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“There generally are. Especially in our family. Of course you can invite her. What’s her name? Or is that one of the issues?”
“No.” At least I don’t think so. “Her name is Emily Cabot.”
“We’ll look forward to meeting Miss Cabot on Sunday.”
With a slight salute, Hunter turned on his heel and left the office.
Every time Emily thought about dinner with Hunter’s family the next day, she broke into a cold sweat. How could she sit there with all those nice people and pretend she was someone other than Emily Smith, runaway abused wife of a lying, cheating bastard?
Supposed they started questioning her? Would they be able to tell she was lying? Wasn’t his Uncle Jesse not only a Territorial Senator, but also a lawyer? Didn’t they tear people apart on the witness stand because they saw right through their lies?
Stop it.
Hunter would not be as wonderful as he was if he’d come from a family who would make her feel uncomfortable. She tamped down her fear as she finished putting the last of her hairpins in to anchor her bun. Stepping back from the mirror, she viewed herself. Dress and apron clean, starched, and ironed. Her hair was tucked neatly at the back of her head. She checked her hose for runs and shoes for a shine. She was ready to go.
Saturday nights were the busiest for the Harvey House. Since word had spread about their delicious food, ample portions, and modest prices, a lot of the locals came to dine, along with the travelers. She would be quite tired by the end of the evening, and since Hunter was calling for her tomorrow at the boardinghouse for his family’s dinner, he would not stop by tonight.
Satisfied with her appearance, she left her room and met the other girls in the lobby as they gathered to make the trip to the restaurant. It was another beautiful day, with a touch of impending autumn in the air. The girls chatted and bemoaned how busy the coming evening would be. With Sunday being a somewhat light shift, several of the girls were off, and they shared plans for the next day.
“Are you seeing your beau tomorrow?” Helen Parker asked with a smirk on her face. She’d been teasing Emily since Hunter had started walking her home each evening. The good natured teasing didn’t bother her. Certainly not as much as all the lies she’d told everyone about herself.
“Yes. Mr. Henderson is calling tomorrow to escort me to a dinner at his family’s home.”
“What!” Several of the girls cried at the same time.
“That sounds serious, Emily.” Mellie Davis danced around her. “Are you in love?” She batted her eyelashes and patted her heart.
“Stop,” Emily said, trying hard to keep the blush from flaming her face. “It’s not serious. Mr. Henderson has two sisters and a sister-in-law he thought I might be friends with.”
“Oh yes. I’ve heard that one before,” Helen said, rolling her eyes.
“Did any of you see that handsome gentleman get off the train last night? He looked so sophisticated and I swear he actually smelled of money.”
“Dorothy, how in heaven’s name did you have time to pay attention to someone getting off the train? We were so busy last night.”
“Mr. Tinsdale had me take out the garbage again. I dropped it in the can, looked up, and there he was.”
Grateful for the conversation moving away from her, Emily took the time to compose herself. If only she were just a young lady with a beau who wanted her to meet his family. But she’d already messed up her life and there was no turning back. The more time she spent with Hunter, the more the guilt piled up. If she were as honorable a person as Hunter, she would tell him outright that she was not free. He should no longer meet her, or take her on picnics, or buy her sketching materials, or bring her to meet his family.
She fought back tears that threatened as they girls entered the restaurant.
Emily’s feet already hurt and it was only three hours into her shift. Although grateful for her job, it was tiring work and long hours. She bustled back and forth, refilling coffee cups, finding more napkins for the little boy who spilled his milk all over himself, and re-figuring a check for a couple who added dessert after she’d presented their bill.
She delivered two plates of meatloaf to an older man and woman whom she’d waited on several times before. After they assured her it looked wonderful, she glanced around her station, thinking she might be able to take a quick break. Her shoulders slumped when she noticed a new m
an had sat at one of her tables, his back to her. She thumbed her order pad until she came to a clean page then approached the new customer, pencil ready. “Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Harvey House.”
The man turned and looked directly into her eyes. “Why, good evening, Emily.”
Chapter 6
Hunter applied the brakes to the automobile he’d borrowed from Jesse until he rolled to a full stop in front of Emily’s boardinghouse. He checked his timepiece, two minutes to one o’clock. He jumped from the vehicle and took the steps to the porch two at a time. He lifted and dropped the door knocker, then moved back, waiting for an answer.
The door swung open. An older, thin woman, her bun so tightly anchored to her head that her eyes appeared oriental, glowered at him. “Yes?”
A bit taken aback, he said, “Good afternoon, ma’am. I am here to escort Miss Cabot to my family’s home for dinner.”
“She’s not here.” The woman slammed the door, the vibration knocking over a small flower vase set on a table next to him.
