Gabrielle Meyer - Inherited - Unexpected Family

Anything was better than their life in Rockford.

Another building rushed by, and yet another. The orange sunset sparkled off the Mississippi River in the distance. A sawmill appeared on the banks at the bottom of a hill, with a house and barn outlined in the shadows nearby. Soon dozens of various-sized buildings lined the main stretch of road. A church, a bank, a two-story general store and even a hotel called The Batters House Hotel. Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated competition, but hopefully her hospitality would draw customers to the Northern.

Grace’s stiff shoulders did not indicate any interest in the new town until a group of men shouted a hello at the passing stage.

Here and there people stood on the wooden boardwalks watching the stage roll by. Some came and went out of buildings, and others gathered in small clusters talking.

Most of them were men.

Elizabeth turned her attention toward the Northern. No doubt the hotel would be boarded up after Papa’s death. They might need help prying off the boards to get inside, but maybe the driver would have a tool for them to use. From the date on the letter, and the finality of Papa’s words, Elizabeth estimated that he had died about a month ago. She had mourned his loss, but had little time to dwell on what it meant. She’d worked for a week to sell their meager belongings in Rockford and secure their travel plans.

“We should be getting close,” Elizabeth said, excitement and trepidation making her voice sound higher than she intended. “The driver told us the stage stops right outside the Northern.”

Grace didn’t respond, her blue eyes, so like Elizabeth’s, focused on another group of men walking in the same direction the stage was headed.

The stage came to a stop outside a large white clapboard building. It was an impressive Greek Revival structure that covered the length of one city block, and looked out of place with the humble buildings in the rest of town. Several lights had already been lit within the pretty establishment, and at least half a dozen men entered through the front door.

Elizabeth frowned. “I thought the stage stopped at the Northern Hotel.”

“Maybe this is the Northern Hotel,” Grace said in a dry tone.

“How could it be?” Elizabeth handed Rose to Grace, not waiting for her sister’s approval, and ducked as she stepped to the door. “The Northern Hotel is supposed to be boarded up and empty.”

The driver appeared at the door and pulled it open. “Welcome to Little Falls.”

Elizabeth lifted her hem and stepped onto the boardwalk. “I thought the stage stopped at the Northern.”

“This here is the Northern.” He nodded at the large building.

Elizabeth looked at the structure again. “But how is that possible?” Another group of men approached and stopped outside the door to stare at her.

The driver scratched his head, tilting his hat at an odd angle. “It’s possible—’cause it just is.”

“But—” Elizabeth gasped. Was someone squatting in her hotel? Operating it in her absence? She pursed her lips, her heart rate escalating. Whoever was trespassing would soon be turned out, of that she was certain.

Elizabeth went back to the coach to speak to Grace. “I’m going in to confront the squatter. See that our luggage is unloaded properly.”

Grace nodded and Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She’d been forced to deal with her fair share of stubborn men in the past four years. One more shouldn’t be too difficult...she hoped.

A man standing near the building pushed open the front door and doffed his cap as she marched over the threshold and into the lobby.

The interior of the building was just as impressive as the exterior. Elizabeth paused to let her eyes roam over the white wainscoting, the wide stairway and the floral sofa near the door. In the opposite corner, to Elizabeth’s right, was a sturdy counter covered with the same wainscoting. A man stood behind the counter, his back to the door, his head bent over a thick ledger. When he stood straight, Elizabeth couldn’t help but notice his height and the breadth of his shoulders under a well-tailored suit coat.

So this was the squatter.

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and prepared for battle. She strode to the counter, ignoring the curious looks she garnered from dozens of patrons milling about the lobby. The air was thick with conversation and the smell of heady cologne mixed with cigar smoke.

She stopped at the counter, but he did not turn.

She cleared her throat, but he must not have heard over the conversation.

Finally, she did something most unladylike and tapped his broad shoulder. “Pardon me.”

He turned, his dark brown hair shimmering under the light above his head, his equally brown eyes holding a hint of surprise. “May I help you?”

Elizabeth swallowed the nerves quivering up her throat. My, but he was a handsome man—much too handsome to be a squatter.

But, then again, weren’t most scoundrels handsome? Her ex-fiancé, James, had been very good-looking.

She straightened her backbone and lifted her chin. “Who are you?”

Humor twinkled in his eyes. “Jude Allen. Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What are you doing in my hotel?”

His humor subsided, just a bit. “Your hotel?”

“You’re squatting on my property and I demand you leave immediately before I contact the local authority.”

He did laugh this time. “I’d like to see you try to get the sheriff to do something useful around here.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Didn’t you hear me? You’re trespassing and I want you to leave.”

He leaned forward, his hands on the counter, all trace of laughter gone from his deep voice. “I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny or just annoying. If you’re here for a room, I’m sorry, but we’re full because of the ball.” He tilted his head to a set of double doors leading into a ballroom where dozens of people spun about the room.

She put her hands on the counter, too. “I don’t want a room—I want my hotel.”

He leaned even closer, his voice lowered. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel. Has been for two years.”

Elizabeth’s lips straightened into a tight line. “This was my father’s hotel, and he left it to me and my sisters. I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but this is my hotel.”

“That’s impossible. I don’t even know who your father is.”

“Clarence Bell, the owner of the Northern Hotel.”

His face became still and he slowly stood straight, disbelief lining his handsome features. “Clarence had a daughter?”

She planted her feet. “Three daughters and we’re here to claim our inheritance.”

They had come so far she wouldn’t let this man stand in her way now.

* * *

Jude couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty before him—the woman who was making such a ludicrous claim. Her sparking blue eyes were filled with determination and certainty. Her gown looked outdated and almost worn through, with frayed cuffs and carefully placed patches. Was she Clarence’s daughter or a desperate woman looking for a free ride?

“It’s impossible,” Jude said. “Clarence never mentioned being married, let alone fathering children.” He had never said much at all, which made their partnership ideal.

The door opened and another woman entered the lobby, her chocolate-brown curls and stunning blue eyes indicating she was related to the woman standing on the other side of the counter. She held a sleeping child in her arms and she looked just as exhausted and threadbare as the first.

“I don’t know why Papa failed to mention us,” the first woman said—though her tight lips and stilted voice suggested she wasn’t surprised. “But, regardless, we are his daughters and heirs to his hotel.”