Caught in the Middle by Regina Jennings

rain reached beneath the roof to splash her face. She headed back toward the dry center of the porch, hoping to sit and doze until morning, but when she stopped walking, Sammy stirred.
    “I guess I don’t have it all figured out, then.” And she never would. She’d do what she could to make it through this miserable night, but she couldn’t take anymore. She needed help.

 5 
    Skipping every other step on his way up, Nicholas reached his second-story office quickly. True, the façade wasn’t as fine as the storefront of the collateral broker’s beneath it, and the outdoor staircase gave his acquaintances fodder for harassment, but once inside the doors, no one could fault his taste. Someday when he moved to a better location, the oak desk, Persian rugs, and glass-enclosed bookshelves would go with him, but he wouldn’t waste money on high rent until he was ready to announce to the world he’d arrived.
    Nick stepped inside and dropped the newspaper, messing Harold’s organized desk. Even though Harold’s hairline was retreating prematurely, it didn’t prevent him from keeping a dapper, trim moustache. Harold squared his notepad and continued his perusal.
    “You’re looking over my notes, I see,” Nick said. “What’s your assessment?”
    “I agree with you. A steam engine would be the best option for our second mill. We’d have more flexibility on where we locate the mill, because we wouldn’t be tied to a waterway.”Harold bent over a sheet of paper, bringing into sharp relief the shoreline of his forehead. “And when we’re finished with Stanford’s line, the equipment would be easier to relocate.”
    Nick slapped Harold on the back, forgetting to rein in his enthusiasm. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. I’ll look over the different sizes of engines and see what will work for us. In the meantime we could start putting a crew together. Perhaps run an ad in the paper.”
    Nick closed the office door behind him and within minutes was lost somewhere between the paper before him and the figures crowding his head. The speed with which Ian Stanford wanted to lay out the new NTT line was hard to fathom. He might need to work weeks ahead of the graders. He’d need to have his crew getting the mill together soon if they were going to stay ahead. He scratched his forehead. Was Vernon Springs big enough to hire locals, or would they need to ship in some lumberjacks? How many railroad ties an hour could they produce working with a new crew?
    When the door swung open, Nick didn’t even look up.
    “Someone to see you,” Harold said.
    “Send him in.”
    He tallied the numbers in the column, getting a preliminary figure on the bid. The dark blur in the doorway alerted him that he was not alone, but the man would just have to wait. Nicholas couldn’t be interrupted—
    A gurgle. A happy gurgle like his nephew made. Nick lifted his head. No, his ears hadn’t deceived him. A man with a baby stood in his doorway.
    “You said to find you if I needed help.”
    Nicholas rose when he heard her voice. Her appearance hadn’t changed since the train—if he didn’t take into accountthe fact that she was drenched. But somehow here in his plush office she didn’t look as quaint. Instead of intriguing, Mrs. Tillerton looked a little . . . well, dangerous. Maybe it was the way she held the child as though she feared becoming contaminated by it.
    “Come in. Here, have a seat.” He motioned to the chair. With long strides made uneven by the weight of the child on her hip, she crossed the room and seated herself. The baby squirmed. Without hesitating she deposited him on the rug and fell back into the chair like a prisoner released from the stocks.
    At least the leather chair wouldn’t be hurt by the moisture.
    “I need a place to stay,” she said.
    He blinked. Their parting hadn’t exactly been cordial, at least from her end. “As a bachelor there’s not much by way of—”
    Anne sank further into the seat