in his damp glove. Eager to get in from the storm, he hurried up the steps and rang the bell.
The door creaked open; a petite young woman stared out at him. “Yes?”
Not again. Charles sucked in a quick breath as her large blue eyes sent his carefully rehearsed greeting into disarray. She appeared far too young to be Dr. King’s widow. He glanced at her simple attire, which did little to obscure her trim figure. A housekeeper, perhaps? He forced his attention back to her face. “Is this the King residence?”
She didn’t release the knob, using the other hand to touch her hair, golden as the hills near his hometown. “Yes. May I help you?”
He cleared his throat, jamming the paper into his pocket. “If you could let your employer know Mr. Charles McKinley from McKinley and McClintock Associates is here to speak with her, I’d be most grateful.” He pushed back his black derby hat and offered a hesitant smile.
“My employer?” She narrowed her eyes. “Where is Mr. McKinley? I mean—the other Mr. McKinley?”
Charles tugged at his stiff collar. She seemed rather impertinent for a maid. Perhaps her beauty only went so deep. “Silas McKinley is my uncle. He sent me in his stead. Now, if you could—”
“I’ll inform my mother you are here.” The woman stepped back and swung the door wide. “Please, come in out of the rain.”
His stomach dropped. “Your mother?” He lowered the umbrella and shook it before stepping over the threshold. “I thought—I thought you were a member of . . .”
“The staff?” She curled her fingers into a fist. “I’m Elizabeth King.” She gestured toward a sitting room. “You may wait in here. My mother will be right with you.”
He placed the umbrella in the corner stand and followed her to the small room. His uncle would be mortified to hear of Charles’s gaffe. What a way to start a meeting. “I beg your pardon, Miss King.”
“I’m afraid it’s just Mother and me this evening.” Miss King’s pointed gaze reminded him of a prosecutor during cross-examination. “And every evening. I’m sure your uncle has briefed you on our financial status.”
Charles scrambled to recover from his misstep. “Yes. Well. I apologize for my uncle’s absence, but he’s given me responsibility over your father’s estate.”
The lady’s eyes widened. “You must be joking.”
An older woman stepped into the hall. “Is Mr. McKinley here already, Elizabeth?”
“Mother, this is Mr. Charles McKinley. Mr. McKinley’s nephew.”
Charles dried his hand on his jacket before grasping the widow’s outstretched fingers. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. King. My uncle speaks highly of your late husband. He told me they were friends.”
Mrs. King’s eyes lit up. “He has spoken of you with high regard, as well, Mr. McKinley. Top of your class at Oregon Law, I hear.”
Charles swallowed, his mouth as dry as blotting paper. Second. A moment of integrity had cost him top honors, a fact his uncle ignored at will. “Well—”
“I thought your uncle would be joining us. I hope he’s not ill.”
“No ma’am. He’s quite busy, as you know, and he thought I could take care of any questions regarding Mr. King’s trust.”
“Dr. King.” The daughter corrected him.
“Of course—Dr. King.” Charles averted his gaze from her flashing eyes and focused on the young lady’s mother. He patted his satchel. “I’ve been reviewing the papers, and I have some ideas that might be of assistance.”
Mrs. King waved a dismissive hand. “First we dine, then we will talk business.” Her lips curled as if she found the final word distasteful. “How wonderful to have a young man at the table. It’s been some time. I only have the one son, Robert—Dr. Robert King—but he’s off and married now, living in San Francisco. Most of my daughters are married, as well. Only Elizabeth remains.”
The young woman seemed to deflate at her mother’s words, a frown darting across her lovely face. “Not everyone marries these days. It’s a new century. It’s no longer the disgrace it once was.”
Her mother sniffed. “So you say. Those suffrage meetings put outlandish ideas in your head. I never should have allowed them.” She turned to Charles. “Are you married, Mr. McKinley?”
“Um, no. I haven’t had the pleasure.”
Mrs. King clicked her tongue. “A bachelor attorney? You’ll need to remedy the problem posthaste if you expect to be respected in the legal profession.”
Uncle Silas had said something similar just yesterday. Unfortu-nately, as today proved, every woman Charles met seemed concerned with little more than dinner parties and peacock feathers. Could he really survive a lifetime with such a companion?
The young lady gestured toward the dining room. “Perhaps we should go in to supper?”
Mrs. King’s brows drew together as she scrutinized her daughter. “I’ll entertain Mr. McKinley while you dress, my dear.”
Elizabeth King’s rigid posture seemed lost on her mother. With a huff, she turned on a heel and disappeared up the main staircase.
The tension left the room as if attached to Miss King’s backside. Charles exhaled, shaking such thoughts from his mind. How would he survive as a court attorney if one young woman could rattle him so? Lord, grant me focus.
Hetty King leaned close, her voice low. “Don’t mind my Elizabeth. She’s the youngest, and I’m afraid we indulged her whims far too much.”
Charles stifled a chuckle. Only a family member could burrow under one’s skin with such ease. He should know. His uncle had the same talent.
***
Elizabeth took another bite of the dry chicken, following it with a quick sip of water to wash down the stringy morsel. Her mother’s cooking always left much to be desired.
Mr. McKinley sawed at the meat with his knife. She almost felt sorry for the man. Growing up in one of San Francisco’s privileged families, he’d probably never imagined life without a housekeeper and a cook. The fine fabric of his suit suggested he was cut from the same cloth as his uncle.
Even so, the odd contrast between the softness in his brown eyes and the firmness of his jaw drew her gaze. At least he didn’t look like Silas McKinley, one mark in his favor.
She’d chosen the blue gown after all—not to impress the pretentious attorney, but rather to deflect any more of Mother’s pointed remarks. Elizabeth pushed the cooked carrots around the dish with her fork. Now that she didn’t have daily rehearsals to take up her time, she’d be at the mercy of her mother’s meddling. If she weren’t careful, Mother would see her married off to the first eligible bachelor she could sink her claws into. Elizabeth’s gaze returned to the young man sitting across the table. Unfortunately, she wasn’t marriage-worthy. Tobias had assured as much.
Mother smiled as she passed
