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Miss Bowen faced him and sighed. “I still can’t get used to her calling me mademoiselle. I finally gave up trying to get her not to. It sounds so formal. But it’s much better than what she used to call me.”
“Oh? What was that?”
“Miss Abigail. That just sounds so stuffy to me.” She wrinkled her cute nose and shook her head. “And so gratingly formal and impersonal. Especially when she and her sisters are more like family to me than hired help.”
Harrison understood exactly what she meant. They had that in common. He oftentimes asked Forsyth the same thing. After all, the man was more like a father to him than a butler. But Forsyth refused, and so Harrison had finally given up, as well. “You said that she and her sisters were like family to you. Do you have any family, Miss Bowen?”
After taking a sip of her tea, she placed the cup onto the saucer and rested it on her lap. “Yes. My father died a long time ago, but my mother recently remarried. I have three older brothers and an older sister, who are all married. Several nieces and nephews, too.” She looked away. The moment was brief, but long enough for him to understand that something she’d said had bothered her. He’d seen it in her eyes. What it was, he didn’t know. Nonetheless, whatever had caused that momentary look of sadness was none of his concern. He was here on business. Not to get involved in her personal life.
“What about you?” Abby asked him.
“There’s just me and my two sons.”
“Sons? Oh.” She took a sip of tea, seeming to take in the news with excitement, worry or concern. He wasn’t sure which. “How old are they?”
“Josiah and Graham will be four August twenty-ninth.”
“Twins?”
“Yes.”
“My brother Michael has twins, too. A boy and a girl.” Affection softened the blue in her eyes before they glazed over with a faraway look mingled with pain, and the room grew quiet.
He wondered if she was thinking about her family and missing them. And if that would be a problem. Would she walk away from the business to go back to her home? Wherever home was for her. “Where are you from, Miss Bowen?” So much for not getting involved in her personal life.
She blinked, then looked at him as if she remembered he was in the room. “What? Oh. Sorry. Yes, you asked me where I’m from. Paradise Haven. In the Idaho Territory. And you?” She shook her head and waved her hand. “Never mind. I already know that. You’re from Boston, Massachusetts. I don’t know where my mind is.” She steadied her teacup and wiggled in her seat, then sat up straighter.
Was she always this scatterbrained, or was it home she was missing? He doubted it was the latter because she hadn’t looked exactly prepared for his arrival, either. Worry etched inside him, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Well, they hadn’t agreed on anything or signed any papers yet. So he could still get out of this deal if he so chose, but his gut twisted, wondering what he’d do next if this plan failed.
“Mr. Kingsley.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “Would you mind if I called you by your first name? All this formality isn’t for me.”
“Oh, by all means, please, call me Harrison. And may I call you Abigail?”
“No.” She shook her head and frowned.
Taken back by her blunt answer, he moved backward.
“Please call me Abby. Like I said, Abigail sounds so stuffy.” She wrinkled that petite nose of hers again, and he was certain those close-knit freckles had kissed each other when she did. “One thing you will discover about me, Harrison, is I am not a woman who believes in pomposity and strict formality when there is a real person on the inside just waiting to be met. When one is so reserved and refined, you never get to know the heart of that person, and what makes them who they really are. That’s a real travesty as far as I’m concerned.”
Harrison wanted to remind her that she had come across like that when she signed Abigail in her letters to him, but he didn’t.
“After I sent my letter to you and had signed it Abigail, I wanted to snatch it back. I still have no idea why I did it. Anyway—” she waved her hand and shook her head again “—shall we get down to business? After all, that’s why you’re here.” She smiled.
Harrison returned her smile with one of his own. He had a hard time keeping up with her bouncing from one subject to the next, but he found this down-to-earth woman to be quite an enigma. He was going to enjoy being her business partner. And that made him more nervous than a hunted fox. Better to plunge forward with business than to let his thoughts go down a road he didn’t want to travel. “Do you have plans on how you want to run this business?”
“Of course I do.” She drained her tea.
By the look on her face, he could tell that he’d offended her. “I was certain you did, but I thought I would ask.” He sent her a smile, and that of-course-I-do look disappeared. “What building were you planning on using?”
“This one.”
Just as he feared. His gaze slipped around the room and ended at her.
“I haven’t purchased furnishings yet. After I hire a crew of carpenters to restore the place, then I will. Just so you know, because this will also be my home, I will be funding the total cost of remodeling the building. The kitchen is quite large so I won’t need to do anything to it, but the rest of the place, well...” She sighed and raised a dainty shoulder. “As you can see, it needs a good cleaning, which we’ve already started, along with numerous repairs. I am certain that once all of that is completed, this place will make a fine dinner theater.” The conviction of that shone in her blue eyes.
“I’m sure it will. Do you have a layout planned for the theater already?”
“Yes. I do. It’s in my office. I’ll run and get it. Be right back.” She pushed herself off the settee and fled the room.
Harrison blew out a long breath, grateful one of his fears had been put to rest and that he didn’t have to come up with a large sum of money to fix up the place or for the theater. He only hoped the money he did have to fork over would be a small amount.
Abby’s footsteps echoed outside the doorway, announcing her arrival. Harrison tugged on his sleeve cuffs and straightened the lapels on his jacket. He rose when she stepped inside the parlor, hands loaded with several rolled-up papers. Before he could even take one step toward relieving Abby of her burden, the woman had scurried over to him, sat down on the settee and unrolled them, pulling out and flattening the first one.
Harrison shook his head, marveling at the little bundle of energy. He lowered himself next to her, careful not to sit too close, but close enough to see the drawings.
“This is where the theater will be. The stage will go here....” She leaned over and pointed to the areas she referred to. “The chairs here. Sixty to start with, at least. Then as the business grows, more can be added. There will be chairs up in here in the balcony, as well. Maybe even a few dining tables and chairs, too. I haven’t decided on that particular yet. Anyway—” she waved her hand as if remembering what she was doing “—here in the room next to the theater is where the dining tables and chairs will be. Guests will dine there before they head into the theater to watch the plays.” She continued to explain the intricate floor plans to him.
Harrison was impressed. A lot of thought had gone into designing this place.
When she finished, she sat up straight and turned those smiling eyes up at him. Those eyes sparkled with the dream. This thing obviously meant a lot to her. One thing Harrison had discovered—if someone was willing to put the hard work it took to make a business come to fruition and put their whole heart and soul into it like she was, its chances of being a success were quite good. Somehow, after seeing her plans and witnessing how she lit up with the dream, that dream now mattered to him, too. And not just because of his inheritance and plans, either.
* * *
Abby rerolled the papers. Before things went any further, she needed to tell him something that had been pricking at her conscience from the very beginning of this whole thing. She sat up straight and turned her attention onto him. “Before we go any further, Harrison, I feel I must be honest with you about something. The only reason I’m taking on a partner is because the town committee will not grant me the license I need to open my dinner theater. The only way they will even consider it is if I take on a gentleman partner.” She huffed.
“Can you believe it? I mean really. What difference does that make? I still can’t believe they even suggested such a thing. As if I’m not capable of running my own business. I’m just as smart as any man. My stepfather, who is a brilliant business man, taught me...” She prattled on and on until she remembered she was talking to a potential business partner. “Sorry. As you can tell, I’m quite frustrated over this whole situation.”
“I can see that,” Harrison said with an amused chuckle. “Now, it is my turn to tell you something, Miss Bowen.”
Her stomach tensed, wondering what he was about to say. Was he going to back out of this deal before it ever got started? “What’s that?” She held her breath waiting for his answer.
“Once we get this business up and running and I get my investment back, plus interest as you stated in your ad—” his eyes twinkled along with his half grin “—then I plan on heading back to Boston to claim my inheritance and to run my father’s businesses.”
Abby’s stomach relaxed. “Just as I had hoped.”
He frowned.
“Oh.” She waved her hand. “No offense to you personally. It’s just that I was hoping things would turn out this way, and they have. Like I said, the only reason I took on a partner was because of the license. I really didn’t want nor need one. So as soon as we, if you’re interested, get this theater up and running, I will no longer need a partner. After all, the town didn’t say how long I had to have one, now, did they?” She smiled.
“That plan may backfire on you, Abby.”
“What do you mean?” She frowned.
“They could revoke your license.”
“They can?” She hadn’t thought of that. “Surely they wouldn’t. Would they?”
“Yes, then can, and from what you’ve told me about them, I suspect they would, too. So here’s what I propose.”
Propose? She gulped.
“Even though I will be leaving, I am willing to remain your partner. A silent one, in name only, if you will. And I will only take a dollar a month from you.”
“That’s hardly a partnership.”
“This would not be an equal-share partnership. The way I see it, you are helping me a vast amount more than I am you. I want to reciprocate by helping you, too, by remaining your partner in order for you to keep your license. You will be able to run the business the way you want without any interference from me. That way we both come out of this arrangement with exactly what we want—nothing more, nothing less.”
“Do you think the town will object to you not being here?”
“I don’t see how they can. You will still have a partner. I would even be willing to come back for let’s say—” he rubbed his chin “—once a month for six months.”
“You would do that?”
“Yes. I would. I am convinced that when they see the revenue your business will bring this town, and see what an amazing cultural place it will be, they will no longer care about such matters in time, anyway.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. Or I wouldn’t have said so.”
Abby’s insides danced with the fact that everything was going to work out the way she’d always hoped it would.
* * *
Harrison couldn’t believe his good fortune. This was working out better than he had imagined. Only one question he needed to ask before he made this deal. “Do you have a dollar figure in mind of what you will need from me?”
“Yes. Five hundred dollars.”
That was it? He thought he would have to put up thousands and live on an even stricter budget than he was right now over the next three months. Relief poured over him, but he didn’t allow his face to show it. She didn’t need to know about his dire financial situation, and five hundred was definitely doable.
Right then, he determined that even though he would get his money back and then some, he would help her as much as he could to make her business a success. Not that she needed his help or anything, but he wanted to make sure her endeavor came to fruition.
“So what do you think?” Abby asked. “Are you in?”
Harrison turned his attention onto her and smiled at the expectant look in her eyes. “Only one question first. I hate to ask, but I need to know how you can guarantee a profit so quickly.”
“Oh, that.” She waved her hand as if she were brushing away his comment. “The reason I can is because even if the business doesn’t make a profit right away, the investor will. I am going to give them fifteen hundred dollars once we get the place up and running.”
Harrison swallowed his shock. Not only would he get the amount his father’s will stipulated, but his initial investment, as well. This was almost too good to be true. Maybe it was. Suspicion crawled over him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because. The investor or business partner, whichever you prefer, will be helping me to make my dream come true, so I want to make it worth their time. Your time. That is, if you’re interested.”
This woman wanted her dream. And she wanted it badly. He had a feeling she would do whatever it took to fulfill that dream, too, including giving the large sum she had guaranteed just for the trouble of helping her out. Before he’d left Boston, he’d had a background check done on her and knew she was good for the money. The woman came from wealth and her own bank account was hefty. The way he saw it, he had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Not only would he get what he wanted, he would be helping her to get what she wanted. A mutual benefit arrangement. Those were the best kind of business deals. “I’m interested. Count me in.”
She clutched her hands together with a smack and tucked them to her chest. Her smile lit up her whole face. “Excellent. Thank you!” She tossed her arms around him, gave him a firm hug and released him just as quickly. Her exuberance was contagious. He found himself wanting to hug her in return, but he didn’t dare. “You won’t regret this, Harrison, I promise.”
He had a feeling that promise would hold true. Normally he would have had a contract drawn up, but that would only delay things. Knowing how much this meant to her, his gut told him she would hold to her end of the bargain, so he wouldn’t bother with a contract this time.
They continued to talk about what needed to be done, the expenses, her plans, his thoughts and the whole general situation. An hour later, he looked at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon. “Well, I should go now.” Harrison stood. “What time would you like me to come this evening?”
“Five-thirty. Dinner will be served at six.”
“Very well.” They walked side by side to the front door. There, he grabbed his fedora off the hat rack and held it in his hands, then shifted his focus onto her smiling face. “I will see you at five-thirty, then.”
“Looking forward to it.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other.
“Until this evening.” With those words, he opened the door and stepped outside. Outside where the detestable smell of sulfur lingered in the air. But that vile stench didn’t detract from his fine mood. For the first time in years, hope glimmered inside him. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and looked up at the bright June sun. Forsyth would say God had arranged this whole thing because He loved Harrison so much. But Harrison didn’t believe in a loving God. How could he? His life had clearly proven otherwise.
Chapter Three
Standing in front of the free-standing mirror, Abby perused her appearance. The sides of her hair were pulled back and held with pearl combs and a dark blue ribbon. Tiny curls framed her face, and the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back. Her white, tufted-cotton bustle gown with the dark blue lace and ribbons and midlength sleeves would be cool, but not too cool for a warm evening in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. But just in case it wasn’t, she snatched up her knit shawl, then skipped downstairs to see if Veronique had everything ready.
The words to “Amazing Grace” sung by either Colette or Zoé, whose singing voices were very similar, floated through the massive room as she made her way into the formal dining room. “Hi, Zoé.”
Zoé, the middle sister to Veronique and Colette, turned from placing a silver chafing dish on the mahogany serving table and smiled. “Good evening, Abby,” she said in the same strong accent all of the sisters spoke with. Her soft gray eyes were the first thing a person noticed about Zoé. While the color was soft, because of the way her eyes were shaped, they appeared hard as if she were angry all the time, which she wasn’t.
Abby looked at the long table set for two. Her mother’s silver candelabra stood tall in the middle. Silver pedestal dishes set on each side piled high with fresh fruit and French pastries. Wedgewood bone china and crystal glasses sparkled like bright sunshine raining down on a clear mountain brook here in Colorado. Silverware...polished to perfection. “This looks great, Zoé.”
The eighteen-year-old girl’s face lit up. “You think so?”
“Yes. I sure do.”
“Zoé,” Veronique hollered from the other side of the swinging door.
Wisps of chestnut-blond hair swayed when Zoé yanked her attention in that direction. “I will be right there.” She curtsied and scurried into the kitchen.
Abby followed. Fresh bread, beef and pine aromas from the wood stove met her nostrils.
Veronique stood in front of the massive cook stove, wearing the same blue-and-white uniform as Zoé, stirring something in one of the copper pans sitting on the stove with a wire whisk. Without looking, Veronique told Zoé to grab the pastry-wrapped cinnamon apples out of the oven.
Colette sat at the table, slicing and peeling carrots. She, too, wore a matching uniform.
Abby wasn’t too keen putting on fancy dinners, but she had better get used to them for when she opened her dinner theater. “Something sure smells good, Veronique.” Abby raised the lid on one of the pans, leaned over and breathed deeply. “Umm. What is that?” She pointed to the dish.
“It is filet de boeuf charlemagne,” Veronique explained without taking her eyes off the pan she was stirring.
“Trans-la-tion...?” Abby drew out the word and let her sentence hang, waiting for Veronique to interpret what she’d said into English.
“Beef tenderloin Charlemagne.”
“Huh?” Abby frowned.
“Simply put, it is beef fillet steaks with mushrooms. What I am making now is a béarnaise sauce. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will. I haven’t eaten anything of yours yet that wasn’t absolutely delicious.”
Veronique flashed a quick smile Abby’s way before putting her attention back onto the saucepan.
Abby glanced up at the kitchen clock. Five-twenty. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Mr. Kingsley will be arriving in a few minutes.”
