An Irresistible Bachelor (22 page)

Five more pages of the inventory followed, one about kitchenware.

The next sheet of paper was a surprise. It was older and the script was difficult to read, the slanted words and faded ink almost impossible to decipher. She squinted and stared at the page.

Callie read it again and looked over at the painting with surprise.

Could it be the first Nathaniel? Writing on the way to the Battle of Concord?

Or was she seeing hoofprints and thinking zebras again?

She put the letter aside and rushed through the rest of the papers on her legs, scanning the sheets without bothering to sort them. She put her hand into the bin again and again, but two hours later, she hit the bottom without finding the letter's first page.

“Damn it.”

Her mind churned over the fragment's content again. Her knowledge of American history was average. Of course she knew who Nathaniel Walker was and she remembered a little about the Battle of Concord. But who was the general he'd gone into battle with?

Grace, she thought. Grace would know.

Callie got to her feet and headed for the house, intent on getting her address book from her room.

As she came into the kitchen, Elsie was looking clearly distraught while talking to Thomas.

“What's wrong?” Callie asked.

Elsie's eyes went to Thomas, who was standing at the sink and rinsing spinach.

The man gave a resigned shrug. “Mr. Walker died five years ago today. The missus has a hard time with it every year.”

Callie was surprised. It was a little hard to imagine Jack's mother mourning anything.

Thomas turned back to Elsie. “Try Côte Basque. Tell Billy I sent you. He owes me and he'll fit her in. Then call Curt Thorndyke's mother, Fiona. The two of them will reminisce and she'll like that.”

Elsie took a deep breath. “Okay.”

“And don't take what she said personally. You know how she is.”

“Yes. I do. But frankly, when she gets like this, I don't really care.”

After the other woman left, Thomas said, “I was about to take a message up to you. Gray Bennett called. His number's on that pad over there.”

“Oh, thanks. I did hear the phone ring up in the garage, but I don't feel right about answering it.” She tore off the sheet, thinking tonight would be a perfect night to go out with him. Anything to take her mind off Jack.

She was on her way out when she remembered what Gray had said about Nathaniel Six. “I know this isn't any of my business, but what was he like? Mr. Walker, I mean?”

Thomas turned off the water and braced himself against the counter with his hip.

“He did a lot of good for a lot of people. And he loved Mrs. Walker. Used to say she was his finest creation.” There was a pause and Callie couldn't tell whether he was trying to recall the past or choose his words carefully. “He was a handsome guy. Great athlete. Died real quick. Woke up one morning, feeling fine. Twenty minutes later, they found him dead in the shower. Brain aneurysm. He was just gone.”

Although the tone was casual, the man was shaking his head as if he regretted the loss.

“He treated me real good. I met him when he was staying in Osterville for the summer. I'd just gotten out of the Navy and had a job as a caddy at the Wianno Club. One afternoon in July, I carried his bag for him. It sure was hot that day. A hundred degrees out and not a breath of wind, but he was bound and determined to finish eighteen holes. The rest of his foursome and their caddies wilted, but he and I made it all the way around. After that, he wouldn't let anyone else carry his bag. It was he and I, all summer long. Got to the end of August and he asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I liked to cook and he got me into the Culinary Institute of America on scholarship, one that I suspect he set up just for me. When I got out, I worked in some restaurants in New York City and I was damn good. Until I lost my arm.”

Thomas looked down at himself. “One unlucky move on a motorcycle and I went from being on top of the world to someone who couldn't unscrew a bottle on his own.”

His smile was measured and she couldn't guess at what he'd had to go through to overcome the injury.

“Anyway, after I recovered, I got a letter from him. We'd always kept in touch. I was honest about what had happened. Two days later he called and offered me a job as his personal chef. That was near about thirty years ago. Pay's good. Got my own kitchen. I'm a happy man.”

The man offered a lopsided grin, as if embarrassed he'd said so much.

She smiled back at him. “You sound like you miss him.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. He was good to me even if he could be . . . difficult with others.” Thomas clamped his mouth shut. “Listen, if you want a phone with a private line, go to the library.”

Callie thanked him, and when she came back downstairs with her address book, she found the room, sat in a leather club chair, and picked up the phone. When Gray answered, he asked her out for dinner at seven and she agreed.

Next, she called the Hall Foundation and Grace's assistant put her right through.

“Callie! How are you? I just got back from a trip and I was about to call you at Jack's this very minute. I'm so excited that you took the job.”

“And I owe you some thanks for the good word you put in for me.”

“It was the least I could do. How are you and Nathaniel getting along?”

“We're doing quite well. He's quiet, but his eyes follow me everywhere.”

Grace laughed. “How's the rest of the family treating you?”

Callie dropped her voice. “Mrs. Walker is a bit of a challenge.”

“I can only imagine. And Jack?”

“He's good. Okay. Yup, definitely fine. But how are you?”

There was a pause.

“Not all that well, to tell you the truth. I feel like everyone I know is trying to sell off a piece of me. My ex-husband is threatening to write a tell-all book about our marriage, in spite of the confidentiality provisions of our separation agreement. My former chief development officer was shopping around an exposé about the Hall Foundation and I had to level an injunction against him. And a doorman has picked up a ghostwriter and is going to write his memoirs about working in my building. Which will of course include details about me and my marriage.”

Callie shook her head. “Grace, that's awful, especially considering what you've just been through. You must be exhausted.”

“I am. With all these book proposals swirling around, the press is worked up. ‘No comment' is becoming my middle name.” There was a pause. “You know, Callie, you're the one who could do the most damage to me, to the Hall Foundation, to my mother. You could so easily cash in on your story and blow our father's reputation sky-high, but you haven't. I can't tell you what that means to me.”

Callie smiled with gratitude.

“I would never betray you, Grace. I'm not going to say anything to anybody. Ever. You can trust me.”

“You know, I've had a lot of people tell me that over the years. But coming from you, I actually believe it.” Grace fell silent for a moment. “Trust is not something I've had a lot of experience with. Except for Ross, and now you.”

“Ross?”

“You remember—my bodyguard?”

“Oh, I thought his name was something else.”

“It was. But this is what he goes by now.”

Callie was tempted to ask questions, but figured she shouldn't pry.

They talked a little more and then she said, “Listen, I wanted to ask you something. I've been going through some old Walker family papers and I found part of a letter from the original Nathaniel Walker to a woman. At least I think it is the first Nathaniel, but I'm not sure. It mentions the Battle of Concord and a general. Do you remember who Walker fought with at Concord? Before he was captured by the British?”

“Sure. It was General Rowe. He was a wealthy gentleman from Boston. One of the founding fathers.” Grace's voice rose with excitement. “But tell me more about the letter.”

Callie shared the details and the two talked over various points.

“The thing is—” Callie hesitated. “There was a very intimate feeling to it. But he didn't marry until after the War of Independence, correct?”

“That's right. He married Jane Hatte when he was in his late forties, which was ancient in those days. They had four children.”

“So perhaps Nathaniel didn't write the letter. Or maybe he was writing to Jane,” she suggested.

Grace laughed lightly. “I doubt it was to his wife. The Battle of Concord was in 1775. When the two of them married in 1793, she was twenty. He would have been writing to a two-year-old.”

“Well, I hope I find the rest of the letter.”

“So do I. This could be big news. Correspondence between Walker and any of his contemporaries would garner tremendous attention, especially if it shed light on a previously unknown relationship.” Grace paused. “Tell me, what do you think of the portrait, now that you've had a chance to work on it?”

“Copley is a genius. With the old varnish coming off, his use of color, particularly in the darkest parts of the painting, is really coming out. It's extraordinary. He can make a black sleeve cast a shadow. And his brushwork is fantastic.”

“Any problems?”

“No. Not really. The canvas support is sound. Paint's in really good shape for the most part. There's only one small area that I'm suspicious about but I don't think it's a big deal. There may have been some repainting.”

“Really?”

“But I'm not sure. I'm cleaning around the edges first, so it's going to be a while before I get a clear view of the area. Right now, it's just my instinct talking.”

“Well, don't underestimate yourself,” Grace said. “Fresh eyes can find surprising things.”

“Perhaps.”

“Guess what. I'm going to be coming to Boston after Thanksgiving. For the Walker party. Jack's invited me and Ross to stay with you all.”

“Oh. I mean, that's great!” It was the first Callie had heard about any such thing and it dawned on her that she should be making plans to go back to New York City over the holiday. If Jack was inviting people to stay over, he might want to use the room she was using.

Callie frowned with concern. “Wait. Your bodyguard is coming with you? Do you still need protection?”

“Actually, he's much more than that.” Happiness suffused the words, giving them a lilt that spoke volumes.

Callie smiled. “You sound like you're in love.”

“We are. It took us a while to figure things out and we're still working on it. But my life wouldn't be complete without him.”

“I'm so happy for you. Truly.”

After they hung up, Callie looked outside. It was late in the afternoon and the sky was a chalky white. She was surprised that Thanksgiving was so close and pictured herself back in Chelsea popping a Lean Cuisine in the oven and brooding about Jack.

Not exactly a Norman Rockwell moment, she thought.

BY THE time Jack got home that evening, he was tired. Nothing had gone as he'd expected. Or particularly well.

Blair hadn't even been in New York.

He'd called her in the morning while on the way to the airport, both at her hotel room and on her cell phone, to make sure she knew he was coming. When he'd gotten voice mail in both places, it hadn't seemed that unusual and the same was true when he'd received no calls from her in response. They'd been playing phone tag a lot lately and sometimes had gone a day or two without even leaving messages.

Nonetheless, it had been a surprise when he'd been informed at the front desk of the Cosgrove that Ms. Stanford and Mr. Graves had flown off to London the night before. The manager had explained they'd gone to see Graves's new mansion in Belgravia and would be back soon. Just how soon, the man hadn't been able to say, and going by his anxious eyes, he clearly wished he had a better answer.

Based on Blair's indeterminate travel plans, Jack had figured he'd just go back to Boston. There was no sense waiting around New York when he had business deals to watch over and planning to do with Gray. He was on the way back to the airport when his cell phone had rung. Clearly, Graves's man had called ahead. Blair was apologetic and anxious as hell about his unexpected visit. She knew unscheduled drop-ins were not a habit of his.

While she'd pressured him for details, he'd just tried to pin down when she was returning. Though she'd be home the following day, she'd refused to get off the phone and kept demanding to know what was wrong. When it was clear she wouldn't wait until they could see each other in person, he had spelled out the truth as gently as he could. Shocked silence had been her first response and then she'd been characteristically stoic. The only question she'd asked was whether he'd met someone else, and he'd been honest in his response.

The awful truth was, she hadn't seemed all that surprised about any of it.

When the call had ended, he'd gotten into his plane and told the pilot to take him to Chicago. There was a company there he'd been meaning to visit and he figured the trip would relieve his mind. It didn't work. He remained sorry that he'd hurt Blair, though he felt more sadness about losing the friendship than the intimate side of the relationship.