Engaging Deception, page 17
And somehow the family always got what they wanted. If it weren’t for Olive’s irrational desire to impress Ruby and shun Maxfield . . .
“I’ll go, as long as you’re clear that there is no mission beyond”—why was she doing this again?—“beyond showing myself in a positive light.”
“To a man you wish would notice you.” When she gasped, he only chuckled. “This evening might be more entertaining than I’d hoped.”
And all this time, Olive had always thought her sister married into a family that was different from her own interfering clan.
“Tease me if you will, but there’s one thing that you must know. All talk about my building projects and my family are verboten. Mr. Scott and my cousin nearly came to blows over a project. If he had any idea I was the one behind it, it would ruin everything.” Particularly her access to his library.
“What’s going to happen when he finds out?” The ringing of the trolley bell alerted them that their wait was nearly over.
“That’s a very good question,” Olive said. “But I have enough to worry about right now. I’m not going to borrow trouble from the future.”
Despite her brave words, the two-mile ride to the Schifferdecker Electric Park gave her time to worry about the thousand things that could go wrong between Mr. Scott and herself. And the biggest worry of all was the question of why it mattered.
She spotted Mr. Scott standing by the trolley stop. He’d donned a white suit that she’d only seen him wear when taking a leisurely early afternoon outing. In fact, it was the same suit . . .
“Maxfield, it’s been too long!” Marlowe extended his hand then pulled Mr. Scott in for a hearty embrace.
Olive’s mouth popped open. What was happening? Why was Marlowe pretending to know Mr. Scott?
“Marlowe! I told your brother to send my regards, but I didn’t expect to be honored with your presence today,” Mr. Scott said.
They knew each other? This was a disaster. Why hadn’t Marlowe or Graham warned her? She stood, mouth agape, as they recounted their travels from Europe and how they both came to be at the same place. Noticeably absent, she realized, was any mention that Graham had married her sister. Had he explained that, then perhaps Mr. Scott wouldn’t keep looking from Marlowe to her as if amazed that there was a connection.
Ruby joined them, ice-cream cone in hand. A smile passed briefly over her lips as a greeting to Olive but, unlike Olive, she wasn’t content to stand silently and wait for them to finish their reminiscing.
“Max, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” How could she look so enticing with ice cream dripping from her knuckles? How did she prevent it from dripping on her bold red-and-white-striped walking ensemble?
Olive looked down at her gray skirt and cream-colored blouse. Drab little Olive.
“Miss Dennis, this is Mr. Buchanan, a traveling companion of mine. We met when we were touring Europe. Mr. Buchanan, a particular friend of mine, Miss Dennis.”
“Please call me Marlowe,” he said, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips. “I’m enchanted to make your acquaintance.”
An eye roll was imminent, but Olive resisted. Good thing, because Mr. Scott was watching her closely.
“I didn’t mean to overlook you, Miss Kentworth,” he said. “How are you doing today?”
“Please, Maxfield,” Marlowe said. “You must call her Olive. I insist on no formalities among my friends.”
If Olive had any strength in her legs, she would’ve walked away.
“How did you and Marlowe become acquainted . . . Olive?” Mr. Scott asked, no doubt thinking how drab a color olive was.
Of course he didn’t believe that a man like Marlowe Buchanan was interested in her. She wanted to end the ridiculous charade. But how to do so without looking even more pathetic? Instead, she took another look at his suit and said, “I’m glad to see your suit bears no ill effects from your swim.”
“Maxfield, you went swimming in a full suit?” Marlowe hooted. “There’s a story behind that, I’d wager.”
“What did you tell her?” Ruby glared at Mr. Scott.
“He didn’t tell me anything,” Olive amended, remembering for the first time that Ruby had been involved. “But of course I noticed that he was drenched. That and the fact he came home early.”
If Mr. Scott was grateful for her defense, he was unable to express it beneath the ire of his beloved.
“Ruby wants to ride the roller coasters.” He spoke over the heads of the ladies as if signaling to Marlowe that he required assistance. “Are you agreeable?”
“I’m the most agreeable man on Earth,” Marlowe replied.
But Olive feared that claim would be tested.
CHAPTER
17
Had Olive Kentworth kissed Marlowe with the same abandon that she’d kissed him?
Maxfield shook his head and tried to focus on their path as he led them to the roller coaster. He had no business wondering about Miss Kentworth’s personal life. He must stop thinking about that kiss. Push it from his mind. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. And yet, even a gentleman deserved a respite. Maxfield had been hit with one catastrophe after another.
Not only was one of his favorite designs being marred, not only was it being marred by a rube that knew nothing of structure and beauty, not only was that rube committing sacrilege against his favorite design elements, not only was his current project being reset because of that rube and his desecration against the first structure, but on top of all that a sophisticated tycoon was courting the lady Max’d hired to watch over his children. A lady he’d trespassed against, and who had the power to ruin him socially and professionally.
Had she told Marlowe what he’d done? What they had done? It’d be just like Marlowe to save that knowledge to reveal at a strategic moment, leaving Max on edge, waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“My dear, would you like a gelato? It would be refreshing.” Marlowe Buchanan, of the railroad Buchanans, couldn’t take his eyes off Miss Kentworth.
She pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. Was her hand trembling? Maxfield stepped back for a better look. She kept her face turned away from him as if trying to hide her expression.
“A gelato? I don’t know what you mean.”
Whatever was causing her distress, it didn’t seem to be Marlowe. She stayed close by his side, and he was the model of an attentive escort. Too attentive. Maxfield didn’t like the naked adoration that shone every time he looked in Miss Kentworth’s direction. He should show more decorum.
“It’s Italian ice cream,” Marlowe said. “My apologies. Having Maxfield here took me back to Florence. I forget where I am. Do you do that, Maxfield? Do you ever come to your senses, and it seems that the people you are sitting with are strangers and you can’t imagine how you came to be where you are?”
“If you only knew,” Maxfield answered.
“It happens to me every morning,” Ruby said. “I wake up in a hotel apartment and I wonder why I’m not in my own room, in my own house. Why am I surrounded by furnishings chosen by a decorator that did not consult me? What happened to keep me in this situation for so long?”
Max had hoped to take a break from the stress of his work, but Ruby had brought it with them. He felt Miss Kentworth’s sympathetic eyes on him. She understood Ruby’s charge. She listened when he bemoaned the complications of his projects. Olive was on his side, or at least she had been until he’d breached her trust.
“I don’t need ice cream,” Miss Kentworth said. “I’m content as I am.”
In response, Ruby bit through the last bit of her soggy ice-cream cone. Max checked his ire. He had no reason to question Marlowe’s interest in Miss Kentworth. Why wouldn’t a man of Marlowe’s class find her attractive? Rich women had no monopoly on beauty. Miss Kentworth’s delicate coloring was exquisite. Her soulful eyes intoxicating. And her demeanor, the quiet, thoughtful manner in which she conducted herself, rose above class. Her presence would be prized in any parlor.
“Why are we so quiet, when we should be enjoying ourselves?” Ruby squeezed Maxfield’s arm. “Marlowe must tell us stories about Maxfield in Europe. He’s alluded to his time there but gives scant details. Perhaps Mr. Buchanan could fill in the gaps to give us a fuller understanding?”
“That was years ago,” Max said. “I was fresh out of the university.” And he hadn’t met Georgia yet.
“Were you the life of the party, or did you keep your nose in your books?” Ruby asked.
“Would either surprise you?” said Max.
She widened her eyes so they were unblinking. “I think you’re capable of anything. You’ve always been the jolliest man about town, but that changed when Mrs. Wester stopped staying at your house in the evenings. Now you barely get to town before you’re ready to go back. It’s a battle to keep you away from home.” Her grip was leaving sticky fingerprints on his sleeve.
Marlowe leaned over Miss Kentworth and all but whispered in her ear, “You didn’t tell me that.”
Miss Kentworth turned as red as a beet.
Maxfield could feel his mood settling in like fog over the Thames. He felt like he alone was excluded from understanding what was going on. Why would Marlowe be interested in how late he stayed in town with Ruby? What did he mean by it?
Noticing that his friend was eyeing him with suspicion, Marlowe straightened and addressed the group.
“Maxfield was always the responsible one of our set,” said Marlowe. “His best moments seemed to be when everyone else was making fools of themselves. He’d sit back and laugh with whoever was sober enough to enjoy the performance.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Max I know, or at least the Max I knew,” said Ruby. “He never used to sit back and observe. He was always on the run to somewhere . . . or from something.”
“Then we know two different people.” Marlowe returned Ruby’s smile, because everyone smiled when Ruby did. “But since our pronouncements are so dissimilar, we must call in a third opinion to settle the matter. What say you, Olive? You’ve spent time with Max, with his family. What do you say about him? Is he a wallflower, or is he heedless and wild as Ruby claims?”
Maxfield focused on the white rails of the roller coaster that rose above the trees on the avenue. He had half a mind to halt her response. On the other hand, he’d always been a curious man. Why wouldn’t he listen to what Miss Kentworth had to say? If she was going to speak at all. He was tempted to look at her but could feel Ruby’s eyes on him and decided that silence was preferable to making a mistake like that.
“I’m afraid I’m no help,” Miss Kentworth said. “You and Miss Dennis will still be at an impasse because I can’t claim to know one way or another.”
Just when he’d settled that her answer was going to be as uninteresting as the question, she continued. “What is the nature of a maple tree? Does it have leaves or does it have bare branches? Someone who only knew the tree in the summer would swear it was thick with foliage. Someone who saw it only in the winter would claim it was bare. That’s what I think of this controversy. You have known him in different seasons.”
Ruby frowned. “That’s nonsense. It doesn’t match up. Most people settle down as they mature, not the opposite. I can’t believe he was dull and uninteresting when he was young.”
Dull? Maxfield had never thought of himself as that, and neither had Georgia. But he had changed. Loss had changed him. Marlowe was telling the truth. He hadn’t followed the mad pursuit of entertainment back then like he did now. Or at least like he had been until recently. So what had changed? Why had he acted like that in the first place?
His questioning couldn’t distract him from the careful regard that Buchanan paid Olive. Even though Olive was clearly embarrassed by his extravagant deference, she maintained her poise. When Marlowe insisted on escorting her around a puddle she could have easily stepped over, she acquiesced after only one attempt to dissuade him. What was interesting is that Max noticed how she started angling away from the next puddle before they came near so as not to have a repeat of his performance.
Maxfield had seen Olive at work and in her humble house. He knew she didn’t require the chivalry Marlowe was attempting to bestow. And she didn’t seem to appreciate it, which gave him hope.
Hope? What was he hoping for?
They reached the ticket counter for the roller coaster. “Does everyone want to ride?” When they answered in the affirmative, Marlowe said, “My treat,” and bought four tickets.
He wasn’t hoping to replace Marlowe, he told himself. Ruby was a better match for him, and when he had started to doubt it, he had made a fool of himself with Olive. It was better to settle on Ruby and protect his pride.
But he still wouldn’t be sorry when he saw Marlowe’s train carrying him out of town.
Waiting in line, Ruby was her usual sparkling self. She had no problem charming Marlowe, especially as Marlowe seemed to be someone who expected to be charmed. She fanned her hand in front of her face as she talked about how spicy the gumbo at Connor’s Restaurant was. She trilled a melody while describing the latest singer to perform at the Opera House. She swayed as she imitated a tightrope walker that had plied his art over Main Street during Founders Day. Marlowe watched with faint amusement. Once he tore his eyes away from the entertainment that was Ruby to look at his calm companion. Olive smiled at him in her serene way, then he returned his attention back to Maxfield’s partner.
Something about the exchange irked Maxfield. Any other day he’d take center stage along with Ruby and gleefully entertain everyone, but today he felt like one of the adults in the room watching as Leo and Stella sang the songs they’d learned in Sunday school. When a child took the floor, no matter how charming they were, the adults had to wait for the performance to end before returning to their conversation.
“How are Leo and Stella?” Olive asked under her breath as Ruby continued telling Marlowe about the new symphony.
“They are well. Ever since seeing your birdhouses, Stella has been crazy over birds. She stands for hours in front of the window and watches them on the back fence.”
“I should make her a birdhouse. She’d see more of them that way.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.” Max took a step closer so he wouldn’t interrupt Ruby’s monologue. “Where do you buy a kit like that? The detail is astonishing. How many have you made?” He hadn’t meant to bombard her with questions, but she could choose the ones she wanted to answer.
“I’ve made a few, and if Stella wants, I’d be happy to give her the next one.”
Maxfield was touched. Despite the fact that it was his industry, Miss Kentworth was the one willing to build something for his daughter. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Perhaps they could do it together and include Leo and Stella. He’d rather do that than whatever Ruby and Marlowe were conspiring over.
“What a perfect suggestion,” Ruby said as they came to the attendant. “They are ignoring us, anyway. We might as well share a car.”
“Excuse me?” Maxfield looked from Marlowe to Ruby. “What is going on?”
“Ruby wants to hear more stories about our time in Europe, and I’m more than happy to oblige. With your permission, I’ll accompany her in the first available car if you’ll look after Olive.”
Marlowe and his assumptions were too much. How dare he abandon Olive? Had he no concern for her feelings?
But Olive maintained her composure. “If it’s alright with Mr. Scott, then I have no objections.”
“Perfect. Wait until you hear what he said about the construction of the Eiffel Tower.” Marlowe stepped aside to allow Ruby into the car before him. “No one is safe from criticism when Maxfield is around.”
Ruby’s reply was lost as she turned to take her seat in the small two-seater car before them. Maxfield swung open the door to the second car of the roller coaster and allowed Olive to slip inside on the bench seat. Even though the two belts were secured by a hook in the middle of the bench, Olive scooted as far away as she could, which wasn’t far in the little metal car.
This was not how he’d planned the evening. He’d hoped to demonstrate to Olive that he was firmly attached to Ruby and that she could trust him as a friend. To assure her that he had no intentions of embarrassing her again. Instead, he was struggling to remember which lady he was accompanying.
“Have you ever ridden in one of these before?” he asked.
“No, but I’ve been in a wagon with my cousin Finn. It can’t be any worse.” She threaded the strap through the buckle and pulled it tight against her lap, proving how slight she was.
Max fastened his buckle as the attendant walked by and secured the door. “Keep your arms inside and your belts tight,” the attendant called. “The Dazy Dazer travels at thirty miles an hour and makes sudden turns and drops. Your safety equipment is necessary to avoid injury.”
The car jolted as the chain beneath it caught and began hauling it up the track.
“Whatever it is that Marlowe is telling Ruby, you shouldn’t believe half of it,” Maxfield said.
Olive’s hair began to wisp around as they left the ground. “We all have our secrets.”
He loosened his grip on the bar in front of him to turn to her. “What secret are you keeping, Olive?”
She was looking over the city of Joplin as it spread beneath them. Finally, in a voice so soft he wondered if she’d meant to be heard, she said, “I have many, but there’s one we share.”
Maxfield faced forward. “I’m sorry. An apology doesn’t cover my offense, but—”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Does Marlowe?”
“You can’t tell him.” Olive blinked wide. “He’ll tell—” She clamped her mouth shut.
“He’ll tell?” Maxfield was confused. Wouldn’t her beau be the last person she wanted to know? Who could he tell that would care more than him?
“It’s better if we pretend it didn’t happen.” Her full lips pressed together. “Let’s move on.”
“I agree. That’s why I invited you today.”
