Then she saw the rising suspicion in Chad’s glinting dark blue eyes, and her humor vanished. He’d never get the joke.
Well, smothering him with kindness wasn’t such a good idea, Spring decided. He wouldn’t understand the attention as mere kindness, or he’d misinterpret it altogether.
Turning, she left the kitchen to search for her references. A month ago, she’d no notion that she’d find being a companion to a young girl to hold so much complication. Or fun, either. She and Honor got along as though born to be friends. Honor was as new to the city as she, and they’d been exploring Manhattan together in their free time.
A few moments later, she reentered the kitchen. Chad had nearly cleaned his plate, she quickly noted.
“…and you should see some of the collections! Funny stuff from a long time ago. Centuries, even,” Honor said, telling of their recent visit to the Design Museum.
“Most of it wasn’t funny when it was designed,” Spring reminded her with a grin. “And a generation or two past doesn’t quite make it into the ‘centuries’ category for Mrs. Pine or Mr. Steward, now does it?”
Chad raised a brow. “Who?”
“These old people at church,” Honor explained, then hastily added, “But they’re really neat. They, like, visited our Sunday night Jumpstart a couple of weeks ago and told us about how it was when they were teenagers. Mr. Steward enlisted in the Army to fight in World War II when he was only seventeen.”
“What’s Jumpstart?” Again, Chad raised a brow, but then lowered it into a frown. Finished eating, he leaned back in his chair and sipped his tea. Giving it a quick glance, Spring noticed his startled reaction at the herbal concoction. Yet he made no comment, merely returning his cup to its saucer.
“It’s our weekly meeting for high schoolers, mostly,” Honor explained. “Lots of college kids come, too. Only, we have more than just kids who attend. It’s awesome, Chad. You should come sometime. Spring does, and—”
“What do you do there?”
“We Jumpstart the week with Bible Study and prayer and encouraging stuff. And Josh Nolan, our youth minister, usually talks, but it’s not like a heavy sermon or anything.”
Chad’s eyes began to droop.
“Perhaps you’d rather hear all of this tomorrow,” Spring murmured, thinking they were losing his attention fast. It wasn’t fair to overload an already exhausted mind, and expect that mind to later retain an ounce of intelligent memory, Uncle William used to say. Of course, he would say that especially when she and Autumn wanted to talk to him at the same time.
Spring smiled inwardly at the memory. Uncle William had died a few months before, having urged her and Autumn to pursue their dreams, and leaving each of them with a small legacy to do so.
Now she was having adventures in New York City.
Chad assessed her face a moment before saying, “Some of it can wait. Right now, I want to know more about you, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Of course. Here you go—” She placed a copy of her resume in front of him. It gave her educational background and work and personal references from Kansas City, her hometown. She hadn’t a wide range of worldly experience, she was ready to admit, but she felt perfectly confident in watching over Honor Suzanne and guiding her schoolwork. After all, she’d been the more nurturing of the two sisters at home, and could run a household with perfect ease.
“I attended a Midwest community college, which I know isn’t very impressive by any of the big school standards, but I’ve worked steadily since I turned eighteen and I have a good work ethic. Uncle William saw to that. He raised my sister Autumn, and me.”
“What are you doing here in New York?” Chad asked.
“I’m a dress designer. Or I want to be. I’ve been putting in my applications around the city and showing some of my sketches.”
“I see. And do your duties here leave you enough time for all that?” His tone had an edge of sarcasm, but Spring ignored it while Honor gazed adoringly at her brother.
“She’s bound to be accepted someplace, Chad,” Honor put in enthusiastically. “She’s really good. That dress she was wearing when you came in is for one of the women in our church. She’s a ballet dancer and needed a dressmaker, so Dana suggested—”
“You run a business out of this apartment?” Chad sat forward abruptly, his tone sharp.
“Well, it’s not exactly a real business,” Spring answered. “Only a little sewing.”
“Do you accept money for your services?”
“Um, yes. A few dollars. But—”
“You must stop it immediately! This apartment is strictly residential and has an airtight code against using it for business purposes. You could get us fined or kicked out of our lease for such an offence.”
“Oh, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“We didn’t know that, Chad,” Honor said, her lower lip beginning to tremble. “Don’t be mad. We just thought to earn a little extra spending money…”
“Spending money? I think for what I pay you,” he all but sputtered at Spring before turning to Honor, “and your allowance, that you’d have quite enough for mere pocket money. What have you been buying, anyway?”
Spring decided it wasn’t the time to inform him she hadn’t been paid, or that Honor hadn’t received an allowance for weeks. Already, she knew it would disturb him. He’d learn the necessary details in due time.
“Nothing out of reason, Mr. Alexander. Only tickets to special exhibits and a few restaurant meals.” Few was the operative word, Spring thought, with New York prices so much higher than what she was used to. “But that didn’t come out of anyone’s salary.”
“No, I’m sure it didn’t. Household accounts, I suppose. Well, I’ll look at the receipts and do the accounting tomorrow. You did keep receipts, didn’t you?”
Spring hadn’t meant the expenditures had come from the household accounts, but she guessed he’d discover that soon enough, too. “Actually, I didn’t see a need.”
His frown deepened. “Really? How did you expect to justify the budget I left for you? What about the credit card bills?”
“I didn’t see a budget.” She brushed her bangs from her eyes, beginning to feel a little ruffled. “Sorry. But you’ll find everything is in order since I’ve been here, and we have no outstanding bills. We simply pay cash as we go.”
“Is there anything left from the discretionary fund I left for Mrs. Hinkle’s use?”
“What discretionary fund?” Spring asked.
“No, Chad. That’s what I wanted to tell you,” Honor said. “There’s nothing left in the cash account or the credit card limit. Mrs. Hinkle spent it all, including my allowance, in the first ten days after you left.”
“What?” His mouth dropped as he tried to take in what Honor had said. “But there was enough there to cover everything except the most dire of emergencies, and she was directed to apply to Walter Peebles if there was any greater need. How could she have run through what should’ve lasted three months?”
“Well, she did. And Uncle Walter turned down a couple of requests she made to him. When I called Uncle Walter, he told me what to do. We notified all our credit card accounts, and closed out the two bank accounts and opened new ones. Dana and Spring helped me do that. But you have to sign the new bank cards, Uncle Walter said.”
Chad brushed a hand over his face. Had he fallen through a rabbit hole?
“Let me get this right.