LITMIR.BIZ

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meanness, but the censure was there all the same.

      As if to punctuate her mistress’s disapproval, Lady Macbeth cracked open an eye and studied Callie through the narrowed slit. A delicate sniff and she returned to her nap, chin resting lightly on her front paws.

      Callie tried not to feel offended. But, really, dismissed by a cat? It was beyond humiliating.

      Worse, Mrs. Singletary wasn’t through inspecting Callie’s attire. “That color is all wrong for you.”

      Perhaps the dull gray did clash with her skin tone. But no more than it had the other three times she’d worn the dress in Mrs. Singletary’s company.

      “The fit isn’t right, either.”

      Callie resisted the urge to cinch the black ribbon around her waist tighter. Mrs. Singletary was correct on both points. The color was unflattering and the dress was, indeed, too large. That had rather been the point. Still, the widow’s blunt appraisal stung. “I thought you didn’t care what I wore.”

      “Now, see. That is where you went wrong. Of course I care. I care a great deal.”

      “You’ve said nothing before.” Head down, Callie lowered herself into a chair facing her employer. “I don’t understand.”

      “It’s quite simple. You have been in my employ for precisely four weeks since I plucked you out of the Hotel Dupree kitchens where, I might add, your talents were completely underutilized.” The widow leaned forward, trapping Callie in her gaze. “You are no longer underpaid kitchen help, but my trusted companion. It’s high time you look the part.”

      Callie carefully placed a napkin in her lap. She should have known this was coming, should have prepared for this eventuality. Mrs. Singletary was the best dressed woman in Denver. Of course she would care what her companion wore.

      “We will begin rethinking your wardrobe today.”

      So soon? “What’s the hurry?”

      “As I already mentioned, how you dress reflects directly back on me.”

      Well, yes. Yet Callie couldn’t shake the notion that the widow had a different reason for wanting her to dress better.

      “Besides—” she smoothed her hand over the newspaper, turned the page with a flick “—one must always be prepared for the unexpected visitor.”

      Something in the way the woman made this casual remark put Callie immediately on guard. “Are you expecting anyone in particular this morning?”

      “No one out of the ordinary, dear.” She picked up her spoon and tapped one of the eggs perched in its enameled cup. A perfect series of cracks webbed out in every direction. “Only my attorney.”

      Callie’s heart lurched. “Reese? I mean...Mr. Bennett is coming here?” She swallowed back a gasp of dismay. “Today?”

      She wasn’t ready to see him again, not yet, not until she could process their odd interaction at the opera last night.

      “He will be here this morning, and I should warn you.” The widow turned another page of the newspaper. “Now that Mr. Bennett is once again overseeing my business affairs, he will be around quite often, perhaps even daily.”

      Callie breathed in sharply, the only outward sign of her discomfort. Her brother Garrett had handled the widow’s business affairs until he’d married Molly and left town for a position in St. Louis. It stood to reason that Reese, as the senior partner in his firm, would take over in Garrett’s absence.

      If only her brother hadn’t felt the need to strike out on his own, away from family and the prominent Mitchell name. Callie missed him so much. Molly too, nearly as much as she missed Fanny.

      Oh, she was still angry at her sister, but this was the first they’d been apart for more than a few days at a time. With only a year separating them in age, they’d done everything together.

      Now Fanny was living in Chicago. And Callie was here in Denver working for Mrs. Singletary. Not alone, precisely, but definitely more lonely than she’d ever been in her life.

      “Did you hear what I said, dear?”

      Callie started. “Er...no.”

      “I said I want you to change your dress before Mr. Bennett arrives.”

      Again, she wondered, why the hurry? Yet she didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask the question a second time. “Yes, Mrs. Singletary, I’ll do so immediately following breakfast.”

      “Very good. Something in blue would be most preferable.” The widow went back to reading the newspaper in silence.

      Left alone with her thoughts, Callie picked up her spoon and gave the egg in front of her a good hard whack. The shell exploded into a hundred little pieces.

      Pushing the ruined egg aside, she selected a pastry off the tray. As she ate, she silently reviewed the contents of her closet. She didn’t own anything in blue. In truth, none of her dresses were any more exciting than what she currently wore.

      The green one was the most modern in fit and style. However, the color was a sort of drab olive. Better, she supposed, than gray. Decision made, she brought the pastry to her mouth once again.

      “Don’t even think about putting on your green dress.” The widow made this announcement without bothering to glance up. “The color is horrid on you.”

      Callie dropped the pastry back to her plate. “Surely, it’s not...horrid.”

      “Horrid.”

      Trying not to feel insulted, Callie pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and thought a moment. “Perhaps the yellow one with the ivory lace collar?”

      “No.”

      “The soft pink—”

      “Not that one, either.” At last, Mrs. Singletary removed her attention from the newspaper and looked up. Her unwavering gaze bore into Callie’s. “You are far too pretty to hide behind pale, lifeless pastels and neutrals.”

      As those were the only colors in her closet, Callie frowned. “Which dress would you have me wear?”

      “None in your current wardrobe.” The widow placed her hand atop Callie’s. “Those we will donate to charity.”

      She jerked upright, working for breath. “But if I give away all my dresses what, then, will I wear?”

      A robust smile spread across the widow’s lips. “Leave that to me.”

      “I find this conversation so very strange.” She pulled her hand free from beneath Mrs. Singletary’s and placed it in her lap. “You’ve never once said a word about the way I dress.”

      “We were still getting to know one another. Now we are friends.”

      Callie widened her eyes. Mrs. Singletary considered her a friend?

      “And from one friend to another, you need to make smarter choices in your attire. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were deliberately trying to camouflage your natural beauty.”

      Callie pressed her hands together in her lap and fought off a strong desire to defend herself. Once she’d attracted the wrong man’s attention and barely avoided disgrace. Better to be safe than put herself on display and risk another mistake.

      “Finish your breakfast.” Mrs. Singletary leaned back. “We have much work to do before Mr. Bennett arrives.”

      What did Reese have to do with—

      Oh, no. Mrs. Singletary couldn’t be thinking of making Callie more attractive for Reese. A match between them was... Why, it was impossible.

      Tongues would wag all over town.

      The potential for scandal made the very idea ridiculous. Reese’s business would suffer, along with his reputation.

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