He tore his gaze away, refocusing on his aunt. “I have to sort out a few things with Horace before I pursue her further. Things that could—” He cut himself off and shook his head.
“Horace.” Jenny clicked her tongue in disgust. “The less you have to do with that man, the better. I told you Coupeville has a fine paper. I’m sure I could—”
“Thank you, but no. This is something I must see finished.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Does this have to do with your father?” When Mack refused to answer, she continued, “I loved your father very much, you know that. But he was wrong to exact any promises from you before he died. You should be free to make your own way forward, not shackled—”
“Aunt Jenny, please.” Her concern was not unexpected, but he couldn’t deal with it right then. “Believe me when I say it weighs heavily on my mind.”
Jenny rubbed his shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. Just promise me you’ll listen to your heart, rather than your brain.”
Mack snorted. “I would never do something so foolish.”
“Maybe it’s time you did. It might surprise you what could happen.”
Though well-intentioned, her advice was nonsensical. His heart had gotten him into this mess in the first place, and only his brain would get him out. If Mrs. Winnifred West could leave his heart alone long enough for him to figure it out, he’d be much obliged.
Mack gave his aunt one more kiss on the cheek, lifted the valises, and led the way to the pier. An hour later, he and Winnie stood on the deck of theWhidby.
“Nowthisis the steamer we should have taken the first time around.” He gestured to the gleaming white exterior and quality sitting areas, which provided an aura of confidence that thePersephonehad sorely lacked.
Winnie laughed. “You’ve made your point. I’ll never take another steamer just because it is inexpensive.” He gave her an approving nod. “I look forward to a less perilous journey. I need my energy to finish composing my article this evening. Mr. Anderson expects it first thing in the morning.”
Mack’s lip curled at the mention of Emil. For three days, he had been able to purge Emil from his thoughts, but it could no longer be avoided. In less than twenty-four hours, Winnie’s hard work would be twisted and made into something foul—unless he told her the truth. He just hoped he’d laid enough groundwork to prove he had her best interests at heart. He opened his mouth, but he didn’t get the chance to begin.
“Why do I get the sensation you and Mr. Anderson do not get along?”
He shouldn’t have been so relieved by the temporary reprieve, but he was. He would soak in a few more blissful moments at Winnie’s side, and then he would face her judgment. “What gave it away?”
“The habitual glower, for one.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Is it because he’s handsome?”
He pushed off the railing. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those women that would fall for a pretty face.”
She raised her brows. “Clearly not, since I’m with you.”
A splutter of laughter left him even as excitement shot through him. She admitted she had fallen for him.He wanted to discuss their relationship further, learn exactly what that meant for their future, but he held back. Not until she knew everything.
“Besides his irritating good looks, what’s the trouble? He is spoken well of around the office.”
He considered his words. What could he say that wouldn’t incriminate himself? He settled for a brief retelling of their history. “I used to love working together on promising leads. His rabid desire to get to the bottom of a story was legendary. I have no doubt he could have been one of the finest investigative reporters in the state, but something happened when he left. Now, he hops to attention if my uncle so much as crooks a finger in his direction.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “So not only does his new work ethnic bother you, but you also mourn your loss of friendship.”
He paused. Did he? “Bobcat, your ability to read me is…annoying.”
“My apologies.”
“Your smirk confirms you do not mean it.” He tweaked her nose. “But it’s not just that. Recently, something has been off.”
“How do you mean?”
He took a moment to sift through his observations. Now that he took the time to really think about it, there was something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Emil’s annoying behavior had increased, almost to the point that he was using it to cover for something else. “I’m not entirely sure, but I sometimes feel that Emil is playing more than one game.”
“He certainly likes to pump the stenographers for information about your uncle.”
Mack frowned. “What kind of information?”
“Nothing serious, which makes it all the more strange. It’s mostly about who your uncle met with when he couldn’t be there. Why would he care?”
