work for me.”
“But Mrs. Sayer, I do work for you. I’m your personal maid. Everything I do is—”
“No, you don’t understand,” Jana said. “You’re a good person, Abbie, so I don’t want you to feel your loyalties are divided. I’ll pay your salary myself—confidentially, of course—to you personally. You can have it in addition to whatever Brandon pays you.”
Jana pulled a wad of money from her handbag and thrust it at Abbie. The maid’s eyes bulged and her mouth sagged open.
“Take it,” Jana said. “Go on, take it.”
“But…” Abbie accepted the bills, holding them at arm’s length. “This is too much. Much too much. Mr. Sayer doesn’t pay me near this amount. It’s not right—”
“Yes, it is,” Jana told her. “You work for me now. All I ask is that you keep this arrangement to yourself. No one is to know, not your family, friends, and certainly not the other servants.”
“Yes, ma’am, if that’s what you want—”
“And,” Jana told her, “you are to speak to no one about what you might hear…or see…here in my room.”
Abbie’s expression darkened. But she nodded in agreement. “Yes, ma’am.”
Jana sighed with relief. “Thank you, Abbie. Now, I need to dress so I can join Brandon for breakfast.”
Abbie’s brows rose. “You do?”
She nodded briskly. “I do.”
The maid shrugged as if she didn’t understand that either, and set about laying out Jana’s clothes.
Brandon was already seated at the table, when Jana arrived in the breakfast room. The small, oval room was painted pale yellow and featured windows on two sides to let in the morning sun. The gardens just outside offered a view of blooming flowers and climbing roses.
Jana paused in the doorway, her breath suddenly catching. The view of her husband was nothing to be ignored either.
Brandon sat at the table turned out quite nicely in a dark blue suit, snowy shirt and deep red necktie. His wide shoulders and broad chest couldn’t be hidden beneath the cut of the cloth. His big hand and long fingers grasped a fork as his attention shifted back and forth between the two newspapers laid out on the table beside his plate.
And why had she denied him entrance to her bedchamber last night…?
Jana quickly banished the thought and entered the breakfast room.
“Good morning,” she said, a little surprised to hear the effortless cheer that lightened her voice.
Brandon’s gaze jumped to her and quickly ran the length of her, head to toe. He flushed slightly, making her more than pleased with the forest-green dress she’d selected for the morning.
He rose from his chair, catching the linen napkin in his lap before it fell.
Was he glad to see her? Jana couldn’t tell.
“Good morning,” Brandon said, watching her carefully, cautiously almost.
A moment passed and finally Jana said, “I thought I’d join you for breakfast.”
“Well…” Brandon glanced at the two newspapers on the table. “You know I always eat breakfast alone, but well, if you’d like to it’s fine…this time.”
He rounded the table and pulled out a chair for her at the opposite end. For a few seconds she thought he was staring at her backside as she lowered herself into the seat, then dismissed the idea. Her imagination, surely.
A maid entered the room, greeted her and poured coffee as Brandon resumed his chair and his reading.
Another long moment passed in silence after the maid disappeared. The clock in the hallway ticked.
“I see you’re reading two newspapers?” Jana ventured.
Brandon looked up. “The Times and the Messenger,” he said and turned back to his reading.
Jana fiddled with her spoon. “I thought it would be nice if we hosted an informal supper.”
Brandon looked up again, a frown on his face. “A supper?”
“Yes, so that I can get reaquainted with—”
“You know I like the house quiet.”
Jana shifted in her chair. “Yes, but since I’ve been away, I thought a small supper would be a good way—”
Brandon pushed out of his chair, then folded and tucked both newspapers under his arm. “When I come home in the evenings after a busy, sometimes difficult day, I want things quiet. I don’t like suppers and that sort of thing, and you know it. I don’t know why you’d even suggest it.”
“But—”
“I’m going to the office.” Brandon stopped in the doorway. “I notified that decorator, the one who was here before, what’s-his-name, that you’re ready to resume work on the house.”
Jana’s eyes widened. “Mr. McDowell?”
“Whatever.” Brandon dismissed the name with a wave of his hand. “He’ll be here today.”
“But—”
Brandon walked away without another word, without listening, leaving Jana with a familiar knot of dismay coiling in her stomach.
After a moment, she went up to her room, fetched her hat and handbag, and left the house. At the corner of West Adams Boulevard and St. James Place, she boarded the trolley, paid her nickel fare and spent the day with her aunt.
She was at the house again that evening, well before the designated six o’clock hour. Not that it mattered. Jana passed the time in the one and only decent sitting room until shortly after seven when she ate supper alone, her only company an occasional servant and the ticking of the hallway clock. When Brandon arrived home just after eight, Jana was on her way upstairs.
She turned on the bottom step, watching as he gave Charles his bowler and satchel. After what must have been a long, trying day for him, Brandon still looked fresh…handsome.
Jana silently reprimanded herself for having the thought.
“I received a telephone call from Mr. McDowell today,” Brandon said to her.
“And good evening to you, too,” she countered.
He didn’t notice. “McDowell told me he came by the house but you weren’t here.”
“That’s correct.”
“I told you he was coming by.”
“I’m aware of that,” Jana said. “But, Brandon, I don’t like—”
“I
