style="font-size:15px;"> “That won’t be necessary.” Kate gave him a level look. “I have a sturdy lock on my door, Mr. Conway. I also have a pistol, and I’m an excellent markswoman.”
The last statement was a blatant lie. Not only did she not own a hand gun, she’d never touched one in her life. The only weapon she’d ever fired was her father’s old shotgun.
That he remained on friendly terms with his ex-lovers said a lot about his character, but it didn’t hurt for him to believe she could and would defend herself if the need arose.
J.T. did not seem in the least intimidated. He tried to put on a serious face, but laughter twinkled in his eyes, and his mouth twitched suspiciously. “I’ll keep that in mind. So, Miss Mahoney, does this mean you’ll let me stay?”
Kate met his pleading gaze for several seconds. Finally she sighed. “Very well. You can stay.”
Yes! J.T. thought, fighting down the urge to let out a whoop. He was in! First step accomplished.
“Great. You won’t regret it.”
Her dry look told him she wasn’t convinced of that, but she merely turned back to the door. “If you’d like to get your things we’ll go in.”
“Sure thing.” He hurried out to his Jeep and returned moments later carrying a large bag over his shoulder and a case containing his laptop and followed her inside.
“Very nice,” he said, looking around at the impressive entry hall.
“Thank you. The house was built by Elijah Smithson between 1880 and 1883. He was the first prospector in the valley to find gold. As it turned out, his claim was not only the first, it was the richest strike ever made here. Throughout the town’s history, the Shamrock Mine was the largest and most profitable in the valley. Two-thirds of the local miners worked there.”
Amusement tugged at J.T.’s mouth. She sounded like a tour guide. No doubt the spiel was one she gave to all her paying guests. Kate Mahoney was the epitome of the cool, efficient innkeeper—polite and informative, but businesslike. He had a hunch it was a persona she assumed to keep a distance between herself and her guests.
Nice try, honey, he thought with a cynical twist to his mouth. But it’s not going to work with me. Before the winter is over you and I are going to become well acquainted.
“I’m surprised he stayed in such a remote place after striking it rich,” he said to Kate. “Especially if Gold Fever was like most rough-and-ready mining towns of that era.”
“Oh, Mr. Smithson built a mansion in Denver, too, like the other gold tycoons, but he liked to keep a close watch on the mine operation. Personally, I think he also enjoyed being a big fish in a small pond. This house served as a constant reminder to all the locals of his status.”
“Mmm, you’re probably right,” J.T. agreed, arching his neck back to look at the enormous, domed, etched-glass skylight that spilled prisms of light into the foyer. “Why else would he build a place like this and perch it up here where he could look down on everyone else?”
“Yes, I agree. Now if you’ll come with me, I’ll give you a quick tour of the downstairs so you’ll know your way around.”
She led the way down the wide central hallway toward the back of the house. An appreciative smile curved J.T.’s mouth as he watched her thick braid swing against her back and the enticing sway of her gently rounded hips.
As they passed them, Kate gestured toward the two sets of double doors on either side of the hall. “On the left is the guest parlor, on the right the family parlor. Next on the left is the dining room, and across the hall from it is the library. Feel free to use them anytime you like.
“You may even find some valuable research material for your novel in the library. My father was a mining engineer and the superintendent of the Shamrock Mine for years. He was also something of a history buff. All I ask is that you return any books that you use when you’re done.”
“Fair enough. And, thanks. I’ll take you up on that offer.”
A little past the center of the house the hallway came to a T at the base of the massive stairway. Kate gestured to the short hallway on the left. “This leads to the butler’s pantry, downstairs powder room and the servants’ back stairs, but I would prefer that you not use those as they’re narrow and steep. I rather not risk a guest taking a fall.”
“Old Elijah didn’t waste money on niceties for the hired help, huh?” J.T. said with a crooked smile.
“No. Although, I don’t suppose he was any worse than any other wealthy person of that era. In those days there were definite distinctions between the classes. Now, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Conway, we’ll go to my office and get you checked in.”
“The first door is the entrance to the kitchen,” she said in her brisk, tour guide voice as they made their way down the right hallway. “That door at the end of the hall opens to the porte cochere. When it’s snowing you may want to pull your vehicle under there and enter through that way. Here we are.” She opened the last door on the left and led the way inside a comfortable-size room. “This used to be the housekeeper’s room, but I use it as my office now. Please, have a seat, Mr. Conway.”
The formality of registering and paying six months rent in advance took only a few minutes. When they were done, Kate led the way back down the hall to the stairs.
“There is an elevator. It was put in years ago, and it’s pokey, but if you’d prefer to use it we can.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind the stairs.”
At the base, the stairway was at least ten feet wide, with massive, hand-carved newel posts and spindles. Six steps up, at a wide landing, the stairs split and turned at ninety-degree angles, one flight going right, the other left.
Kate took the flight of stairs to the right, continuing her spiel as they climbed, but J.T. listened with only half an ear. He was too busy studying the stained-glass mural that made up the outer wall of the next landing.
It depicted a woman in eighteenth-century dress strolling through a garden, carrying a basket full of freshly cut flowers. J.T. darted a quick look over his shoulder and spotted a companion stained-glass mural on the opposite landing of a gentleman astride a white horse. Light streamed in through both windows, bathing the entire stairwell in shafts of rainbow hues that created an almost surreal atmosphere.
To have the enormous pieces commissioned, then hauled up to this remote mountain town by horse and wagon must have cost old Elijah a mint, J.T. mused in awe, craning his neck for one last look as he followed Kate up the next section of stairs.
“Excluding the servants’ quarters on the third floor, the house has ten bedrooms. I rent eight of them to guests.”
Which leaves one available for your brother whenever he decides to drop in, J.T. thought.
“Originally there were fourteen bedrooms on this floor, but four had to be sacrificed when the house was remodeled around 1910 to add bathrooms.”
“Fourteen bedrooms, huh. That’s a lot, even for a millionaire.”
“Not really. The Smithsons had a large family. There were already
