”
“Not today. I want to return to the city before dark.” He tucked the ledger under his arm.
Always busy. Always in a hurry.
“Elizabeth...since I’m campaigning for office, I’ll expect your support.”
“Of course.” She agreed quickly, delighted that he had asked. Then she realized he hadn’t asked—he’d told her. “What would you have me do?”
“I’m not talking about signs and flyers, although I do want your help there, too. It is important to keep up appearances. To do that, I really need you to move into San Diego and run my store there.”
She lowered her shoulders. “Terrance, we’ve gone over this territory before.”
He quickly held up his hand. “I realize you prefer this town. Why? I don’t know. But you’ve done a fair job here of turning this store around from the brink of loss. It’s sustaining itself now, often with a growing margin of profit. It’s time to sell and get it off our hands for good.”
“You are pushing this again? Why?”
“I told you. I need help with my store. And...I need the money from this place for my campaign.”
“But, Terrance! You’ve taken fifty percent of the profits from here for the past three years! Don’t you have enough to campaign on your own or hire someone for your store?”
“I put all that money back into my place. It’s not available for a campaign.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t want to sell.”
“You’re being sentimental. This place is just wood and nails.”
“It is more than that, and you know it.” This was the family store. Her legacy from her mother and father...and her livelihood.
Exasperation filled his countenance. “Granted, you’ve had a good run here but things happen. And—” he hesitated slightly before continuing “—you may not have a choice.”
A chill went through her. This was new. She rubbed her upper arms and moved closer to the woodstove. “What do you mean—‘things happen’? What has happened?”
“Things are a bit tight with the bank right now.”
Why was the bank even involved? Unless... “Terrance. What have you done?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“This is my store, my responsibility, my...livelihood.”
“It’s not your mercantile.” The look in his eyes was flat, unemotional.
“Oh, Terrance. What have you done?” She suddenly felt ill and slowly lowered herself into the chair. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? He’d bought a new suit, after all. Still, he’d done things before without consulting her. She took a deep breath. “I think I have a right to know. How tight is it?”
“They want the store.”
Shock gripped her. “What!”
His brown eyes hardened. “They want the building to cover the loan I took out four years ago.”
She couldn’t believe it! After all her hard work to save the store. Sleepless nights and doing without, long hours and loneliness over the past four years. She’d saved it only to have her brother plunge them into debt?
“So that’s why Sam stopped by two days ago.” At the time, Sam had been so pleasant. The snake! All the time he’d been planning to sweep the rug right out from under her. How could he do this? How could Terrance have let this happen?
Yet even now her brother had tried to make her believe that she would be helping him, that it would be her decision to move, all in an attempt to save face. Apparently he hadn’t counted on her digging in her heels.
“That’s why you need last year’s ledger. That’s why you and Sam were arguing this morning. You weren’t going to tell me, were you? If I hadn’t refused, you would have made me believe I was doing it for your career.”
Terrance shrugged. “I’d hoped you would see things my way and move to the city. It would have been less...emotional...that way. You wouldn’t have needed to know any of this.”
She no longer wanted to hear him. This was her store! She was the one who cared about it and the people she served. Yet, from what he said, it was futile to argue. Numbness started at her feet and crept up and over her. She rubbed her forehead. “If what you say is true, then how much time do I have?”
“A month.” He took hold of the door handle again, preparing to leave. “So you see, your desire to travel comes at a poor time as well as Barrington’s unwelcome appearance. I’ll talk to you more about all this next week when I have figures from the bank. Oh...and Sam may contact you to sign papers.”
“That’s the real reason you didn’t want me to leave town—so I’d be around to manage the sale, around to sign papers and start packing,” she said dully.
His brown eyes held no compassion, only a slight irritation that this had to be talked about at all. He really didn’t care that he’d upended her entire life...that he’d hurt her. “No need to start packing yet. There will be time for that later. Sell as many items as possible—but only lower prices fifteen percent at most. It will make the final inventory go faster.”
“I see you have it all figured out.” She was proud of her composure. On the inside she felt overwhelmed. It must be the numbness helping. All her worries that had revolved around Tom Barrington suddenly seemed shadowy and vague compared to the very real loss of her livelihood.
Chapter Four (#ulink_336f1960-fb51-5b2c-9e7f-1ecd302bc579)
Tom stood on the hotel’s wide porch a long time after Elizabeth disappeared into the mercantile. Considering the loud bang when Morley shut the door, Tom wondered if the entire building might implode. In the end, however, it stood strong.
No doubt Morley had a few things he was worrying about right now. Would he try to hide them from Elizabeth as he had in the past? Tom wouldn’t be surprised. The rat had sure hoodwinked him for years. If Tom had not returned to La Playa and learned for himself that Elizabeth had never married, Morley might have gotten away with the lie. Now that Tom knew, he wondered what to make of that information.
He had a good mind to hang the man out to dry.
It became apparent, as he sat at the table and listened to the conversation between them, that Elizabeth wasn’t spoken for. At least, it didn’t sound like it by the way she talked of her trip to Clear Springs. He had wanted to pin Morley then but something held him back. Maybe it was his years of training and gathering all the facts before acting. He’d wanted to listen longer and see what else he might learn.
And he’d learned plenty.
The first being that, for some reason, Elizabeth felt compelled to seek her brother’s approval to do the things she wanted. Why? She was her own woman and could make her own decisions. Did she actually believe her brother was looking out for her? Or was she doing everything for him out of sisterly love?
He’d nearly lost his coffee when he’d overheard Morley had political ambitions. ’Course, all that he’d done to Tom was on a personal level. It probably wouldn’t matter squat in thwarting his bid for office. Heaven help the unsuspecting public. Morley didn’t give a fig for Elizabeth’s plans. He had his own vision of “the future according to Terrance,” and he wanted her to kowtow to it. What she wanted to do in her own life wasn’t important.
Things just didn’t add up and that bothered him. But what could be gained by him poking his nose in now? He couldn’t change the past—couldn’t bring back the years they’d lost. She had told him she loved him once. A man didn’t forget a declaration like that. And he thought he had loved her. It had been so new a feeling to him and had barely rooted and started to grow when he received that letter from Morley saying she’d gone ahead and married. What would have happened if those feelings had had air to breathe and room to grow? Would their love have thrived? Or would the stress of his profession have worn it thin until it finally frayed and died? Or worse—would it have put Elizabeth in harm’s way?
He remembered the look on his mother’s face as she watched her husband die in front her, and he remembered feeling so helpless to stop any of it—his father’s death or his mother’s pain. He couldn’t knowingly put anyone else in that position, especially not someone he cared for. That seemed to him the opposite of love. The truth of it was, the only difference between then and now was that he was much better at his job. He had honed and perfected his skill at shooting until he never missed. He would get the draw so fast he usually didn’t have to shoot at all. After this job, Wells Fargo would have him moving on to do another one and then another.
He hiked his hip on the porch railing and watched the town folk go about their lazy Sunday afternoon. Again, the thought struck him as it had the evening he’d entered town that the place was about the most serene he’d ever encountered. Two boys, one looking suspiciously like the little boy he’d seen that morning in the hotel hallway, stood at the end of the pier and threw stones into the water. They looked carefree, each one trying to outdo the other with the distance of their toss. Three fishermen sat nearby on barrels and talked in their native language—possibly Portuguese? Every once in a while they’d each take a draw on their pipes and blow puffs of white smoke over their heads. Down by the water on the small strip of sand, a little girl walked with her father. She had her pinafore gathered up into the shape of a bowl to carry her collection of seashells.
Peaceful.
He glanced once more at the mercantile. He could see why Elizabeth might like living here. He wondered what he’d say to her when he caught her alone. He wanted to find out what had happened—from her own mouth—since he’d last seen her. It was water under the bridge now, but still he was curious. The problem with asking questions is that turnabout was fair and she’d probably have some of her own for him that he didn’t want to answer.
He could walk away. That would be the easiest route to take. Just get on his horse and ride out of town. Let Wells Fargo send somebody else.
His gut rebelled at the thought. There wasn’t time. And besides, this was personal. He had to do this for Cranston and the Fursts. He was here to make things right and atone for his partner’s death. Which meant seeing that the thieves were behind bars for good or more preferably hanging from the highest tree.
And yet he still could not shake the premonition that he was supposed to be here in La Playa, too. That he had unfinished business with Elizabeth. The sparkle had gone out of her eyes. It was the one thing he remembered liking the best about her—the way her pretty brown eyes sparkled when she was happy. He’d do just about anything to see her that way again.
