A sob worked its way up her throat. For an instant, just one beat of her heart, she wished her sister would stay away forever. In the most hidden part of Callie’s soul the truth rang loud.
She resented Fanny.
The girl had callously walked away from a good man, the best of them all. And now, that same man claimed he wanted to be Callie’s friend. Her friend.
No good would come from such an arrangement. Friendship often blossomed into something deeper. That was her greatest fear. Because, deep down, it was her greatest hope.
In fresh agony, she pressed her fingertips to her temples and squeezed her eyes closed. She knew the situation was hopeless—truly, she did—yet Callie yearned for something more. Something life-altering.
Something...she had no business wishing for herself.
The carriage drew to an abrupt halt, splintering the rest of her thoughts.
Thankful for the interruption, Callie gathered up the leather briefcase Reese had given her and exited the carriage.
Mrs. Singletary’s butler met her just inside the front entryway. Thick threads of silver encroached on the few strands of red left in his hair, but his broad, welcoming smile erased at least ten years from his heavily lined face.
“Mrs. Singletary is waiting for you in her office, Miss Callie.”
“Thank you, Winston.” She smiled in return. “I’ll head right up.”
Leather satchel pressed against her heart, she hurried through the cavernous foyer with its mile-high ceiling and expensive chandelier hanging from the center. The sound of her heels striking the imported marble reverberated off the richly decorated walls, where several oil paintings had been strategically placed for optimal effect.
Callie paused at the foot of the winding stairwell to study a portrait of Mrs. Singletary and her now-deceased husband. The two looked beyond happy, yet Callie felt a wave of sadness as she stared into their smiling faces. They’d had so little time together, barely fifteen years.
It should have been a lifetime.
Sighing, she mounted the stairs. At the second-floor landing, she turned left and worked her way through the labyrinth of corridors that led to the back of the house.
As the butler had indicated, she found Mrs. Singletary in her office. The widow sat in an overstuffed chair, her head bent over a book, Lady Macbeth spread out on her lap.
Neither the widow nor the cat noticed Callie’s arrival. She took the opportunity to glance around the room. Bold afternoon sunlight spread across the empty stone hearth. Bookshelves lined three of the other four walls. The scent of leather and old book bindings mingled with Mrs. Singletary’s perfume, a pleasant mix of lavender and roses and...
Callie was stalling, though she couldn’t think why.
Squaring her shoulders, she rapped lightly on the doorjamb to gain the widow’s attention.
Mrs. Singletary lifted her head. “Ah, there you are.” She closed her book and set it on the small, round table beside her. “I trust everything went according to plan.”
What an odd choice of words.
Had Mrs. Singletary sent her to Bennett, Bennett and Brand with a purpose other than business in mind?
That would certainly explain Reese’s initial confusion when she’d stepped into his office.
Then again...
He’d been buried in legal briefs prior to her arrival. He’d recovered quickly enough and had given Callie a stack of papers to deliver to her employer. Papers contained in the leather case she now held.
Papers his law clerk could have delivered, as was usually the case.
Realizing her steps had slowed to a halt Callie resumed moving through the room and addressed her suspicions directly. “I must say, Mr. Bennett appeared genuinely surprised to see me in his office this afternoon.”
The words had barely left her lips when her foot caught on the fringe of an area rug and she momentarily lost her balance. In her attempt to right herself, the satchel flew from her hands.
Callie rushed forward. Unfortunately, she picked up the briefcase at the wrong end and the contents spilled out.
“Oh, oh, no.” She dropped to her knees and began picking up the papers as quickly as possible. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“Not to worry, dear.” Mrs. Singletary set her cat on the ottoman in front of her chair and joined Callie on the floor. “These things happen.”
Together, they retrieved the strewn papers, placing them in a neat pile between them.
Lady Macbeth, evidently sensing a new game afoot, leaped on top of the stack and plopped her hindquarters down with regal feline arrogance.
The widow laughed. “Move aside, my lady.” She playfully poked the cat in her ribs. “You are in the way.”
The animal lowered to her belly, her challenging glint all but daring her mistress to protest.
Wrinkling her nose at the ornery animal, Callie carefully pulled papers out from beneath the furry belly. She managed to free the bulk of them when the cat gazed at the new pile with narrow-eyed intent.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Callie snatched the papers off the floor and placed them on the table next to Mrs. Singletary’s book.
Not to be deterred, Lady Macbeth went after a lone sheet of paper that had landed farther away than the rest.
Callie moved a shade quicker. “Ha.”
Swishing her tail in hard, jerky movements, Lady Macbeth stalked off toward the fireplace and curled up on a rug near the grate.
Disaster averted, Callie glanced down at the paper in her hand. There was a crease in the center of the page, indicating it had once been folded in two. Written in a bold, masculine hand, it looked like a record of some kind, an inventory perhaps.
The third item from the top captured her notice. Loves children, wants several, at least five but no more than seven.
Beneath that odd statement, was another equally confusing entry. Must come from a good family and value strong family ties.
Callie frowned.
What sort of list had she stumbled upon?
Realizing it was none of her business, she pressed the paper into Mrs. Singletary’s hand. “This is clearly meant for your eyes only.”
The widow scanned the page in silence then clicked her tongue in obvious disapproval. “That man is going to be my greatest challenge yet.”
At the genuine look of concern in the woman’s eyes, Callie angled her head. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, dear. Not just yet.” The widow refolded the paper at the crease and stowed the list inside a pocket of her skirt. “Later, perhaps, once I consider my options I shall ask for your assistance.”
Her tone invited no further questions.
Shrugging, Callie searched the floor around her. She found no more papers. “I think that’s all of them.” She sat back on her heels. “Would you like me to leave you alone to review the papers Mr. Bennett sent over?”
“Thank you, yes.” The widow nodded distractedly. “I would.”
“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Callie rose to her feet and started for the door.
“Not so fast, dear.”
She pivoted back around. “Yes, ma’am?”
“About the dinner party I have planned for Friday evening. I should like