Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Phoebe stared at Braxton across the table. The restaurant was the nicest she’d ever been to. She realized she was underdressed and wished she could put her coat back on, but they’d checked them at the front.
She studied her surroundings. A large Christmas tree stood in the center of the spacious room. Tables were covered with white linen tablecloths, each one adorned with a red poinsettia. Would they ask her to leave based on the state of her day dress?
“Ya look worried,” Braxton said gently. “What’s wrong, darlin’?”
She shook her head, unsure how to explain. Braxton looked perfectly at ease in their surroundings, but then, he always did. Nothing seemed to rattle him or crease his brow with worry. Unlike her. She lived in a constant state of it. Could she find work? Pay the rent? Put food on the table?
But that was behind her now. She had a job. Still, she’d never spend her hard-earned money eating in a place like this. No, she needed to save it and stash it away in case she needed it.
Her father flashed through her mind. If he showed up, she wouldn’t dare tell him about any savings. He’d guilt her out of it, and she wasn’t about to let that happen.
The waitress took their orders and hurried off. Phoebe winced at the prices, but Braxton didn’t blink. Was he splurging while out of town? Maybe he was spending some of the money from the sale of his cattle.
“Phoebe,” he said quietly. “Have you ever been to a play?”
She gaped at him. “Er… no.”
“The ballet?”
She shook her head.
“Hmmm,” was all he said.
“You?” she asked.
He nodded. “In Amarillo. Occasionally we take the train and stay a few days.” He smiled. “It’s not like I’ve never been to a big city.”
She smiled back. “You seem comfortable no matter where you are.”
He shrugged. “No sense worrying unless you’ve got something to worry about.”
Phoebe nodded. It was good advice. She just had a hard time following it.
Their conversation stayed light until their meals arrived. Phoebe was glad for the distraction. Spending time with Braxton was heavenly but it would end soon. He would return to Texas, and that would be that. He might even find a bride before he left.
The thought made her chest ache. “When are you going home?” she asked between bites.
“Soon, I reckon. I want to be there for Christmas.”
Her heart sank clear to her toes. “Yes, of course. Do… do you think you’ll find yourself a wife between now and then?”
He smiled. “I hope so.”
“You’re running out of time,” she said, swallowing hard. What was she doing? Of course he wanted a wife. That was why he’d been hovering around the sisters’ office, just like she had.
“I might have to stay an extra day for the marrying,” he went on. “Or I could take my bride home and get married on Christmas. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Her chest tightened. “Yes… wouldn’t it?” Something hot and unwelcome flared in her heart. Oh dear. Was that jealousy?
Phoebe shoved the feeling down and focused on her meal. She slowed her eating, hoping the moment would pass. Maybe Braxton would talk about something else. Being around him was getting harder by the minute.
He was comfortable. Easy. And had a way of calming her when she hadn’t known she needed it.
Phoebe stared at her nearly empty plate. Why did this have to happen? She’d been so careful. At least she’d thought she had.
She lifted her gaze and met Braxton’s steady one.
“Phoebe…” he said softly. “What is it, honey? Why do ya look so sad?”
Her eyes misted. She had to get out of here. “I’m fine.” She glanced around. “I need to get home.”
“All right.” He looked around and snapped his fingers. Their waitress hurried over. “Check, please.” Braxton paid, and they retrieved their coats and belongings before stepping outside.
“Are you not feeling well?” he asked.
“I have things to do, that’s all.” Like putting distance between herself and Braxton Jones before she lost any more of her heart.
He wrapped her arm through his and started down the sidewalk. “I’m sorry it’s a bit of a walk from here.” He smiled. “But not to worry.” He waved down a horse and buggy.
“A cab?” she said. “You don’t have to…”
“I know you have a new coat, but I don’t want you walking so far.”
The driver pulled up, and Braxton helped her climb in. Once they were settled, he gave the man her address, and the horse started forward.
Phoebe had to admit, it beat walking. Even better, snow began to fall. She was more grateful than ever for the ride. “Thank you.”
“Of course, darlin’.”
Her heart fluttered at the endearment. Why did he have to be so wonderful?
When they reached her boarding house, he helped her down and walked her to the door. “Thank you, Braxton. That was very kind of you.”
He smiled down at her. “Do you have plans?”
“For…?”
“Tomorrow. Sunday?”
“Oh, I, uh, need to get some things done.”
“I see.” He studied her. “Then I won’t see you until Monday?”
“I suppose not.” She fidgeted.
So did he. She’d never seen Braxton fidget before. Instead of unsettling her, it made him look like a schoolboy waiting for something he couldn’t quite name.
He met her gaze. “Well… I should go.”
Phoebe nodded, not trusting herself to speak. If she did, she might invite him in to warm up a bit. She wasn’t sure how Mr. Randall would feel about that, even if Braxton had done the same for her at his boarding house.
She hesitated, then said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, honey.”
“Why are you staying at a boarding house instead of a hotel?”
Braxton shrugged. “I like the homey feel better. I always choose a nice boarding house over a fancy hotel.”
“That makes sense.” She glanced at the door. “Well…” She motioned with her thumb. “Good night.”
He stepped closer. “Good night, Phoebe.” His eyes locked with hers, and her knees nearly gave out. Braxton smiled, reached past her, and opened the door. “In you go.”
She gave him a shy smile and stepped inside. He returned the look, then gently closed the door.
Phoebe released a long breath and leaned her back against the door. “What am I going to do?”
Braxton didn’t see Phoebe for several days.
Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was busy taking care of business.
He’d been in Chicago a little over two weeks now.
Christmas was approaching, and he’d have to head home soon.
He sent a telegraph saying he’d be returning a couple of days before Christmas, but he made no mention of a bride.
A bride.
The sisters hadn’t come up with anyone for him other than Miss Poppinstock, and she’d been successfully matched with Mr. Pringle. Augusta informed him as soon as he entered the office on Tuesday.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” the sisters gushed. “Another successful match!”
He’d smiled and taken George for a walk. Phoebe hadn’t arrived yet, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get through the day.
Phoebe had a job now. Something she’d been desperate for.
She didn’t have to move. She could support herself.
Phoebe could build a comfortable life right where she was.
Having such strong feelings for her almost made him feel guilty.
But in truth, why would she want to give up everything she now had to marry someone like him?
The life he offered was hard. The one she’d been handed suited her far better.
Still… she was stronger than she realized. Phoebe had grit. Fortitude. The kind that saw a job through to the end.
He sighed as he walked George through the park. The dog trotted along happily, stopping now and then to sniff at the snow. “What do ya say, boy? Ya gonna stay with the sisters? Or would ya rather come home with me?”
George barked but offered no real opinion.
Braxton laughed and turned back toward the office. He caught sight of Phoebe just as she went inside.
“Well, there she goes,” he murmured. “I bought something yesterday that maybe I shouldn’t have. But doggone it…” He looked down at George again. “I suppose it’s all for the best.”
He started off again and noticed a well-dressed gentleman entering the office. Now who could that be? From this distance, it was hard to tell. He hoped it wasn’t Mr. Pringle. Had he’d already changed his mind about Miss Poppinstock?
When Braxton finally reached the office and stepped inside, the man was seated in front of Augusta’s desk. Phoebe sat beside him, staring straight ahead while the man openly appraised her.
“Hmmm, I don’t know,” the man said. “I’d rather not have a wife who works. I want a hot meal when I get home. And what about children? I have five. Someone has to take care of them.” He looked Phoebe over again. “I can provide well. I’m a banker, after all. You’ll want for nothing.”
He turned to Augusta. “I require someone down-to-earth, with a decent head on her shoulders. The women who run in my social circles are dumber than fence posts.”
Braxton’s gaze narrowed. “Howdy.”
Augusta looked up. “Mr. Jones, thank you for walking George.”
“Anytime.” He eyed the man, then glanced at Phoebe. She sat straight-backed, her hands folded neatly in her lap, barely giving the man a glance.
“You do like children, don’t you?” the banker asked. “I admit mine can be a handful, but I have a governess who takes charge of them during the day.”
Phoebe smiled politely. “I see. And yes, I like children.” Her gaze flicked to Braxton, and she gave him a brief, almost apologetic smile.
So, a banker. A man of means. Phoebe would have a fine house, step-children to occupy her days, and… Braxton frowned. Did this man expect everything to run on a strict schedule?
“Your mother doesn’t happen to live with you, does she?” Braxton asked.
“Braxton!” Phoebe blurted.
“I was just askin’.” He crossed to the worktable and sat down.
The sisters were caught up for once, and whatever chaos cropped up could be handled easily by the two of them.
He and Phoebe had talked about creating a new filing system.
One that would help Augusta, Margaret, and Josie.
But they hadn’t wanted to step on Miss O’Malley’s toes if she’d already implemented something that worked.
It was one of the things he hoped to discuss before leaving town next week.
“Mr. Clark,” Augusta said. “Miss Hale is a hard worker and very organized. I’m sure you can appreciate those qualities in a bride.”
“Of course,” Mr. Clark said. “She’ll need them to run the household.” He smiled at Phoebe. “Have you ever run a large house before, my dear?”
“No, sir, I’m afraid not.”
“Well, if she can run this place,” Margaret said. “She can certainly run a large household.”
Braxton pressed his lips together to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. Anyone who could bring order to this place could command a regiment, as far as he was concerned.
“Well,” Mr. Clark said. “You’re pleasant enough, my dear. I’m sure the children would come to adore you. They’re young enough to still want a new mother and haven’t become too opinionated on the subject.”
“How many children again?” Phoebe asked.
“Five. The oldest is ten. The youngest, two.” His eyes softened. “I’m looking for someone dependable, responsible, and someone I can come to love in time.” He leaned toward her. “And I hope she’ll come to love me too.”
He seemed a decent sort. Braxton swallowed hard and bent over a stack of old applications, pretending to sort them.
“Well, Phoebe,” Josie said gently. “What do you think?”
Braxton picked up a pencil as Phoebe turned her attention back to Mr. Clark. “I’d like some time to think about it.”
“Of course,” Mr. Clark said. “We should get to know one another better first. I’m not opposed to a courtship, provided it’s a short one.”
Braxton’s pencil snapped.
Everyone looked his way. He cleared his throat and reached for another. How could this be happening? And yet… wasn’t this what Phoebe wanted? A quiet life. Someone safe.
Though he wasn’t sure how quiet her days would be with five children underfoot. Still, Mr. Clark didn’t give him a bad feeling. Everything he’d said made sense.
Braxton studied the banker more closely. Average height. Brown hair thinning at the top. Brown eyes. Nothing about him suggested cruelty or intimidation. As far as what Phoebe was looking for, he could very well be the man she chose to marry.
Braxton closed his eyes against the thought and forced himself to stay where he was. No one needed to see how much losing her was already tearing him apart.