Proposing Mischief, page 6
“We’re in new territory,” Boone said. “New for all of us. I’m inclined toward patience with each other.”
Footsteps could be heard in the hallway. Boone’s eyes lit on the empty chair next to Mrs. Penney. He’d get this fellow introduced, and then they could get started. Everyone turned toward the open door in expectation as a shadow preceded the Kentworth progeny.
Boone felt the air leave his lungs in a low-pitched rumble. It was the woman from the cave. This time her dress was clean, although poorly fitted, hanging off her broad shoulders with sleeves too short. Her hair was pulled tight, exposing her clean features, unpowdered freckles, and a widow’s peak on that auburn head. She stood with her hands hanging artlessly at her sides and returned the stares of half a dozen curious professionals.
Boone leapt to his feet. Crossing the room with long strides, he stepped in front of her, shielding her from their view. “Can I help you?”
“There you are.” She smiled as if his presence solved all her problems. “I’m here for the meeting.”
“What meeting?”
“This meeting, I reckon.” When she heard snickers, she looked over Boone’s shoulder and smiled at the offender.
“There’s been some mistake. This is a board meeting of a newly formed company. We aren’t open—”
“Newly formed? You mean the treasure mine that I discovered?”
The laughter in the room died. “Mr. Bragg, does this corporation already have some shares spoken for?” his financial adviser asked.
“No, sir,” Boone said. “This lady has no claim on the mine. She was trespassing. Miss . . . ?”
“Kentworth. Miss Kentworth,” she supplied.
Boone’s mouth popped closed. His eyes squinted. “Miss Kentworth, you say?” This was bad. This was really bad. “And your grandmother is . . .”
“Mrs. Laura Kentworth. She’s out there sitting in the buggy, although I reckon she’s sought a shade tree by now. I wanted to thank you for getting me off the ranch. If it wasn’t for you, they would’ve kept me chained up like a lunatic uncle. I couldn’t believe my luck when Granny told me you’d agreed to let me have a say in your business. What do I know about running a tourism spot? So that was mighty generous of you, especially after I kicked you in the face. ’Course, then you lit my skirts on fire, so maybe we’re even in that respect. But I’m not one to walk away from something as incredible as that cavern.”
Boone could feel the questions forming around the table. This was not what he’d signed on for, and it definitely wasn’t what his investors had agreed to. But Miss Kentworth seemed oblivious to their shock.
She stepped around Boone to face the confused board members, her hands on her hips. “Well, if this is supposed to be a business, we’d best get after it. With all you fine people assembled, you’uns have got to have something better to do than gawk at me.”
Spotting the empty chair, she strode to it and dropped into it without pretense. She was here to stay, and Boone was realizing that he could do nothing to prevent it. It felt like every step to his own chair at the head of the table was barefoot on broken glass.
He stared at his maps as he collected his thoughts. He had promised Mrs. Kentworth that she could send a grandchild, he just hadn’t considered that it could be a granddaughter. He surely hadn’t thought that the adventurous woman he’d met in the mine was a Kentworth. It all made sense now, but had he known, he would’ve been more circumspect with his promises.
Too late now.
“Gentlemen and Mrs. Penney, please welcome Miss Kentworth to the board. Not only is the access to this dig going to be through her family land, she is also the one who discovered the cave . . . while trespassing. I expect she’ll bring a unique perspective to what we’re trying to accomplish here.”
With every venture, there were unexpected complications. He’d learned to make allowances for delays, expenses, and false starts. But no matter how much experience he had, he couldn’t have foreseen the rouser from the cave coming to his boardroom.
Boone picked up his agenda and continued the meeting, and for once he wasn’t distracted by thoughts more exciting than what was going on in the room with him.
Maisie tried to follow the discussion but found it awfully boring. Soughs, adits, water skips, Cornish force pumps—it was like she’d wandered into a foreign country and didn’t speak the language. How could she contribute to a conversation on the oxygen content of air or the voltage of electricity needed to light the cave? Had they wanted to talk livestock or farming, then she might have some wisdom to impart, but not the logistics involved in this venture.
Maybe this had been a mistake. Having to sit still was as tough as a hickory knot. If they had cracked a window, Maisie might have been content, but without some air, she was getting antsy. She purred, thinking about the coolness down by the creek and how the air tickled over her skin after taking a dip. Mr. Hunt’s cleared throat made her sit up straighter and stop daydreaming. Maisie planted both feet on the floor. She had to be here. It was her only shot at a life untethered from the farm.
“And while a decision is being made on the pumps, the promotional campaign will get started. We’re going to run advertisements in all the local newspapers, of course, but also on the printed train schedules, so visitors from around the country will know we’re here. The scientific community will be invited, but also your more common visitors—families, students, honeymooners.”
“We could have parties down there.” Maisie blinked at the sound of her own voice. Had she really said that aloud? But the idea had merit. “You could put a floor in when the water’s gone. Build a stage. Have weddings, dances, parties. It’d be a gathering place like no other.” Warming up to her subject, she leaned toward the group. “Otherwise people will come once to see it, and then they’re done. But if you had a reason for people to come, a reason for people—”
“I like it,” the woman sitting next to her said. “I’m Mrs. Penney, and as the marketing expert on this board, I think you have a genius idea. Daily tours will be essential in the beginning, but we could market this as a romantic getaway or the ideal place for a spectacular wedding.”
“Hmmph.” The grump across the table let the folds of his face crease even deeper. “Let’s not muddy the waters. This is a scientific discovery, the largest geode ever discovered. I don’t think a dark, wet hole in the ground is going to spark any romantic notions.”
Maisie thought of how she’d looked after her foray into the cave. Her face covered in dirt, her skirt burned to ashes, the scrapes on her arms from pulling herself up out of the cave—not romantic at all. She tried to choke down a chuckle, but the marketer noticed.
“Wait a minute. You discovered the cave, didn’t you? And then Mr. Bragg found you down there?” Mrs. Penney’s eyes flashed from Maisie to Mr. Bragg. “That must have been a very interesting meeting.”
Mr. Bragg’s face had gone as white as milk. His eyes met Maisie’s, and she read his warning. What had he told them? She didn’t know.
“We did meet there,” Mr. Bragg said at last. “She was coming out of the mine to tell me that she’d found something.”
The mood of the room had changed. Grins were being exchanged, and there was a lot of rustling as the board members moved so they could keep both Mr. Bragg and Maisie in view.
“Of course you followed her into the mine to see what she discovered.” Mr. Gilbert removed his cold cigar from his mouth so he didn’t have to speak around the chewed end. “And I guess you discovered something too.”
Well, that was enough of that. Maisie was in this mess because a man liked to run off at the mouth. She wasn’t about to tolerate it from this fellow.
“You watch your stinking mouth. I don’t like your insinuating.” Rising to stand over him, Maisie cocked back her right arm, being how it was the one she favored. Mr. Gilbert threw up an arm and ducked his head at the same time. Then she heard the only familiar voice in the room.
“Miss Kentworth, don’t threaten the board members, please.” Mr. Bragg rubbed his hand tiredly down his face.
Maisie dropped into her chair. “Sorry,” she murmured. “I’m easily riled.”
No more rustling. Everyone sat stock-still, unsure what to do.
Mr. Gilbert must have been good-natured even at his own expense. “You don’t brook any nonsense.” With his off-kilter nose, he looked like possibly the only man in the room who had taken a punch. “If you hadn’t had mercy on me, I’d be working on a fat eye right now. Serves me right. I didn’t mean any offense.”
“None taken,” Maisie replied dutifully, although obviously she had taken offense. “I forgive you,” she added, for that was closer to the truth. If she was going to be allowed to work with Mr. Bragg, their relationship had to be above reproach. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“Now that we have that behind us, let’s look at the crew and who we think will be assigned to this project.” Mr. Bragg flipped the page of a journal he was working on, and everyone bent over their papers to take notes. Everyone except Maisie, who had nothing to write on.
“We’re going to talk later. I’ve got questions.” Mrs. Penney’s fair skin wrinkled around her eyes as she tossed a private smile at Maisie. If Maisie had known that Mr. Bragg was such an important man, maybe she wouldn’t have kicked him in the face.
The rest of the meeting went slowly. Certain parts of it made sense, but other times Maisie allowed her imagination to roam over the elaborate room and intricate details of the furnishings. She owed Granny Laura for giving her this chance. Her parents had been one hundred percent against her leaving, but when Granny offered to chaperone in place of Amos and Hank, there was little they could object to. Maisie could just imagine herself strolling down the high-ceilinged hallways every day and chatting with these fancy people about the work they were doing to get the mine open. Maisie wrinkled her nose. With her luck, Mr. Bragg would put her down in the cave with a shovel and make her work with the miners. She was probably more suited to that.
The conversation in the room had halted. Maisie looked around to see what was the matter, and they were all looking at Mr. Bragg, who was staring at her.
“Did you hear me, sir?” the financier asked. “Those last numbers—do they have your approval?”
From the far-off look in his eyes, Mr. Bragg wasn’t listening at all. His lips were twisted into a bemused smile, and he probably didn’t even realize he was staring at Maisie.
When their eyes connected, he blinked. Then, aware of his surroundings, he cleared his throat and picked up whatever paper happened to be closest. “What was the question, again?”
The meeting continued, and he seemed determined not to look her direction again. City folk sure acted strange, or maybe it was just business meetings that made people act peculiar. Maisie wondered what Granny Laura was doing with all this time on her hands. Maybe she’d gone to visit her daughter-in-law Myra and Maisie’s cousin Olive. Maisie wouldn’t mind getting to visit with Uncle Oscar’s family. Wait until they heard that she’d been to a bona fide board meeting.
Finally, the discussion wound down. Around the table they went, each verifying what they would work on before their next meeting. The man before Maisie said something about ordering more dynamite to blast the new access, and then it was her turn.
Maisie scratched her elbow as she tried to come up with something she could do. Then it hit her. “I’ll reset those fence posts so you’uns can get to your new entry without setting our cattle loose. If my brother will help, we can get it done tomorrow, but if I have to dig the post holes myself, it could take an extra day.”
She’d said something funny. The man next to her choked, then hid his face behind a piece of paper like there was something on it that he suddenly had to read. Mr. Bragg wasn’t laughing at her like everyone else, but he was smiling like she amused him in a fond way.
The marketing lady patted Maisie’s arm. “You take care of that fence, darling, but you and I are going to have a little talk. I want to hear all about you and Mr. Bragg meeting in the glass grotto.”
Maisie shot Mr. Bragg a frightened look, but he had moved on to the next person, and soon everyone around the table had reported.
Mr. Bragg stood, which was the signal for the board to gather their things, although no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Instead, various members of the board made plans to meet and continue their work later. As far as Maisie knew, no one was going to come out and help her with the post holes, so there was no further discussion coming from her. She headed for the door.
“What’s this I hear about you and Miss Caine?” Mr. Bragg’s foreman asked him. “Does she know about this crystal cave yet?”
Instead of answering him, Mr. Bragg called Maisie’s name.
“Miss Kentworth.” The room silenced at his voice.
Maisie turned. “Yes, sir.”
“A word please.” But instead of coming toward her, Mr. Bragg walked to a door on the opposite side of the boardroom and held it open.
Was she in trouble? Probably. She didn’t belong with these people. If only she could be professional like Mrs. Penney. The only skill she’d exhibited was the ability to break into a building and shimmy through some loose boards. It was no wonder she didn’t fit in.
Not yet. But she wanted to someday.
CHAPTER
7
Having a lady like Miss Kentworth in the boardroom had been a mistake. How was Boone supposed to focus on business with her present? He might as well have turned a frolicking foal loose and let it kick up its heels. A foal would’ve been easier to ignore.
Boone held open the tall door that led to his private office and waited for Miss Kentworth to pass through it. She stopped within his span to survey the room. With its bookshelves littered with maps, rolls of ink-covered paper, and chunks of ore and rock with tags glued to them, he had to admit it was a mess. Except for his desk, which he kept spotless.
When she hesitated, Boone motioned her to a seat. He laid his hand on his leather-covered portfolio. A drafting pencil was arranged precisely parallel to it on the desk. No one could touch it without him noticing, and he noticed right then that it was moving. It bounced as the floor beneath his feet shuddered. Miss Kentworth had carried the heavy leather chair he’d offered her to the side of his desk and dropped it where there was no barrier between them.
Boone looked at the floor and calculated the exact distance from his desk to her chair. “Would you prefer my seat?” he said. “If you wanted to sit behind the desk, you could’ve asked.”
“Well, we ain’t eating supper, so I don’t know what good a big table between us is. No reason to be yelling at each other from across the room, and it’s one hundred percent proper. We aren’t even within reach.” Miss Kentworth stretched forth her arm and waved it, demonstrating that her fingertips didn’t reach his chair. When he drew back, she asked, “Did I do something wrong?”
Boone lifted his chair and turned it to face her. “Just unexpected . . . and practical. Though now that I think about it, the practical is usually unexpected, isn’t it?”
“Not in my world,” Miss Kentworth replied. “Why would you do things that serve no purpose?”
Why indeed? Why did he have to attend entertainments that weren’t entertaining? Why did he have to endure small talk when conversation could be boiled down to a few pertinent points? Why couldn’t women escort themselves to brunch and leave him alone?
And why was he wasting his time talking to this woman? Maybe because for the first time, Boone didn’t feel like it was a waste.
“Miss Kentworth, why are you here?” He’d do as she preferred and get to the point.
“I’m here because I’m on the board of the Crystal Cave.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and he remembered the strength those arms must possess to break through a rock wall.
“But why you? Why did your grandmother choose you for this position?”
“If you knew my cousins, you might see that she’s being sensible.”
Boone was getting nowhere. He straightened his pencil in case it had moved since he’d straightened it last. “Miss Kentworth, we agree that we should be practical, so I’m asking what it is about this job that appeals to you. In plain words, tell me what you’re hoping to accomplish by joining this project.”
She lowered her eyes. Her brown lashes danced above her freckled cheeks. She gripped her knees, and the muscles in her arms tightened. “I want to be free,” she said.
Boone was intrigued. The freedom to work, to think, without constant interruptions seemed an unattainable goal, but not one he expected to hear from a lady. “How will working here make you free?”
She looked him over, sizing him up, if he judged correctly. Then, with a slight nod, she began. “There’s this man. He got it in his head that we should be hitched. At first, I entertained the idea, but when I decided agin it, he made a nuisance of himself. My family won’t let me leave the farm now. Unless I have this job, or something similar, I might never—”
Before she could go any further, the door to his office swung open.
“Is the rumor true?” Mr. Caine skidded to a stop when he saw Miss Kentworth. Wherever he’d come from, he’d left in a hurry, because he wore no suit coat or hat, and the Caines were never seen in public undone.
Boone straightened. He hadn’t realized how far he was leaning toward Miss Kentworth until he saw Caine’s expression. But she’d been saying something interesting. He was already bored with Caine’s conversation, and it hadn’t even started.
“I’m not selling the mine,” Boone said. “Not now. There’s more exploration to do.”
Caine’s eyebrows rose. “More exploration? I thought you’d explored to your heart’s content.”
“I told you I was going back down there one last time before I signed the papers. That’s what I did, and I made a fascinating discovery.” Boone turned to Miss Kentworth. She smiled like a conspirator, and he felt like he’d found some freedom as well.
