скачать книгу бесплатно
She shrugged her shoulders. “All my wedding experience came in handy for something.”
“What do you do with your time when you’re not being dragged into everyone else’s weddings?” Nick asked.
“Volunteer work, mostly.”
Any other woman would have rattled off a list of clubs she belonged to and decorating projects she’d completed. But Amanda wasn’t just any woman, Nick was fast learning.
“What sort of volunteer work?”
She seemed surprised that he’d asked. “Three days a week I work at churches, preparing meals and serving indigents. Twice a week I visit the orphanage.”
“You enjoy doing that?” he asked.
“It breaks my heart, seeing the children.” Amanda looked at him, tears instantly welling in her eyes.
Nick nearly bolted across the carriage to hold her, comfort her. He’d never felt a desire so strong in his entire life.
Amanda blinked her tears away. “But I can’t stay away.”
“Has this got something to do with that women’s refuge you mentioned earlier?”
“Yes, it does,” Amanda said. “So often women don’t have the skill or knowledge to support themselves and their children when their husband leaves them or passes away. I want to provide a place where they can live while they get on their feet and learn how to provide for their children.”
Nick just stared at her. Good Lord, who was this woman—this Amanda Van Patton? Where had she been all his life?
“That’s an incredible idea,” he finally managed to say.
“Thank you.” She smiled softly, and Nick’s heart melted a little.
For the first time, he wondered what would have happened to his own family if things had been different when his father died. What if he’d been a boy, unable to take over the family business? Would his mother have known what to do? Where would she have gotten the help and guidance she needed to provide for their family?
“So, when are you starting this project?” Nick asked.
“As soon as I raise the money.”
“What about your uncle Philip? He’d support your cause.”
“I don’t want to ask him,” Amanda said. “It’s a losing proposition, never intended to show a dime of profit. I can’t expect him to spend his own money on it. Besides, I’d like the community to get involved, to realize what’s happening and take part in solving the problem.”
“That’s a tall order.”
She sat a little straighter on the seat and gave him a brisk nod. “I have a plan.”
He grinned. “Really?”
“I plan to stage a number of events for San Francisco’s wealthy families to raise awareness of the situation and drum up support. Once I’ve secured the funds, I’ll start on the refuge,” Amanda said. “I need a building large enough to accommodate women and their children. It will require a kitchen, sitting rooms, a playroom for the children, and a place where they can receive medical care. I’ll also require space so the women can receive training for the jobs they’ll need to eventually become self-reliant. I want a safe location near schools, parks and churches.”
She paused and blushed slightly. “Well, that’s my plan.”
“It sounds more like your passion,” Nick said.
She considered his words. “You could be right.”
“Any other passions?” Nick inquired, not sure why he’d asked such a leading question, yet anxious to hear her answer.
“Of course,” she said simply. “But you’ll have to figure those out for yourself.”
“I warn you, I do love a challenge.”
Amanda smiled and gestured out the window. “So, Mr. Tour Guide, what’s that building over there?”
Nick had instructed the driver to take them through Los Angeles and give Amanda a look at the city. He pointed out the building where he had an office, then the shops along Wilshire Boulevard, which were bustling with people, delivery wagons, trolley cars and carriages. Gradually, the driver headed east, also on Nick’s instructions, until the city faded into farmland.
Amanda leaned closer to the window, gazing at the open fields dotted with an occasional farmhouse. “Perhaps now is a good time to ask where you’re taking me.”
“I want to show you my passion. My latest project,” he explained, waving his hand toward the window. “The Whitney project, I’m calling it, named after the man who owned the majority of the land.”
The carriage drew to a stop. Nick exited first, then helped Amanda to the ground.
Miles of farmland spread out around them, rimmed by a range of rugged mountains. Nearby was a dilapidated farmhouse—its roof blown off, windows smashed—shaded by a towering oak.
The driver handed a wicker hamper and blanket to Nick, then flicked the reins.
“Where is he going?” Amanda asked, watching the carriage drive away.
“Taking the team down to the creek for water.”
Amanda glanced around at the vast openness, the isolation. “So we’re out here alone?”
Nick nodded. “Just the two of us…and our passions.”
Chapter Six
“Come here, let me show you.” Nick dropped the wicker hamper and blanket under the tree, and took Amanda’s elbow.
“This is the Whitney farm?” Amanda asked, walking alongside him.
“Most of it. Ezra Whitney owned the acreage to the north, and his son owned that to the south. It belongs to me now.” Nick gestured to the old farmhouse. “This portion here in the middle will be mine shortly.”
“It’s not part of the Whitney farm?”
“No, it belongs to another farmer,” Nick said. “It’s been abandoned for years, as you can see by the condition of the place. We’re tracking down the owner now, arranging for the purchase of the land.”
Amanda looked up at Nick. “What if he won’t sell?”
“Oh, he’ll sell, all right,” Nick told her. “He’ll jump at the chance to unload this land.”
“It seems like you’re taking quite a chance,” she said.
Nick shook his head. “This tract of land is perfect. I’ll have it, one way or another.”
Amanda gazed around. “There must be a hundred acres.”
“Just about.”
“What do you plan to do with it?”
Nick stopped for a moment and surveyed the area. “I’m going to build a factory.”
“My goodness. That’s very ambitious,” Amanda said. “What are you going to manufacture?”
“Electrical parts,” Nick said, and started walking again. “Light switches and fixtures, sockets, wiring, bulbs. Everything needed to provide electricity to the public.”
“That’s a very progressive idea.”
“It’s the future.” Nick pointed across the field. “The main building will go right here. Come on, I’ll show you.”
They crossed the field as Nick explained the layout of the factory complex, pointing and gesturing. Amanda asked questions—intelligent questions—that pleased him no end.
As he explained the reason for the placement of the warehouses, he realized he couldn’t think of another woman he’d bring out here to look at his factory site—not even his mother or sister. But having Amanda here with him seemed the most natural thing in the world. He couldn’t imagine not having her here, not telling her about his project.
“Has the architect finished the plans?” Amanda asked as they walked toward the old farmhouse again.
“Almost.” Nick grinned. “I keep thinking of new things I’d like to add.”
“When will the factory open?”
“Early next year,” Nick said. “I’m projecting it will turn a profit within two years.”
“Two years?” she asked, her eyes wide.
He grinned. “I like to think long-term.”
“I guess you do.”
“Hungry?” Nick asked as they reached the shade of the oak tree. He gestured to the hamper. “I had the cooks prepare something for us. No easy task, with all the wedding preparations under way.”
Amanda spread the blanket on the soft grass and sat down. Nick joined her, the hamper separating them.
A light breeze stirred the wisps of hair at Amanda’s temples and her cheeks glowed a pale pink as she looked off across the field. Nick couldn’t keep his gaze away. It was the first time he’d been to the old Whitney farm and found anything more interesting than the land itself.
Amanda turned back to him and saw that he’d been watching her. She flushed slightly and dropped her gaze. Nick thought her the most lovely woman he’d ever seen.
“Let’s see what we have here,” he said, briskly opening the hamper.
Inside was cheese and bread, some cold meat, fruit and a bottle of wine. Amanda set out the plates and cutlery while Nick filled their glasses.
“Do you intend to employ women in your factory?” Amanda asked.
Nick bit off a chunk of bread. “Men and women working alongside each other? I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“That sounds a bit old-fashioned for a man building a factory meant to take us into the next century,” Amanda said, sipping the wine.
He shrugged. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Well?”
Nick shook his head. “I don’t know…”
“At least say you’ll think about it.”
“I’ll think about it,” he promised. “For you.”
Amanda smiled, and Nick couldn’t help smiling back.
“So,” he said, helping himself to the fruit, “what made you decide to build this women’s refuge?”
“I saw a need and wanted to fill it.” She gestured toward the open field. “Sort of like your factory.”
He sensed her evasiveness and again found himself desperate to know what thoughts lay in Amanda’s mind.
He sipped his wine. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
Amanda paused. “Do you?”
“Yes. And I’d like to know the whole story.” Nick grinned. “Besides, you trust me, remember? And I’m your new best friend.”
Amanda set her plate aside and studied him. At first, it irked Nick a bit that she wouldn’t simply tell him what he wanted to know. Did she not trust him? Could she believe he wasn’t genuinely interested?
“All right, I’ll tell you,” Amanda finally said, leaving him feeling that he’d accomplished something with her. “You arranged my escape from the house today. I suppose I owe you.”
Nick pushed the hamper aside and scooted a little closer to her on the blanket. But she gazed off across the field again, and for a moment he wondered if she really would tell him.
Finally, she looked back at him. “My father died when I was eleven years old. Mother was quite devastated, of course. She was also quite unprepared to make a life for us. She’d never worked. She had no skills, no training. Nothing that would allow her to get any sort of decent job.”
Nick shifted on the blanket. What Amanda was telling him was something highly personal and surely painful. Maybe he’d have been better off letting it alone, not insisting she tell him. Then, just as quickly, he disregarded the notion. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Amanda.
“It didn’t take long before the little money my father left us was gone,” Amanda said. “We lost our home. Mother didn’t want to accept charity.”
“But what about your uncle? The man’s worth a fortune.”
“Yes, but Uncle Philip was a distant relative of my father’s, and Mother didn’t know him,” Amanda said. “Finally, though, when things got really bad, she sent me to live there.”
“Why didn’t she come herself?”
“As I said, Mother wouldn’t take charity,” Amanda told him. “For me, yes. But not for herself.”
“But still…”
