Chapter 5 #2
Dorothy smiled and shook her head. “People come for the mountain views in the winter and to swim and fish in the lake in the summer. It’s a resort for the city folks who want to get away. It was Mac’s first real business. He built a lot of the place with his own hands.”
“My goodness!” Warren said, looking impressed. “How marvelous.”
Dorothy didn’t feel comfortable talking openly in the dining room about what she feared was going on with Mac.
Instead, she told them that he wasn’t feeling well.
She mentioned to Warren that they should work on some figures in the morning together and he seemed perfectly happy with that.
Eager, even. It was refreshing to find a man who was as dedicated to his work as she was to hers.
Then, as they ordered their food and settled down for dinner, the conversation turned to life in Unity.
“We’re rather proud of our town,” Warren said. “We’ve put a lot of work into it. I wonder if the bridge will be fixed by the time we get back.”
“With Lizzy and Troy on it, I’ll bet it’s already fixed and twice as sturdy,” Michael said with a chuckle.
“What happened to the bridge?” Aunt Sadie asked.
Dorothy recalled something about bandits, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember the details mentioned in one of Warren’s letters.
“El Aguila’s men snuck into town and blew it up,” Warren said matter-of-factly. “You see, the mine and all the processing plants are on one bank of the creek, and the town and farms are on the other. We set it up that way so the mine and its smoke and dirt wouldn’t impact too much on the town.”
“What a good idea,” Aunt Sadie said, smiling encouragingly. “It sounds well thought out.”
“Warren was on the planning committee,” Michael said with a chuckle. “He tends to think of the things others miss.”
“You were also on the committee,” Warren replied. “In fact, Michael is kind of our mayor. He makes all the decisions for the town. And our friend Andrew, who wanted to come on this trip but couldn’t, runs the mine.”
“Why couldn’t he come?” Dorothy asked.
“His wife had a baby,” Warren said.
“Congratulations to them,” Sadie said.
For a while everyone concentrated on their plates. Whatever problems the hotel might have, they didn’t appear to have impacted the kitchen. The meal was delicious.
“So, Sadie told us earlier that you grew up here?” Warren asked, drawing Dorothy’s rapt attention from her food.
She nodded. “Yes. My father died when I was very young and my mother decided she couldn’t stand to live here anymore. It turns out she didn’t want any reminders of her life here at all and she left me behind.”
It used to hurt to think about, but over the years, she’d grown to accept that her mother just wasn’t made for … mothering. Sadie had filled that role, and Dorothy had a happy childhood in spite of her mother’s absence.
“Mary was a strange person,” Sadie confirmed. “She was so upset that Joshua died that she just packed up her things and left Dee with me. I was perfectly happy to take her, of course. She’s been a joy to me every day.”
Dorothy flushed. “Aunt Sadie?—”
“What? It’s true. And with you holding such an important position in the firm, I couldn’t be prouder if I tried,” Aunt Sadie said, beaming.
“You know, when she applied, she did so under a different name so that she could get the job on merit rather than on family ties. She beat all those men who applied, and I think many of them were quite sore about it.”
“I know Foster is,” Dorothy said, enjoying the thought. “He applied to work for Mac first and when I got the job, he switched to Devlin.”
Feeling eyes on her, Dorothy looked across at Warren. He had a strange expression on his face. It looked like admiration.
“Well done!” he said fervently. “I’ve always said that women can do many of the same jobs we men do.”
“Well, that depends on their education, don’t you think?
” Aunt Sadie asked. “They teach boys very different things to what they generally teach girls. We were just fortunate that I was married to Mac for a time and could insist on a tutor for Dorothy. With a mind like hers, it would have been a waste to only teach her sewing and cooking.”
Warren nodded. “I don’t see why they don’t teach girls the same things.”
“I agree,” Michael said. “Lizzy is every bit as good at mechanical contraptions as Troy is and she didn’t study at all. She had a practical education that life just handed her.”
The conversation rolled around the education system for a while. Dorothy was all in favor of teaching girls algebra and mechanics, but she wasn’t interested in the topic at present. How could she be when she had Mac’s health to worry about?
When she came back to the conversation, Warren was telling a story of how he used to go to the opera with his family when he was a little boy.
“You like opera?” Dorothy asked.
Warren beamed. “Oh yes. Some of my favorite memories are from our opera days.”
“We used to go too; do you remember, Dee? It was mostly when Mac had the urge to inject some culture into our lives,” Sadie said.
Dorothy nodded. “I do. I can’t say I understood a lot of what was going on, but I loved the music.”
“I studied French, German, and Spanish deliberately so that I could understand them,” Warren admitted.
His boyish enthusiasm made her smile. “Maybe we could go to the theater before you head back to Texas.”
“I would love that,” he agreed.
They looked into each other’s eyes for a while longer and then Dorothy realized that she was staring, and it became awkward. She lowered her gaze to her plate. It was quite empty, and she couldn’t recall finishing her dinner.
Soon, they made their way to their rooms. They were all on the same floor, which was convenient. Warren and Michael had rooms across from each other, and Dorothy and Sadie had rooms next to each other, which were three doors up from Warren and Michael’s rooms.
“Well, good night,” she said to the others as she unlocked her door.
Warren paused at his door. He seemed to have something he wanted to say, but then changed his mind. “Good night.”
Once inside her room, Dorothy unpacked her bag.
The carpetbag with all of the ledgers and papers in it, she slipped under the bed.
Then, thinking better of it since there was a chance that Mac’s paranoia wasn’t just a figment of his imagination, she took the papers and books out and slid them under her mattress.
As hiding places went, it was kind of obvious. Too obvious.
Looking around, she considered the closet.
Using the stool from the vanity, Dorothy put the ledgers and the folder of papers on top of it.
Then she put her suitcase, now empty, on top of the pile.
When she climbed down and stepped back to inspect her handiwork, she found that only the suitcase could be seen.
The carpetbag was shoved under the bed, and Dorothy hoped it would act as a red herring should anyone search for the ledgers. She didn’t think there was really a chance of it, but better safe than empty-handed.
A rustling sound caused her to jump and glance toward the noise, thinking maybe a rat had joined her private party. Instead, a piece of paper slid under her door.
Dorothy stared at it in surprise.
What on earth is this about?
She bent and picked up the note. Unfolding it, she read it and smiled. Then she read it again.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds …
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
She knew the Shakespearean sonnet by heart. But who could be slipping poems under her door? And love poems, at that.
Which suggested a new question. Since it hadn’t been addressed to her, had someone slipped it under her door by mistake? The thought made her laugh.
Oh, poor Romeo! He’ll never know his lovely poem has landed with Dorothy and not Juliet. Could he be waiting outside the door for my response? Perhaps I should see. It will embarrass the poor man, but maybe then he can fix his mistake and deliver the letter to the right person.
Unlocking her door, Dorothy opened it and stepped into the corridor. She looked right and left but saw no loitering Romeo. She shrugged. He would find out sooner or later. Whoever Juliet was, she was a lucky lady.
Back inside her room, she closed and locked her door.
Moving to her bed, she put the poem on her bedside table and knelt by the bed to say her prayers before sliding between the sheets.
Dorothy stretched out and sighed. Hopefully the mysterious Romeo wouldn’t be too hurt when his intended Juliet didn’t fly into his arms, proclaiming her love for him in the morning.
She felt quite bad about it. Should she write on the back of the poem that he had the wrong door and then slide it back into the hall?
She was still trying to decide what to do when sleep welled up and overtook her, guiding her into dreams of lost lovers trying to find each other behind locked doors.