Judith Stacy - Written In The Heart

“And so Mr. Monterey would be his…”

“Uncle,” Richard said. “Stephen is his uncle.”

“Oh…”

“You gots to play with me, Uncle Richard.” Joey tugged on his neck. “You gots to. Miss Brenna is too slow.”

Richard’s eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. “Is she?”

“Yes,” Joey insisted. “She can’t catch a ball, or nothing.”

Richard gazed toward the corner of the house. “And where is Miss Brenna this morning?”

A moment later a young woman sprinted around the corner, holding up her skirt. When she saw them she froze for an instant, then walked over, hurriedly smoothing down wisps of her dark hair.

She stopped a few feet away. “Good morning, Mr. Paxton.”

Despite the child in his arms, Richard straightened his tie. “Good morning, Miss Winslow.”

The two of them looked at each other, then looked away.

“Good morning,” Caroline said, and introduced herself.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” she said. “I’m Brenna Winslow, Joey’s nanny.”

Brenna was about her own age, Caroline guessed. Slender, with dark hair and deep brown eyes. Pretty. Richard seemed to think so, too.

“I’m starting work here today,” Caroline said.

“What type of employment?”

“I’m working in Mr. Monterey’s office,” Caroline said, not wanting to explain yet again what a graphologist was.

“Welcome,” Brenna said. She turned to Joey. “Come along, sweetie.”

“I’ll come out and play with you in a while,” Richard promised, as he set Joey on the ground.

The boy looked up at him with his big green eyes. “Promise?”

Richard winked. “You bet.”

Joey took Brenna’s hand and skipped across the yard, pulling her along with him. She glanced back and waved.

Richard waved, and his hand froze in the air for a few seconds.

“He’s adorable,” Caroline said.

“Who?” Richard gave himself a little shake. “Joey, you mean. Yes, he’s something, all right. Rough life, though, for such a little fellow. His mother…abandoned him.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Joey lives here,” Richard said, still watching them cross the yard. “Brenna…Brenna takes good care of him.”

Even after the two of them disappeared around the house, Richard stood there for a few minutes, then finally gestured toward the stone steps leading inside.

“We’d better go,” he said. “Stephen is waiting.”

And so was her new life. Caroline drew in a big breath and headed up the steps.

As Charles greeted them, Caroline glanced at the sitting room off to her left, the place where she’d first seen Stephen. Last night seemed like a year ago.

There were many things she hadn’t noticed about the house yesterday evening—the red marble entry, the intricately carved ash woodwork, the ceilings painted with elaborate scenes. Stephen was rightfully proud of his home.

When Caroline and Richard arrived at Stephen’s office, Caroline’s heart thumped its way into her throat. Last night. The desk. His offer to undress her.

Caroline silently admonished herself for having such thoughts. Regardless of the circumstances, here she was, one of the pioneer women in the workplace. And all she could think of was Stephen Monterey’s desire to make love to her in her hat and high buttoned shoes. Disgraceful!

Caroline pulled herself up to stand a little straighter.

True, she didn’t know exactly how an employee should act. She’d never known a woman who actually had a job. But men did it. How difficult could it be?

One thing was certain. Thoughts of her employer—at least those kinds of thoughts—should be put out of her head.

She followed Richard into the office. Stephen wasn’t there.

“He might need rescuing from his aunt. I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable,” Richard said, and left her alone.

Comfortable? A ridiculous notion.

Caroline wandered through the big room, situated at the corner of the house. A row of windows ran down one side of the office, around the circular turret and across the back. Paintings of animals and hunting scenes hung on the walls. The furniture consisted of heavy walnut pieces that looked very masculine.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the beveled mirror above the stone fireplace and straightened her hat. When she’d dressed this morning she’d had no idea she’d end up with a job before noon, but was glad she’d worn a take-me-seriously dark green shirtwaist.

Caroline studied her reflection for a few minutes. She was taking the first step down a path she’d be hard-pressed to return from. Accepting a job. Working. Not many thought it proper.

Aunt Eleanor would not be pleased. In fact, she’d be horrified when she found out. Caroline wasn’t quite sure how she’d explain this to her.

The notion of women in the workplace was accepted in progressive circles—circles that were very tiny. Hopefully, by the time she returned home this evening she could come up with some plausible excuse for her absence. And what she’d do about tomorrow and the day after, Caroline had no idea.

She didn’t even want to think about how Aunt Eleanor would react when she found out Stephen Monterey wasn’t courting her.

Despite the fact that she hadn’t wanted this particular job—really, this particular boss—working was the only thing that made sense to Caroline. The alternative was marriage. She cringed at the thought of being stuck in the same house, mindlessly preparing menus, overseeing the mundane activities of a household, never going anyplace new, seeing anything different.

She couldn’t imagine why her father thought she’d like such a life. Since her mother’s death when she was ten years old, the two of them had traveled Europe, living in hotels or as guests in fine homes, never staying in the same location for more than a few weeks or months. Always new places to see, new people to meet. How could anyone find contentment with the same man, one house—forever?

Caroline adjusted her hat again and gave herself a nod of encouragement in the mirror. Even though she’d been coerced into accepting this position, she was glad she had it. Because after today, she might not have to worry about a ghastly future of marriage ever again.

And to think she had Stephen Monterey to thank for that.

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