Читать книгу Wonders Of The Heart - Ruth Scofield - Страница 12

From his office the following morning, Chad contacted a first-class private investigator. Walter Peebles had suggested he take the matter to John Allen, of Allen and Parker, a discreet firm his colleagues had used a time or two.

“I don’t have an investigator in Kansas City, so it will take a day or two to find someone. Or else send a man out there to do a proper job.” John’s deep voice rumbled as he spoke. “Even with the Internet, faxes and phones, it’s better to do personal background checks, to the depth you’re wanting, in the geographical location where a person lives.”

“Fine. That’s fine,” Chad muttered. “Just get it done as fast as possible. I don’t want any delays that can be avoided. This young woman is already living in my home.”

“I’ll have someone on it no later than this afternoon, Mr. Alexander,” John soothed. “Before we’re through, we’ll know the girl’s dress size, her favorite music, food and color, and how many boyfriends she had in the fourth grade. If there’s anything in her background that doesn’t spell squeaky clean, we’ll find it.”

“I’ll wait for your call.” Chad hung up and rested against his high-backed chair, his hands laced behind his head. His thick, overgrown hair brushed over his hands, and the thought passed through his mind to get it cut this morning. If he could make the time.

Swiveling, he stared out of the twenty-fourth floor window at New York’s skyline. He’d been impressed with his view from the moment he moved into this space, and proud to be a part of New York’s unique society.

Though oddly, he hadn’t missed this sight while in Europe nearly as much as anticipated, he thought now, and it had no power to soothe him this morning. He still felt unsettled.

Flexing his tight shoulder muscles, he pushed that thought aside. Analyzing his reactions could wait. He’d come home to more pressing matters. He’d had to take care of his own personal needs before he began on his workday.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about Spring, or his newly challenged home situation, all morning.

Rising earlier than normal, he’d discovered he hadn’t been early enough to avoid signs of his new housekeeper. A full pot of freshly ground and steaming coffee waited for him in the kitchen at six-thirty. The New York Times, untouched and pristine, lay on the tiny table. Alongside the paper were two boxes of cereal, both sugarless, and a bowl, spoon and a banana lay upon a cherry-red place mat.

He saw nothing of Spring. That she’d anticipated his breakfast needs startled and annoyed him at the same time. It all smacked of a too-perfect picture, and his suspicions notched even higher. But if he’d hoped to pretend his life was still his own, that breakfast layout had put it to a speedy end.

He’d taken his coffee and ignored the banana and cereal.

His reverie tumbled when Anne Martin, his personal assistant, came bustling in and set a cup of coffee, strong and black, beside his hand. He’d come into the office early to get a jump start on his day before most of the staff came in, and a good piece of that had flown out the window. Irritated with himself for dawdling, he twirled back to face his desk. Work waited.

“Welcome back, Chad. Glad you’re home early. The office wasn’t the same without you,” Anne told him brightly. Anne, a well-groomed brunette in her thirties, tossed him a concerned glance.

“Thanks.” He shuffled through a pile of catch-up work that would take him about a week to plow through, matters that only he could handle within the firm. He may as well get started.

“You look like…well—” she frowned “—you don’t look as though you’ve had much rest.”

“No, I haven’t. Long flight and only a few hours’ sleep.” He shrugged and took the list Anne handed him. The list, from Jonathan Feathers, the senior partner of the firm, contained things that needed his immediate attention. “What’s up?”

“Lots.” Anne took a chair facing him, causing him to look up. She never sat unless she had something serious to say. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, Chad…but we’ve been in somewhat of a tizzy this week.”

He leaned back in his chair once more and gave her his full attention. “Okay, shoot.”

“Jonathan had a gall bladder attack and has been out of the loop.”

“Is he all right?”

“For the moment—but he may face surgery. He’s resting at home.” She took a deep breath. “And old Dale died suddenly two days ago. Half the staff is leaving at noon to attend his funeral in Connecticut. Jonathan already knows you’re back. He wants you to attend if you possibly can.”

Chad bit back his first reaction; Jonathan being out of the office just as he returned put a double load on everyone. And now a death?

“Old Dale?” He’d been rather fond of old Dale, a longtime staffer, even though they’d had little in common and their paths seldom crossed. “Well, I’m very sorry to hear it, and we’ll miss him, but it’s not all that sudden, surely? His heart had been failing. How’s his wife doing? The funeral’s today, is it?”

“Yes, today. At two-thirty. And Tillie is okay, but…”

Anne continued to fill him in on everything going on in the firm, down to the engagement of their new receptionist. He gave her his usual concentrated attention, pulling out the nuggets that concerned him most, and took notes of what, if anything, he should do about them. He then gave her a few directions of his own to follow.

After she’d gone, he settled back to prioritize his day. The long drive to Connecticut for the funeral would take most of it.

He called the garage where his car was stored and arranged for it to be readied. It hadn’t been used in the weeks he’d been gone.

When he’d done that, he found himself gazing out the window once more. He’d brought home a lot of business with his European contacts, and the firm, Feathers, Sanders, Sanders & Alexander, was set to grow. It was a bad time to lose old Dale. They’d have to hire someone to take the old man’s place as soon as possible. He wondered why Walter Peebles hadn’t mentioned the loss last night.

Yet Walter wasn’t an insider with the firm, and last night, his own concerns had been strictly personal. Walter had been his father’s friend and accountant, older than Chad by a dozen years. Chad had used Walter’s expertise a lot these past six months since his dad’s death. Walter had been a big help in finding Honor Suzanne’s private school, as well, after she’d refused to remain at the boarding school to which he’d first sent her.

Chad trusted Walter’s judgment about most things. And Walter had insisted he had nothing to worry about in Spring. Yet he simply couldn’t let it stand without further investigation.

“You can do as you please,” Walter had told him last night, “but I think you’ll find my opinion supported, Chad. Spring Barbour is as solid and sound as she appears. Nothing about her to alarm anyone.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Walter. You aren’t allowing an unknown girl to take complete charge of your household. We don’t know what kind of behavior she’s capable of, or what’s in her past.”

“Well, going through the employment agency didn’t insure you against an unscrupulous woman, now did it?”

“That’s another matter, Walter. That agency has a lot to answer for, and I intend to take it up with them first thing in the morning. But this girl came here out of the blue. I need to know more about her.”

“Do as you see fit, Chad, but I’ll bet you my tickets to the next Yankees game that she’s as clean and as sweet as she seems. No drugs or wild behavior for her.”

“That’s just it, Walter. The girl seems altogether too picture perfect to be true. I don’t think such a woman exists in this day and age. What’s her angle?”

“No angle, other than she needed a place to live while she gets her feet wet. This city takes some getting used to for out-of-towners, Chad, don’t you remember? But you got it right the first time. A girl, that’s what Spring still is—not yet a woman, if you know what I mean. The worst thing you can say about Spring is she’s naive and too innocent for her age. You might want to watch that. But that isn’t all bad, pal. She makes a great little chum for Honor Suzanne.”

“I suppose you could have a point,” he’d responded slowly. He hadn’t been ready to give up his objections against the situation thrust on him, even while he realized he had little choice at the moment.

He didn’t like losing control. He liked being in charge, making his own choices.

“And a blessed good point,” Walter continued, “but I have to say that my Libby is the one who made it. Chad, you must know your father kept Honor Suzanne on a rather tight leash after Sandra died. The girl needs young company. She needs more friends her age, someone to help her be a teenager at the right time of her life. She needs to go places, and do the teenage thing, you know what I mean? I think Spring’s a good one to help her do that.”

That was the point at which he’d thanked Walter and said good-night.

Now Chad thought that waiting over the next few days for the investigative report on Spring was going to demand more of his energy and patience than he’d like. A lot more.

Running a hand across his forehead, he pulled the stack of case files Anne said needed his immediate attention toward him. He might get a little work done before he left for the funeral.

Spring spent the day cleaning and making sure everything in the apartment sparkled. Flicking a last particle of dust from a lamp, she gazed around the sunny living room, noting how the rather austere furniture looked so much cozier with the few bright pillows she’d added.

Chad hadn’t said a word last night about the way she and Honor had brightened the apartment. They’d had to do something with the drab decor, they’d both agreed. Perhaps Chad was the kind of man who didn’t notice such things. Or care.

She hadn’t planned to spend the morning cleaning; before Chad came home, she’d actually planned on making a call on two small design houses that Dana had suggested. And in the months she’d been in New York, she had yet to approach any of the design schools for an application.

She pushed that idea aside. She had time, and she wasn’t sure she honestly wanted to attend any of them yet, rationalizing it was because she wanted to be creatively free to do her own thinking. That she felt a bit intimidated by the whole idea, she wouldn’t allow into her thoughts.

Under the circumstances, she supposed she was lucky not to be out apartment hunting.

Facing Chad had been far more nerve-wracking than she’d anticipated, although she’d known it would come. What she’d expected, she wasn’t now sure of, but it wasn’t…Chad.

His disconcerting stares had run through her like the rising tide, leaving a mini-wake along her veins as it settled. If it really had settled. She wasn’t sure. How they would get along on a day-to-day existence remained to be seen, but if he continued to look at her the way he had, she was likely to turn blue with holding her breath. Perhaps his odd effect on her would wear off in time.

Uh-huh. And she was likely to be invited to dinner at Trump Towers.

Twirling away from the dining room, she giggled and set a CD to play. It was too late to make any kind of business rounds today. Perhaps, since Honor would be completing her math finals, Spring would bake a pie to celebrate, instead.

She liked baking pies. Her thoughts often did their most creative design work while her hands were otherwise occupied. She’d come up with a lovely idea for a summer suit just yesterday, and was eager to buy some lightweight fabric to make it up.

Sighing, she realized that would now have to wait. Her personal activities had to be curtailed and arranged around her daily housekeeping chores. She wouldn’t have as much time to follow through with her own plans.

Ah, well. There were worse things than living on New York’s upper east side and making a salary, while looking for the ideal job. At least Uncle William’s exacting demands for a spotless house would not go to waste. She and Autumn had learned to clean, cook and sew with the best little Good Housekeeping examples Uncle William could find. She could recall his often repeated words as though he said them at her shoulder now: “A disordered home denotes a disordered life.”

She smiled. Uncle William would approve of her. She’d been smart and frugal with her funds, and hadn’t had to spend much of her small inheritance.

But she sincerely hoped Chad had no occasion to peek into her bedroom. It was a shambles, with stacks of fabric and sewing debris piled wherever she’d found available space. Her main task there was to at least keep the pins off the floor to prevent injury to her bare feet.

Or she needed to remember to put on her shoes.

The quiet ring of the phone caught her just as she slid the pie into the oven. She’d taken a couple of messages for Chad already today—female voices, sounding young and sophisticated, or savvy and businesslike, asking to have Chad return their calls. Spring had taken several such calls when she first took up residence with Honor, but over the passing weeks the calls had slowed and stopped.

News of Chad’s return had rocketed now, she thought in amusement as she grabbed the kitchen extension.

“This is Chad,” he said in return to her hello, then proceeded to give her directions with a firm, instructional tone. “I’ve arranged for a household account for anything you or Honor may need, and opened up a couple of charge cards for Honor at Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s and a couple of other places. Did you find the cash I left on the kitchen counter for groceries?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. Thanks, I’ll restock the cupboards and fridge. Is there anything particular you’d like for dinner?”

“Don’t think I’ll make it home for dinner. Sorry.”

“Oh. Well, is there a message for Honor?”

“Um, no, I…just tell my sister to follow her usual routine. I’ll stop into her room to say good-night before going to bed.”

“All right. Chad?”

“Yes?”

“Honor would like to enroll in a summer ballet class, if it’s all right with you.”

“Sure. Why shouldn’t it be?”

“Well, it runs through August. I didn’t know what your summer plans may be.”

“Plans?” He sounded distracted.

“Many people don’t like to be tied down through the summer months,” she explained. “If you have family vacation plans, it may interfere.”

“Ah.” He’d caught her direction, but his immediate “No, I don’t have any further plans for the summer” put an end to her hope that he’d take a week or so to spend with Honor. The girl needed her brother’s company, in Spring’s opinion. She’d noticed too many lost, plaintive expressions on the child’s face while Honor had thought herself unobserved.

“If she wants to join the class,” he went on quickly, giving her the feeling he was in a hurry to wrap up the conversation, “it’s fine with me. Whatever equipment or clothing she needs, use the charge cards. I’ll discuss it more fully later, all right?”

“Yes, of course, I only thought—” But he was gone before she could voice her thoughts.

She sighed, picked up a stack of bills lying beneath the phone, then set them down again. They were no longer her worry.

Glancing at her watch, she realized Honor would be home soon. She made up her mind. Since Chad wouldn’t be home until late, why shouldn’t she take Honor to register this very afternoon? Then they could buy what Honor needed for the class, find a bite to eat, and run straight on to the Wednesday night teen gathering at church. She could deliver the finished dress to her customer Mary Beth, on the way.

But she wasn’t about to tell Mary Beth that this was the last sewing she could do for her. Chad couldn’t dictate whom she sewed for, and if he didn’t know she was being paid for it, he couldn’t object.