All in Good Time (27 page)

31

SUNDAY BREAKFAST
at Pierson House consisted of eggs, corn bread, and syrup, with wild strawberries on the side when they could be had. It was the only meal Liling and Mei Mei would be able to spend at the kitchen table if they were to be a secret from Mr. Dunne—if Mr. Dunne was even still with them. He hadn’t shown up at all last night, which had relieved rather than concerned Dessa. Perhaps he’d gotten the new job, and it offered another place to live.

Dessa noticed with some distress that the sisters had eaten little. She didn’t dare go to a Chinese market but knew she had some rice on hand and would be able to serve that in the days ahead.

If their secret wasn’t discovered.

Dessa was eager for Nadette’s return. She would likely have news from Hop Alley about what was being done to find the girls.

But even with so much else demanding her attention, Dessa still anticipated the evening ahead. Knowing Mr. Hawkins’s dinner party was tonight filled her with as much excitement as tension. She hated leaving the girls alone, fearing the only reason they were all safe now was because no one knew where the sisters could be found. How long could she hide them?

She guessed she wasn’t the only one who still worried. Remee blatantly refused to acknowledge either of the new arrivals, and Jane continued to be uncharacteristically quiet.

Still, Dessa had no intention of turning Liling and Mei Mei
out—this was a shelter ordained by God, and she would have to trust Him for their safety.

She just needed to be wise. If it was true she’d once again been too hasty in her action, then she at least needed to go forward in a way that wouldn’t endanger Pierson House or
any
of the girls.

That was why she intended to speak to Mr. Hawkins about what to do. Tonight.

Noise at the back door drew her attention from her task of cleaning up the stove. She glimpsed a feathered hat through the open edge of the curtained window.

“Quick! Upstairs!”

No sooner had she uttered the words and seen the girls flee—dishes left rattling, scuffling sounds up the stairs—than a familiar woman came uninvited through the kitchen door.

It was the older woman Dessa remembered as Belva. In an effort to create a calm facade, Dessa reclaimed the seat she’d used during the meal. Jane had disappeared with the sisters, but Remee had stayed behind.

“Got a full table, so I see from the empty places,” Belva said in lieu of a greeting. “Why’d everybody scatter like I’m raidin’ the place?”

Keeping her seat, Dessa reached around to collect plates and scrape remnants off the dishes while Remee took away the empty glasses.

“We’re just being careful, Belva,” Dessa said. “There are some . . . employers, as you well know, who would rather not lose their workforce.”

Belva laughed, sitting opposite Dessa and grabbing the last piece of corn bread from a plate in the middle. She tore off a corner and popped it in her mouth. “I guess that’s true enough. I told you Pierson House wouldn’t work.”

“Oh, but it is working,” Dessa assured her with a false sense of confidence. “We’re quite happy here.”

Belva stopped chewing, her face turning to stone as she stared across at Dessa. “You won’t be for long.”

If Dessa had thought herself exhausted from her lack of rest that week, she was proven wrong when new tension reignited her energy. “That sounds like a threat.”

Belva threw the half-eaten bread onto the scrap plate. She looked over Dessa’s shoulder to the door the girls had disappeared behind. “I didn’t come here to threaten you, but I did come to warn you. Last night there was nearly a riot in Chinatown. It seems two girls have tried quitting the business they were brought here for. The only thing that stopped the trouble was a word from a man named Yin Tung, telling everyone the girls were about to be caught and returned. You know anything about that?”

Dessa dropped the knife she’d used to clean the plates, refusing to meet Belva’s accusing stare.

“There’s a new rumor about a white woman being in on the escape. And a white kid, a girl.”

Dessa folded her hands in her lap, one gripping the other so tightly that her fingernails dug into her skin.

“That has nothing to do with any of us,” Remee said.

Belva turned her venomous gaze on Remee. “No?” She said the word slowly, drawing out the syllable twice as long as it needed to be. “You oughta know you can’t quit this business. You get the boot on account of age or disease, or you die. Those are the only two ways out.”

“I didn’t get the boot.”

“That’s not what Leola says.”

Remee shrugged. “Let her say what she likes.”

“You’ll never work again, not in this town.”

“That’s good news,” Dessa said, winning her struggle for a steady breath. “In fact, it’s exactly what anyone who comes here wants—to find a new line of work.”

Belva
pfff
ed. “Has she tried? Nobody’ll have her on the polite side of town.” She stood, the chair behind her scraping the floor. “Believe it or not, I came as a friend.” She eyed Dessa. “To you, anyway. There’s trouble coming your way if you keep them girls here. You’d best send them back.”

Dessa’s heart pounded so hard all she could feel for a moment was the blood thumping painfully at her temples. She had no intention of following such advice, not after they’d gotten this far, but she also had no wish to argue about a subject she was supposed to have no interest in.

A knock at the front door made Dessa jump to her feet, an action that brought a snicker from Belva. “Relax. It’s only that Mr. Hawkins who is so fond of you.”

Dessa looked at her, confused.

“I saw his carriage coming down the other street, so I cut through the yards to get here faster. I knew where he was headed. Where else in this neighborhood but here?”

“Then if you’ll excuse me—”

“Oh no,” said Belva amiably. “As it turns out I got some business with Mr. Hawkins myself. So I’ll stay.”

Dessa lifted her brows. “You—you have business with Mr. Hawkins? Mr. Henry Hawkins, the banker?”

Belva smirked. “Not the kind of business you’d think, dear girl.” Her face grew serious as she looked from Dessa to Remee. “You go and get that door, Remee. Leave me alone with Miss Caldwell here.”

Although Remee rarely took instruction very quickly, this time she did so without any hesitation.

Dessa faced Belva, who didn’t speak until after the last swing of the kitchen door behind Remee.

“Listen, if Turk knew I was here, he wouldn’t take kindly to it. So what I have to say is just between you and me—and that Hawkins fellow, if you want to share it.”

“What has Turk Foster to do with Mr. Hawkins?”

Belva’s face softened, and she looked at Dessa with unabashed affection. “I know I’m crazy for thinking so well of you. My daughter wouldn’t likely have been anything like you.” Her brows gathered and she looked at where Remee had disappeared. “More likely she’d been another Remee. But Turk saw it in you too. That goodness. It got to him, I’m tellin’ ya. Everybody thinks he didn’t want this place to make a go, that he’d just as soon have the doors shut. Maybe that’s so, and maybe it isn’t. I do know one thing: I never saw him get so worked up over a gal as he’s been about you. And I doubt he wants to lose out to the likes of Hawkins.”

“What has he against Henry Hawkins?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” She offered a humorless laugh. “All that Mr. Hawkins would have to do is snap his fingers and he could be the next senator of this great state. Something Turk wants for himself. And besides that, it’s personal. He heard what Hawkins said about him, that the only reason Turk offered to do the benefit for this place was to spoil your connections to donors. It’s not true. He liked you. But Turk knows you don’t want
him,
and he’s not so mean that he don’t expect you to marry somebody. Just doesn’t want it to be that Hawkins fellow.”

Dessa squared her shoulders, taking in a deep breath. “You can tell Mr. Foster that, although this is absolutely no business of his, I have no intention of marrying anyone.” Even as she heard her own bold pronouncement, she knew it wasn’t true anymore. No
intention
of marriage, perhaps, because that depended as much upon Mr. Hawkins as herself. But hope?

“That’s well and good, only ever since he had that dinner over here, sitting at the same table as one very interested Mr. Hawkins, he’s had a private investigator trying to find out all he can so he can make Hawkins look bad—just in case he decides to snap those fingers about the Senate. And if he ends up looking bad in your
eyes, too? So much the better.” She winked. “Everybody’s got a secret they’d rather not tell a sweetheart, don’t they? Turk’s trying to find one.”

Dessa’s eyes widened. “That’s outrageous! Even if it were true of Mr. Hawkins—which I’m sure it is
not
—Mr. Foster has no right to interfere. And besides that, Mr. Hawkins and I have no personal relationship whatsoever.” Much to her own regret, her words were technically true. If anyone could snap a finger to change something, she wished it could be her.

“That’s so?”

“That is, indeed, so.”

But those words did not come from Dessa. Instead, they came from the kitchen doorway, where Mr. Hawkins stood with an unmistakably sad expression.

Henry hadn’t heard much of their conversation, only enough to know this woman—the same one he’d seen some weeks earlier walking to the Verandah—somehow thought it her business to pry into Dessa’s private life. In relation to him.

And although he couldn’t deny his wish otherwise, it was a fact that he and Dessa—Miss Caldwell—did not have a personal relationship. One near kiss did not mean much, and maybe it shouldn’t go any further.

But what business could that possibly be of this woman’s?

Before he could inquire, the woman smirked his way. “For somebody without any personal connection, you sure come round often enough.”

“Are you living here now?” he asked.

Belva emitted a snort. “Not hardly.” Then she turned back to Miss Caldwell. “Look, I shouldn’t even be here now, but Sunday
mornings aren’t likely to have anybody up and about to see where I come and go. You heard everything I said?”

Miss Caldwell nodded.

The older woman grabbed Miss Caldwell’s hand so swiftly she jumped, and Henry took a step closer. But the woman closed in on Miss Caldwell regardless of Henry’s ready protection. “You listen to me, you hear? There’s nothing in this for me; in fact, I’d lose the most powerful friend I’ve got if word traveled about me being here. Don’t make it a waste of my time.”

Although Miss Caldwell had seemed to view the other woman with some amount of reluctance at first, Henry didn’t miss that her look now melted into acceptance. Trust, even, if he could believe that. She trusted this woman?

Once Miss Caldwell nodded, the older woman let her go. Then without another word she walked from the kitchen, letting the outer door to the back porch slam shut behind her.

“Would I be too inquisitive if I asked what that was all about?” Henry asked. “What did she say that made you assure her we weren’t even friends?”

Miss Caldwell looked momentarily distressed, so much that her hands trembled as she tried employing them with the dirty dishes still sitting on the table. “I’m afraid I have some rather surprising—and irksome—news. It appears Mr. Turk Foster isn’t quite finished interfering. Evidently it wasn’t enough for him to try causing trouble for Pierson House. Now he wants to be sure no one will support you, just in case you’re interested in running for a seat in the Senate.”

The weight of his heart suddenly multiplied, protesting each pump with a whack against his chest. “I’m not at all interested in such a seat. But if I were, how does he imagine stopping me?”

“He’s decided to hire a private investigator to search for some way of making you look unfit for the position.”

The incredible words took a moment to make sense. Had he heard right?

Possible consequences charged through his mind, and Henry had all he could do not to look as nervous as Miss Caldwell did. “Has he already hired this investigator?” The words barely made it past his throat; it was constricted by his collar, which seemed to tighten by the second, and his heavy heart went even heavier.

To his horror, she nodded. “Some time ago, actually. Just after you were both here for dinner that day.”

“I see.”

She moved to set the dishes in the sink, but did not add water. Instead, she turned to face him, although for one irrational moment he wished she would ignore him. At least long enough to let him draw in a deep, fortifying breath. Under her gaze, he still could not move.

“I’m afraid Mr. Foster thinks he has the right to manipulate anyone around him. It’s inexcusable, of course.”

“Yes.” Henry could bring himself to say no more, even though confessions and excuses and every sort of plea clamored inside his brain.
Don’t listen to whatever he says about me! I’ve changed! I know what I did was wrong!

She approached him, adding to his unease by looking at him directly. “I didn’t mean to imply we weren’t friends. I hope that we are, despite all our differences.”