Ruth Scofield - Wonders Of The Heart

“Now wait a minute. You wrote a letter to the agency? Why, what was the need?”

“I told you, I didn’t like Mrs. Hinkle.”

“You said nothing before I left about not liking Mrs. Hinkle. Why didn’t you inform me? Talk to me? And merely not liking her isn’t enough reason to take such drastic action.”

“I tried to talk to you once, but…” Honor turned away to fill an enameled tea kettle he’d never seen with bottled water, before setting it on a burner. “Well, you were so busy, and, anyway, I didn’t know about Mrs. Hinkle until after you left.”

The mild statement, carrying a good degree of guilt, hit him straight between the eyes. He hadn’t heard Honor because he’d been too busy to listen to her teenage twaddle.

He hid his sense of frustration, and mentally chided himself. He might not have been eager to take Honor Suzanne into his life, but he’d had no other choice when she’d become so depressed after their father died, only two years after Honor’s mother had passed away. Now he was all she had, her only living relative.

He ran a hand against his jaw and turned away to shed his jacket. True, he’d been too involved in getting his last-minute arrangements in place for an extended absence to interview many candidates. It all had happened at once; Honor coming to live with him as he was preparing for a working trip through several European countries.

“Tell me why you didn’t like Mrs. Hinkle,” he said, pulling out one of two kitchen chairs at the tiny table meant for one. “She came well recommended by the agency. Couldn’t you have lived with your dislike until I got home?”

“No, I couldn’t. She was impossible. And I don’t know why they recommended her,” she muttered. “She steals.”

“Steals?” He frowned, silently questioning how such a woman could have gotten past the agency screening. “Are you sure? Could you have misinterpreted something you saw?”

“No, I didn’t, Chad.”

She thrust out her small chin, reminding him of her mother, Sandra. He hadn’t liked Sandra.

“I saw her going through your desk,” Honor insisted.

“I left my desk double-locked.” Uneasiness began to set in. He didn’t keep a lot of important papers in his home office unless he was working there, but he still didn’t like the idea of anything being disturbed. He did keep a list of his private bank numbers and associated interactions in a notebook in the bottom drawer, but it would have to be an experienced thief to take advantage of the coded knowledge.

He’d check his desk contents before going to bed, but said now, “Well, there isn’t anything of movable cash value in there, anyway. And I left the household funds in a special account. Mrs. Hinkle only had to charge anything else you needed.”

“Well, she pried the desk open,” Honor insisted. She reached for a pig-faced cookie jar, half-filled, which he’d never seen. “In fact, you can see scratches on the brass key holes, if you look closely.”

Frowning, he rubbed the base of his neck where a headache was forming. The problem was more serious than he’d thought. “What did you do? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t think I should bother you with it, Chad. You said you wouldn’t have time to keep track of what’s going on at home. Uncle Walter and Mr. Lester took care of it.”

Walter Peebles, his father’s friend and accountant, and Lester Brown, their building super. He’d have a long talk with Lester first thing in the morning. Right before he called the agency.

He’d reach Walter before he went to bed.

“Didn’t want to be bothered?” Guilt nearly choked him now; he had said it. He’d failed royally as a brother. “Honor, I merely meant I wouldn’t have time for, um—uh-oh, stuff it. I’d have taken time to deal with this problem, whatever it was.”

He took a cookie from the plate Honor set on the table. Home-baked oatmeal, a longtime favorite.

“But you said you were really, really busy on this trip and for me not to expect a lot of communication from you since you’d be moving around a lot,” Honor persisted, half-accusing.

She poured boiling water into an old, crackled ceramic teapot and covered it with a bright red cover. The teapot was another item he didn’t remember.

“You couldn’t come home till your business was finished, that’s what you said.”

She set out three china cups; at last, something he recognized. Vaguely. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d entertained at home, but he thought those to be the ones his girlfriend of two years ago had purchased for him.

Honor set out a small jar of honey, and spoons. “So I decided to handle it myself. And I had Dana’s help.”

“Who’s Dana?”

“Dana Bates. My minister’s wife. She knows about these things, Chad, and she helped me find Spring.”

“Hmmm… A minister and his wife.” He rubbed his jaw, then ran his hand against the back of his head, while visions of smug, do-gooding people marched through his thoughts. That’s all he needed—interference from another direction. He’d had enough of that from well-meaning old family friends after his father died, leaving his estate in a mess.

He probably should put this off until he’d had some sleep; after all, Honor was safe and sound, and he couldn’t pursue an investigation on anything stolen until morning. But…he wouldn’t.

“All right.” He let his breath out on a long-suffering note. “Tell me about Spring. Last name. Who is she? Where is she from? Where did you find her? What are her references? And how old is she?”

“My name is Spring Eve Barbour, and I do assure you, Mr. Alexander, I’m a very reputable person.”

Spring stood in the kitchen doorway, addressing Chad formally, letting him in on her awareness of the seriousness of his questions. She didn’t feel at all nervous, trusting in Uncle William’s dictates to always deal with the truth, but she thought if she’d had anything to hide, Chad’s narrowed stare might unnerve her.

“I’ll be glad to trot out my references if you want to see them, but Dana will verify that she checked my credibility and found that I am who I am and all that stuff before Honor and I struck our bargain.”

Spring moved into the small kitchen on this last. She took into account the deep lines fanning Chad’s eyes and the taut skin across his cheekbones, and wondered if he’d stay awake long enough to eat anything even if she prepared it.

Opening the refrigerator door, she stared at the contents to determine what might be the quickest thing to serve. He’d want something hot, she thought, but a man that seriously tired also needed something reasonably balanced on his stomach before he went to bed.

“How about scrambled eggs and ham?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder as she asked. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and unbuttoned his shirt a few buttons down. His head rested against the wall, causing his eyes to go half-mast, the blue irises deepening to a dark stirring.

They caused a stirring in her middle, too. Something that spread throughout her like hot sweet cider in her mouth, with a spicy kick on the edges of her tongue.

“And, um, I’m twenty-three.” Why that was suddenly important, she didn’t know—except that she wanted him to know. She might be new to the Big Apple, but she wasn’t too young and naive to care for a young girl.

Yet that wasn’t the only reason she wanted him to know she was well past legal…for anything.

“Twenty-three,” he repeated as though he didn’t quite believe her. His quick glance down her faded jeans and T-shirt didn’t help her cause.

Spring knew she didn’t look her age. Her twin, Autumn, and she had found it rather funny these last few years when someone mistook them for younger, but it had never been a real problem. A little makeup usually helped, but she seldom wore it unless she was going out.

Since he hadn’t said no to the eggs, she pulled out the egg carton and other ingredients, and faced the counter and stove top to work, which gave him her back to view.

Spring no longer wondered about his skepticism. It was natural. While she’d heard all about Honor’s problems with her predecessor, obviously Chad had gone about his business in ignorance. She hadn’t given much thought to the fact that his messages from Europe were sketchy. She’d thought Chad had been informed about the change in the household. About her being there.

Now she was in an awkward position.

“Honor, why don’t you toast a couple of biscuits, too. Or—” she glanced at Chad again, gauging his reaction “—would you prefer toast? All we have on hand is wheat bread.”

“Whatever you have is fine,” he muttered. “And yes, I think I would like to see those references, if you don’t mind.”

“All right. I’ll find them while you eat.”

“Really, Chad, you don’t have to do that,” Honor protested. “Dana already checked all of Spring’s references and found them excellent. Besides, Spring really helped me out of a jam, and we get along terrifically. You just don’t know—”

“That’s just it, kiddo. I don’t know. And I do need to see them. What kind of a lawyer would I be if I didn’t pay close attention to details? Or follow up? It’s my job to look into the inner workings of corporate issues and mergers, and make sure the reported backgrounds and company assets and potential is as stated.”

“But I couldn’t have—”

“He’s quite right, Honor,” Spring said, sending her young friend a “Cool it” glance. She’d corner Honor later over this lack of communication, but now wasn’t the time. “He’d be a poor kind of brother to accept me at face value without checking my references, when we live together. Um, rather, when I live in your apartment and come from who-knows-where, as far as he knows.”

Her agreement didn’t seem to placate him much, but Chad’s attention turned to the plate of fluffy eggs and slice of warmed ham she set before him.

A moment later, Honor retrieved a couple of biscuits from the toaster oven, split, buttered, then browned under the broiler as Spring had shown her. She placed them next to his plate.

Spring found the sugarless strawberry jam and set it in the center of the table.

Spring stepped back and folded her hands in front of her. On the other side of Chad, Honor shifted from one foot to the other, pursing her mouth. Chad looked from his sister to her, then down at his plate.

It struck Spring that they were like two young servant girls from a century ago, hovering over the master to see what else they could do to please him. She wanted to laugh at her mental image, drawn from reading all those English classics of which Uncle William approved. Plus the historical novels she read undercover, to which she’d been addicted in her teen years.

She bit her lip to keep her giggle under control. Honor gave her a puzzled glance, to which she answered with a slight shake of her head.

Spring did miss her sister. Autumn would have read her mind instantly, and understood her line of thought. Even if Spring explained it, Honor Suzanne was simply too young to catch the humor.

Then she saw the rising suspicion in Chad’s glinting dark blue eyes, and her humor vanished. He’d never get the joke.

Well, smothering him with kindness wasn’t such a good idea, Spring decided. He wouldn’t understand the attention as mere kindness, or he’d misinterpret it altogether.

Turning, she left the kitchen to search for her references. A month ago, she’d no notion that she’d find being a companion to a young girl to hold so much complication. Or fun, either. She and Honor got along as though born to be friends. Honor was as new to the city as she, and they’d been exploring Manhattan together in their free time.