Deep Harbor (12 page)

And Elsa found herself praying that another storm would come and take them all.

F
inding life intolerable that September in Helena, Tora saw no choice other than to move out. She had been shunned from the community, cut off from the important people around whom she thrived. Andrew Aston had made it clear that he was immovable and would not let her keep her loan, even when she used her feminine wiles on him. Without a roadhouse to oversee for Trent, she listed about the house, bored and worried. She laughed when she found herself actually quoting her father in a soft whisper, a man for whom she had had little respect: “Sitting around fretting will not resolve anything, Tora. Take a step. Sideways. Forward. Anywhere.”

Begrudgingly, she admitted to herself that she had always taken Amund Anders’s advice when it came to situations like this, and it had brought her far. It had taken her to America. To Minnesota. To Trent. She grimaced and stared out the window, not truly seeing the carriages and wagons that moved along the road. To be honest, her quest for more had also removed her from Trent’s side. She had taken steps that, ultimately, landed her back where she had come from. But there were ways out. There had to be a way. She just had to find it.

A knock sounded at the door and Tora winced at the thought of opening it herself. She had let Sasha go a week prior, since she could
no longer pay her wages. Sasha had stayed on another week, exchanging her services for a few of Tora’s old dresses, but when it became clear that Tora’s luck had not changed, she packed her bags and said a curt good-bye. Perhaps she hadn’t been as fine a servant as Tora had thought. A truly loyal person would have given her at least another week.

She feared who the person might be on the other side of the door. Was it Andrew? Another of her creditors? Already the jackals had come and confiscated some of her finest new furniture. One of Sasha’s last tasks had been to help her bring some of the older pieces from the basement to hide the vacant spots. It grated on Tora to look on them.
A step back
, she thought.
Now I need to take a step forward
.

Her visitor proved to be that step. She opened the door and looked over her shoulder, as if a bit bewildered. “Mrs. Hunter!” she exclaimed, fanning her face as the wave of heat from outdoors hit her. “I do not know where my maid is. Please excuse the delay in answering the door. Won’t you come in?”

Mrs. Hunter nodded and gave Tora a demure smile, obviously knowing exactly where her maidservant was. “Thank you.”

Tora shut the door and led the way to her sitting room. “Please join me in the parlor. Can I interest you in a refreshing glass of water? It’s very warm outside.”

“That would be fine,” she said, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

Tora left her to retrieve the glasses of water, wishing for the thousandth time that week for her customary lemonade. Why, she had become known for it! Mrs. Hunter would be blabbing the news all over town, no doubt, that Tora Anders could no longer afford lemons from California. The old biddies would take delight in the news! Oh, how they’d feast upon it! With an angry sigh, Tora pulled out two crystal glasses, retrieved some chips of ice from the cellar as fast as she could, and poured the water.

She paused. There was one lemon remaining in the icebox. If Mrs.
Hunter was thinking what she thought she was thinking, a slice of lemon in her water would squelch those malicious rumors immediately. Perhaps even take her down a notch, since she would think Tora had the lemons but did not deem her worthy of lemonade. Smiling for the first time in a week, she ran down the cellar steps again, returned, and put a nice, fat, picture-perfect slice on the edge of each glass. It looked rather elegant, actually.

Taking a moment to straighten her hair, she composed herself, casting away all her self-abasing thoughts, and strode down the hall and into the parlor. “No doubt you wonder why I asked you to drop by, Mrs. Hunter, so I’ll get right to the point. I wish to lease this home for a while. I have business out west and will not be returning for some time. Of course, I’d like the house to go only to the finest family available. No children, please.”

“None?” Mrs. Hunter asked, her look telling Tora that might be impossible.

“At least not under school age,” she quickly amended. “I don’t want any ragamuffins tearing up my fine furniture.”

Mrs. Hunter nodded, obviously trying not to look about at the furniture which was of good quality, but nothing to fret over. “Very well. May I have a tour of the home so I may make some notes for possible clients?”

“Yes, of course. Please, follow me.” She led the way through the three-story building, pointing out the finer aspects such as two indoor water closets with running water, gas lighting throughout the house, and decorating that only the finest citizens could fully appreciate. Tora dearly wanted someone who would take care of this house, to love it as she did, so that someday she could return. It was the first place she had felt was hers, hers alone, and she didn’t want to lose it, nor did she wish anything damaged.

When they sat down again in the parlor, she paused to choose her words. “So, Mrs. Hunter, now that you’ve seen the house, can you give me some idea of what would be a fair monthly lease amount?”

“Do you anticipate keeping on your gardener and a maid?” Mrs. Hunter asked over the rim of her glass.

“I believe that the lady of the house would be more comfortable hiring her own help. It is such an individualized process, I find. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Mrs. Hunter gave no suggestion that she doubted the sincerity behind Tora’s words. “Yes. Of course. And the gas bill? It would be part of the lease?”

“I think it would be cleaner if we simply changed the name on the account to the leasing party. Then I do not have to fiddle with it from Washington Territory.”

Mrs. Hunter glanced up at her quickly. “My goodness. You intend to go that far?”

Tora smiled demurely. “There was a day that I thought Montana sounded terribly far.”

Mrs. Hunter returned her smile, nodding. “I too.” She looked down at her notes, apparently in thought. “I do have a fine family in mind. A businessman, his wife, and their two sons. They’ve been at the Cosmopolitan Hotel for a month now, unable to find a home suitable for their needs. They enjoy entertaining, and from what I understand, have a home similar to this in Minnesota.”

“Minnesota, you say? What part?”

“Minneapolis, I believe. Or perhaps it was Duluth … He doesn’t intend to stay here forever. Probably an investor. I understood from him that it might be six months to a year.”

Tora smiled. “That sounds perfect! Perhaps then.” She let her sentence drop, knowing she should play the game out to her best advantage. “May I meet them?”

“I could probably arrange that.”

“And would they consent to a monthly correspondence, keeping me up to date on the house?” She laughed. “I assume it would be a short note. As mistress of your own home, I am sure you can understand my feelings. It is as if I’m giving away a ch-child.” The words
were out before she knew what she was saying, and it made her stumble. Quickly, she coughed, hoping to cover up her mistake.

Mrs. Hunter frowned a bit and then went on. “Certainly. I see no harm in a monthly update. It might make you feel a bit less homesick. Would you be available tomorrow afternoon, say, around three, for a tour of the house and a chance to meet the family?”

Joseph Campbell escorted his wife up First Street, delighted at this turn of events. Upon arriving in Helena, he had casually mentioned Tora’s house as an example of what he sought for his family. Now she was renting it out, and with a monthly check due, as well as the desired “status note” she had requested, Joseph would be able to keep tabs on the woman. He would know where she was, at least on the first of every month. And his family could stay in one place while he followed Tora on her explorations. Who knew where she might go now?

It was not a surprise when Mrs. Hunter came calling. Joseph, through some careful detective work, had discovered that Tora’s mining investments were failing, and the checks from Storm Enterprises had ended in June. He knew Tora had been living the high life for some time, and she had to be nearly broke. In addition, after a few covert interviews with some of the leading socialites in Helena, he discovered that Tora was on the outs with Helena’s high society. A move was clearly in her future, since Helena had turned its back on her.

Had she not been misusing his employer’s name and credit, Joseph might have felt sorry for her. As it was, he relished taking this, her prized home, from her, even if it was temporarily.
How could such a fine man as Trent Storm fall for a vixen like her?
he wondered for the thousandth time.

Joseph pulled Mary closer as they drew near the gate. He was thankful for his good, solid wife and the two delightful sons they shared. Mrs. Hunter awaited them, just inside the gate.

“Right on time. Thank you. It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Campbell.”

“Mrs. Hunter,” Mary said with a nod.

As they went in the front door, Joseph tried not to stare too much at Tora. This was the first time he had seen her in close proximity. She was making introductions, when the banker Andrew Aston arrived, followed by five burly men.

“Why, Andrew,” Tora sputtered, trying to close the door halfway. “I am afraid this is not a good time.”

“No it is not,” he said, pushing the door open again. He handed her a folded paper. “We are foreclosing on this house, Tora. You have five days in which to vacate. The furniture will have to go now.”

Tora blushed a crimson red, and studiously looked at no one but the banker. “There must be some mistake—”

“Certainly not. You knew as well as I that this day was coming.”

Joseph studied the two, instantly aware by their intense gaze that more had transpired between them than the typical banker-client relationship. Had she played this one as she played all men?

Tora took a deep breath as if to gather herself. Determinedly, she shut the door between Andrew and the men behind him, effectively cutting them off. “Andrew, can you wait here for a moment? Mrs. Hunter, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, please excuse this incredible interruption. Obviously, I have something to straighten out. It should take no more than a moment. Won’t you—”

“No!” Andrew exploded. “They must leave. There will be no more hostessing, Tora. It is time to get your affairs in order. We are taking your furniture today—”

“We had understood the house would be furnished,” Mrs. Hunter said quietly.

“This morning,” Andrew continued, “the Alberta mine closed. It was your last chance, Tora. I presume you are letting out your house to these fine people.”

Tora sat down abruptly, obviously shocked by the news of the mine. Joseph knew exactly what it meant—the house might not even be enough to cover what she owed.

Andrew turned to the Campbells. “I am afraid that if you wish to lease this house, it will be from the Bank of Montana.”

Joseph stepped forward and offered his hand. “Joseph Campbell,” he said gently. “But as Mrs. Hunter stated, we understood the house would be furnished. If you take away the furniture, we will not be able to take it.”

Andrew considered his words with a nod. “I suppose we could leave it in here for the time being, until we can get everything in order to hold an auction.”

“Very well. We should come by to see you at the bank? Assuming, of course, that the house is up to the Campbells’ standards,” Mrs. Hunter asserted.

“Fine, fine. Tomorrow. Ten o’clock?”

Mrs. Hunter looked at Joseph. He nodded, then shifted uncomfortably, aware of how difficult this must be for Tora. They were talking about her home as if she were already gone.

“Very good. We will get out of your way, then. Good day, Mr. Aston, Miss Anders,” Mrs. Hunter said. Joseph and the boys followed her out, but Joseph paused at the door, looking back.

Mary was with Tora, who sat in stunned disbelief. She touched Tora’s head as if she were a grieving child, and then knelt before her, taking her hands. “We will take good care of the home, Tora,” she said softly. “You have my word on it.” She weaved in front of the younger woman, as if trying to gain eye contact. “Sometimes, the very worst thing in life turns out to be the best thing possible. Go with God, child.” With that she rose and joined Joseph at the door.

Once outside, she took his arm and said softly, “She is the one, isn’t she? The one you were sent to follow.”

“How did you know?”

“A woman’s intuition. Don’t get too near her, Joseph. She is one of those women who can draw you in deeper than a whirlpool before you know it.”

“I realize that.”

“But there’s something more. God is doing something within her. I can feel it.”

Mary had an uncanny ability to ascertain such things, and Joseph filed the information away with all he had learned today about Tora Anders. He had a long report to write for Trent Storm tonight, and he had to pack. He was sure that Tora would soon be on the move again, with him along for the ride.