doing so is unavoidably necessary, but that doesn't alter the fact that what he's doing is wrong. He hasn't poured his life into the MacPhaull Company.”
“Dear sweet Lindsay,” Abigail said softly, with a slow shake of her head. “Life is seldom fair or kind. You can only make the best of what it gives you and go on. You know that.”
It had been just that attitude with which Abigail had faced the loss of her arm. Lindsay wasn't, however, in the mood to be stoic or resigned. “Just once in a lifetime,” she riled at her teacup, “it would be nice to have something go right, to have something happen that produced just the tiniest bit of happiness. I wouldn't even care how long it lasted. To be free of worry and able to smile for a small part of a single day would be so welcome.”
Again the silence hung between them. Lindsay slid a glance at her companion; Abigail arched a brow. “What?” Lindsay asked petulantly.
“Are you finished with the self-pity?”
“It's not self-pity. It's anger.”
“Call it whatever you like, dear, but it's inappropriate.”
“I'll remind you that Stennett could toss us out on the street before luncheon, if he's of a mind to do so. I think a bit of anger is quite justified.”
“Mr. Stennett isn't going to do any such thing. He's a gentleman.”
“He's a man without a conscience,” Lindsay shot back.
“Hear me out, dear,” Abigail said, her hand raised to forestall any further comment. “Your world has never been idyllic or happy. Both your family and business circumstances have been deteriorating for quite some time and well you know it. Perhaps Mr. Stennett's intervention will change things for the better. He seems to be a man quite capable of taking charge.”
Oh, yes indeed.
Lindsay sipped her tea again, tampingdown her anger and deliberately taking refuge in the structure of business affairs. “I forgot to tell you the most important part.”
“That's not like you at all.”
“My mind's a bit scattered this morning as well,” she admitted with a tight smile. “Stennett intends to immediately liquidate the MacPhaull holdings, taking some fifty-two thousand dollars out of the proceeds to pay off the debts on the land my father left him in Texas.”
In the stunned silence, Lindsay added the last brick of painful truth. “Things aren't going to change for the better, Abigail. We've been living in a house of cards for years. And Stennett's determined to bring it down around our ears.”
Abigail sighed and then quietly said, “And would it not have happened anyway? It's now a matter of sooner rather than later. And I'll be honest and tell you that I think that the company passing into Mr. Stennett's hands is better than it passing into Henry's. And if you were in a mood to be honest, you'd have to agree, wouldn't you?”
Yes, dammit.
“You can see silver linings in the blackest clouds.”
“It's a gift. I'm thankful for it.” Abigail picked up her teacup and took a sip. “And I'd suggest that you might try cultivating a bit of the ability yourself. You'll be a happier person for making the effort.”
Lindsay nodded, not because she had any intention of buying herself a pair of rose-colored glasses but because civility required some sort of positive response from her.
Apparently satisfied, Abigail set her cup onto the saucer and then rose to her feet, saying, “Now, I'm off to prepare a room for Mr. Stennett. One for Havers, too. I assumed that Mr. Stennett would be at least staying through lunch and instructed Primrose to cook accordingly. Is there anything else you'd like for me to do?”
“If you see me going for Mr. Stennett's throat…” Lindsay said, rising and heading toward the door.
“Stop you,” Mrs. Beechum finished.
“No,” she corrected. “Turn your back.”
J ACK SORTED THROUGH the papers yet again, his amazement no less than it had been the first three times through the stack of correspendence. Henry was having renovations
“Dear sweet Lindsay,” Abigail said softly, with a slow shake of her head. “Life is seldom fair or kind. You can only make the best of what it gives you and go on. You know that.”
It had been just that attitude with which Abigail had faced the loss of her arm. Lindsay wasn't, however, in the mood to be stoic or resigned. “Just once in a lifetime,” she riled at her teacup, “it would be nice to have something go right, to have something happen that produced just the tiniest bit of happiness. I wouldn't even care how long it lasted. To be free of worry and able to smile for a small part of a single day would be so welcome.”
Again the silence hung between them. Lindsay slid a glance at her companion; Abigail arched a brow. “What?” Lindsay asked petulantly.
“Are you finished with the self-pity?”
“It's not self-pity. It's anger.”
“Call it whatever you like, dear, but it's inappropriate.”
“I'll remind you that Stennett could toss us out on the street before luncheon, if he's of a mind to do so. I think a bit of anger is quite justified.”
“Mr. Stennett isn't going to do any such thing. He's a gentleman.”
“He's a man without a conscience,” Lindsay shot back.
“Hear me out, dear,” Abigail said, her hand raised to forestall any further comment. “Your world has never been idyllic or happy. Both your family and business circumstances have been deteriorating for quite some time and well you know it. Perhaps Mr. Stennett's intervention will change things for the better. He seems to be a man quite capable of taking charge.”
Oh, yes indeed.
Lindsay sipped her tea again, tampingdown her anger and deliberately taking refuge in the structure of business affairs. “I forgot to tell you the most important part.”
“That's not like you at all.”
“My mind's a bit scattered this morning as well,” she admitted with a tight smile. “Stennett intends to immediately liquidate the MacPhaull holdings, taking some fifty-two thousand dollars out of the proceeds to pay off the debts on the land my father left him in Texas.”
In the stunned silence, Lindsay added the last brick of painful truth. “Things aren't going to change for the better, Abigail. We've been living in a house of cards for years. And Stennett's determined to bring it down around our ears.”
Abigail sighed and then quietly said, “And would it not have happened anyway? It's now a matter of sooner rather than later. And I'll be honest and tell you that I think that the company passing into Mr. Stennett's hands is better than it passing into Henry's. And if you were in a mood to be honest, you'd have to agree, wouldn't you?”
Yes, dammit.
“You can see silver linings in the blackest clouds.”
“It's a gift. I'm thankful for it.” Abigail picked up her teacup and took a sip. “And I'd suggest that you might try cultivating a bit of the ability yourself. You'll be a happier person for making the effort.”
Lindsay nodded, not because she had any intention of buying herself a pair of rose-colored glasses but because civility required some sort of positive response from her.
Apparently satisfied, Abigail set her cup onto the saucer and then rose to her feet, saying, “Now, I'm off to prepare a room for Mr. Stennett. One for Havers, too. I assumed that Mr. Stennett would be at least staying through lunch and instructed Primrose to cook accordingly. Is there anything else you'd like for me to do?”
“If you see me going for Mr. Stennett's throat…” Lindsay said, rising and heading toward the door.
“Stop you,” Mrs. Beechum finished.
“No,” she corrected. “Turn your back.”
J ACK SORTED THROUGH the papers yet again, his amazement no less than it had been the first three times through the stack of correspendence. Henry was having renovations
Similar Books
