LITMIR.BIZ

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Reese would be remiss not to take this opportunity to know them better.

       Chapter Six

      Bracketed by Reese’s father on her left and Marshall Ferguson on her right, Callie would be hard-pressed to find more pleasant dinner companions. Both men held a vast knowledge on a variety of topics and never let the conversation lag.

      Under normal circumstances, she would consider tonight’s dining experience a pleasant respite from what would have been a solitary supper tray in her room.

      These were not normal circumstances.

      As evidenced by the unexpected presence of the man sitting diagonally across the table from her.

      Jonathon Hawkins.

      Why had Mrs. Singletary invited the hotelier to this particular dinner party? True, the widow was in the process of expanding her business association with the man. Did she have to socialize with him, as well? On a night Callie was in attendance?

      Swallowing a growl of frustration, she narrowed her gaze over Mr. Hawkins’s face. In the flickering light of the wall sconces, his features took on a dark, turbulent, almost-frightening edge. A man with many secrets.

      She supposed some women might find his mysterious aura appealing. Not Callie. She didn’t like brooding, enigmatic types. Besides, with his glossy brown hair, steel-gray eyes and square jaw, he reminded her entirely too much of the man who’d deceived her and broken her heart.

      In fact...

      If she narrowed her eyes ever-so-slightly and angled her head a tad to the right, Jonathon Hawkins could pass for Simon.

      Was the hotelier as equally duplicitous as the famous actor? Did he spout well-practiced lies to unsuspecting gullible women?

      She knew the comparison was unfair, and based solely on her own prejudice, yet Callie felt her hands curl into tight fists. She briefly shut her eyes, battling the remembered shame of her own actions. Before her experience with Simon, she’d lived a life of unshakable faith. She’d lived with boldness, gifted by the Lord with utter confidence in her own worth.

      But now, now, she had no such confidence. She felt lost, afraid and, worst of all, alone.

      She had no one to blame but herself, of course. She’d made her choices and must forever live with the consequences.

      Refusing to wallow over a situation of her own making, she willed Mr. Hawkins to look at her. He turned his head in the opposite direction and listened to something Mrs. Singletary said.

      His rich laughter filled the air.

      Callie battled a mild case of dejection.

      How could the man be so blissfully unaware? Had he no shame? Did he not know—or care—about the pain his actions had caused? Were it not for his untimely job offer, Fanny would have stayed in Denver and worked things out with Reese.

      Reese.

      What must he be suffering? Surely, Jonathon Hawkins’s presence here tonight had to be a physical reminder of the woman he’d lost.

      Callie shifted her gaze to where Reese sat wedged between the Ferguson sisters. He skillfully divided his attention, speaking to both women at well-timed intervals, taking in every word of their high-pitched chatter. He didn’t look upset. In fact, he was smiling. Smiling!

      “Is the fish not to your liking, Miss Mitchell?”

      She dragged her gaze away from Reese and focused on Marshall Ferguson.

      “On the contrary,” she said, picking up her fork. “It’s quite wonderful.”

      “Such certainty, and yet...” Marshall dropped an amused gaze to her plate. “You haven’t taken a single bite.”

      “Oh. Right.” She filled her fork. “I sampled some in the kitchen before everyone arrived.”

      His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Ah, well, that explains it, then.”

      She took the bite on her fork, studied his handsome face as she chewed.

      Still holding her gaze, Marshall sampled his own fish. Only when Reese’s father said his name did he break eye contact and answer a question about railroad stock. Which soon segued into a lengthy discussion on water rights.

      With nothing to add to either topic, Callie listened in silence. The brief interlude with Marshall had given her time to recover her equilibrium and she was grateful to the man.

      She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.

      In temperament and in looks, he reminded her of her brother Garrett. Marshall’s tawny hair was a bit more unruly, and his brown eyes were several shades darker, but they could almost pass for brothers.

      There was another glaring similarity between the two men. Marshall had once been engaged to Garrett’s wife, Molly. Did he pine for his lost love? Callie wondered.

      How did one ask such a question?

      One didn’t ask such a question.

      Yet she’d practically done so with Reese the other day in his office.

      Callie cut a glance across the table, noticed Reese was no longer engaged in conversation with either of the Ferguson sisters. Instead, he was watching her. Closely. Intently.

      She looked down at her plate then just as quickly glanced back up. Reese was still watching her, just as closely, just as intently. She wished he would look away. Then, perversely, wished he would continue looking at her all night.

      At least he wasn’t conversing with either of the Ferguson sisters anymore.

      Why not?

      They were both very beautiful, educated, came from a good family and...

      Callie suddenly remembered the words written in a bold, masculine hand she’d fished out from beneath Lady Macbeth. Loves children...must come from a good family and...value strong family ties.

      Qualities a man might look for in a wife.

      Alarm filled her.

      Was Reese actively seeking a woman to take Fanny’s place in his heart? Had he enlisted Mrs. Singletary’s assistance?

      No. It was too soon. Fanny had barely left town.

      “I understand your brother is practicing law in St. Louis,” Marshall said, the gently spoken question sufficiently breaking through Callie’s growing panic.

      “Yes.” She rummaged up a smile for her dinner companion. “I received a letter from his wife just today.”

      “You and Molly are still close, I presume?”

      “Very. It was hard to say goodbye to her after the wedding, but the ever-faithful postal service keeps us in touch.”

      If only Fanny would write, as well. One letter. Callie yearned for nothing more than one, short letter from her sister.

      “Is Molly...” Marshall hesitated, his smile dropping slightly. “Is she happy living in St. Louis with your brother?”

      How best to answer such a loaded question? The truth, she told herself. Stick with the truth. “She has settled into her new life with Garrett rather nicely. She’s even started her own millinery shop.”

      “I’m pleased for her.” The relief in his eyes was more powerful than the words. “And your brother.”

      “I believe you truly mean that.”

      He turned thoughtful a moment, lifted a shoulder. “Though Molly is a generous, beautiful woman, she was not the woman for me. We would never have truly happy together. Content, perhaps. But not happy.”

      Something sad came and went in his eyes.

      Wanting to soothe, she reached out and touched

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