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What had kept Spencer riveted to her had nothing to do with her personality, though. He hated to admit it, but the reason he’d gawked at her like some smitten schoolboy had everything to do with her lovely features, from her delicately arched brows and high cheekbones to her rosy lips lifted in that mesmerizing smile. She was the first woman to capture his attention since he’d lost—
Focus, Abbott. He had no business thinking about another woman. Trudy had only been gone three short months. He was a widower in mourning who’d loved his wife, not a man in search of someone to take her place. Not that anyone could. She’d held a special place in his heart and always would. It must have been loneliness that led his eyes to stray, that’s all.
Well, he was master of his emotions. When Tess Grimsby returned, she’d see a man in control of himself. If he chose to hire her as his housekeeper, he would keep things strictly professional.
* * *
Tess emerged from the hotel wearing her favorite dress, a cobalt-blue calico that matched the three peacock feathers atop her hat. She tugged on her gloves, crossed the busy street and strolled alongside the tracks until she came to the railway station.
The depot was a hive of activity as men prepared for a freight train’s arrival. Drivers seated on sturdy wagons waited for their cargo in front of three warehouses east of the station. Horses whickered and shook their heads to rid themselves of the ever-present flies.
Although the platform was large, the wooden building at the heart of the action was small. Somewhere inside sat the man who would determine her future. Mr. Abbott must hire her. If he didn’t, she’d be forced to return to Sacramento City and pray she found another position before the last of the money in her reticule was gone.
She shook the small handbag dangling from her wrist, the jingle of the few coins inside lacking the reassurance she sought. While Polly had said she and Peter would welcome Tess, she couldn’t impose on them, not when they were expecting a second child soon.
Given her recent dismissal, Tess hadn’t been able to secure another governess position in the city, despite spending two weeks searching for one. Polly’s letter with news of Mr. Abbott’s need had been most fortuitous. If he hired her as his housekeeper and her work pleased him, she’d be able to restore her reputation and replenish her depleted savings.
A bell tinkled as she entered the depot. The man in the ticket cage peered at her through the wrought iron grate and smiled. “Good morning, ma’am. May I help you?”
“I’m Tess Grimsby here to see Mr. Abbott. He’s expecting me.”
The ticket agent nodded. “Welcome, Miss Grimsby. I’m Mr. Drake. I’ll let you in.”
She waited at the door he’d indicated. It opened, and he pointed out another on her right. She paused and said a silent prayer.
“Don’t be scared. He doesn’t bite...often.”
She wasn’t afraid of Mr. Abbott, but she was concerned about her reaction to the appealing gentleman. Despite his rumpled frock coat and limp collar, it could be all too easy to cast admiring glances his way, and that would never do. She must act like the professional she was and keep her goal of being hired first and foremost. “Me? Scared? He’s the one who ought to be. Men have been known to run from me.”
Mr. Drake chuckled, the curled ends of his heavily waxed handlebar moustache dancing. “You’ve got spunk. That’s good. You’ll need it if you’re to work for him. He’s a fine boss, but he can be a mite intimidating on his best days. Lately...well, let’s just say losing his wife three months back changed him.” He inclined his head toward the door to Mr. Abbott’s office. “Give it a rap, and he’ll invite you in.”
Tess peered through the small window inset in the door. Mr. Abbott sat at a desk in a painfully clean office with a ledger spread before him and his head in hands. Like Mr. Drake, who had a shock of wiry gray hair, Mr. Abbott had a full head of hair, as well, although his was the color of ripe rye at sunset. Unlike his ticket clerk, who had a ready smile, Mr. Abbott sported a frown, as he had earlier. Not a promising sign.
She knocked.
“Enter.”
She stilled her trembling hand and opened the door. He jumped to his feet.
“Miss Grimsby. Please, have a seat.” He held out a hand toward the bentwood chair facing his desk.
“Thank you, sir.” She sat, folded her hands in her lap and drew a calming breath. “I trust you received all the documents I sent.”
“I did.” He remained standing, resting his hands on the windowsill with his back to her. Several seconds passed before he spoke. “You’re not what I expected.”
Her nervousness fled. She didn’t appreciate being challenged at the outset, but she wouldn’t let him fluster her. “Neither are you, but I can do the job, I assure you.” She’d worked for some prominent families in Sacramento City, the last one having a name anybody in the state would recognize. The wife of the widely respected banker had written her a letter of recommendation, albeit reluctantly. Not that Tess could blame her. The woman’s husband had found Tess’s direct manner problematic.
Mr. Abbott sat on the corner of his desk with his long legs draped over the side, forcing her to look up. She caught a flicker of feeling in his eyes. Curiosity perhaps? Or was it concern?
“Why would you come to a small town when you’re used to living among the elite? I lead a simple life, and I don’t want my children exposed to any newfangled notions.”
His manner and tone rankled. If she were to work for him, she’d have to show him she wouldn’t tolerate his high-handedness. “I’m a simple person myself, eager to leave the bustle of the city behind. I was most recently employed by a family of means, true, but I hail from humble circumstances.”
Please, don’t let him ask me to explain. She had no intention of educating him about her past. Humble circumstances didn’t begin to describe her miserable childhood.
“Your circumstances don’t concern me. But your methods do. I contacted your most recent employer. He said you have a tendency to speak your mind. Is that true?”
That was a more tactful description of her supposed failings than the domineering man had used when he dismissed her. “I have opinions, but doesn’t everyone?”
His blond brows rose, and he pressed a fist to his mouth. She thought she saw his lips twitch, and it gave her hope, but when he pulled his hand away, the frown was there as before. “Can you cook?
Mr. Abbott’s abrupt change of subject took her aback. “I assume you mean can I cook well, and the answer is yes. I can keep house, do laundry, sew, garden and care for animals, too. But the most important thing is that I’ll do all I can to help your children through this difficult time.” The Lord had used her to minister to countless youngsters who’d lost their parents, and she could put that experience to good use—provided Mr. Abbott hired her.
He folded his arms and took his time studying her, as though she were a horse or a milk cow. Well, two could play that game. She tilted her chin and let her gaze rove over his fine features, drinking her fill.
At length he nodded. “I’ll give you one week.”
A week? Her previous employers had offered a one-month trial period. Torn between a desire to laugh or shout, Tess gave an unladylike snort, which she covered with a cough.
In her experience overbearing men like Spencer Abbott responded to a show of force. She couldn’t resist the urge to slip in a hint of sarcasm, too. “How generous—but entirely unnecessary. I’ll prove my worth to you in a day.”
Chapter Two (#ulink_603c51d0-3d43-5756-92cb-27862dcbd3b2)
Spencer wasn’t one to refuse a challenge. If Miss Grimsby was bold enough to claim that she could impress him in a day rather than asking for a month as he’d expected, she deserved the opportunity to try. The sooner he found out if her assertion was valid, the sooner he’d know if his search for a housekeeper was over.
As much as he detested the thought of a woman he didn’t know helping raise his children, Peter’s wife had vouched for Miss Grimsby. Polly had never steered him wrong.
While Spencer was certain Miss Grimsby could fix better meals than those he’d eaten lately, how would she deal with Luke? The poor tyke had taken to misbehaving. Having a different woman watching him every few days didn’t help matters.
Miss Grimsby seemed to have the strength of character necessary to tame his spirited offspring. Not that Lila would pose a problem. She’d not even begun to walk. Ever since Trudy’s dea— Ever since the service his little girl had been content to play quietly with her blocks.
“You may start now. I’ll run you out to the house and return at suppertime. Mrs. Carter, an elderly widow from church, is with the children now. She’ll show you around.”
She gave a decisive nod. “That would suit me just fine.”
Spencer stopped his wagon beside Miss Grimsby a few minutes later and hopped down to help her onto the seat. She climbed aboard before he reached her. Her independent streak didn’t surprise him, but her agility did. He wouldn’t have expected a woman that tall wearing boots with three-inch heels to move as quickly or gracefully. But there she sat looking as composed as any woman of leisure, the smooth plane of her neck exposed as she peered over her shoulder at the shops across the street from the depot.
“I noticed a general store earlier. Would you mind if I run inside for a moment before we get underway?”
Spencer groaned inwardly. “No, but make it quick. I’ve got work to do.”
“I’ll be back in a trice.”
He slipped his gold watch out of his waistcoat pocket. He’d give her five minutes. If she wasn’t back by then, he’d hitch his team to the post and tend to some paperwork. Waiting on a woman wasn’t something he had time for. He closed his eyes to block the bright summer sun and made a mental list of all he had to accomplish that afternoon.
The wagon rocked as Miss Grimsby climbed aboard. “I’m sorry I took so long, but someone was ahead of me.”
Three minutes wasn’t long. Three minutes was astonishing. Unsure what to say, he grunted an acknowledgment. He pocketed his watch, took the reins and started the one-mile trek to his spread.
With each clop of the horses’ hooves, the stabbing pain he experienced every time he saw the place intensified. Memories abounded, as sour as they were sweet. He and Trudy had worked hard to make the house a home. Although she was gone, he could see her everywhere. Why, he fancied he could even smell the rosewater she’d favored.
“What was she like?”
“Huh?”
“Your wife. You looked sad. Were you thinking about her?”
An inquisitive housekeeper was not what he needed. “That’s not something I care to talk about, especially with a stranger.”
“I’m sorry. I thought—”
“You thought wrong. I need a job done. Nothing more.” That had come out harsher than he’d intended. She was only trying to help. Even so, he didn’t trust himself to talk about Trudy without choking up. Silence was safer.
“I’ll pray for you. I know what it’s like to lose a loved one and feel that vacant ache.”
He bit back a retort. How could she possibly understand what he was going through? She’d never been married and left with two children to raise alone. “Pray if you like but no more questions please.”
She bowed her head.
For some reason her gesture comforted him. He’d reached the point where he no longer knew what to pray and trusted the Spirit to intercede for him “with groanings which could not be uttered,” as it said in Romans. If Miss Grimsby’s prayers could help, he wouldn’t turn them down.
When she opened her eyes, they held unasked questions, but the compassion he’d seen before was there, too. She smiled, and the future didn’t seem quite as bleak as it had. Perhaps she was as capable as she’d said and would solve his immediate problems. He’d know soon enough.
* * *
Tess remained silent the rest of the way to Mr. Abbott’s place. He’d made it clear her attempts to offer sympathy were unwelcome. She could understand. Each child who’d come to the orphanage handled grief differently. Some wept. Some talked about their losses, while others kept their own counsel. Some blamed themselves and suffered guilt, while others lashed out in anger. And there were those like her soon-to-be employer who did their best to go on with their lives despite the near-crippling pain.
As she’d prayed, a sense of peace had descended on her—along with a sense of purpose. She wasn’t here to get what she wanted. She was here to give of herself to this hurting family. All those years comforting others had prepared her for this. She would offer the care and comfort Mr. Abbott’s motherless children needed, and she would lift some of the burden their grieving father carried.
Above all she would guard her heart. Even though she was drawn to him, she mustn’t let herself care too much. This was a job like any other, and she would do well to remember that.
They approached a two-story ranch house painted bright red with white trim. All the windows were open, curtains peeking from beneath the raised frames. A wraparound porch beckoned her to slip into one of the ladder-backed rocking chairs gracing it and spend time sipping lemonade with a friend. She’d often dreamed of having such a house, although the one in her dreams was blue—a lovely slate blue with burgundy trim.
Mr. Abbott parked the wagon, and she was on the ground in a heartbeat. He held out a hand toward the stairs. “After you.”
She passed through the open front door and nearly gagged. What was that horrid stench? It smelled worse than the rotten eggs some of the more daring boys at the orphanage had hurled at Mr. Grimsby’s carriage once—before he’d meted out the swift punishment he was known for.
“Luke!” Mr. Abbott bellowed and charged inside.
That didn’t bode well. Tess followed on his heels. They reached the kitchen where a full-figured woman with white hair attempted to wipe a squirming baby girl’s jam-spattered face. Mr. Abbott’s four-year-old son ran circles around the dining table in the adjoining room, whooping like an Indian on the warpath.
Everywhere Tess looked, chaos reigned. Soiled shirts had been draped over chair backs, newspapers and toys were strewn about and a path had been worn through the dust coating the floorboards. Although she’d only been there two minutes, she itched to get to work restoring order and a sense of harmony.
Mr. Abbott addressed the older woman, raising his voice to be heard over the din. “What happened?”
“That boy of yours snuck up behind me when I was checkin’ the fire and chucked some salve in the stove.”
“What next?” He raked a hand through his thick blond hair, causing a swatch of his long locks to stand on end. Tess suppressed the urge to smooth it for him.
The older woman lugged the baby upstairs, and Mr. Abbott strode to the cookstove. Tess tore her gaze from him, entered the dining room and stepped in his son’s path. She caught the little fellow’s raised arm as he passed. “Whoa there, young man.”
He came to an abrupt stop and stared at her with eyes as big and round as washtubs. “Who are you?”
“I’m Tess, and you must be Luke.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Your papa is going to see if I’m the right person to look after you and your sister.”
He shook his head wildly. “No! I don’t want you here. Go away.” He flew out of the house.
She took off after him, hitching up her skirts with one hand, holding on to her hat with the other and running as fast as her high boot heels would allow. He dashed into the barn. She found him crouched in the corner of an empty stall, tears flowing over his flushed cheeks, and her heart went out to him. She approached slowly on tiptoes, but she bumped into a shovel leaning against the wall and sent it crashing to the floor.
Luke prepared to bolt, but she caught him by the shoulders and held him tightly as he twisted and turned. She squatted so she wouldn’t tower over him. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I won’t let go until you settle down. You can’t run off like that. A ranch is a big place. You could get hurt.”
“No, I couldn’t!”
The little fellow showed no signs of giving up his struggle. He flailed his arms as he attempted to break free. “You’re coming with me, Master Luke.” She planted him on her hip and headed to the house. His fists flew, coming uncomfortably close to her face. Her ears rang from his shrieked protests.
She reached the kitchen, where Mr. Abbott knelt in front of the stove filling two metal pails with glowing embers. He’d shed his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing muscular arms. She had little time to take in the unexpected—albeit pleasing—sight because he turned toward her, exasperation etched in every line of his attractive face.
“Quiet down, Luke,” he said in a firm voice. “Do something, Miss Grimsby. Please.”
The mischievous boy ceased shouting long enough to send her a triumphant smirk.
She’d had enough of his antics. No four-year-old, however unruly, would keep her from securing the position. She’d dealt with his kind before and knew just what to do. “I guess you don’t want to see what kind of candy I brought. I won’t give it to a boy who’s pitching a fit. I’ll set you down—if you agree to stay put. Will you do that?”
He crossed his arms over his chest in such an adult manner Tess hid a smile. She rummaged in her reticule with her free hand and withdrew a small package. He followed her every move, his eyes glued to the peppermint stick she unwrapped.
“Here. Why don’t you smell it?” She placed the striped sweet under his nose, pulling back when he attempted to snatch it. “You may have it if you’ll sit quietly while your papa cleans up the mess you made.” She indicated a chair at the kitchen table.
The boy’s gaze was riveted on the red-and-white stick. He licked his lips. “I don’t like you, and you can’t make me.”
“You don’t have to like me, and I won’t make you. You just have to do as I ask.” She set him down but kept a firm grip on his shoulder.
His face scrunched in puzzlement. “You’re not mad?”
Tess shook her head. “I understand. You want your mama, but she’s gone now. I know you don’t want me here, but you need someone to cook your food, wash your clothes and buy you candy, don’t you?”
“You’ll buy me candy?”
“I will.” Provided Mr. Abbott hired her.
Luke studied her with the same intensity his father had. “Whenever I want?”
“No. Candy is a treat, but you’d get it sometimes.” She released her hold on him.
He sidled over to the chair and stood beside it a moment before sitting down. Tess handed him the sweet, which he promptly stuck in his mouth.
