He had a feeling that promise would hold true. Normally he would have had a contract drawn up, but that would only delay things. Knowing how much this meant to her, his gut told him she would hold to her end of the bargain, so he wouldn’t bother with a contract this time.
They continued to talk about what needed to be done, the expenses, her plans, his thoughts and the whole general situation. An hour later, he looked at his watch. Three o’clock in the afternoon. “Well, I should go now.” Harrison stood. “What time would you like me to come this evening?”
“Five-thirty. Dinner will be served at six.”
“Very well.” They walked side by side to the front door. There, he grabbed his fedora off the hat rack and held it in his hands, then shifted his focus onto her smiling face. “I will see you at five-thirty, then.”
“Looking forward to it.” They stood there for a moment looking at each other.
“Until this evening.” With those words, he opened the door and stepped outside. Outside where the detestable smell of sulfur lingered in the air. But that vile stench didn’t detract from his fine mood. For the first time in years, hope glimmered inside him. At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and looked up at the bright June sun. Forsyth would say God had arranged this whole thing because He loved Harrison so much. But Harrison didn’t believe in a loving God. How could he? His life had clearly proven otherwise.
Chapter Three
Standing in front of the free-standing mirror, Abby perused her appearance. The sides of her hair were pulled back and held with pearl combs and a dark blue ribbon. Tiny curls framed her face, and the rest of her hair hung loosely down her back. Her white, tufted-cotton bustle gown with the dark blue lace and ribbons and midlength sleeves would be cool, but not too cool for a warm evening in the Colorado Rocky Mountains. But just in case it wasn’t, she snatched up her knit shawl, then skipped downstairs to see if Veronique had everything ready.
The words to “Amazing Grace” sung by either Colette or Zoé, whose singing voices were very similar, floated through the massive room as she made her way into the formal dining room. “Hi, Zoé.”
Zoé, the middle sister to Veronique and Colette, turned from placing a silver chafing dish on the mahogany serving table and smiled. “Good evening, Abby,” she said in the same strong accent all of the sisters spoke with. Her soft gray eyes were the first thing a person noticed about Zoé. While the color was soft, because of the way her eyes were shaped, they appeared hard as if she were angry all the time, which she wasn’t.
Abby looked at the long table set for two. Her mother’s silver candelabra stood tall in the middle. Silver pedestal dishes set on each side piled high with fresh fruit and French pastries. Wedgewood bone china and crystal glasses sparkled like bright sunshine raining down on a clear mountain brook here in Colorado. Silverware...polished to perfection. “This looks great, Zoé.”
The eighteen-year-old girl’s face lit up. “You think so?”
“Yes. I sure do.”
“Zoé,” Veronique hollered from the other side of the swinging door.
Wisps of chestnut-blond hair swayed when Zoé yanked her attention in that direction. “I will be right there.” She curtsied and scurried into the kitchen.
Abby followed. Fresh bread, beef and pine aromas from the wood stove met her nostrils.
Veronique stood in front of the massive cook stove, wearing the same blue-and-white uniform as Zoé, stirring something in one of the copper pans sitting on the stove with a wire whisk. Without looking, Veronique told Zoé to grab the pastry-wrapped cinnamon apples out of the oven.
Colette sat at the table, slicing and peeling carrots. She, too, wore a matching uniform.
Abby wasn’t too keen putting on fancy dinners, but she had better get used to them for when she opened her dinner theater. “Something sure smells good, Veronique.” Abby raised the lid on one of the pans, leaned over and breathed deeply. “Umm. What is that?” She pointed to the dish.
“It is filet de boeuf charlemagne,” Veronique explained without taking her eyes off the pan she was stirring.
“Trans-la-tion...?” Abby drew out the word and let her sentence hang, waiting for Veronique to interpret what she’d said into English.
“Beef tenderloin Charlemagne.”
“Huh?” Abby frowned.
“Simply put, it is beef fillet steaks with mushrooms. What I am making now is a béarnaise sauce. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will. I haven’t eaten anything of yours yet that wasn’t absolutely delicious.”
Veronique flashed a quick smile Abby’s way before putting her attention back onto the saucepan.
Abby glanced up at the kitchen clock. Five-twenty. “Well, I’ll get out of your way. Mr. Kingsley will be arriving in a few minutes.”
Veronique nodded as she placed the copper lid on the pan she’d been stirring. She removed it from the heat, tossed a pot holder onto the breadboard counter then set the pan down.
Abby had just turned to leave when she noticed a tray of strawberry and apple tarts. With a quick glance back at Veronique, like a little kid sneaking an early dessert, she snatched a strawberry tart off the plate and tossed it into her mouth.
Through the dining room and into the main room of the mansion she went, munching happily on the delicious treat.
A knock came at the door. Abby chewed fast and swallowed. Colette, Zoé and Veronique were busy, so she hollered, “I’ll get it.” Her heels tapped along the floor as she made her way to the front door. She swung it open and blinked. There stood Harrison holding a small boy in each arm.
“I’m sorry, Abby, that this notice is so late, but a few minutes ago, the boys’ nanny and my valet came down sick. Must’ve been something they ate this afternoon because my sons aren’t sick. The food they ate wasn’t the same as what Miss Elderberry and Staimes ate. I don’t know anyone in town, and I won’t leave my boys with a perfect stranger. So, I’m here to let you know that I won’t be able to make it to dinner this evening. I’m sorry.” Remorse wrinkled his handsome face.
Abby glanced at the two boys. A fresh ache filled her heart, but she refused to let it get her down or to dwell on what could never be. Instead, she sent the boys and their father her most inviting smile and quickly swung the French doors open. “Don’t be silly. There’s no need for you not to stay. Besides, there’s more than enough food. I’ll just have Zoé set two more places and find something for the boys to sit on. It’ll be just fine.” Now she just had to convince herself of that by reminding herself that God had a plan, as vexing as that could be sometimes. She leaned toward the boys, eyeing each one with a smile. “And who might you boys be?”
Neither of them said a word; they just tucked their tiny shoulders closer into their father’s chest and eyed her warily.
“This one here—” Harrison nodded toward the child on his right “—is Graham. And this one—” he nodded at the child on his left “—is Josiah.”
“Hello, Josiah and Graham. Welcome to my home. Won’t you come in?” she said to the twins who resembled their father in much, much younger versions. They even had Harrison’s light brown hair and grayish-blue eyes. Except neither of their eyes had a portion of hazel coloring like their father’s did.
“Can you say hello to the nice lady?” Instead of saying hello, they buried their faces into their father’s shoulder.
“It’s