Hidden in a Whisper (17 page)

“Of course,” Reg replied. “The wisdom of it speaks for itself. I certainly hope you aren't suggesting that I was seeking to usurp your position.”

“Absolutely not,” Rachel answered, shaking her head. “I wouldn't think that for a moment. I'm grateful for what you're offering.”

“Good. I'll get right to it. Do you still have those inventory lists?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes, they're here in my drawer. I'll get them to you after breakfast, but first I have to see to the payroll paper work.”

She paused and smiled. “I hope you know I truly appreciate your help.”

Reg shared her smile and his brown eyes fairly twinkled. “I rather fancy the idea of rescuing a damsel in distress and playing the brave knight.”

“Well, I don't know how much bravery is required to work on the inventory, but you are indeed rescuing me,” Rachel teased. She liked the camaraderie she shared with Reg. It felt good not to have to worry about guarding her words and actions. Stifling another yawn, she looked at her watch. “I need to get going. I have to make sure everyone is at their stations, then I have to come back here and sort through inventories, food orders, and the payroll.”

“I wonder if I might make one other suggestion.”

Rachel nodded as she got to her feet. Reg instantly stood and his face seemed to sober a bit. “I'm worried that you are working too hard. Have you taken any time for a leisurely walk or a quiet moment at the pool?”

Rachel felt her face grow hot as she thought of the night Braeden had surprised her at the hot springs. “I've tried once or twice but haven't found it to afford me much in the way of restoration.”

“Then why not take a walk with me after breakfast?” Reg questioned softly. He gave her such a sweet look of concern that Rachel couldn't help but be touched. “We could stroll down to the falls and perhaps just sit and talk. They have installed charming benches for just such occasions. I could tell you about England. You always seem to find that of interest. Perhaps the setting would lend itself to something even more special.”

“I'm sure we would have a wonderful time,” Rachel said, growing suddenly uncomfortable. It was clear that Reg had interests in her other than just friendship. “But I can't.”

Reg nodded, seeming to understand, but the words he offered next shocked Rachel.

“Is it because you're still in love with that Parker fellow?”

“I beg your pardon?” Rachel stared intently at Reginald. Meeting his gaze, she was certain that he knew something more than she had ever offered.

“It's fairly obvious that you two share something more than the management of Casa Grande.”

Rachel felt as though a band had tightened around her chest. “Why do you say that?”

“Rachel, you don't have to worry. I won't share your secret, although others can probably surmise what I have.”

“I see.”

Reg came to stand a little closer and his voice lowered to a whisper. “You don't have to talk about this if it makes you uncomfortable. I simply wondered if that was the reason you refused to walk with me or if I somehow repulsed you with such an idea.”

Rachel shook her head. “You could never repulse me, Reg. I certainly wouldn't want you to take that idea. No, it's a great many things. We can be good friends, but even Mr. Harvey has rules about us becoming more than that.”

“Rules are made to be broken,” Reg countered.

“Not when you are trying to live by God's rules,” Rachel replied. “As a Christian woman, I should seek His will and not my own, and His will would never be to go against my authority on such a matter as fraternizing with another employee.”

“And you aren't just saying this to put me off?”

“Absolutely not,” Rachel replied. “I'm glad for our friendship, Reg, but it cannot be something more than it is.”

“Because of him.”

Rachel bit her lip and looked away. She didn't feel close enough to Reg to explain her past with Braeden. And she certainly didn't want to discuss the present or even the future, as it seemed most unlikely that she could possibly hope to make sense out of either one.

Reg spoke before she could reply. “I understand you two knew each other prior to coming here to Casa Grande. Were you very close?”

Rachel looked back to Reg and nodded. “But I don't want to talk about it. The past is the past and I'd rather leave it behind me.”

“That might prove difficult given Mr. Parker's very real existence in your future.”

“Maybe,” Rachel replied. “But I don't see any other way to deal with it.”

“Well, then,” Reg said, moving toward the door. “I shall excuse myself and get to work. The dawn is nearly upon us and I must oversee my staff.” He opened the door and started to leave, but Rachel called to him.

“Reg,” she said softly, “thank you for caring about me. I consider you a dear friend.”

He gave her another bow, then with a mischievous smile replied, “Perhaps one day you will consider me something more.”

He was gone before she could reply, but Rachel couldn't help feeling a mixture of emotions at his words. She didn't want to lead the man to believe her capable of something more when she knew her heart was forever bound to Braeden. She tried not to think of the night by the pool—of Braeden's words of love—but she couldn't help herself. She longed with all of her heart to believe them to be true. To imagine that Braeden had spent the last six years just as miserable as she had was not exactly comforting, but it did make her feel better. If he had refused to marry because of his love for her, then perhaps there was hope for them to rekindle their relationship.

But even as these thoughts filled her head, Rachel remembered the pompous attitude of Ivy Brooks and her part in that disastrous night by the pool. She had mentioned receiving Braeden's message, and he certainly hadn't disputed sending her one.

Just then Rachel glanced down and noticed something on her chair. Leaning closer to inspect it, she chipped at the ivory-colored substance and realized it was wax. Why would there be wax drippings on her chair? Studying the area around her desk, Rachel realized there were also wax drippings on the floor. Casa Grande boasted electric lighting in all of their advertisements, and while oil lamps and candles were available in case of crisis, there was no reason to use candles at this point. Unless, of course, someone had come into her office after the electricity had been shut down for the night, as was the routine in Morita.

The wax made a curious presentation to Rachel. Where had it come from? Someone with a lit candle would have had to have been in her office, and since the wax wasn't there the night before, she could only guess that someone had come into her office in the middle of the night. But for what purpose?

A feeling of uneasiness crept over her. If someone had been in her office, that meant they were capable of going through her desk and other properties. She immediately began looking around the room to see if anything was missing. Nothing appeared out of place.

Sitting down, she pulled open her drawers and gave a cursory glance at the contents. Nothing looked disturbed. But— She startled as she touched the unmistakable hardened wax that edged the top of several sheets of paper. Someone had gone through this drawer. Shaking her head, she couldn't figure it out. Why would someone have come into her office and helped themselves to her desk? What were they looking for? The only paper work she had in this particular drawer dealt with the Harvey House staff, inventory, and other necessary papers. What could the thief have been after? Better yet, did they find what they were after?

The only thing she could do was wait until after she managed to get the girls operating in an orderly fashion. After that, she'd have to come back here and go piece by piece through the contents of her desk.

Rachel shuddered as she closed the drawer and looked around the room. Someone had intruded upon her, and it left her feeling frightened and wary. Not only that, but it added to the complexity of her already complicated life—and that was something Rachel didn't need.

  
TWELVE
  

BRAEDEN HAD TAKEN ALL HE was going to take. For nearly a week now, Rachel had managed to avoid him no matter how hard he tried to see her. He had given her a wide berth at first, realizing she appeared to be consumed by her emotions and doubts, but his patience had run out. With new determination he laid a plan and set out to see it through. He would talk to her and she would listen. Whether she liked it or not.

Rachel's routine was nearly the same every evening. She concluded her business in the dining room, and then, if she didn't spy Braeden waiting in the wings, she made her way through the lobby to her office. However, if she saw him, she would hurry through the kitchen and into the private Harvey Girl parlor where no men were allowed. From there, he could only presume that she took the long dormitory hall to her office, where she could lock him and the rest of the world out.

He knew she was hurting. Knew, too, that her fears were running her ragged. He had spoken in brief to Jeffery O'Donnell, finding it easy to confide parts of the past to this old friend of Rachel's. Jeffery had been sympathetic but also very protective. He had told Braeden, in a most determined manner, not to dally with Rachel's heart. But Braeden had assured him that wasn't what he had in mind. He cared deeply for Rachel, but she would have no part of him. He'd tried on many occasions to force her to talk to him, but she always managed to create a scene that would allow for little or no privacy. And now she had managed to completely avoid him. But no more.

Braeden figured that if he waited in the darkness near her office, he could jump out and take hold of her before she had time to run the other way. Then he would drag her back to his office, if need be, and force her to sit down and discuss this whole ugly matter with him. She wouldn't like it, but frankly, it didn't matter. Braeden didn't like what was happening between them now, and no one seemed to care how he felt.

The grandfather clock chimed nine as Braeden took his place in the darkness by her door. He wondered silently what he should say to her when she first came upon him. It wouldn't be an easy scene, but hopefully it would take place quickly and quietly. The last thing he wanted was for Rachel to call out for help from Reginald Worthington or one of her girls.

The minutes ticked by and Braeden shifted uneasily, hoping he hadn't misjudged her routine. Of course, given his position, he would have heard if she'd come into her office through the other door. So far there was only silence on the other side, and certainly no sign of light.

He silently prayed that she would follow the normal course and come his way. He prayed, too, that God would give him the words to say when they finally came face-to-face.

The swishing of her skirts brought him instantly to attention. She would stop and close the dining room doors before making her way across the lobby. He had seen her do this for the last three nights and knew she had established the habit over her weeks at Casa Grande. She would reach into her pocket for the key to her office just about now.

Braeden tensed and drew a shallow breath. He hoped he wouldn't frighten her overmuch, so just as he heard her approach, Braeden stepped into the lobby.

“Good evening, Rachel,” he said in a low, husky voice.

He watched her stiffen and glance quickly around her as if looking for a means of escape. Her expression was one of pure shock, nearly panic. She moved backward, and he could see that already she was making her way to the dining room doors.

“I want to talk to you,” he said, taking three quick strides to where she stood.

“I don't want to talk to you,” she countered, turning away.

With a sigh, Braeden reached out and took hold of her. “I don't care at this point what you want. You will hear me out.” He dragged her, protesting, to his office, then forced her inside and closed the door behind them. “Now I want you to sit down in that chair,” he said, pointing to an ornate wainscot chair. Harvey had elaborately decorated the house in antiques of many varieties. This particular piece was a favorite of Braeden's and dated from the mid–1700s.