Waiting For You (26 page)

Abigail frowned. “I understand what you’re saying, Harry. Please forgive me for having my own opinion. It happens, you know. I can think for myself.”

She tried to pull her hands away, but he brought them to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. It wasn’t a big-brother kind of gesture, because his lips lingered longer on her skin than what was appropriate. The color of his eyes darkened, too. Gone was the humorous smile he’d walked in the room with.

“Abigail, I know you can think for yourself. That is what I admire about you.”

She shook her head slowly. He wasn’t making sense. If he admired her for thinking, then why was he discouraging her from doing so?

“There are other things I admire about you,” he whispered before kissing her hands again. “You have a very generous heart, much like your father. You always look for the good in people, even if they don’t have an ounce of kindness.”

She grinned. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There are a few people who come to mind that I don’t hold in high regard.”

“Over the past few years, I’ve noticed something else about you.” He lifted his hand to her face and swiped back a stray hair. “I very much enjoy being with you. You have brought humor to my life.”

“I try hard, Harry. This life wouldn’t be very entertaining if no one laughed.”

“I’ve also enjoyed your presence here at the office. Your beautiful smile cheers up many, especially me.”

Where is he going with this?
Abigail wondered. He couldn’t possibly have romantic feelings for her. Besides, just a few days previously, she had confessed to him how much she cared for Nick.

“That’s very pleasing, Harry. Thanks for telling me.”

Subtly, she tried to remove her hands from his, but he didn’t seem to want to give them up. She pushed away from the desk and stood, but that only brought him up with her. “Harry, is something amiss? You’re acting very strangely.”

He released her, which she was most grateful, but when he circled his arms around her waist and pulled her next to him, panic surged through her.

“Abigail, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. You know I’ve grown quite fond of you, and you also know I promised your father I’d watch over you.”

Hesitantly, she nodded and squirmed to be so close to him.

“I’ve been thinking it’s a good idea for us to marry. I’m the only one who can run the newspaper the way your father wanted, and because we work so well together—”

“Have you lost your mind, Harry?” Abigail nearly shouted, pushing him away. “I don’t think marrying you is a good idea at all. I’ve always thought of you as my big brother. Marriage is for people who are in love.”

He scooted around the desk and reached for her again, but she darted away.

“Abigail, be reasonable. You know this is the right thing to do. It’s what your father would have wanted.”

She stopped near the window and squeezed her eyes closed. Why did he have to say it that way? True, it probably was what her father would have wanted, but it wasn’t what she wanted. When would
she
get her chance to be heard?

Harry stopped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Abigail, please think this through. The future of the newspaper is at stake. It needs me to run it, with you by my side as my wife.” He kissed the back of her head.

His footsteps vibrated on the floor and she knew the exact moment he reached for the door. “Harry, wait.” She swung around to face him. “Please forgive me, but I cannot marry you. I don’t love you.”

“You will grow to love me, I assure you.”

“I can’t, Harry.”

“Abigail, think of the paper. Think of everything your father did to make this a thriving company. I’ve worked alongside him for many years. Do you want to throw all of that away? Do you really want to see your father’s hard work ruined?” He shook his head. “You won’t have to if you marry me.”

“I can’t marry you. I’m in love with Nick.”

A scowl replaced Harry’s pleasant expression. “You don’t know that man like you know me. For all you know, he’s been lying to you all this time. He says he’s a lawyer, but I’ve had an investigator check into his past, and he can’t find any record of a lawyer named Nicholas Marshal. Doesn’t that sound suspicious to you? I’m willing to bet money he’s just after your inheritance.”

Abigail lifted her hands in surrender. “But then so are you, Harry. The only reason you want to marry me is to keep the newspaper running. What you don’t seem to understand is that I will still need you to help me run it, but I don’t need to marry you to do it.”

He glared at her. “You’re making a huge mistake.” He yanked the door open, marched into the hall, and slammed the door behind him.

Chapter 24

Abigail sat at the dining table, stirring her potatoes around the plate with her fork as she played with her heart-shaped locket necklace with the other hand.
So much weighed on her mind.
She thought about how she’d been unable to find her diamond-studded hair comb that morning. She remembered exactly where she’d put them, and now they were gone. What was wrong with her lately? Was she going insane? Had she fallen for Nick so quickly out of grief over her father’s death?

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and soon Nick came through the doorway, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tie.

He smiled as he approached the dinner table. “Good evening, sweetheart.” He stopped beside her and kissed her lips.

“Good evening.” She motioned to the chair next to her. “Are you hungry? Harriet has your food warming in the kitchen.”

“I’m starved.” After he tossed his suit jacket and tie on an empty chair, he took off his vest. “I wish I could get used to these clothes.”

She laughed. “You will.” She rang for the kitchen maid,
then
slipped her hand into Nick’s. “Are you enjoying yourself at the newspaper?”

“
Yes,
and no.” Nick sighed. “It’s very interesting to learn how the daily newspaper is put together, but…”

“But what?”

“I’d rather be a lawyer.”

Abigail frowned. “I thought you told me you were a lawyer.”

“I am in the twenty-first century. I’m not a lawyer here in 1912.”

“That’s understandable. I can see why you would hesitate to learn another career.”

Harriet brought in Nick’s plate. He dove into his food, while Abigail continued to pick at hers.

After a few minutes, Nick glanced at her plate then lifted his gaze to hers. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve just been thinking.”

“About what?”

“The newspaper.”

He set his fork down and turned his full attention to her.

“Harry talked to me today about the newspaper,” Abigail replied. “He doesn’t think I can run it.”

“Are you kidding? Why would he say that? Doesn’t he know how intelligent you are?”

She chuckled. “No, I’m not kidding, and no, he doesn’t believe I can think for myself.”

“That’s just ridiculous.” Nick scowled.

“Nick,” she said, rubbing his hand to calm him. “Harry has every right to think this way about me. Neither he nor my father gave me room to make my own decisions. They never took the time to discover if I had a mind—and could use it—or not.”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her fingertips. “They were fools, Abby.”

Her heart leaped, and she wondered what she had done to deserve such a wonderful man.

He kissed her knuckles. “So what are you thinking about doing with the newspaper?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t want the responsibility, why don’t you sell it?”

Abigail inhaled sharply. “Sell? Why would I do something like that? My father spent his life building the paper and making the business productive. He’d turn over in his grave if he knew I wanted to sell his lifelong dream.”

“He’d also turn over in his grave if he knew you were not happy. I’m sure he understands what a burden this is for you now.”

“But…actually selling something that I inherited? What would others think of me?”

“Abby, it’s done more often than you know.” Nick smiled warmly. “Just because your father left it to you doesn’t mean you have to continue in his footsteps.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. I know your generation makes you believe this is the way you have to live, but it’s not. You can sell the newspaper and invest your money in other things. It’s your life, Abby. Do whatever makes you happy.”

Deep in her heart, Abigail knew he was right. She needed to stop thinking about what other people wanted her to do, and do what she felt was best for her and her future family. She hoped Nick would be a very important part of that family. “To whom would I sell it?”

“How about Harry?
He worked beside your father for many years. He’s devoted his life to the paper just as your father did. I think you should offer it to him first. If he can’t buy it, then go elsewhere.” Nick stroked the back of her hand. “In fact, I’m willing to bet your uncle Alexander would be interested, too.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course he would.”

“No, you don’t understand. I learned something about him today, and I think he’d love the chance to buy the newspaper from you, or at least work there again.”

Abigail scowled. “Are you mad? Did I not tell you what he said the other day?”

“Yes, I know what he said, but today I had a long talk with your Aunt Julie that turned out to be very enlightening. Do you know why your father and Alexander parted ways a few years back?”

“I was told it was because of Uncle Alexander’s unethical ways of doing business.”

“Actually, Abby, your father probably told you that to save you from hearing the truth.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Father has been doing that all my life.” She swallowed hard. “Please tell me.”

“Apparently, your aunt was in love with your father. One day Alexander caught them together in your father’s office.”

Abigail gasped. “Are you jesting?”

“No, I’m serious.
Heard it right from Julie.
Of course, she made it sound like it was your father coming on to her, but I could see the holes in her story. Anyway, the next day your father bought Alexander’s stock and kicked him out. I think your uncle knew it was wise to keep his wife away from Edward.”

When her initial shock wore off, Abigail giggled. “I don’t doubt that’s what happened. I always thought my aunt was a little too friendly with other men.”

“Well, all I’m saying is that I think your uncle isn’t the bad guy everyone has painted him to be. I think he’d be very interested in coming back to work at the newspaper. I don’t think he’d be able to buy it yet, but I think if you offered him a job, he’d be extremely grateful. He isn’t bringing home enough money from his current job to keep his family happy. Obviously, he’s not happy, either.”

Abigail sat back in her chair and pondered the idea. If she offered her uncle a job and reconciled with him, would that change the bad feelings between them? But he had treated her so badly that day in the office—had even threatened to prove her insane to take her inheritance. Was that a sign of his true character, or was the man simply at the end of his rope?

“Abby, I’ll help you in any way you’d like,” Nick said softly, interrupting her thoughts, and I’ll support any decision you make.”

With a big smile, she pushed away from the table, stood, and pulled him up with her. “What I’d like is for us to retire to the parlor. I want to sit on the couch with your arms around me. I can’t stop thinking about kissing you, either.”

“Help yourself to my lips and my arms. All you have to do is ask, and they’re yours.” Nick wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led the way.

* * * *

Nick drove through the streets of Sacramento after another night of tossing and turning, wondering if he would catch the killer. This morning, he’d followed Anthony. Thankfully, the punk couldn’t stay in one place for long, which helped Nick stay awake. Anthony met Cassandra Brown at the small eating establishment again, but instead of yelling at him as she had the last time Nick saw them together, she cuddled against Anthony and batted her eyes like he was the most desirable young man in town.

Something was certainly wrong with that girl, but Nick couldn’t put his finger on what. Did her mother know her daughter was flirting with every man in sight? And had Cassandra loved Edward as she had hinted before she died as a very old woman?

Earlier that week, Nick had kept himself busy watching Alexander and Julie, but they led such a humdrum life that Nick wondered why he even wasted his time. Yet Abby’s cousin might have different plans, and that’s what kept Nick following.

A couple of times Nick followed Lily, but he soon learned that the maid devoted her life to Abby and the Carlisle home. Lily had no reason to murder Abby; in fact, she treated Abby as if she were her own daughter.

Nick pulled to the side of the road and climbed out of the car to stretch his legs. He’d been following Cassandra this afternoon. She’d been in the grocery store too long, and he was ready to give up and return home. Obviously, she wouldn’t lead him anywhere important.

He leaned against the car and rubbed his eyes. The sun shone warm today—spring was definitely in the California air.

“Hello, stranger,” a sultry voice said.

Nick turned and saw Cassandra standing in front of him with a brown paper grocery bag in her hands. He tried to remember how old she was.
Nineteen?
But she looked much older. Perhaps it was her makeup and her clothing. Perhaps she’d seen hard times as a young girl and had to grow up too fast. She’d hinted about it before her death.

He tipped his hat as he’d seen other men do. “Hello, miss.”

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

Nick grinned. “How do you know that?”

“Oh, I’d know when a handsome man comes into town, I assure you,” Cassandra purred.

“Yes, I’m new.
Only been here a little over a week.”

Her gaze swept over him slowly, and then she looked at the car. “Where are you staying?”

“Why do you ask?”

“That’s a fancy motorcar you have there.”

He noticed she’d avoided his question. “Thank you, miss.”

She smiled prettily. “My name is Cassandra.”

“And I’m Nick.”

“I’m very happy to meet you, Nick. So tell me,” she said as she stepped closer and batted her eyelashes. “How would you like to give me a ride in that shiny motorcar of yours?”

“Do you always approach strangers and ask for rides?”

She chuckled. “Not usually, but you look like you need a friend right now.”

“And you’re offering your friendship without even knowing me?”

“Of course.
How else am I going to get to know you?”

The way she flirted reminded Nick so much of Vanessa that he almost laughed out loud. He nodded and motioned toward the car. “Then by all means, let me give you a lift, Miss Cassandra.”

Times were certainly different in 1912. In his time, this would not have happened—unless the woman who had approached him was of ill repute or was trying to rob him.

He took the grocery bag from Cassandra and placed it in the back seat. She waited by the passenger door, so he walked around and opened it for her. After he climbed in and started the car, he glanced at her. He couldn’t believe how much she resembled Vanessa.

He pulled the car onto the road and kept his attention there. “Where am I taking you?”

“I’ll give you directions.”

She scooted closer to him. “Since you’re new around these parts, would you like me to show you the town?”

Nick gritted his teeth. He didn’t want Cassandra this close to him, but he had to go along with her to see if he could get some information from her. “Thanks for the offer, but no. I’ve seen most of the town already.”

“Have you found employment? You look like you’re a businessman.”

“Actually, I’m thinking about going to the
Sacramento Journal
to see if they have any positions open. I’m very interested in working for a newspaper.”

Cassandra slid closer still and started twirling a lock of his hair with her finger. “That’s a good business to go into, but not right now. Since you’re new here, you probably don’t know that the owner of the newspaper died not long ago.”

“Hmm.
So who owns it now?”

“Well, it was passed to his spoiled, ill-mannered daughter, but it won’t stay in her hands for long.”

Nick arched his eyebrow.
“Why not?”

“Because she doesn’t know the first thing about running a newspaper.
She’s too young and naive to run such a large company.”

“Will she sell it?”

Cassandra shrugged. “Let’s just say it will be turned over to somebody who is more capable very soon.” She pointed to the next street. “Turn right here.”

Panic rose in Nick’s chest. What exactly did Cassandra mean when she said it would be turned over to someone else? If Anthony planned to kill Abby, surely he’d tell his girlfriend.

“How soon?”
Nick asked. “I need to know, because I need employment quickly.”

Cassandra rubbed his arm. “I’m certain by the end of the week you’ll be able to talk to the new owner of the paper. In fact, if you’re a good boy and are very nice to me, I’ll be able to help you obtain a position there.”

Nick glanced at her. “Why, Cassandra, you sound as if you know more than you’re saying.”

“I might,” she said with a seductive smile.