| |
HER AUNT AND UNCLE’S house had never been so quiet.
There was a stranger with a small briefcase pointing at her uncle, then at Nico, and then, of all things, at Faith herself, as he chattered on about missing plans and even more importantly to his client, Mr. Armstrong, private information that was included with those plans.
All of which never made it to the partnering firm.
“I’m sure my apprentice here gave the courier the tube with everything in it, so there must have been a mishap that occurred during delivery.”
Faith couldn’t imagine how the boy, visible through the study window and observed by her uncle and herself, wouldn’t have realized that he had dropped one of the tubes.
After all, Nico had given him two, so it wasn’t as if he had several to keep track of.
The man, who was very smug, narrowed his eyes as he looked at Nico.
Why was he focused so much on him?
“You’ve picked a good day to visit, Mr. Gaston. We’ve fresh lemonade and shortbread with rose water icing. Why don’t you sit down and take a moment to relax.”
Aunt Catherine interrupted the tense, and rather one-sided, conversation, stepping into the parlor with a tray, Evie at her heels. Faith had to move a bit closer to Nico, where they were standing behind and a little to the side of her uncle, and when she did, the back of her hand touched the back of Nico’s much larger one.
She stiffened involuntarily, trying to keep her attention on her aunt, who continued to talk to the intruder as if he was a valued guest she had invited to tea.
Or lemonade, in this case.
Nico’s fingers stretched out alongside hers, instead of pulling away, but she didn’t dare look at him. They stood side by side, their fingers barely touching, but Faith was so distracted by this small contact they shared that she could barely discern what was being said.
Until the word thief punctured through her thoughts.
Was Mr. Gaston accusing Uncle Will of stealing?
“It is difficult to believe that someone found this information, which was of great use to Mr. Armstrong’s competition, and knew how to use it to their advantage by selling it to him. I suspect that someone involved with this project knew very well how lucrative such a trade would be, and made a tidy profit from handing it over, which amounts to theft.”
Nico was very still and didn’t even flinch when the lawyer turned his gaze pointedly to him. Faith slid her hand over the tightest bit, and in a moment, they were holding hands.
He shifted their joined fingers behind her back, and she wondered if he was worried that anyone would see them touching like this.
What did he think would happen?
“We’ve spoken with the Manhattan representative of the courier service, who assures us that their employees are trustworthy, but I am continuing to investigate that aspect further.”
He slid his gaze to the tray and snatched up a cookie as he gripped the handle of his briefcase.
Aunt Catherine raised her eyebrows, but Uncle Will remained stone-faced, not giving the man the satisfaction of a response.
“I will find the thief, and we intend to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.”
As he turned towards the hall that led to the front door, he stuffed the cookie in his mouth, and Aunt Catherine smirked a little as he made a low hum of approval.
“That’s the last time he gets any cookies from me. If he shows up here again, he’ll starve.”
Nico squeezed Faith’s hand a little as she held back a nervous laugh at her aunt’s remark. Leave it to her to attempt to lighten the mood, which was as intense as it was serious.
“Tell me about the courier boy, Nico.”
Faith felt Nico’s hand leave hers just as Aunt Catherine caught her eye, her aunt’s growing wide as she clearly noticed that she and Nico had been holding hands.
She took Faith’s arm to lead her to a minty green velvet chair, and took a seat next to her, gesturing wordlessly at the tray that rested on a table in front of them as Nico answered.
“He was very young, as I remember thinking he was close to my brother Gino’s age - perhaps twelve. There was nothing distinguishing about him, I mean, he wouldn’t stand out if you saw him on the street.”
Her aunt was watching the men talk, listening carefully, but Faith was distracted as she twisted her hands together in her lap. She held hands with her cousins and her brother all the time, not to mention her elders, but with Nico, it had felt completely different.
She looked at him as he described the boy, who did indeed sound like any other boy they might find walking or riding his bike around Newport, noticing that while he seemed calm, his voice moderate and sure, there was something in his voice that made her think he wasn’t telling her uncle everything.
But why not?
“Please, eat and have some lemonade. We’ll be back shortly.”
Suddenly her aunt was standing, smoothing her long, soft blue skirt around her legs and taking her husband’s arm as she spoke to Faith.
In moments, her uncle and aunt had left the room, with Faith still in the chair and Nico standing only a few feet away, staring after them.
“They’ll find a way to blame me.”
Nico’s voice was so flat and emotionless that Faith wasn’t sure what he had said at first. The claim made no sense.
Why would anyone think Nico had stolen the plans?
“I’m sure Mr. Armstrong is very angry, and I understand that, but why wouldn’t he want to find who was truly at fault, instead of pointing at someone innocent?”
Finally, Nico turned to her, shaking his head as he moved closer. She wondered if she should stand, but before she could decide, he was in front of her, with a hand extended. She didn’t need any assistance to get up, but she held his hand tightly, not letting go once she was off the chair and looking up at him.
His hair had grown longer since they first met, and the jet black curls that covered his collar looked so soft, she wanted to reach out and touch them.
“You are a very fortunate girl, and I know that you realize this, but you must know that there are people in the world who will do whatever they can to make money and gain power. There are no limits to what some people are capable of.”
She reached out and found his other hand waiting for hers, and now they stood inches apart, their hands tight together.
“But that still doesn’t make sense. Why you? What would you stand to gain by taking that information?”
His fingers tightened over hers, and as the silence grew between them, she offered a silent prayer, asking God to protect Nico from what he suspected might happen, closing her eyes as she waited for him to continue.
“Money. Maybe an opportunity? A chance to work again with whomever was paying me?”
“You would never . . .”
She was surprised when he interrupted her response, his dark eyes flashing impatiently.
“You don’t know me well, Faith. We don’t know each other well. I want that to change, and I know that you do, too.”
Faith flushed a little at the reminder of her words to him when he caught her as she fell after Thomas pushed him. She had spoken without a second thought, as if her words didn’t hold so many implications in them.
But most importantly, one sincere hope that they might have a chance to know each other better.
And an honest confession of how much she liked him already.
When he dropped one of her hands, she opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted it to her face, resting it along her cheek.
She leaned into it, feeling her lips curve into a small smile as she watched his own expression shift a little before returning to a serious stare as he continued.
“I am honored that you have such trust in me, in my character, that I would never steal from anyone. But . . .” he stopped, his forehead creasing in thought, as if he wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to next. “The courier boy looked at me as if he didn’t like me on sight, which isn’t unusual but strange for one employed in such a manner.”
Faith blinked a few times, clearing her thoughts, which was difficult with Nico so close, the warmth of his hand on her face, his touch firm and reassuring.
“Why isn’t that unusual? What aren’t you telling me, Nico?”
She watched his lips twitch a little as she said his name, and wondered if he liked hearing her speak it.
“Nico is a nickname, but not much of one. My full name is Nicolo, after my mother’s father.”
“This pitcher is still full, and the only cookie missing is the one that awful man inhaled as he left.”
Aunt Catherine bustled into the room, her usual graceful glow replaced by annoyance.
“What is going on?”
Faith reluctantly stepped away from Nico as her aunt approached, her question pushing the edge of annoyance into something else, something Faith had never heard from her before.
“You two are entirely too close, and it’s a bit soon for that. And in my house! I’d be in hot water with your father, Faith, if he finds out, and I’m not in the habit of lying to him.”
Her parents didn’t need to be bothered by any trouble from Faith, she knew, and immediately felt bad for putting her aunt in such a position.
“I apologize, Mrs. Travers. We were speaking and . . .”
“And, my foot. The two of you have been watching each other for weeks, and in my day, a respectable boy went straight to a girl’s father and . . .”
Faith’s uncle appeared behind his wife, and interrupted her with a false cough, just as she had been interrupting Nico with her admonition.
“Unless, Catherine, he was terrified of the young lady’s mother.”
Faith was relieved to see the smile on her uncle’s face, which only grew wider as his wife turned to smirk at him.
“And yet you survived, and Mother has become quite fond of you. At least as much as she can become fond of anyone who isn’t Lilly, Father, or her children and grandchildren.”
There was definitely more to this story, but Faith was more concerned about what Nico had been about to explain to her.
Why would anyone dislike him, even before they had a chance to know him at all?
“Please, Mr. Travers, tell me what I can do to help with this situation.”
Nico’s statement made Faith wonder why he hadn’t told her uncle what he had just said to her.
Would it help for her uncle to know that Nico was sure he was going to be blamed for the plans and information falling into the competitor’s hands?
This was Nico’s feeling, though, and not hers, so Faith decided to wait to see if Nico would speak of it, instead of bringing the subject up herself.
But he didn’t, and when he left not long after, promising to return the next morning as usual, he didn’t smile at her or offer any reassurances.
That courier boy, from whatever office he was sent, was employed by Uncle Sam and Aunt Sarah’s company, a detail that would not be lost on Uncle Will.
As Faith headed home in the opposite direction from where Nico walked, she prayed, whispering simple words of thanks and praise that pulled her from her thoughts about her own desires.
She couldn’t, however, shake her worry over how complicated her once simple and pleasant life had become.