A Matter of Marriage (4 page)

She
slid a glance at Alex, who stood patiently beside her, watching and listening
with more interest than she expected—or wanted—from a perfect stranger. His
brows were drawn together, as if something puzzled him. Julia wished she knew
what he was thinking, then decided she’d rather not, because she probably
wouldn’t like it.

Mary
clucked her tongue and sighed. “Very well. Whatever the bride wants, she shall
have. It’s no wonder you’re looking tired. Losing sleep is to be expected.
Wedding day jitters are perfectly normal you know. All will be well after
tomorrow. Just tell me what time Kate and I should come over to help you dress.”

“Oh,
uh, honestly, that won’t be necessary.” If she let Mary and her
eighteen-year-old daughter help, they would flit around her apartment, eagerly
discussing love and children. The Dolans wanted the Friday evening ceremony to
be beautiful and romantic and perfect, her once-upon-a-time dream wedding. “I
bought a ready-made dress at Marston’s over in San Diego, and it’s a very
simple design. There are some buttons in the back, but I should be able to
manage on my own.”

Mary’s
face fell, and the twinkle in her eyes dulled. “Oh, I see.” She fluttered a
hand in front of her. “There I go again, keeping Mr. MacLean from the doctor.
Please, this way.”

As
Mary ushered them along the hallway, past the empty white bench occasionally
filled with waiting patients, tears clawed at Julia’s eyes. She hated hurting
her friend, hated everything her father’s final decree was making her do. She
had not been sleeping well. If only her wedding had come and gone, she could
get on with her life.

Mary
knocked at the office door, then pushed it open. The smell of soap drifted into
the hallway. “Harold dear, you have a patient. A Mr. MacLean. Julia has brought
him.”

“Come
in, come in,” Dr. Dolan said, his white shirtsleeves rolled above thick
forearms. Stepping away from his cluttered roll-top desk, he waved them inside.

They
entered the combination office and examining area. Mr. MacLean followed so
closely behind her that a tingling sensation climbed Julia’s spine, taking her
mind off her trials. His male strength seemed to tower over her, encompass and
warm her. It also set her nerves on edge and confused her. She quickened her
steps, opening the distance between them to where she could breathe more
easily. She tried to dismiss his curious effect on her.

The
doctor greeted them and ambled over to Mary. They were a matched pair, like
bookends or salt-and-pepper shakers. He brushed his thumb over a spot of flour
on her cheek. “My dear, I can see that I am going to be eating something
delicious later today.”

The
twinkle returned to her eyes. “Oh! My pie crust! I must get back to it before
it dries out.” She gave her husband a loving smile. “And, yes, it will be
delicious.”

Julia
turned away from them and the fond and familiar touches they shared every day,
the type of loving touches she envied and would never know. She stared out the
paned window overlooking the beach and ocean. Gulls wheeled and screeched above
the surf, carefree, as the sun dropped toward the horizon. Pressing her
fingertips against the cool pane of glass, she touched the tangibility of the
Hotel Grand Victoria and accepted her choice. Keeping her face to the window,
she quickly brushed away an unbidden, traitorous tear sliding down her cheek.

When
the door clicked shut, Julia turned to find Mary gone and Dr. Dolan shaking
hands with Mr. MacLean.

“That’s
a nasty scar you’ve got there,” he said, reaching toward it, index finger
extended.

Mr.
MacLean reared back, shying like a thoroughbred and grimacing at his own sudden
movement. He pressed a hand to his ribs.

“I’m
not going to hurt you, young man. My interest is purely clinical.” The doctor
didn’t touch him, but he leaned in close, squinting his eyes. “Looks to me like
you didn’t get medical attention as soon as you should have. What happened?”

Mr.
MacLean moved his head this way and that, clearly uncomfortable at having
someone peering at him so closely. “You have a good eye, Doc.”

“And
you were lucky not to have lost an eye.” Dr. Dolan straightened and waited for
him to tell his story.

Julia
waited as well, though she was torn between a desire to know what had happened
to him and a need to protect him from talking about an incident that obviously
distressed him. She did not want to cause him more pain than he was already
feeling.

He
said nothing.

Dr.
Dolan pursed his lips, waited a moment longer, then said, “Perhaps it’s a story
for another day. Mr. MacLean, what has brought you to my office late this
afternoon?”

Julia
let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I
fell against one of the hitching posts.” He pointed to a lower section of his
back. “I expect I’ve got a couple of bruised ribs.”

“He
did not fall,” she said. “Mr. MacLean is being modest. He struck a hitching
post in the act of protecting me from a flowerpot that accidentally fell off
one of the balconies above the hotel’s entrance.”

Her
protector turned a very direct gaze on her. “There was nothing accidental about
that geranium pot. Someone threw it at you when you walked out from under the
portico.”

If
he didn’t look so serious, she might have laughed at such a notion. “Mr.
MacLean, I don’t mean to seem discourteous or ungrateful, but do you normally
wear spectacles?”

His
shoulders seemed to grow bigger. “My vision is perfect.”

“If
there is any doubt,” Dr. Dolan said, “I have an eye chart Mr. MacLean can look
at.”

He
scowled down at him.

“Or
not.” The doctor stepped to the far side of his examining table.

Mr.
MacLean slanted his scowl at her next. “Who wants to hurt you, Miss Fairbanks?”

“No
one!”

“Someone
does. Someone with a strong arm and deadly aim.”

She
swallowed hard. He couldn’t be right, could he? “I … will admit that some of
the hotel staff resisted my taking charge after my father’s death, but that was
six months ago. Now they’re accustomed to having me as their manager.” Well,
some of them were. Even after all this time, there were still a few holdouts. “I
cannot believe anyone would want to physically hurt me. A child playing on the
balcony could have knocked the pot over.”

“That
flowerpot had an angled trajectory. A little earlier, I saw someone moving
around on that balcony, but I couldn’t see who. The geraniums were too thick.”

Dr.
Dolan pulled at one of his graying eyebrows. “Julia, maybe you ought to listen
to the man.”

“No,
I cannot believe it,” she said, unwilling to accept that someone could hate her
enough to try to injure her. Searching for a reason not to trust Mr. MacLean’s
statement, she remembered her concern for him when he’d seemed lost in the
sight of something only he could see. “Perhaps you were confused. Forgive me
for saying this, but, moments before, you had been staring up at the hotel like
a fortune teller in a trance.”

Air
hissed through Alex’s teeth. “I was not in a trance. I was …” A haunted look
came over his face, a look of soul-shattering sadness. He turned toward the
window.

Julia’s
heart beat harder. She recognized that deep well of sadness. She had seen that
same look in her bedroom mirror when she lost her mother and then Lily. Had Mr.
MacLean also lost someone close to him?

She
took a step toward him. “I’m sorry, Mr. MacLean. I did not intend to cause you
pain. That’s the last thing I would have wanted.”

“I’m
fine. Forget about it.”

“Is
there anything I can do to help you?”

“No.”
He turned back but avoided her gaze. “No one can. Worry about yourself, Miss
Fairbanks. I’m not confused about what I saw or how far away the flowerpot
landed from that balcony. You’re the one in danger.”

She
frowned. He truly believed her life was at risk. If he was right, then she had
been living in a fantasy world, naively believing everything was going well,
that her guests and employees cared about her as much as she cared about them.

Julia
chewed on her thumbnail, hoping he was wrong. She had enough to worry about
without adding “beware of assassins” to her list. Not watching out for herself
would be foolish, though. She would take care. In addition, she would make certain
Mr. MacLean was all right. She owed him, and she would do whatever she could to
help him, whether he wanted her help or not.

Dr.
Dolan patted the cushioned examining table. “Have a seat, Mr. MacLean, and I’ll
take a look at you.”

Julia
arranged her skirts and settled herself on a nearby chair to wait upon the
doctor’s verdict.

“Julia,”
Dr. Dolan said, propping his fists on his hips, “last week your presence was
appropriate when you brought in that six-year-old boy with the scraped elbow,
but I imagine Mr. MacLean would appreciate some privacy.”

“Oh!”
Glancing over at the man hitching himself onto the table, she started to get
up. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

“She
can stay if she wants.” To her surprise, he began unfastening his shirt.
Evidently Mr. MacLean’s discomfiture with his face did not extend to the rest
of his body. He did not look at her.

“As
you wish,” the doctor muttered when she dropped back onto her chair.

Alex’s
fingers deftly moved from one button to the next, and the impropriety of her
being there flew out of her head. She couldn’t seem to look away from him. With
her attention riveted on his body, she forgot about his scar. The widening V of
his exposed flesh and chest hair fascinated her, making her heart race even
faster than the first time Edison’s electric lighting system was switched on in
the hotel. She didn’t understand how the incandescent lights worked, but their
illumination had taken her breath away, just as Alex MacLean was doing to her
now.

Julia
decided she should leave the office after all. Her reaction to this man was
making her think and feel things outside her realm of experience. She needed to
maintain control of herself and her situation. However, before she could get
up, he tugged his shirttail free of his pants and shrugged off his shirt.

Her
pulse rose, and she let her gaze wander over his impressive physique. Not even
the bathing costumes her male guests wore into the ocean exposed this much
flesh. Alex exhibited a tanned and muscular figure. From this angle, he showed
no signs of injury, only the harnessed strength she had felt while in his arms.

Imagining
herself back in those arms, Julia felt breathless, as if she had climbed to the
hotel’s fifth floor without using the elevator.

A
knock at the door made her jump.

Dr.
Dolan answered it, and Theo stuck his head inside.

“Miss
Fairbanks, forgive the intrusion, but I wanted to report that the geranium
debris has been cleaned up, and I’ve checked the other pots on that balcony.”
He stepped inside and gently closed the door. “It’s the strangest thing,
though.” He pulled on one of his wiry, white eyebrows.

“What
is?” she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

“Number
one, no one is registered to that room. Number two, that pot should not have
fallen. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have landed where it did.”

She
laced her fingers tightly together in her lap and met Alex MacLean’s knowing
gaze. She could not dismiss his claim anymore. She trusted Theo. Since his
first day of work when the hotel opened, he had been reliable and observant.

“I
can hardly bear to say this, Miss Fairbanks,” Theo said, “but I think someone
picked it up and threw it.”

She
nodded, the movement jerky. “At me.”

“You
know?”

“Mr.
MacLean shares your opinion.”

Her
protector shifted on the examining table and spoke. “Theo, have you told anyone
else what you found?”

“No,
sir, I came straight here.”

“Then
don’t. I think it’s best we not alert whoever was on that balcony that we know
what he did.”

Julia
nodded. “And I’d rather not frighten the guests.” She did not foresee any
danger to them since she had been the apparent target. “Did you notice anything
else, Theo?”

“The
door was unlocked.”

“So
anyone could have gotten in there,” Alex said.

“Yes,
sir.”

“Call
me Alex.” He rubbed the side of his ribs. “As a bellboy, you have access to the
entire hotel and everyone in it. How would you feel about keeping your eyes and
ears open for anyone acting suspiciously or speaking against Miss Fairbanks?”

“Of
course I’ll do that.” He faced her. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Thank
you,” she whispered, her throat tight. His loyalty and concern touched her
deeply.

“I’ll
be going then.” Theo reached for the doorknob. “I’ll report anything I find
out.”

When
the door clicked shut behind him, Julia found Alex and the doctor watching her,
as if they expected her to start crying or collapse in a heap of nerves on the
floor.

“Doctor,”
she said, “please go on with your examination. I need a few moments to think.”
Except that she didn’t know what to think. She didn’t want to believe that
someone wanted to hurt her.

“Very
well.” The doctor walked around behind Alex and leaned in to examine his back
and side. “Hmm.” He probed the area with his fingers.

His
patient sucked in a breath. “You found the spot, Doc.”

“It
wasn’t difficult. A good-sized bruise is already coming up.” He pressed several
more places. “The shells from the drive have left their mark as well, but
fortunately they did not break the skin.”

“Miss
Fairbanks,” Alex said, his muscles taut and voice rough, “while the doctor
inflicts more pain on me, tell me about any enemies you might have. It’s a sure
bet some of your male employees aren’t happy about working under a female.”

She
straightened in the chair. From outside the open window came the rhythmic ping
of rackets hitting a tennis ball across the net, the joyful squeals of children
playing in the sand, and the sound of waves washing the beach. Julia hated the
thought of danger lurking in the idyllic setting of her home.

“No
one has been outwardly menacing or threatening.” She kept her eyes fixed on Alex’s
face so his chest would not distract her. “If someone was that unhappy about
working for me, he could have left at any time since I took over.”

“Not
everyone has the luxury of leaving a good job,” he said, then glared over his
shoulder at the doctor when another tender spot was probed. “Has anyone been
especially rude to you?”

“Take
a deep breath,” Dr. Dolan ordered.

Alex
inhaled slowly and deeply, wincing.

Julia
winced, too. He was in pain because of her.

“Only
one person comes to mind,” she said. “Mr. Chalmers works the registration desk,
and he has made no secret of his feelings for me. He dislikes new ideas, unless
they are his own. Getting him to implement my ideas is a constant battle. I
think he enjoys undermining me, but I keep hoping he’ll come around.”

“You
ought to get rid of him,” Dr. Dolan said, moving around Alex’s side. “He thinks
he’s better and smarter than you. Not to mention the rest of us. I know he
covets your position as manager.”

“I
can be tough with him if necessary, but it would be a shame to lose him. He’s
fast, efficient, and adept at using the telephone. He knows how everything
works, and he’s been here long enough to become acquainted with the returning
and long-term guests. He knows their idiosyncrasies—the little things they want
and expect during their stay.”

At
the doctor’s prompting, Alex raised his arm. “Your Mr. Chalmers sounds like a
prime suspect,” he said. “Anyone else?”

“What
about that fellow who tried so hard to buy the hotel a couple of months back?”
Dr. Dolan asked.

“Tyler
Wolff.” A well-spoken, self-made man only a year or two older than her
twenty-five years. She believed she must have seen his picture in the
newspaper, because Mr. Wolff had looked familiar to her when they met the first
time he tried to purchase her home. “He wasn’t the only man who tried to buy
the hotel after my father’s death, but he was the most insistent. I was more
insistent, however. I rejected all offers. The Hotel Grand Victoria is not for
sale.” And it never would be once she and Phillip said their marriage vows. She
wished he would hurry up and get here. He had boarded the train in Philadelphia several days ago. “Mr. Wolff has not contacted me in three or four weeks. I
assume he gave up and returned to Boston.”

“Maybe.”
Alex rubbed his whiskered jaw, his fingers rasping over the stubble. “It’d be
worth checking. He could have hired someone to try and push you out of the
picture. What about former suitors who’ve heard you’re about to marry?”

Suitors?
She stifled a laugh. Despite the male interest she had received over the years,
she never took any of those men or their proposals seriously. They had wanted
her for the way she looked, as an adornment to their life. Or they wanted her
because of the hotel they assumed would one day pass to her. None of them would
have wanted a woman who preferred running that hotel to attending society
outings in the finest silk and lace.

“The
only … suitor who has never given up hope of an alliance with me is Coronado’s marshal. And he would never hurt me.”

“Well,
I wouldn’t count him out.” Creases dented the length of Alex’s broad forehead. “For
a bride on the eve of her wedding, you don’t strike me as being very excited
about your imminent nuptials.”

“Julia,”
Dr. Dolan said, pushing a hand through his gray-streaked hair, “I have to admit
I’ve been thinking the same thing. Mary and Kate are more excited about your
wedding than you seem to be. It is strange.”

She
stared at the spotless floor, feeling cornered. Never a proficient liar or
actress, she regularly kept things to herself, just as she had done with the
reading of her father’s will. Only when her vows were said did she intend to
tell the Dolans the truth about her sham of a marriage.

“Very
strange.” Alex must have shifted on the examining table, because it creaked
under his weight. “My wife was spinning like a top before our wedding.”

She
jerked her head up, shocked to feel a stab of … jealousy? “You’re married?” He
hadn’t seemed married to her. He had arrived alone.

“No.”
He stared at the eye chart. “My wife is dead.”

“Oh.
I’m so sorry.” She ignored the unseemly wave of relief moving through her,
relief she had no right to feel on the eve of her wedding day. She should be
feeling sad for him and the loss he suffered. Alex was young to be a widower,
in his early thirties, she guessed. Was his wife’s death the reason for the sorrow
she had seen in him? Had he loved her the way Julia could only dream of being
loved?

Dr.
Dolan cleared his throat as the silence lengthened. “My condolences as well.”
He shuffled around in front of Alex. “I’ve finished my exam, and the prognosis
is good. Your ability to breathe doesn’t seem to be too affected, so I think I
can safely say you didn’t break or crack any ribs. You’re a very fit specimen,
and I see no need to wrap you up.”

“Good.
Thanks.” He eased off the cushioned table.

Julia
stood. “I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”

“I
knew it wasn’t serious,” he responded.

Dr.
Dolan handed Alex his shirt and leaned his head back to meet his patient’s
eyes. “Serious or not, your bruises will take on some interesting hues, none of
them pretty, and the area will be tender for a good while. You’ll need to take
it easy.”

“Mr.
MacLean has come to the right place for that. I mentioned to him before that
the Hotel Grand Victoria is a favorite place for recuperation.”

“That’s
the truth,” the doctor said as Alex slipped on his shirt. “We have all the necessities.
Even a barber, if you’re looking for a haircut or shave. I go to him myself.”

Alex
scraped a finger along his jaw. “Are you trying to tell me something, Doc?”

Dr.
Dolan raised his hands in mock innocence. “Me? No. I would never presume to
tell a man what to do with his whiskers.”

“Sure
you would.” Alex fastened the last of his shirt buttons. “As for recuperating,
I already told Miss Fairbanks I’m not a guest here.”

“Only
because you haven’t registered yet,” she said.

“No,
because I came in answer to an ad I read in a Los Angeles newspaper.”

“An
advertisement?”

“The
one seeking carpenters. It was in the paper a few days ago.” He frowned. “You
are hiring, aren’t you?”

“Yes!
Yes, I am,” she said, trying to overcome her confusion. She had assumed from his
behavior and manner of speech that he was a well-educated gentleman, not a laborer.
Of course she could not deny his roughened hands and the power she’d felt in
his arms. He obviously used his body in a physical way. And his clothing was
not in the best of shape, but she had learned over the years that you couldn’t
always judge a person’s wealth by the clothes he chose to wear.

Dr.
Dolan rolled down his sleeves. “Julia is always looking for carpenters. This
place needs an army of them. It’s the largest wooden structure west of the Mississippi, and the salt air plays havoc with it. But don’t you go sawing wood, lifting
heavy boards, or hammering nails just yet, young man. Not with those bruised
ribs.”