Debra Ullrick (3 page)

Surprise flounced across his face, and his attention drifted over her again, starting with her feet and ending at her hair. “You’re Miss Bowen?” One of his eyebrows peaked.

Hey. She knew she looked a mess, but the man didn’t need to be so blatantly rude with his disapproving perusal of her. Abby pushed her shoulders back and stood as tall as her five-foot-six-inch frame would allow. “Yes, sir, I am.”

Once again, his gaze roamed over her.

This time, she wouldn’t let it steal her joy or her peace.

If he didn’t approve of what he saw, again, that was his problem, not hers. But in all fairness, the man did have a good reason to be shocked. He probably wasn’t expecting to see her looking like a scullery maid, especially since from his perspective, she should have been waiting to meet him for the first time. “Please forgive my appearance. Because of an oversight, I didn’t get word of your arrival until a moment ago, so you caught me in the middle of cleaning.”

“So I see.” A chuckle vibrated through his low, brassy voice. “Well, Miss Bowen. I’m Harrison Kingsley.” He reached for her hand.

Abby quickly tucked both her hands behind her back. “Trust me, Mr. Kingsley. You do
not
want to touch these hands. They’ve been in soapy water all morning and probably feel pricklier than pig bristles.” And the rest of her, she was certain looked even worse. Oh, well, couldn’t be helped. She had a lot to do. If his time was as valuable to him as hers was to her, rather than keep him waiting while she cleaned up, she decided to go ahead and get right down to business. “Colette, would you make some tea and bring it to the parlor?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”
Colette curtsied.

“Thank you.” Abby spoke to Colette’s retreating back before she turned and faced Mr. Kingsley. What a fine specimen of a man he was. Like one of the heroes in the dime novels she often read. Only she hoped he wasn’t as stuffy as some of the heroes in those books seemed to be.

She couldn’t help but wonder, if instead of the dark blue three-piece suit Mr. Kingsley had on, what would he look like in a blue plaid shirt, denim blue jeans, Hyer boots and a black Stetson? No. Nix the cowboy hat. It would cover up that lovely head of medium brown hair. Abby liked the way he parted it—not on the side, not in the center, but in between the two, and straight in line with the inside of his right eyebrow.

She pried her attention from his broad-shouldered frame. “Shall we?” Abby swayed her upward palm toward the direction of the parlor. At his nod, she headed that way, tucking the loose strands of hair back into place as she went.

Having someone as handsome and fine-looking as Mr. Kingsley for a business partner was going to be a lot harder than she had anticipated. She’d always been a sucker for a handsome face. Probably due to all those romance novels she’d read. A handsome face didn’t guarantee happiness, though, as she had discovered with David. The most important elements in any human being were their hearts and their souls.

While that was definitely true, a quick glance at the gorgeous man standing in front of her, and she knew because of the romantic nature in her, she would have to work very hard at keeping her focus on business, or she might very well risk opening up her heart. Having done that once before, she refused to do it again. Therefore, her hopeless romantic notions would have to stay locked deep inside her heart, tucked away safely, even from herself. No. Make that
especially
from herself.

Chapter Two

H
arrison’s footsteps thumped on the old hardwood floor that was in need of a good polishing, ricocheting off the walls of the large mansion as he followed Miss Bowen to the parlor. The place was almost barren. There wasn’t much furniture and the walls were empty.

As they made their way toward the parlor, he marveled that the woman hadn’t even offered to go and clean up first. The little beauty was an unpretentious woman, and he liked that. Back in Boston he was surrounded by ostentatious women. The type of women he would rather avoid.

His possible new business partner wasn’t anything like them, or what he had expected. He’d expected a woman of sophistication. Pious and haughty like his ex-fiancée, Prudence Whitsburg. Not a veritable maid who smelled of cleaning soap and dust.

Yellow strands of hair had come loose from her bun. Some of them clung to her damp, yet slender neck. Black smudges brushed across her lightly freckled nose and above her delicately arched eyebrows. Yet none of that deterred her beauty from shining through. Her sapphire eyes smiled even when her lips didn’t, and long medium brown eyelashes surrounded them. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the upper one, and when she smiled, straight white teeth sparkled back at him.

They reached the parlor door and stepped inside. Harrison held back his shock. The only pieces of furniture in the expansive room were a worn-out, faded, blue settee, a matching wing-back chair in the same shape as the settee, a scratched and marred coffee table and a small, round table with a blue globe oil lamp sitting on a white-and-blue doily.

His attention went to the massive fireplace. Several framed photographs lined the mantel, along with two oil lamps, one on each end. Other than that, the room was almost empty. Nothing hung on these walls, either. He didn’t know if this was where she planned on opening her business or not. They hadn’t gotten that far. But if it was, it was going to take a lot of money to fix this place up. More than he had right now. And that made him more nervous than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

“Mr. Kingsley, won’t you be seated?” Miss Bowen’s voice reverberated throughout the empty room and thankfully yanked his attention away from where his taxing thoughts were heading.

She motioned for him to sit. When he reached the chair, he noticed how clean it was. How clean the whole room was. Even the bare windows sparkled. He sat down and was amazed at how comfortable the aged chair actually was.

Miss Bowen sat across from him on the settee, facing him.

The young girl who she’d told to get tea entered the room. She set a tray with a teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of cookies with some sort of filling in the centers on the coffee table in front of them. She went right to work pouring the tea into the cups and serving it along with two cookies on the side.

“Thank you, Colette.”

The girl turned.

“Don’t leave just yet, Colette.”

Colette faced them, nodded and waited.

Abby looked over at him and asked, “Mr. Kingsley, would you like to join us for dinner this evening?”

He saw no reason not to. “I would like that. Thank you.”

She smiled and turned her attention back to her maid. “Would you tell Veronique we’ll be having a guest join us for dinner this evening?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”
With a quick curtsy, Colette left the room.

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.”