The Last Honest Seamstress (5 page)

"You're Mr. Tetch? The Captain's bookkeeper?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fayth Sheridan." She extended her hand with amicable intent.
 

He took it uncertainly and shook it limply. "How may I assist you, Miss Sheridan? Are you interested in shipping something?"

"No." She replied slowly, working on a quick lie. Why hadn't she thought up something beforehand?
 

"I'm a businesswoman here in town. The Captain is one of my clients. I was out making deliveries and checking on some of my other clients. I thought I'd stop by and inquire when the Captain is due back. I have an offer he might be interested in." She smiled to herself. What quick thinking. She hadn't needed to lie after all.

"Of course."

She thought she detected a lewd undertone in his voice.

"I'm a seamstress. I tailor for the Captain. I'm running a special."

"Certainly." Mr. Tetch's thin lips curled at the corners in interested amusement. He obviously didn't believe her story, thought her the same as Coral. "Well, ma'am, if you care to wait a few minutes you can make him your offer today." A smirk.

"Today? He's in port?"

"The
Aurnia
is moored just down the pier from us. She came in last night. The Captain's with a client in the back office, but if you can spare a minute, I'll announce you." Just then the office door swung open and a man stepped out.

"I'm a lousy wharfinger, Jim," she heard a deep voice say from the recesses of the office. "Tetch should have noticed the conflict immediately, and as his boss I should have double-checked the schedule. I can only plead guilt by absence. We'll reimburse you for any spoiled goods."

The other speaker mumbled something unintelligible, but his tone sounded pleasant. She picked up the Captain's voice again.
 

"I appreciate your willingness to work with us. I'll make good and sure it doesn't happen again." The Captain stepped into view. He looked shaggier than the last time he'd been in the shop. His beard was longer and his hair needed trimming. His eyes lit up in pleasant surprise the moment he saw her.

Her heart hammered in a jagged rhythm, her confidence waning. What was he doing back? She wasn't prepared to meet him
today
.

"Miss Sheridan stopped by on business." The treacherous Mr. Tetch spoke before she could think of a way to escape gracefully.

The Captain looked pleased. When he spoke, his tone was light. "Did I forget to pay for my last order? It seems I've been neglecting my business and personal matters lately."

"No, Captain O'Neill, of course not." For some unaccountable reason she blushed. His smile was too warm, too charming, and she, too flustered by his sudden appearance. "I came to see you about another, unrelated matter. But I didn't expect to find you in."
 

She glared at Tetch. "I only came by to find out when you would be in port next. I can see that you're busy. May I schedule an appointment with you for another time?" She spoke too rapidly. Her words cascaded one over another. Facing him, her nerve faded quickly and unexpectedly.

"My calendar's clear for the afternoon. The
Aurnia
had a good voyage. We moored her three days ahead of schedule. No one is expecting me. Jim here actually came in to see Mr. Tetch."

"And I'm just leaving, miss." Jim nodded his head toward her, made his goodbyes and walked out the door.

The Captain waited until Jim departed before speaking, "Miss Sheridan, would you mind discussing business over lunch? I haven't eaten yet today." When she hesitated he added, "On me."

"No, it's not that." Why did she stammer? "I came to see you about a confidential matter."

"I know of an intimate cafe. The staff is discreet. I conduct my most secretive business there. Not a word of it has ever leaked out."

Mr. Tetch was watching their exchange and smirking. Maybe it would be best to be out of his hearing. "All right then. I'll entrust my secrets to your taste in restaurants, Captain O'Neill."

"Thank goodness. I thought you were hesitating about being seen with such a scruffy sailor. I haven't had time for a beard trim or a haircut."
 

For some reason it pleased her that he was embarrassed by his appearance. To be quite honest, she would have dressed up a bit more herself if she’d known she was going to be in a position to propose to him today.

"This way, Miss Sheridan." The Captain guided her gently by the elbow out of the office and into the glare of sunshine outside, his fingers emitting unsettlingly pleasant warmth through the thin cotton of her shirtwaist sleeve.

The Captain led her two blocks up from the wharves to a small, dark cafe run by a Chinese family. They greeted him by name, but otherwise appeared to speak little English. The patrons seated at tables in the dining area were largely Chinese, but no one seemed surprised to see the tall, auburn-haired captain.

They were seated quickly and served bowls of thin egg drop soup and tiny cups of green tea. Their waitress, who Fayth guessed was the wife of the owner, seemed to scold the Captain in a foreign tongue. He merely laughed, then reached inside his pocket and procured a packet of letters and handed them to the waitress. Her face glowed as she received them, nodded her thanks, and started to walk away. The Captain called out to her as she left and she smiled over her shoulder and laughed, nodding again.

When he turned his attention to Fayth, he was clearly amused by her expression. "The owners are friends of mine. They come from my hometown, San Francisco. I carry mail back and forth between them and their family there. They don't trust the US Postal Service, even though I
am
the US Postal Service. The government awarded me a small mail subsidy a number of years back." He smiled broadly. "I'm not as generous as you might think; in return for the favors I do for them, they give me my meals free. Mrs. Wong was teasing me about bringing a guest to dine off their favor."

"I can pay for my own meal."

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. "She was only teasing."

His hand was too warm, too strong, too virile. His touch made her pulse leap in the most pleasant and disconcerting way. She nearly lost her resolve. The man was confident to touch her and her reaction most dangerous.
 

Startled by his bold move, she pulled her hand away and hid it in her lap, trying to forget the heat his touch created in her. She cleared her throat and tried to act as if she were not blushing or thinking about how his hands would feel on her cheeks or around her waist. "You speak their language?"

"A little, and they speak a little English, but not enough to compromise our confidentiality." When he smiled, deep dimples hollowed his cheeks and his hazel eyes sparkled.

"Oh.” Fayth let an awkward silence follow.
 

Fortunately, the Captain was an outgoing man. He filled the ensuing silence easily. "I'm glad you came to the wharf today, Miss Sheridan. It was such a pleasant surprise. I was planning to come to your shop later, after I'd cleaned up a bit."

Before today, it had never occurred to her that he would fix up before he came to see her.

"I'm in need of a new suit." He blew on a spoonful of soup.

She sat quietly waiting for her soup to cool, studying the man across from her, wondering whether she could live with him. His hair was coarse and wavy, and long enough to curl up over the back of his collar. Where his shirtsleeve strained back as he held his spoon, a spray of freckles showed beneath the curling hair on his forearm. Her attraction to him was puzzling. She had never cared for any shade of red hair, auburn included. Drew had straight, black hair, and . . .
 

She didn't want to think about
him
. "Please do stop by.” She put a tease and a hint of flirtation in her voice, even though she knew she shouldn’t. What had gotten into her? “It’s always a pleasure to dress a man who wears his clothes so well."
 

Had she really just said that aloud? The man muddled her thoughts. He was going to get the wrong idea. What she meant was . . . What had she meant, exactly?
 

“I mean who’s so well proportioned.” She felt her blush creep up into her hairline. Wrong thing again. She wasn’t getting her thoughts across properly. She didn’t want him to think she’d been studying his proportions, or worse, ogling him as she measured him.

He smiled, looking as if he were trying not to laugh at her discomfort. “A good tailor makes any physique look good.” His eyes sparkled.

“Um, yes, certainly.” What an inane thing to say back to him.

She was all mixed up and flustered. His surprisingly warm tone and the way he was looking at her now, made her suddenly anxious. A small, worrying thought niggled at her. Could she have misread the Captain? Could he be interested in her after all? And worse, was she more physically attracted to him than she’d been previously aware?
 

For heaven’s sake, think freckles, Fayth!

When she replied her tone was stiffer than she intended, "Thank you, I'm glad you like my work."

She expected a compliment in reply. Something along the order of,
Of course I do.
You’re the prettiest tailor I know.
Something any other single man in Seattle would have said. Instead, his reply was remarkably astute and terribly disappointing.

"You're suddenly very serious, Miss Sheridan."
 

She bit her lip. "Talking about my work reminded me—I have serious business to discuss with you."

He didn't lose his smile. "Can it wait until after we've finished our meal? I know for a fact that Mrs. Wong is in the kitchen cooking one of her finest meals with a fury. She'll be insulted if we don't appear to enjoy it and ourselves. To be honest, I've never
not
enjoyed something she's made for me. While I'm at sea eating the gruel my cook serves up, I'm always dreaming of Mrs. Wong's egg rolls. Let's not let business spoil them. Have you ever eaten Chinese food?"

She shook her head.

"Then you're in for a treat."
 

He entertained her with stories through three full courses. Tales of the sea, life in San Francisco, anecdotes from his latest voyage. He asked Fayth questions about herself, which she gracefully evaded. To Fayth's surprise, his manner put her so at ease that she forgot her nervousness. Without analyzing it, she felt as if she had known him forever.

Mrs. Wong arrived and cleared the dishes from the last course, leaving them alone again.

"Okay, Miss Sheridan. Our meal is over, time to discuss serious matters. What is this mysterious business you've come to see me about?”

She found herself suddenly mute.

“You want to ship something?" he said when she didn’t answer.

His smile was no longer infectious. Her stomach clenched and her heart raced. She was turning coward on herself.

"Something valuable, perhaps something that no one knows you have? Jewels, bouillon, gold doubloons?" His eyes creased at the corners as he spoke and his tone was teasing. "You may trust my discretion in delicate, confidential matters of shipping."

She hoped she could trust his discretion, period. "I have nothing to ship." She masked her expression, trying to keep her tone even against the hammering of her pulse and the dryness of her mouth, displeased with herself for the disquiet that had overcome her.

“You need warehouse space perhaps?"

She could see from his expression he was genuinely pleased she had sought him out, that he was trying to keep the mood light. But because of where the conversation was heading, she was uncomfortable, all nerves now that the moment had arrived. Her thoughts tumbled one over another in a panicked stream. It seemed there was no easy way to voice her proposal. At a loss, and needing to speak before she lost all nerve, she took a deep breath and blurted out, "I need a partner."

The Captain simply stared at her. The first reasonable expression she could attribute to him was pure confusion. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. "Miss Sheridan, I know nothing about the tailoring business."

"Oh." She laughed nervously. "I'm not talking about that kind of partner—I'm talking about a marriage partner."

His eyes darted over her as if he were trying to determine whether she was actually serious. "You're asking me to marry you?"

"Yes." She admired his composure. Hers had abandoned her. The hands she kept demurely in her lap were knotted together in a death grip. Too late, she developed not just pity, but real empathy for all the men who’d proposed to her. This was torturous business, even when the heart wasn’t involved.

He continued staring at her in an unnerving way, as if he were searching her for something and finding it lacking. "Why me?"

It wasn’t the response she’d expected. In fact, she was taken aback by his question. She wasn’t vain, but women were in appallingly short supply in Washington Territory. Any other single man from here to Alaska would not have questioned his good fortune, but jumped in with an emphatic,
yes
. "Why not?"

His smile vanished. "In a town with a predominantly male population, you must have your share of men proposing to you. Why ask me?" His tone was gentle, and almost hopeful. The Captain appeared unflappable and steady, qualities she desired. He continued to study her.