moment.
‘‘Carmelita, I’m sure you would understand if I were to ask you to no longer take your meals with us.’’
Carmelita paused, spoon halfway to her mouth.
‘‘Don’t,’’ Lissa said. ‘‘Don’t you do this, Rachel. How could you?’’
‘‘I’m sorry,’’ Rachel continued, ignoring Lissa’s appeal. ‘‘But if I am to instill piety and virtue in my sister and brother, then I must do so with a clear conscience.’’
She quickly shied away from thoughts of her less than virtuous behavior yesterday—and on a Sunday, no less.
Carmelita’s gaze bore into Rachel, then without another word, she stood and stepped away from the table.
Lissa jumped to her feet. ‘‘Carmelita! Wait.’’
Carmelita swept through the curtain and into the hotel.
Lissa leveled a glare at her sister before slamming out the back door.
The enthusiastic shouts of men greeting Carmelita easily reached the ears of the two still in the kitchen.
‘‘Was that really necessary?’’ Michael asked softly.
‘‘Yes,’’ she answered, ‘‘but I didn’t like doing it.’’
‘‘I didn’t like you doing it, either.’’
He, too, left without finishing his meal.
Rachel forced herself to stay at the table until she’d eaten everything on her plate. Then she rose and cleared the dishes. But the entire time, her anger at Johnnie for putting her in this position simmered.
Just wait until she got ahold of him.
chapter 8
T he door to the shanty was propped open, giving Johnnie a clear view inside. But instead of finding Rachel, he found Merle Sumner. Sitting in a chair, his tight checkered pants peeking out from a sheet, his head thrown back, his face lathered up, and Lissa hovering above him, giving him a shave.
‘‘Is your neck getting tired?’’ she asked, her soft voice pouring out like liquid honey, the razor poised above Sumner’s jaw.
He opened his eyes. ‘‘No, my dear. I do not believe I have ever felt so fine as I do at this moment.’’
Johnnie watched her soften at the man’s words, having no idea she had an audience of two instead of one. How could she not have heard him come in? There was no question in his mind that Sumner had heard him, though. The man missed nothing. Had extremely keen senses. Most seasoned sharks did.
She placed her free hand beneath Sumner’s head, her fingers spreading through his black hair. ‘‘I just wish I could make you a bit more comfortable.’’
Sumner’s hand snaked out from beneath the sheet, touching Lissa’s elbow.
Johnnie narrowed his eyes. ‘‘Where’s Michael?’’ he asked.
Lissa gasped. Sumner didn’t so much as flinch. Just loosely grabbed her wrist to keep her from slicing him accidentally.
‘‘Oh, Mr. Parker. You gave me a fright.’’ She disengaged herself from Sumner then smoothed a hand down the front of her apron.
‘‘Where’s Michael?’’ he repeated.
‘‘A new ship full of gold seekers came in today. It also carried the post, so Mr. Sumner here paid Michael to wait in line and pick up his mail for him.’’
‘‘Where’s your sister?’’
‘‘She’s at your place. Said you were paying her to water your trees.’’
He hesitated. ‘‘What are you doing, Lissa?’’
Sumner slowly raised his head. ‘‘I believe she is Miss Van Buren to you, is she not?’’
Johnnie didn’t so much as acknowledge him. Kept his gaze pinned to Miss Van Buren .
She smiled, a little too brightly. ‘‘I’m giving Mr. Sumner a shave.
Three dollars. Would you like one?’’
‘‘I thought you worked with your sister.’’
‘‘I do, I do. But as you know, we finish up every day at noon.’’
Johnnie moved his attention to Sumner. The man offered him a slow grin beneath the lather on his face. ‘‘You may have a turn with her, Parker. As soon as I am done.’’
Johnnie tightened his jaw. ‘‘Does your sister know about this, Miss Van Buren?’’
Lissa pulled herself straight. ‘‘Would you or would
‘‘Carmelita, I’m sure you would understand if I were to ask you to no longer take your meals with us.’’
Carmelita paused, spoon halfway to her mouth.
‘‘Don’t,’’ Lissa said. ‘‘Don’t you do this, Rachel. How could you?’’
‘‘I’m sorry,’’ Rachel continued, ignoring Lissa’s appeal. ‘‘But if I am to instill piety and virtue in my sister and brother, then I must do so with a clear conscience.’’
She quickly shied away from thoughts of her less than virtuous behavior yesterday—and on a Sunday, no less.
Carmelita’s gaze bore into Rachel, then without another word, she stood and stepped away from the table.
Lissa jumped to her feet. ‘‘Carmelita! Wait.’’
Carmelita swept through the curtain and into the hotel.
Lissa leveled a glare at her sister before slamming out the back door.
The enthusiastic shouts of men greeting Carmelita easily reached the ears of the two still in the kitchen.
‘‘Was that really necessary?’’ Michael asked softly.
‘‘Yes,’’ she answered, ‘‘but I didn’t like doing it.’’
‘‘I didn’t like you doing it, either.’’
He, too, left without finishing his meal.
Rachel forced herself to stay at the table until she’d eaten everything on her plate. Then she rose and cleared the dishes. But the entire time, her anger at Johnnie for putting her in this position simmered.
Just wait until she got ahold of him.
chapter 8
T he door to the shanty was propped open, giving Johnnie a clear view inside. But instead of finding Rachel, he found Merle Sumner. Sitting in a chair, his tight checkered pants peeking out from a sheet, his head thrown back, his face lathered up, and Lissa hovering above him, giving him a shave.
‘‘Is your neck getting tired?’’ she asked, her soft voice pouring out like liquid honey, the razor poised above Sumner’s jaw.
He opened his eyes. ‘‘No, my dear. I do not believe I have ever felt so fine as I do at this moment.’’
Johnnie watched her soften at the man’s words, having no idea she had an audience of two instead of one. How could she not have heard him come in? There was no question in his mind that Sumner had heard him, though. The man missed nothing. Had extremely keen senses. Most seasoned sharks did.
She placed her free hand beneath Sumner’s head, her fingers spreading through his black hair. ‘‘I just wish I could make you a bit more comfortable.’’
Sumner’s hand snaked out from beneath the sheet, touching Lissa’s elbow.
Johnnie narrowed his eyes. ‘‘Where’s Michael?’’ he asked.
Lissa gasped. Sumner didn’t so much as flinch. Just loosely grabbed her wrist to keep her from slicing him accidentally.
‘‘Oh, Mr. Parker. You gave me a fright.’’ She disengaged herself from Sumner then smoothed a hand down the front of her apron.
‘‘Where’s Michael?’’ he repeated.
‘‘A new ship full of gold seekers came in today. It also carried the post, so Mr. Sumner here paid Michael to wait in line and pick up his mail for him.’’
‘‘Where’s your sister?’’
‘‘She’s at your place. Said you were paying her to water your trees.’’
He hesitated. ‘‘What are you doing, Lissa?’’
Sumner slowly raised his head. ‘‘I believe she is Miss Van Buren to you, is she not?’’
Johnnie didn’t so much as acknowledge him. Kept his gaze pinned to Miss Van Buren .
She smiled, a little too brightly. ‘‘I’m giving Mr. Sumner a shave.
Three dollars. Would you like one?’’
‘‘I thought you worked with your sister.’’
‘‘I do, I do. But as you know, we finish up every day at noon.’’
Johnnie moved his attention to Sumner. The man offered him a slow grin beneath the lather on his face. ‘‘You may have a turn with her, Parker. As soon as I am done.’’
Johnnie tightened his jaw. ‘‘Does your sister know about this, Miss Van Buren?’’
Lissa pulled herself straight. ‘‘Would you or would
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