nodded. It didn’t feel right to accept her appreciation when he would be finding them another home as soon as possible.
He thinks the frontier is too rough for an unmarried lady. The thought still riled Elizabeth hours after she and Jude walked home from the attorney’s office. She pulled a clean apron from her trunk and snapped it with a flick of her wrists to get the wrinkles out. With quick movements, she tied it around her waist and smoothed down the material.
“Too weak, indeed,” she muttered to herself and then looked over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t woken Rose, who was taking a nap.
Her ex-fiancé, James, had thought the same. He assumed he was rescuing her from a life of poverty and shame when her father had abandoned them—and she had been so overcome with fear at the time, she almost believed him. But he wanted her without the responsibilities of her two younger sisters. If she had married him, she would have had to leave them. She could never have done that. Not only because she had promised Mama she would take care of them—but because she could never sacrifice her sisters’ well-being for the love of a man.
No. She had broken her engagement to James and faced her fears. In the process, she had realized she was a lot stronger than she—or James—had given her credit for. It hadn’t been easy, but she had done it.
And she’d do it again at the Northern Hotel. January would come and go, and she’d still be there, waiting to see her name on that deed.
A quick look in the mirror confirmed that her hair needed to be repinned. She had helped serve lunch and cleaned the dishes afterward in the hot kitchen, while Grace kept an eye on Rose. When all was finished, Rose had been put down for a nap and Grace had gone to clean one of the guest rooms with Violet. Elizabeth had asked Jude for a tour of the property to assess what needed attention so she would have an understanding of how the business worked when she looked over the books. There were always ways to cut spending and generate revenue.
She pulled out all the pins and combed her hair with her fingers, then she twisted the thick mass at the back of her head. With practiced fingers, she replaced all the pins and looked at her work. She shouldn’t care so much about her appearance with Jude, but she wanted him to think of her as a smart, competent and organized woman. Maybe, if he recognized her worth, he would put her on the deed sooner than January.
Elizabeth left her bedchamber and walked into the sitting room to get a piece of paper and a pencil out of the secretary to take notes. Jude had removed his journal and pulled papers out of the drawers the night they had arrived, but perhaps there were still a few supplies left for her. She opened the first drawer, but found it empty. The second and third were also empty. If she didn’t find something, she could always ask if he had paper at the front desk.
Elizabeth opened the last drawer and paused when she glimpsed an envelope crushed into the back. She pulled it out, thinking it could be salvaged for her notes. There was no name or return address on the envelope. She smoothed it down, opened the flap and pulled out a letter. The slanted handwriting was not her father’s, but maybe it was Jude’s. She quickly scanned the simple contents.
Take the young woman tonight. Proceed with caution and all haste.
It took a moment before the weight of the message hit her. Who would write such a sinister note? And more importantly, who had received it? Was it a joke to frighten her? Jude had said she couldn’t survive the frontier—was this his way of making a point? But how could he have placed the letter in the secretary without coming into the room? He wouldn’t have done that without her permission.
Would he?
That left her to assume the correspondence was legitimate. But what did it mean? Was someone stolen? Was Jude involved?
The wall clock chimed the hour. She needed to meet Jude in the lobby, but questions continued to fill her mind with horrible assumptions.
Elizabeth put the letter back in the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of her apron. She didn’t want to leave it out for her sisters to find—yet what would happen if she showed it to Jude and demanded answers? He would probably deny all knowledge of the note, or make an excuse to pacify her.
On second thought, she went back to her room and placed the letter in the bottom of her trunk, under her personal items. She’d do some investigating of her own before she approached him. She could always talk to Martha and Violet and ask if they knew of any suspicious behavior. If something didn’t seem right, she’d take the letter to the authorities.
Elizabeth scurried out of her room, raced down the hall and descended the stairs. Jude stood in the lobby, speaking with a customer. The other man shook Jude’s hand and left the building.
When Elizabeth stopped at the bottom of the steps, out of breath, Jude turned, his eyebrow raised. “Do you always make such a dramatic entrance?”
She forced a smile and tried not to look wary. “Not always.”
“Shall we get started on the tour?”
“May I have a piece of paper and a pencil to take notes?”
He nodded and went behind the counter to grab her requested items. “Are you always so thorough?”
She took the paper and pencil. “Always.”
He smiled and walked her down the long hall to the right of the main stairway. “We have one of the finest ballrooms west of the Mississippi River,” he began without small talk and pushed open the wide double doors.
They entered the echoing hall and Elizabeth took in a surprised breath.
Beautiful parquet floors gleamed from the sunshine streaming in through the tall windows. Large mirrors reflected the creamy yellow paint on the walls and three chandeliers hung suspended from the high ceiling overhead. A raised platform stood at one end, where the orchestra probably sat during the balls.
“It’s amazing,” Elizabeth said.
“I like to hold a ball each month. It’s good for business and morale. We’ll also be hosting the Fourth of July Ball.”
“Do you charge an admission fee?”
“No.”
She scribbled a note on her paper.
“What?” he asked.
“We could bring in revenue if we charged a small fee.”
He frowned, clearly not convinced. “The balls always fill up the guest rooms.”
“Which is good,” she said. “But not good enough. Do you charge for refreshments?”
“Of course not.”
She scribbled another note. “We’ll have to change that, too.”
Jude put his hand on the paper and she looked up. “I won’t let you come in here and change everything, especially since the Fourth of July Ball is less than a week away.”
“You said I was in charge of the books and I could do anything that would bring in revenue.” She pulled
