"Explain it."
56
Kristin Hannah
"I don't think there's any call to be rude—"
' 'Explain where my money is. Now!" Emma banged her fists on the desk and lurched to her feet. Her eyes narrowed to angry slits as she stared down at him.
He shrugged, clearly impressed by her anger. "My colleague, Dr. Henry Stanton at the University of New Mexico, kindly offered to outfit me for the journey to Cibola. I sent him the money more than thirty days ago. I only kept enough for train fare and traveling expenses."
"Let me understand this," she said slowly. "You gave all my money to a professor in New Mexico who kindly offered to spend it for you?"
"That's right."
"Digby, your ineptitude would be funny if it weren't so damned ..." Her voice trembled, and she clamped her lips together.
So damned serious. Her mind finished the paralyzing sentence. God, what would she do now? She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the terrifying images jockeying for position in her mind. She didn't even have a place to sleep tonight.
Digby rose slowly and leaned forward. Emma felt the soft intake of his breath against her cheek. It was warm, and strangely reassuring.
She slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring into his compelling green gaze. Her throat went dry.
There was something in his eyes she couldn't fathom, something that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he could see right through her angry, ice-hard facade to the scared woman within.
She opened her mouth to yell at him.
Before she could utter a word, his finger touched her parted lips. The sharp tang of homemade soap filled THE ENCHANTMENT
57
her nostrils. Her words backed into one another in her throat. She stared at him, stunned into silence.
"You have two choices," he said matter-of-factly. "Be civil or leave."
Emma's hands curled into fists. This was precisely why she hated to be poor. Poverty meant weakness, and weakness meant she had to take garbage like this from idiots.
It took a supreme effort to say her next words in a reasonable tone of voice. She'd rather throw herself in front of the el than apologize. But, unfortunately, she had no choice. "I'm s-s-sorry if I was rude. It's just that I need that money. I can't believe you simply gave
it away."
A good-natured smile transformed his serious expression. "I never claimed to be J. P. Morgan, Miss Hatter. I never claimed—or pretended—to be anything other than a man who thinks he's found a key to a locked door. I'm sorry if you think I shouldn't have given my money to Dr. Stanton. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps not. Either way, the question is moot. I did. If you cared so much about the money, you should have come down here and supervised my spending. As it is ..." He shrugged.
Supervised my spending. The sentence flared like wildfire in her brain. Had he just given her the solution to all her problems?
She proceeded cautiously, afraid to hope. "You gave the money to this Dr. Stanton, to spend as he sees fit,
correct?"
Digby nodded, and Emma felt her excitement jerk up a notch. "So if you got to New Mexico and found that he'd spent it, say . . . unwisely, you'd simply ask for some of it back, correct?"
58
Kristin Hannah
He frowned. "I doubt he'd spend it unwisely. He is, after all, an educated man."
God save me. Emma forced a false smile. "Nonetheless, if you did think he'd overspent, you could get some of it back, couldn't you?"
"I suppose so, but—"
"Good," Emma cut in. "When do we leave?"
' 'I have a sleeper train ticket for tonight at . . ." He stopped.
Emma's forced smile melted into the real thing at Dr. Dimwit's discomfort. She almost laughed out loud.
Why, the good doctor looked decidedly ill. Maybe he'd just forget the whole thing right now and wire Dr. Stan-ton for the money. "Dr. Digby," she said in a sugary voice, "is something amiss?"
"Did you say 'we'?"
"Yes, I did. It's my investment. I think I'll just tag along to oversee your spending."
"Are you sure? It's a long, hard
56
Kristin Hannah
"I don't think there's any call to be rude—"
' 'Explain where my money is. Now!" Emma banged her fists on the desk and lurched to her feet. Her eyes narrowed to angry slits as she stared down at him.
He shrugged, clearly impressed by her anger. "My colleague, Dr. Henry Stanton at the University of New Mexico, kindly offered to outfit me for the journey to Cibola. I sent him the money more than thirty days ago. I only kept enough for train fare and traveling expenses."
"Let me understand this," she said slowly. "You gave all my money to a professor in New Mexico who kindly offered to spend it for you?"
"That's right."
"Digby, your ineptitude would be funny if it weren't so damned ..." Her voice trembled, and she clamped her lips together.
So damned serious. Her mind finished the paralyzing sentence. God, what would she do now? She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the terrifying images jockeying for position in her mind. She didn't even have a place to sleep tonight.
Digby rose slowly and leaned forward. Emma felt the soft intake of his breath against her cheek. It was warm, and strangely reassuring.
She slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring into his compelling green gaze. Her throat went dry.
There was something in his eyes she couldn't fathom, something that made her uncomfortable. It was as if he could see right through her angry, ice-hard facade to the scared woman within.
She opened her mouth to yell at him.
Before she could utter a word, his finger touched her parted lips. The sharp tang of homemade soap filled THE ENCHANTMENT
57
her nostrils. Her words backed into one another in her throat. She stared at him, stunned into silence.
"You have two choices," he said matter-of-factly. "Be civil or leave."
Emma's hands curled into fists. This was precisely why she hated to be poor. Poverty meant weakness, and weakness meant she had to take garbage like this from idiots.
It took a supreme effort to say her next words in a reasonable tone of voice. She'd rather throw herself in front of the el than apologize. But, unfortunately, she had no choice. "I'm s-s-sorry if I was rude. It's just that I need that money. I can't believe you simply gave
it away."
A good-natured smile transformed his serious expression. "I never claimed to be J. P. Morgan, Miss Hatter. I never claimed—or pretended—to be anything other than a man who thinks he's found a key to a locked door. I'm sorry if you think I shouldn't have given my money to Dr. Stanton. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps not. Either way, the question is moot. I did. If you cared so much about the money, you should have come down here and supervised my spending. As it is ..." He shrugged.
Supervised my spending. The sentence flared like wildfire in her brain. Had he just given her the solution to all her problems?
She proceeded cautiously, afraid to hope. "You gave the money to this Dr. Stanton, to spend as he sees fit,
correct?"
Digby nodded, and Emma felt her excitement jerk up a notch. "So if you got to New Mexico and found that he'd spent it, say . . . unwisely, you'd simply ask for some of it back, correct?"
58
Kristin Hannah
He frowned. "I doubt he'd spend it unwisely. He is, after all, an educated man."
God save me. Emma forced a false smile. "Nonetheless, if you did think he'd overspent, you could get some of it back, couldn't you?"
"I suppose so, but—"
"Good," Emma cut in. "When do we leave?"
' 'I have a sleeper train ticket for tonight at . . ." He stopped.
Emma's forced smile melted into the real thing at Dr. Dimwit's discomfort. She almost laughed out loud.
Why, the good doctor looked decidedly ill. Maybe he'd just forget the whole thing right now and wire Dr. Stan-ton for the money. "Dr. Digby," she said in a sugary voice, "is something amiss?"
"Did you say 'we'?"
"Yes, I did. It's my investment. I think I'll just tag along to oversee your spending."
"Are you sure? It's a long, hard
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