Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (20 page)

His throat constricted to the point that breathing was impossible, but Jason was unable to tear his eyes away. He watched in a sort of self-inflicted torture. When she leaned back and swished her brush in turpentine, he was jerked out of the nightmarish trance. With more force than necessary, he slammed the window shut, not only against the agonizing smell but from the far more disturbing sight of a painter before an easel.

Below, Kathryn started and turned, scanning the building. Their eyes met through the glass, but only for a second. Then Jason snatched the curtain closed over the window. He grabbed the satchel containing his sketches and strode from the room, his boots vibrating the hotel floor with every step.

A loud bang jerked Kathryn out of her intense concentration on the painting. Alarm zipped through her. A gunshot? An instant later she recognized the sound and willed her pulse to slow. Not a gunshot, but a window. Turning, she scanned the hotel until her gaze snagged on a figure watching her from the second floor.

Jason.

Hope sprang up in her like a blossom to full bloom in an instant. Surely a true master like him could not look upon a piece of art unfolding without wanting to see it become the best it could possibly be. Maybe he would come down and offer a suggestion or two.

But no. Her hopes wilted when she caught sight of his expression. Even from this distance and through the glass, anger blazed in his eyes. Then he yanked the curtain closed.

Seething, she set her teeth. What right had he to glare at her like that? She’d done nothing wrong…this time. Was she not free to pursue her own activities without drawing his wrathful disapproval? How could she ever have thought him nice, his manners courtly, even for a minute?

Well, she’d show him. She would finish this painting before she left Seattle, and use every skill she possessed to make it her best so far. And then she would give it to Evie as a gift to be hung on the wall at the café where he would see it during every meal.

With that goal in mind, she picked up her paintbrush.

Kathryn rapped on Miss Everett’s door, fully expecting the reticent lady not to answer. Or, if she did, to have a list of excuses why
she could not make the journey next door for tea. Armed with ready answers and a determination to pull her from the room by force if necessary, Kathryn stiffened her spine and lifted her hand to knock a second time.

To her surprise, the door opened and Miss Everett stood before her already dressed in her coat and bonnet.

She dropped her hand. “I’m a few minutes early, but I see you’re ready. Good.”

“I’d rather meet people one at a time as they arrive than walk into a crowded room.” Deep creases in the woman’s high, pale brow bore witness to the extent of her anxiety. With jerky, nervous gestures she fetched a small reticule from the chair. “Shall we leave?”

They might have been going to a funeral, judging by her wary tone. Smiling encouragement, Kathryn led her out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the sunshine. She paused a moment on the porch to breathe in the fresh air, scented not with rain for once but with pine and cedar.

“If this weather is any indication of the springtime and summer, I can see why the townspeople choose to stay here.” With a nod she invited Miss Everett to walk at her side as they left the porch and headed next door. “I could find sufficient inspiration in Mount Rainier alone to keep me here for a few years.”

“I saw you painting this afternoon.” Miss Everett took small, dragging steps that made Kathryn want to grab her arm and pull her along.

“Oh?” Some artists guarded their unfinished projects jealously in order to make a grand presentation of the finished piece. She cared not one whit if someone watched her art unfold, and in fact found encouragement along the way motivating. “And what did you think?”

“Me?” After a quick smile, she averted her eyes. “I couldn’t see very clearly from my window. And besides, I know nothing about painting.”

Kathryn would have pressed for an opinion had they not at that moment arrived at the restaurant. The door stood open, and they entered to find a handful of ladies already seated around the room. One table was in use as a buffet, the surface covered with platters of tea cakes, pies, small sandwiches on thinly sliced bread, and an assortment of pastries. Since she knew Evie had not made pastries, they must have been the work of one of the other ladies.

Louisa caught sight of them and interrupted her conversation with a large woman seated next to her. She stood and hurried across the room with the waddling gait employed by expecting women the world over.

“Kathryn, you brought her!” She pulled Kathryn into a quick hug, and then startled Miss Everett by doing the same to her. “We are so glad to finally meet you. I am Louisa Denny. Welcome to Seattle.”

“I…” Miss Everett cast an anxious glance at Kathryn, swallowed, and then managed to whisper an introduction. “My name is Helen Everett.”

Helen? In the ten days of their acquaintance Kathryn had never heard her Christian name. And, she was chagrined to realize, she had not thought to ask.

Louisa tucked Helen’s hand in the crook of her arm and pulled her forward. “Come and meet the others.” She stopped and, turning to Kathryn, extended her other hand. “You too. We’ve become friends so quickly I almost forgot you’re new too.”

Some people were gifted with the ability to put people immediately at ease, and Louisa had that gift in abundance. Within minutes she had drawn Helen out from behind her wall of reserve and had her sharing details that Kathryn had never heard.

“I decided to leave Nevada City when my mother died two months ago,” Helen explained in her hushed voice.

Kathryn felt a rush of sympathy for her reticent friend.

“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” Beside her, the gray-haired woman
who had been introduced as Mrs. Moreland laid a comforting hand on Helen’s arm. “I lost my own mother a year ago.”

“She had been ill for a long time.” Helen sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap. “All my life, really. I’ve cared for her ever since I was a child.”

The tall woman, who Kathryn recognized as Letitia Coffinger, owner of the dry goods store next door, spoke in a voice as big as her large-boned frame. “So now that you’re free from nursing duties, you’ve decided to come to Seattle and find a husband.”

Helen’s normally pale face burned bright red, and her head drooped forward.

“Letitia,” scolded Evie, “there are any number of reasons to move to Seattle.”

The big woman waved that off with a flick of her fingers in the air. “This town has two things in abundance. Men and trees. I assume Helen is not here to try her hand at lumberjacking, so that leaves men.”

Helen made no reply, either because of her bashful nature or because Letitia’s assumption was correct. Looking at the color riding high on her cheeks, Kathryn thought the reason might be a blend of the two. Certainly there was opportunity, if a husband was what she was after. But somehow Kathryn had a hard time picturing shy Helen in the company of rowdy men like Big Dog or Red. She needed someone more mature, more stable.

Then Letitia turned in her seat and fixed a sharp gaze on Kathryn. “And what about you? Are you here to find a husband as well?”

“Certainly not.” Kathryn emphasized her answer with a swift shake of her head. “I came to assist Madame in the management of the Faulkner House.”

“She told me she hired you to be a maid,” said Letitia. Kathryn was about to protest, but the shrewd eyes narrowed. “But you could do that in San Francisco, where there are a far greater number of hotels. So my question stands. Why did you choose Seattle?”

Really, the woman was quite pushy! But there was no malice in her questions, only a sincere desire to know the answers. So nosy, but in an almost engaging sort of way.

Unable to hold that piercing gaze, Kathryn averted her eyes. “Actually, the journey was my father’s idea. I didn’t want to leave California, but he insisted. He wanted me to…” She toyed with the handle of her teacup. There was no reason to lie. She lifted her chin and glanced around the table. “To find a husband,” she admitted.

The ladies laughed, Letitia loudest of all. Even Helen joined in, and Kathryn found herself relaxing. The ladies of Seattle might not be as progressive in their views as some she knew in San Francisco, but their company was enjoyable.

The restaurant filled almost at once when a large group arrived. Chatting women entered, many of them carrying a platter of sweet cakes or a loaf of nut bread, and soon the first buffet table overflowed to a second. Children darted in to snatch a treat and then raced through the open back door to rejoin their friends. A handful of girls commandeered their own table and sat with their heads close, whispering and giggling. Talking of boys, no doubt. Kathryn remembered herself at that age, when she and Susan would draw frowns from Papa for whispering in church and stealing glances at Bobby Frye.

Inez ran in, caught sight of Kathryn, and charged across the room to throw her arms around her for a quick hug. She was gone as quickly as she appeared, leaving Kathryn to smile after her.

She spoke to Louisa. “I expected to see John William racing behind her. I suppose he’s outside playing with the other children.”

Louisa shook her head. “Will didn’t bring him to the house today. I saw him carrying John William down the street toward the mill early this morning, but he was already too far away to hear me call. I can’t imagine Henry Yesler encouraging him to bring a three-year-old to the mill, but…” She shrugged. “I’ll ask David when he gets home from the blockhouse tonight.”

“Oh, that blockhouse.” Mrs. Butler, seated at the next table, turned around in her chair to insert herself into the conversation. “My Hillory speaks of nothing else when visitors come calling. Says it’s a foolish undertaking and a complete waste of effort and good lumber.”

Because Kathryn was seated across from Louisa, she could watch her expression change. Her lips pursed into a knot and fire flashed in her eyes. Setting her teacup down with extreme care, she turned to face Mrs. Butler.

“He says so, does he?”

A lady at yet another table emitted a high-pitched laugh. “My husband says the same. Those men are working themselves to exhaustion, and for what reason?” She asked the question of the women at her table.

“Exactly,” agreed Mrs. Butler. “They’re building a fortress that will never see a day’s use. Why, it’s ridiculous, that’s what it is.”

The cords in Louisa’s neck stood out and her fingers pressed so tightly Kathryn feared for the fragility of her delicate teacup. “They scoffed at Noah for building the ark too,” she snapped.

All around the room, silent ladies stared awkwardly into their cups or busied themselves cutting bites of cake or pie. The girls at the far table stopped giggling to watch with wide eyes and dangling jaws. Mrs. Butler opened her mouth to reply, but the woman next to her placed a restraining hand on her arm.