Love on Assignment (28 page)

“You're putting the cart before the horse. Miss Hale and I are newly acquainted. You can't rush these things.”

“Then there's a chance! She likes you too. She asks me questions about you all the time.”

“What sort of questions?”

“Every kind. She's terribly nosy, but that's all right because she's in love.” A mischievous smile tilted Ruthie's lips. “And you love her, too, don't you?”

Daniel rose and strolled toward the door, anxious to escape. “This is a completely inappropriate conversation, but let's pray about it and see what the Lord says.”

He said a stilted prayer asking for guidance and then opened his eyes.

Ruthie cocked her head. “Papa, praying is important, but sometimes the Lord is slow in answering.”

“Then we'll just have to wait for His perfect timing.”

“But Miss Hale won't be here very long. God needs to hurry up.”

Daniel smiled as he stood in the doorway, silently agreeing with his daughter. “We've talked about this before. Obviously complaining about God's timing doesn't make Him act any quicker if He doesn't want to. So, with that, good night.”

“Good night, Papa. I know it will all work out, somehow. I'll pray for both you and Miss Hale.”

Daniel pulled the door shut, glad to escape Ruthie's scrutiny. He passed through the playroom into the hall, lost in thought. His daughter was right.

He was falling in love with Charlotte Hale.

THE NEXT MORNING, Charlotte entered the drawing room. “Ruthie, your voice teacher is here for your lesson.”

“Thank you. Please excuse me, Grandmother.” Ruthie rushed off. Unlike her brother, she enjoyed music and practiced her singing and piano without prompting.

Charlotte watched Mrs. Wilmont's lightning-fast fingers quilt a square pulled taut in a small hoop. Charlotte peered over the woman's thin shoulder at the basket of appliquéd flowers pieced in bright calicos and sewn onto muslin. Charlotte admired the tiny, neat stitches she could never manage to make. “It's beautiful.”

Vivian gave a curt nod. “All my life I've quilted, but it's harder now that I'm afflicted with a touch of rheumatism.” She glared at her fingers and slowly flexed them. An emerald ring surrounded by diamonds flashed in the sunlight filtering through the window. “I see you also admire my ring.”

Charlotte blushed. “Yes. It's exquisite.” She waited for a reprimand. A servant shouldn't comment upon anything so personal.

But Mrs. Wilmont smiled sadly and laid the hoop on her lap. “It was my mother's ring. My father gave it to her for their twentieth wedding anniversary. I was her only daughter, so Mama left me all of her fine jewelry.” She looked out the window, as if remembering. “I'm grateful because my husband never gave me anything better than a cheap wedding band—not even a measly diamond chip for our engagement.” She scowled as she stared at her hands. “Of course, we had very little then, but later when his business prospered, he still didn't buy me anything of value. And he knew how much I appreciated jewelry.”

Charlotte nodded. How could she respond to that unexpected revelation?

“While my husband was expanding Wilmont Enterprises,” she went on, “I brought up my sons by myself. Edgar, my oldest, runs the business now. But when he and Daniel were young, their father wasn't interested in them or in me. I took care of all their needs.” She spoke with pride mixed with bitterness so deep, it sent chills down Charlotte's spine.

Why was Mrs. Wilmont spilling her life's pitiful story?

Her fingers flew. “But my husband is dead now, so I've put the past behind me.”

From the set of Vivian Wilmont's jaw and the press of her mouth, Charlotte suspected she hadn't even tried to forgive the man. Weren't Christians supposed to absolve those who harmed them? Of course, forgiveness never came easily, especially under such hurtful circumstances. She was shocked at the twinge of empathy she felt for the woman who treated her so shabbily.

“I wanted the best for my children, even though their father was tight with money. I wanted them to have the best educations, the best marriages. Daniel picked a splendid girl to wed. Bless her heart.” Vivian drew out a long, mournful sigh. “Sarah and I were as close as mother and daughter. We were all devastated when she passed. So tragic for us all.”

Charlotte shifted from one foot to the other. Why was Mrs. Wilmont telling her this? And for all of Sarah's journal entries, she had scarcely mentioned her mother-in-law.

Vivian peered through half glasses at Charlotte, her eyes as hard as gemstones. “If Daniel lives to be one hundred, he'll never get over her. I don't suppose he'll ever find such a sweet, charming girl again.” She let her words sink in. “And oh my, Sarah was talented. She decorated this house, entertained—there wasn't anything she couldn't do and do well.”

Charlotte suppressed a grimace. No, Daniel would never meet such a paragon again—at least not in her. “You must all miss her.” Although, Mrs. Wilmont's characterization scarcely squared with what she'd read in the journal.

The elderly woman nodded. “We do. No one can ever take her place. She was a perfect wife and mother.”

Though it was an obvious lie, Charlotte understood her meaning, loud and clear.

Were her warm feelings toward Daniel so obvious his mother had to warn her to keep her distance? The lady must fear she'd lose her son just as she'd lost her husband. Well, Mrs. Wilmont shouldn't worry. She wouldn't lose Daniel, at least not to her.

Charlotte plumped the pillows on the sofa. “Would you like lunch now? I can order it for you.”

“I'm not hungry. I never eat before two o'clock and it's only twelve thirty,” Vivian snapped. “Besides, Mr. McClintock will be joining me for luncheon later on.”

“Not even a cup of coffee or tea?”

“I
said
no thank you.”

Charlotte hid her annoyance behind a faint smile. “Of course, ma'am.”

“I don't have much of an appetite these days. I'm still feeling poorly.” Mrs. Wilmont gave a moan of self-pity and then lifted the parcel that had come in the morning post. “I believe these are the books my son has been anxiously awaiting.”

“I have a few errands to run in town. I could drop them by his office, if you'd like.”

“What is it you need to buy?” Vivian Wilmont's eyes narrowed with skepticism.

Charlotte had prepared an answer well in advance. “Some sheet music for Ruthie. I shall not take long.”

“All right. But where is Tim? You can't expect me to watch them while I'm convalescing.”

“Of course not. Mrs. Finnegan volunteered to keep an eye on him.”

“Why don't you take him along instead of imposing on my housekeeper? She has her own duties to attend to.”

She couldn't bring Tim to a meeting with Mr. Phifer. “As you know, the professor prefers the children not come to his office. Besides, Tim loves Mrs. Finnegan. She promised to play checkers with him.”

Mrs. Wilmont sighed. “All right. You may go on your errands, but be quick about it.”

Charlotte left Summerhill in the gig with the parcel of books beside her. She drove the short distance to the college and then hastened into the professor's office. She'd have just enough time to meet Mr. Phifer at O'Neill's Café at one o'clock. Dread spurted through her, but she quickly calmed her nerves.

When she peeked inside Daniel's college office, his face split in a grin. “What a nice surprise! I see you have the books I ordered. Thank you for delivering them.” He cleared away a pile of papers and she set the package down. His cluttered space reminded her of his Summerhill study.

“It was no trouble at all.” She stood before his desk, her hands clenched at her waist until he motioned her to take a seat. She perched on the chair across the desk. The wall clock read twelve thirty. If she didn't hurry, she'd arrive late for her appointment.

He pointed to a copy of the
Rhode Island Reporter
, opened to the editorial page. Arnold Phifer's name flashed like a fork of lightning. Perspiration erupted on her face and neck and dribbled in a clammy rivulet down her back.

Daniel read the headline out loud, “‘Radical Columnist Condemns Business Practices.' Of course I'm the so-called radical he's complaining about.” A wry smile tugged at his mouth. “I think that's a bit overstated, don't you?”

Her muscles tightened. “I'm sure it is, sir.”

“Arnie Phifer brings out the worst in me. I shouldn't let his ranting get under my skin, but I can't stomach distortions and lies.”

A sick feeling spread through her. “Does he actually lie about you?” Stretch the truth a bit, but outright lie?

“Yes, he most certainly does. I expect him to be fair and confront my ideas point by point, but instead he uses ridicule and character assassination. I detest that, especially when I'm the target.” He laughed ruefully and ran his fingers through his hair. “On one occasion, Arnie Phifer wrote such a scathing piece about me, I actually went down to his office and gave him a piece of my mind.”

During her interview Daniel had mentioned she looked familiar. Now she knew why. He must have seen her that day, though bent over a typewriter, she probably wasn't memorable.

Oh Lord, please don't let him recognize me
.
I promise to confess my part in this awful scene, but let me prepare myself first. I'm not quite ready, Lord. Please forgive me for being such a coward
.

Daniel tossed the paper into the trash can. “Every day I pray that Arnie Phifer will change his attitude. And I pray the Lord will soften my heart, too, since my thoughts about the man are far from charitable.”

Charlotte bit her lip to keep from snorting a nervous laugh. Arnie could use all the prayers he could get, though he wouldn't appreciate them if he knew.

A soft knock on the door drew Charlotte's attention. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Missy LeBeau stride into the room. Decked out in a raspberry pink outfit with ruffled parasol and plumed hat, she looked ready for a garden party. Most of the female students wore tailored skirts and shirtwaists in practical colors and plain, serviceable hats.

Missy stuck her nose in the air like a spoiled debutante, looked through Charlotte, and then turned to Daniel with a broad smile. “Excuse me, Professor, may I have a word with you? Alone, if you please.”

“Perhaps you can make an appointment with my secretary. As you can see, I'm rather busy at the moment.” His voice was cordial but cool as he stood behind his desk. Charlotte swallowed a smile.

“I'm sorry, this won't wait.” Missy waltzed over to the professor, edging so close he had to step back. “Professor Wilmont, do you remember I mentioned joining a prayer group? Well, we're having a retreat next weekend and we're in desperate need of a speaker.” Missy pleaded with a smile worthy of Sarah Bernhardt. “At the last minute our guest lecturer, Miss Symington, withdrew because her father is going into the hospital. I'm in charge of finding a substitute, so I immediately thought of you. I know you'll truly inspire us.”

Daniel shifted from foot to foot and rubbed the back of his neck. “I'd afraid I'm terribly busy just now. Have you asked Professor Fielding or perhaps Miss Rollins? Either one would be excellent.”

Missy frowned. “No one else can come because it's such short notice. Please, Professor. You'd be doing us a tremendous favor.”

“I understand your dilemma, but please try to find someone more suitable.”

Missy's lower lip quivered. “I've asked everyone I could think of and all have turned me down because they didn't have enough time to prepare. You're so frightfully clever, I know you could do this without any preparation at all.”

Charlotte stifled a groan and waited for Daniel to say no for good.

Daniel let out a sigh of resignation. “All right, Miss LeBeau.

I'll do it.”

Missy grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thank you so much, Professor. The ladies and I will be forever grateful.”

Charlotte's eyes widened in surprise. How could he have fallen for the girl's patent play?

He cleared his throat. “If that's all, I believe it's almost time for my next class. Please send me the details, including the topic I'm to speak on.”

Missy nodded and sashayed out the door, her skirt rustling.

Daniel turned to Charlotte.

“I'm doing Miss LeBeau a favor because—”

“She's so persuasive and you didn't know how to refuse.” That was the truth, but had she spoken too plainly?

Daniel winced. “Ouch, that pinches. You're right. I do hate to let anyone down, especially when they're in a bind.”

“You'll be making a dreadful mistake if you speak at Miss LeBeau's retreat. I can't explain exactly why, so I'll just say it's my womanly intuition.” Mr. Phifer's “tip” about the girl rang through her mind.

“Are you still worried Miss LeBeau has a crush on me?” Daniel turned as red as a radish.

Her gaze fastened on his. “I'm more convinced than ever.”

He wiped the embarrassment off his face and shrugged. “Perhaps she does, but that's beside the point. I'm gratified she's taking such an interest in spiritual things. That's a big step forward.”

When he crossed his arms over his chest, Charlotte silently groaned. The subject was closed. He'd already explained his reasons and obviously he wasn't open to persuasion. “I hope you're right.”

SEVENTEEN