Love on Assignment (31 page)

“Thank you, sir.”

She didn't deserve his generosity. She owed him the truth. “Sir, I need to speak with you privately when you're less busy.”

A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “Yes, how about late this afternoon?”

SHE LEFT SUMMERHILL before she lost her determination. As she climbed into the gig, she planned her strategy. She'd confront Mr. Phifer, say her peace, and accept the consequences of her brazen action, if not fearlessly, then at least with dignity. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she wondered if her nerve might fail her once she faced her boss's wrath.

Daniel wouldn't compromise his principles and neither would she.

Anxiety filled her chest as the gig rolled past the estates along Ocean Drive and neared town. She halted in front of the newspaper office and inhaled a deep breath of sea air that tasted dank and briny. “I'll be right back, old girl,” she murmured to the horse. The mare snorted and stamped her foot. Charlotte fed her a sugar cube and patted her head. “Wish me well.”

Charlotte entered the building and slowly climbed the steps to the second floor. Before she reached the landing, her legs weakened and threatened to let her fall. She gripped the stair rail and slowly made her way up the steep flight. Her boots felt as heavy as concrete. When she finally reached the door of the
Rhode Island Reporter
, she squared her hunched shoulders and marched into the newsroom, feigning bravado.

A few of the news reporters nodded, then continued their work. Smiling in reply, she strode toward her boss's office. She rapped twice on Mr. Phifer's closed door and waited.

No response. She raised her hand to knock again when a shout blasted through the door. “Come in.”

Delaying the inevitable was pointless. After a moment's hesitation, Charlotte pulled the door open and stepped into the editor's inner sanctum. When she noted his belligerent glare, her heart crashed against her ribcage. He sat at his desk, pipe in hand.

“You thwarted my plan for placing Miss Wengle with the Wilmonts. I don't appreciate your insubordination, Miss Hale.”

“Sir, Professor Wilmont is an upstanding citizen, and the only way Edith Ann will find something against him will be by conjuring up false evidence.” She shook her head. “It is just not right.”

“It is out of your hands, Miss Hale. My decision has been made.” He glared for several seconds before his expression unexpectedly softened. “Listen, if you leave Summerhill without a fuss, I'll allow you to resume your old position. You gave it a shot, but you came up dry.” Then his eyes steeled. “But I will not tolerate an ounce more of your disobedience. Do you understand, Miss Hale?”

Air rushed back into Charlotte's lungs. Despite all her fears, she was still employed at the
Rhode Island Reporter
. She could scarcely believe her ears. All she had to do was to move aside and let Edith Ann complete the assignment and she'd be right back in her original position, except for this one black mark on her record.

But how could she leave the professor alone and unarmed? Especially knowing what was sure to ensue?

Mr. Phifer's voice boomed. “Return to the Wilmonts at once, adopt the excuse we gave you, and explain that Miss Wengle will take over your job. She'll begin tomorrow.” He looked down at the papers on his desk, dismissing her.

Charlotte's voice quavered. “Mr. Phifer, I'm afraid I cannot.” She swallowed the dust floating in the stifling air. “What you intend to do is unethical, and I cannot be a part of it.”

Mr. Phifer's face blew up like a red balloon. “Excuse me, Miss Hale, but you're already part of it. I'm certain I misunderstood your last comment. You didn't accuse me of being immoral, did you?”

“Unethical, sir.”

His eyes bulged. “I'm afraid we're not on the same page anymore, young woman. I won't put up with you criticizing my methods. If you disapprove of me and my newspaper, perhaps you should find yourself a new employer.”

A wave of nausea rolled through Charlotte's stomach. “You're right, I should.” She took a deep, steadying breath, but it didn't slow her thundering heartbeat. “In fact, as of this very instant, I quit.”

Her voice wavered, but she'd said what she had to. Relief flooded through her, along with a ripple of fear that she'd ruined her career forever. At least she'd saved the professor from the likes of Mr. Phifer and Edith Ann, and that was what really mattered.

The editor bellowed, “I can't believe you'd quit the best job you'll ever get just because we disagree.”

“I can and I did,” Charlotte said calmly.

“Well, Miss Hale, you won't get a reference from me.”

“That's all right, sir. I'm ashamed I worked for your newspaper and I'm just sorry I took the assignment at Summerhill.” She exhaled a long breath. Freed from the bonds of deceit, her conscience lightened. A half smile formed on her lips. “Good day, Mr. Phifer.”

She spun around and silently left the office. He followed on her heels. Charlotte quickly gathered her personal belongings from her desk and glanced up to see Mr. Phifer scowling in the doorway, hands planted on the sides of his ample waist. She exited without daring to wish her fellow employees farewell or offer them an explanation, though they glanced at her with unspoken curiosity.

As she drove the short distance to Bridge Street, fear bubbled up in her chest. She had no job prospects and no way to support her family. Her subterfuge now lay in the past, albeit the immediate past, but gone forever. Never again would she jump at the chance for success without weighing the consequences. She hurried to Bridge Street, ready to pour out her news to Aunt Amelia.

She found her aunt digging up potatoes in the back garden. A basket of yellow squash lay on the grass beside her. The poor woman straightened and braced her arthritic spine with her rough and dirty hands. Despite her pain she managed a smile.

“You're a sight for sore eyes, Charlotte. What brings you home?” Amelia piled the potatoes on top of the squash. They went inside to the cool and quiet kitchen. Her aunt dumped the food into the sink, scrubbed her hands, and exchanged her dirty apron for a clean one.

“I've lots of news.”

Aunt Amelia grunted. “I do hope it's good.”

“Where's Becky?” Charlotte asked, looking around the empty kitchen bathed in the golden light of afternoon.

“Next door visiting the neighbors.” After pouring a glass of milk, Amelia plucked a blueberry muffin from a woven basket, then found a plate, knife, and slab of butter. “Just in case you're hungry. Becky baked them herself. She's turning into quite the good cook.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Please sit down. I have something to say that affects all three of us.”

The older woman obliged, her face pinched with worry. “Out with it, please.”

“I quit the newspaper.”

Aunt Amelia's hand thumped her chest and her mouth gaped. “Mercy me! What happened?”

“It's quite a story.” Briefly Charlotte explained the situation and waited for Amelia to absorb the news. “I'm so sorry for letting you and Becky down. I have a few more weeks at Summerhill before the Wilmonts move away. During that time, I'll search for another position.” If she had the chance.

Aunt Amelia flicked a smile. “Anyone would be fortunate to hire you. You're a hard worker, reliable, and full of fun. I'll start asking around myself. You'll find something.”

Charlotte nodded, though not at all confident she'd find a good position without a reference from either Mr. Phifer or the professor. “When I return to Summerhill, I'm going to confess my part in the scheme.”

Aunt Amelia pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yes, I suppose you must.” She leaned forward across the table. “To be perfectly honest, I'm a mite relieved you walked away from Arnie Phifer's newspaper. And I'm proud you told him why you were quitting in no uncertain terms.” She squeezed Charlotte's arm. “You've always done what's right.”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, I'm afraid I haven't. I accepted the assignment when I should've turned it down, no matter how enticing. I've learned my lesson. I'll be ever so much more careful in the future.”

“Of course you will.” Aunt Amelia steepled her fingers. “So you're coming home soon?”

Tears threatened to spill down Charlotte's cheeks. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” A gleam of understanding shone in her eyes. “But I think you'd rather stay at Summerhill. You're more than a little interested in Professor Wilmont, aren't you? I can't blame you. He's a mighty handsome fellow. Don't deny it, Charlotte. I can see the truth in your face. That blush of yours gives you away.”

Charlotte busied herself buttering the muffin. “All right. I admit I admire him. And he's a kind and considerate employer.” And so much more.

“Does he have feelings for you as well?”

Charlotte took a bite to delay her answer. “He mentioned he'd like to get to know me better, but I don't take that as a declaration of his devotion. He's rich, though he might not think so, and I'm not. Being poor causes me no shame, but it puts an impossible barrier between us. Please don't fret. I'm not making a spectacle of myself chasing after him.” She hung her head. “I've done enough to disgrace myself without adding forwardness to the list.”

“Do you think his intensions are serious, despite the differences in your social standing?”

Charlotte gulped. “I don't know. But it couldn't possibly work out between us. Even if he did have feelings that could surmount our differences, I'm not sure we could get past his mother. She's rather . . . formidable.”

Aunt Amelia nodded. “But the professor—he is right for you, isn't he? Oh Charlotte, don't try to pretend he's not.”

“It doesn't matter how I feel because”—Charlotte breathed deeply—“I deceived him. When I confess the truth, he'll hate me.” Her voice snagged. “I have to tell him everything and then apologize. He might forgive me because he's a good Christian, but he won't like me very much. It's such a mess . . . and it's all my fault.”

“I'm so sorry,” Aunt Amelia's voice soothed. She came over to her and swallowed Charlotte in a hug.

Charlotte blinked back a stream of tears. “I'd best be going.” She headed for the front hallway.

On the drive back to Summerhill, she let the tears fall until none remained. The breeze dried her damp cheeks. She had to admit she cared very much for the professor. Every time she glimpsed him, her heart fluttered.

She'd committed the unforgivable act of spying and then falling in love. Life would never be the same again.

NINETEEN

W
ith Ruthie and Tim beside him, Daniel pushed through the waves at Summerhill's secluded beach. The young pair laughed and squealed with delight as chilly breakers smashed against them and sent them tumbling into the surf. Daniel turned sideways and splashed water at their bobbing torsos, but his heart wasn't really in the fun.

When the sun had at last split the dark skies, he'd invited the children for a swim, hoping his dark mood would lift. They ought to take advantage of their proximity to the sea while they still had the chance.

“Miss Hale's back,” Ruthie called, shading her eyes against the sunshine and grinning.

Daniel looked around and spotted Charlotte kicking up sand as she approached the water. Dressed in her white shirtwaist, black skirt, and straw hat, she looked hot and agitated. Her face blazed with color. He wondered if her bright complexion came from the sun or from something else.

“I believe I'll say hello,” Daniel said to his children.

Ruthie shot him a precocious grin, obviously pleased. Daniel stifled a smile as he trudged through the surf toward the shore. Ruthie and Tim followed him back, then lingered at the water's edge to build a massive sand castle—“the biggest ever!” Tim cried.

When he reached her, Charlotte handed him a towel he'd left on the sand. “Mrs. Finnegan said you and the children went for a swim. They certainly enjoy spending time with you.”

The pleasure in her voice raised his spirits and sent goose bumps down his arms. He gave a sardonic smile. “If I don't find a position soon, they'll see a lot more of me.”

“Surely you'll find something.”

“I might have to look into fields other than teaching.”

“Don't lose heart. I'm certain something wonderful will turn up. Anyone would be lucky to hire you.” Her blush deepened, but she didn't avert her gaze.

Her kindness wrapped him in hope and even optimism. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”

They strolled toward the boulders that secluded the beach from the lawn, found the smoothest one, and dropped down. It didn't matter that the stone was hard and sandy. He was near enough to Charlotte to feel her shoulder brush against his and smell the faint scent of talcum powder blended with the clean aroma of Pears soap.