He was told he could sit anywhere, and he chose a table for two where he had an angled view of the town’s wide thoroughfare. He ordered steak and eggs and black coffee from a comely woman who introduced herself as Ellie Butterworth and welcomed him to Frost Falls. She tried to engage him in conversation, but he was a practiced deflector, and she left without knowing his name or where he was from.
He did not make firm eye contact with any of the other five diners, although he did observe them from time to time over the top of his newspaper. The Frost FallsLedgerwas only a weekly broadsheet, but it contained articles reprinted from Denver’sRocky Mountain Newsand those tidbits common to small-town papers. There were three birth notices and one death reported. The death was a native of Frost Falls but no longer a resident. The town’s population remained on the plus side.
Martin folded the paper and put away his spectacles when his food was brought to the table. He looked down at the plate as it was placed in front of him, but the hand that delivered it was so delicately beautiful that he allowed himself to follow the curve of those fingers all the way to their owner’s face.
He could not stare, of course, but he saw enough to know she was a rare flower in a place like Frost Falls. He’d not seen a single Chinaman on his tour around town, and it was his experience that they came together in protective clusters wherever they lived. There was no such ethnic enclave in Frost Falls or he would have discovered it. She was alone, then, or mostly so. That was interesting.
Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were downcast. He had no fear that she was studying him. Her smile could hardly be called that since it was so tentative, and it seemed to him that she remained at his side by sheer force of will. He would have liked to see her coal black hair unbound and brushing against her slim neck and shoulders, preferably with a pillow supporting her head. She was that lovely.
He returned his attention to this plate, but now he had the vision of her small breasts and slender waist at the back of his mind and could reach for it anytime he chose. He thanked her when she finished pouring his coffee. She hurried away without acknowledging that he’d spoken. That surprised him a little. He was used to the deference her kind showed.
In other circumstances, he’d have enjoyed teaching her how to show respect, but the fact that he was working and required to be discreet meant that he could look but not touch. That pained him. She was an unexpected complication, and the fact that she was young, easily less than half his age, only made her more desirable. He had always liked his women young.
Pride in his greatest assets, the nondescript appearance and unremarkable manner, was all that kept him from opening his fly and relieving himself under the table. Wondering how it would be reported in theLedger, Martin Cabot smiled to himself as he cut into his steak.
Chapter Twenty-five
Hannah stabbed a dumpling with her fork and waggled it while she spoke. “And then Frankie Fuller fell dead asleep right there at his desk.” She dropped her head in imitation of her classmate and Clay’s best friend. “He tipped forward and cracked his slate when his head hit it, but the part that made us all laugh was that he didn’t wake up right then.”
Lily was watching her daughter more than listening to the account. “Eat that dumpling, Hannah, before it flies off your fork and hits your brother.”
Hannah plopped it into her mouth and spoke around it. “Yes, ma’am.”
Roen speared a piece of chicken. “So when did he wake?”
“When Mr. Stanton hit him with the pointer.”
Clay frowned. “He whaled on him. Could have just given him a shake, but no, he had the pointer in his hand so he used it.”
“No one laughed after that,” said Hannah. “We felt terrible for Frankie.”
“As well you should,” Lily said. “Does he often fall asleep like that?”
Clay shook his head. “Never happened before. It was on account of the train coming in so late. Frankie got himself a sometimes job taking passengers and bags to the hotel. It was his turn yesterday so he had to wait until the train arrived. He slept on a bench in the station, but he told me it wasn’t restful. That’s why he nodded off.”
“That’s too bad,” said Lily. “Perhaps Mr. Butterworth should find someone else to help when there’s a late arrival.”
“Now that would make Frankie real sad,” said Hannah,waggling another dumpling. “I’m serious, Ma. He’s always jingling coins in his pocket and not cause he’s showin’ off. He’s kind of musical that way.”
“Oh, musical. Well, in that case—” Lily stopped because the dumpling on the end of Hannah’s fork catapulted across the table. It would have landed on Clay’s plate if Roen hadn’t intervened. He caught it neatly in his palm, returned it to Hannah’s plate, and then went to the sink to wash chicken gravy off his hand. Lily stared at him right along with her children when he came back to the table.
“What?” he asked, picking up his fork.
Lily shook her head, hardly knowing if she should be admiring or admonishing. “You’re just so...unexpected.”
“Huh. I suppose that’s something.”
And that was that. Lily watched Roen’s attention return to his meal. It was a cue that everyone else should do the same. There was no commotion, no chastisement; nothing was upended except Lily’s heart, and that, she realized, was the other thing that Roen caught neatly in his palm.
Clay helped himself to a warm biscuit and slathered it with butter. He gave half to Ham. “Frankie told me that Mr. Butterworth gave him something extra for his trouble last night, but not because it was late. I guess the woman he delivered to the hotel was a—” He stopped, searching for a more appropriate word than “bitch.” “A real unpleasant person.”
“Good for you,” said Roen, tapping Clay’s plate with the tines of his fork. “Your mother approves.”
Clay nodded, grinning. “I had another word in mind.”
“We know,” Lily said dryly. “And I feel certain fatigue accounts for this woman’s unpleasantness.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Frankie mostly talked about her private car. I guess he got to step inside to help the porter take her bags. He said it was something like he’s never seen. Not even in a book.”
