A Matter of Marriage by Ann Collins

hand.
Despite his size, he did not labor with his body the way Alex did.
    “I’ve
known Julia since she first came here back in eighty-seven,” Tom said, his grip
unchanging. “How do you know her?”
    “We’re
more recent acquaintances.”
    She
nodded in agreement, pleased by Alex’s lack of specifics. Tom could take his
response to mean they had known each other for months, or even years, rather
than just a few hours.
    “You
have a good grip on you, MacLean.”
    “So
have you, Marshal.”
    At
an apparent stalemate, they released each other.
    Relieved,
she arranged herself on the overstuffed, upholstered chair at the head of the
coffee table. Tom tossed his hat down beside the broken step and took the other
sofa across from Alex. The men faced each other over the low table.
    Tom
turned to her. “So what’s this nonsense about someone trying to kill you?”
    Alex’s
hands clenched into fists atop his thighs. “Marshal,” he said, before she could
respond, “physical threats have been made against Julia. We expect you to take
them seriously, not consider them ‘nonsense.’”
    She
barely breathed even as tears pricked her eyes. No one on Coronado ever
challenged Tom Landis. And no man, not even her father, had ever championed her
like this. Alex had also included her in his statement, speaking as if they
were together, of one mind.
    Tom
made no apology. “If there is a threat, I will give it the attention it’s due. Julia,
you were circumspect over the telephone. I need details. Tell me what happened.”
    “I’ll
let Alex explain, starting with the flowerpot that was thrown at me. He saw
everything.”
    He
described the incident, the unerring aim of whoever had thrown the flowerpot,
and how he had grabbed her, rolling them both out of range.
    A
shiver crept up her spine, and Julia wrapped her arms around herself, unsure
whether she was belatedly reacting to those frightening moments or remembering
how it felt to be in Alex’s arms, her body pressed to the length of his.
    “But
you never saw who threw it,” Tom said.
    “No,”
he answered. “I wish I had.”
    “Tom,
Alex saved me from certain injury and possible death. The threat is serious.”
    The
marshal pulled at his mustache. “What about this?” He leaned forward and
touched the broken board.
    She
motioned for Alex to explain his findings. The marshal would take his opinion
more seriously than hers.
    “That
came from an upper-floor service staircase Julia routinely uses at night. The
stair, as you can see, was tampered with. The step gave way under the foot of a
chambermaid, who fortunately wasn’t injured.”
    Tom
examined the freshly sawn and painted wood, then dropped the piece back on the
table. “Julia, when are you going to give up this insanity of managing the
Hotel Grand Victoria? It’s not a job for a lady like you. And now it has become
dangerous. You—”
    She
raised her hands, palms outward, to stop him, then remembered how much she
needed him. “You may be right, Tom,”—she saw Alex purse his lips—“but you know
how much I love the hotel. It’s my home. I can’t let just anybody take charge
of it. Surely you can understand how I feel.”
    He
squinted at her, and his mustache shifted from side to side as his mouth worked
beneath it. “Well, I suppose. It is the only home you’ve known here.”
    Alex
abruptly sat forward. “You can keep the damaged step as evidence, Marshal.”
    “I
don’t see a need for that. I know where to find it if necessary.”
    “Then
how about you make a list of suspects.”
    Tom
laughed. “That’d be a long list. Every man who works here, and a few who don’t,
would be on it.”
    Julia
did not appreciate his laughter, but she forgave him. He was her best hope for
an instant and upstanding husband.
    A
taut stillness came over Alex. “That would put you on the list, too, wouldn’t
it, Marshal?”
    Julia
cringed. What was Alex doing?
    Tom
grabbed his hat, jammed it onto his head, and