“Yes. Thank you.”
Victorine watched Ellie wend her way between the tables and return to the kitchen. For all that the old busybody was polite about it, Victorine was aware that she wanted her gone. It was too bad, really. Victorine was developing a certain fondness for the hotel, enough affection, at any rate, that she no longer entertained thoughts of burning it to the ground.
Chapter Thirty-two
“Hey, Frankie,” Clay said, opening the front door to his friend. “You need some help with an odd job?”
Frankie shook his head. Only his brown eyes were visible above his woolen scarf and below his hat. He pulled down the scarf to reveal a seriously set mouth and a cluster of freckles across his nose and cheeks. “I’m here on an odd job. Got a letter for your da from that lady at the hotel.” He pulled an envelope from inside his coat and held it out to Clay. “Go on,” he said. “Smell it. That’s her scent there. Hounds could follow it all the way to San Francisco.”
Clay sniffed, wrinkled his nose. “Huh. Hounds could probably follow it farther than that. C’mon in before Ma tells me I’m letting the cold in or the heat out. It’s always something.” He closed the door behind Frankie. “Wait here. I’ll get Da.”
Frankie waved to Hannah, who was curled in one corner of the sofa in the parlor. She returned his wave shyly and went back to reading. Lizzie and Ham didn’t pay him any mind, but Mrs. Shepard looked up from her sewing and smiled at him. He shuffled his feet a little and smiled back. She was looking awfully pretty these days. Frankie thought a fellow might hurt his eyes if he stared too long so he looked at his feet instead. Besides, she was his best friend’s mother, and it gave him a queer feeling when he thought about her being pretty. There was a time he just thought of her as old and sad. He should go back to that.
Approaching footsteps made Frankie look up. Clay and Mr. Shepard were coming toward him. He held out the envelope. “Miss Headley said I was to give this to you and wait for your reply.”
Roen sighed heavily, but he took the envelope and turned his back on Frankie and Clay while he opened it. He wrinkled his nose at the scent that was released as he unfolded Victorine’s letter. It required only a single glance to take in the totality of her message. He refolded it and slid it back into the envelope. Aware that he was clenching his jaw, Roen forced himself to adopt a pleasant mien when he faced Frankie and Clay again.
“Tell her that will be fine,” he said to Frankie.
Frankie repeated the words and then asked if there was anything else.
“Not a thing,” said Roen. “You tell her what I said. It will be enough.” He found a coin in his pocket and held it out to Frankie. “For your trouble.”
“No trouble, sir.” But he took the coin from Roen’s hand as deftly as the Artful Dodger. “See you in the morning,” he said to Clay.
Clay nodded and opened the door for him. Once Frankie was gone, Clay turned his suspicious expression on Roen. “I never heard you say you know that lady.”
“I don’t suppose I thought it was any of your business.” His tone was both pleasant and serious.
Clay took the reprimand on the chin, but he also cast a wary look over his shoulder at his mother. Her head was bent toward her work. He couldn’t tell if she’d heard any part of the conversation in the entranceway, and if she had, whether she was disturbed by it.
“Clay.” Roen drew the boy’s attention back to him. “Your mother is aware that I know Miss Headley. Nothing about the letter that Frankie delivered will surprise her.” Roen was met by Clay’s dubious expression. “You can’t stop yourself from worrying about her, can you?”
“No, sir.”
Roen put a hand on Clay’s shoulder. “All right. I understand. But may I advise you on one point?” Clay nodded and Roen continued. “Don’t be so obvious about it. For myself, I don’t mind, but your mother does not want you to be concerned for her welfare. She is doing splendidly on her own.”
“Do you think so?”
“I do.”
Clay nodded, his shoulders relaxed. “That’s good, then.” He pivoted and returned to the kitchen, where he had been refilling lamps.
Roen caught Lily’s eye when she looked up as soon as Clay disappeared. He tilted his head toward the workroom. She set her sewing aside and followed him.
“What was that about?” she asked, closing the door and leaning against it to bar interruptions.
Roen handed her the envelope. “From Victorine. It’s why Frankie was here.”
“Oh. I was trying not to show too much interest.” She opened the envelope and read the letter. “Tomorrow? She wants to meet with you tomorrow? But you and I planned to finish your last survey.”
“I hadn’t forgotten, but I told Frankie to let her know that I was fine with this.”
Lily did not take pains to conceal her disappointment. “I wish you had consulted me. I would have suggested that keeping her waiting at least one more day would be a better strategy than appearing to be at her beck and call.”
“I have no intention of meeting her tomorrow. You and I have plans and we’re going to see them through.”
“You lied? You don’t lie.”
