style="font-size:15px;"> For that single moment, Reese caught a hint of something disturbingly familiar in her eyes, a willingness to push the boundaries when no one was looking. Dangerous, dangerous territory.
He knew he had a split second to make a decision before it was too late, before he forgot who this woman was and that he’d once been engaged to her sister. He could continue staring at Callie, attempting to fight off this unwanted fascination a few seconds more. Or he could turn his back on her.
He turned his back.
There. She was no longer riveting.
Reese was no longer enthralled.
Everything was back as it should be.
The following morning, Callie woke early, with gritty eyes, a foggy brain and an uneasy heart. The bright August sunlight had yet to filter through the curtains’ seams. Considering her gray mood, she preferred the muted dawn light. The events of the previous evening had left her feeling anxious and mildly out of sorts. It was as if her world had been tilted slightly off-kilter and she couldn’t seem to regain her balance.
Whenever she found herself in need of comfort, she turned to her Bible. The Psalms especially had a way of putting matters into perspective, her favorite one reminding her to lean on the Lord and not on her own understanding.
Unfortunately, her mind kept wandering back to last night, to Reese. To the time they’d spent in his opera box.
Something had shifted between them, something new and utterly perplexing.
There’d been that awkward moment when he’d leaned forward and urged her to pick one of every dessert on display. His voice had held equal parts kindness and frustration, the odd mix of emotions confusing her even more. So she’d done as he suggested and filled her plate with sweets she had no intention of eating.
After that, he’d turned his back and avoided speaking to her directly for the rest of the intermission.
She’d been relieved. Then filled with despair.
Then relieved all over again.
Sighing, she curled her fingers around her Bible and pressed the book to her heart. Reese was so handsome, and in many ways so familiar, yet she hardly knew him. For all their interactions through the years, they’d never stepped beyond polite pleasantries.
Last night had been no different. Except...
Everything had been different. Reese had been different. The way he’d looked her directly in the eyes, as if she mattered, for herself, had left a peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Had anyone ever told her that she would one day be the center of Reese’s attention, even for a few precious moments at the opera, she would have declared them quite mad. He’d barely spared her a glance before last night.
This was getting her nowhere. Callie was reading far too much into his behavior, looking for a hidden meaning where there was none. Now she was running late for breakfast.
She dressed quickly, choosing a basic gray dress and practical, low-heeled ankle boots. She secured her hair with extra pins this morning, smoothing and tugging until every stray curl had been ruthlessly tamed into submission.
Feeling more herself, she went in search of her employer.
She found Mrs. Singletary in the morning room, perusing the Denver Chronicle, which was laid out on the table in front of her. Her treasured cat, Lady Macbeth, slumbered in the bright sunbeam at her mistress’s feet. A tray with pastries, coffee and two soft-boiled eggs in enameled cups sat untouched beside the newspaper.
“Good morning, Mrs. Singletary.”
The widow looked up, frowned. “No, dear, absolutely not.”
Callie’s feet ground to a halt. “Pardon me?”
“That dress simply will not do.” The words were spoken without 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
