Chapter 3
Jumping in fright and uttering a little squeak of surprise, Dorothy found she was shaking again. She couldn’t have someone see her like this. It would be obvious that she was up to something. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she managed to calm herself a bit.
The knock came again.
“Yes?” she called, hastily straightening a pile of files that were on her desk. “Enter.” Taking one off the stack, she hastily opened it and tried to seem busy. The one beneath it began to slide and she quickly grabbed it, stopping its fall.
Dorothy clasped her hands and laid them on the paperwork as though she’d just been disturbed while working. She turned what she hoped was a welcoming smile toward the door.
“Hi, sorry to bother you,” a man said as he peered around the door.
He didn’t work here, and it took her a moment to place him as one of the men she’d met earlier.
“Come in, Mr. Alexander,” she said briskly, finding her usual stride. He would be easy to fool. Since he didn’t know her, he would have no idea if she was upset, nervous, or just always that jumpy.
He moved into the room and went right up to her desk.
Dorothy hadn’t paid him much attention when she’d met him in Harding’s office. She had been too busy disagreeing with the man. However, as he walked into the office, treating her to a kind, slightly nervous smile, she found she liked the look of him.
Mr. Alexander was tall, and he wore his suit well.
His hair was dark, and his eyes were an expressive, light brown that was quite unusual.
With a little motion of his finger, he pushed his spectacles back up the bridge of his nose and then ran a hand down his trousers.
Were his palms sweating? Hers was, but only because she was still so nervous that she would be found out.
Taking documents was an offense that she could lose her job over.
Why would he be nervous, though? He hadn’t done anything wrong. Had he?
“What can I do for you?” Dorothy asked, smiling in what she hoped would seem a natural way.
Mr. Alexander shifted nervously. He gingerly touched the edge of her desk, as though steadying himself. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Mr. McGregor is, exactly?”
It was funny, but he spoke in the same manner as he wrote. She had received several letters from him over the last few months, and this was like listening to one being read aloud. Their correspondence had been rather enjoyable, actually.
“Well, Mr. Alexander?—”
“Please, call me Warren,” he said, running his hand along the edge of the desk. It was concerningly close to the stack of folders. “Mr. Alexander is my father, and I don’t feel quite that ancient yet.”
She smiled. “All right, then, and you can call me Dorothy.”
“What a lovely name.”
“Thank you,” she said as heat sneakily crept into her cheeks. This was no time to be the blushing maiden. She was in the middle of an intrigue, for heaven’s sake!
“So, can you help?” he asked. “It’s just, it’s rather important.”
Dorothy considered him. “Of course I can, but … he’s not in New York. See, you were supposed to arrive three weeks ago.”
“Oh well, that wasn’t our fault,” Warren protested, throwing his hands up as though he could ward off the blame.
As his hands came up, he knocked the pile of folders to the side. With a rustling, slithering sound, several of the files in their folders plunged off the side of the desk to the floor. They made oddly loud, cracking sounds as they hit the floor and spilled their contents everywhere.
“Oh, goodness!” he cried, trying to grab them but knocking more of the files onto the floor. “I’m so sorry!”
Dorothy shot to her feet and rushed to try and save the papers before everything got jumbled. Sorting all of that out would take her ages. She didn’t have ages. She had somewhere to be— urgently!
Warren apparently had the same idea of saving the files.
He lunged in from the other side of the desk just as she moved, but Dorothy didn’t see that until it was too late.
With a loud crack, their heads collided at the side of her desk.
Reeling backward and to the side, Dorothy bumped into her desk and the last of the files tumbled to the floor.
Holding her head, which ached from its accidental bashing, Dorothy sighed.
“I’m so sorry, really … I didn’t mean to knock them over,” Warren said earnestly.
“It’s fine.” She pressed a hand to her face, praying for patience. “What was it you wanted?” She began to shove papers into folders without checking where they belonged. There was no time for this!
Warren hastily began to pick up the papers too. “I’m not usually this clumsy. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
He looked so dejected as he tried to help her clean up that she couldn’t help herself. Dorothy’s anger faded.
“Don’t worry, it’s only paperwork,” Dorothy sighed.
“But I’ve created more work for you,” Warren said. “I wish I could make it up to you. Really, I had no intention of causing trouble, but trouble does seem to be on my heels lately.”
They stood close together, each holding a stack of papers in their hands.
Warren held his stack out to her. He looked so sweet and genuinely upset that Dorothy couldn’t manage to even be annoyed with him.
It was all the expression in his eyes. She felt that if she stared into them for long enough, she would see right into his soul.
Dorothy reached out to take the papers from Warren. The touch as their fingers brushed was oddly electric. It was so incidental and accidental that she drew in a sharp breath.
That seemed to break whatever spell had been cast over them, and Dorothy took a hasty step backward, fetching up against the carpetbag full of files.
Say something! her mind screamed at her.
She cast around for something, kicking the bag a second time. And then she had it.
“You can still see Mac … Mr. McGregor,” she said.
“How?” Warren asked, frowning and pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “You said he’s not here.”
“He isn’t,” she said, taking the last of the files from him and placing them on the other side of her desk.
Warren watched her with a puzzled look on his face. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”
She was being needlessly cryptic. Everyone knew where Mac was; Dorothy could just say it. However, with all the cloak and dagger she had undertaken that day, she felt a lot less like being candid.
“Look, Mac was called away a couple of days ago. However, I know where he is, and I’m leaving soon to go and see him. You can join me,” she said.
It was a good idea. After all, Mac wanted to see Warren and his friend. He’d said so before he was called away, and he’d asked her to have them wait in New York until he got back. Wouldn’t it be better to take them to him? It would save time.
“Come with you?” Warren asked, frowning.
“Yes, to Pine Hill.”
“Where is that?”
“The mountains,” she said. “It’s about a two-hour train ride and then another hour by coach, but it’s well worth it. Mac will be thrilled to see you.” At least she hoped he would be.
Warren considered this for a long moment and then smiled. “All right. I’ll get Michael. When do you want to go?”
“As soon as possible,” she said. “Where is Mr. Wellan?”
“With Mr. Devlin. He’s trying to convince him to help us with our trouble back home. I don’t think there’s much chance of that. What do you think?”
Dorothy knew about the difficulties they’d experienced in Texas.
She’d read about them from Warren’s own hand.
Had he worked out that she was the D. Davis who had been corresponding with him all this time?
It often took men by surprise when they found out.
Usually, there were a few awkward exchanges before they either grew comfortable with the situation or tried to ignore it.
There was no sign of anything from Warren. Could it be that he hadn’t worked it out? Was that possible? It was odd, but there was no time to worry about it now. She had to get going. The weight of the documents in her carpetbag and the possibility of being found out were beginning to rattle her.
“I think the sooner we get on that train, the better,” Dorothy replied.
“And the sooner we’ll get you some help.
You see, the other partners can be a little sticky when it comes to some things.
They don’t understand what it takes to build a company from the ground up.
You’re much better off speaking to Mac directly, and as soon as possible.
” There. That was vague enough to tell him there was more to know.
“All right,” he said, and once again she couldn’t tell if he’d picked up on her hint.
An idea occurred to Dorothy.
“Would you mind helping me with my bag?” she asked.
“Oh, of course, let me take that for you,” Warren said politely, reaching for the handle of the carpetbag.
Dorothy handed it over gratefully. Now everyone would think it was his and would never suspect that it contained company documents. She might be able to pull this off yet.
“Are you ready to go now?” he asked as they walked to her door.
“Yes,” Dorothy said.
“But all that paperwork I knocked over …”
She waved his concern away. “It can wait.”
They went to her door and stepped into the corridor, where they found Mr. Harding and Mr. Devlin shaking Mr. Wellan’s hand.
“So sorry we can’t help,” Mr. Devlin said with that disingenuous smile of his. Dorothy had seen it so many times that she wanted to slap it off his smug face. “But thanks for stopping by.”
“It was good to meet you,” Mr. Harding said, treating Mr. Wellan to one of his sympathetic looks, which belied his actual lack of sympathy for the person.
Perhaps he felt her staring at him because, after a moment, he turned to Dorothy. “Oh … Are you leaving?”
“Yes, sir,” Dorothy said brightly, hiding her feelings behind her usual competent expression. “I’ll give Mr. McGregor your best.”
“Yes, do that,” Mr. Devlin said. He smiled. It was a false smile, but then, all of his were.
“I’ll take these gentlemen back to the train station with me,” Dorothy offered. “I’m sure they’re eager to get going.”
Warren stared at her uncomprehendingly. Drat, she should have warned him that there might be some casual acting involved in getting out of the firm. Hopefully Warren was quick on the uptake. She gave him a look and he nodded, seeming to catch up to speed.
“Yes, no reason to hang around, I guess.”
Mr. Wellan frowned, looking from Warren to Dorothy and back again. He finally shrugged. “I guess not. Going home to Texas sounds real good.”
They all shook hands again, and Dorothy led the two visitors down the corridor.
“Can we take the stairs?” Warren asked in a low voice, his eyes darting to the elevator with little enthusiasm.
“Of course,” Dorothy said with a smile. “Don’t you trust the elevators?”
“Not particularly,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.
She liked his honesty.
“I don’t like them either,” she confided. “Too jerky, and I’m not sure what holds them up.”
“Exactly,” Warren said with a smile. “See, Michael, she understands.”
“Yes, wonderful. Is someone going to tell me what’s really going on?” Mr. Wellan asked, sounding quite peeved. They entered the stairwell. It seemed deserted, but voices carried in there, and it wasn’t safe to talk.
Dorothy shook her head. “We can talk on the way to the station. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
They walked down the stairs and out of the building. The wind was cold, and she pulled her jacket’s collar up.
“Sirs, I can take you to a hotel?” Chance asked, stepping forward to meet them. “Afternoon, Miss Davis. Are you traveling today?” He eyed the carpetbag.
As drivers went, Chance was one of the better ones. He had the ability to keep his mouth shut when necessary.
“Hello, Chance. Yes, we’re all heading to the station,” Dorothy said, walking to the vehicle.
“As you say, Miss Davis,” Chance said, smiling. He took a step toward Warren. “You can hand me that bag, sir. I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed the handle, and for a moment, he and Warren stared at each other as though a tug-of-war might ensue.
“It’s all right,” Dorothy said, placing a hand on Warren’s arm. “Chance can be trusted with my luggage.”
Chance beamed. “That’s right. Mac says so himself.”
“Oh, right,” Warren said, handing the bag to him. “Sorry, it’s been a strange day.”
When the luggage had been hefted onto the coach rack and they were all settled inside, both men turned to look at Dorothy expectantly.
“Well?” Mr. Wellan asked. “What the heck is going on? I was under the impression that coming here wouldn’t be a colossal waste of our time.
Heaven knows what’s been happening at home, and they’re counting on us to come back with help.
And now we’re just going to turn around and head right back to Unity? ”
“I know,” Dorothy said earnestly. “Thanks to Warren’s letters, Mr. McGregor and I are well aware of what’s going on in Unity, and I mean to get you some help. That’s why we’re going to Pine Hill. Trust me, gentlemen, you won’t regret this little journey.”
“So, we’re not heading home?” Mr. Wellan asked gruffly.
“No, Michael. Dorothy has offered to take us to Mac. It seems there’s trouble here too,” Warren said.
“That explains some of what happened in there,” Mr. Wellan said, looking a little relieved. He sighed. “And there I thought we were done with adventure for a while and this part of the journey would be easy.”
“No such luck; you should know that by now, Michael. Adventure follows on our coattails wherever we go,” Warren said. “And even more so if Kyle is anywhere nearby.”
Dorothy smiled. If she could make allies out of these two, she might just stand a chance.