Chapter One
EL TOVAR HOTEL, GRAND CANYON, ARIZONA
1908
“I know you mentioned you’ve sworn off gentlemen forever, but Mr. Tall, Dark, and—need I say—Delicious is here again, and, unsurprisingly, he’s sitting in your section.”
Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, Miss Myrtle Schermerhorn continued pouring coffee from the large urn into the cup she was holding, ignoring that her hand had begun shaking ever so slightly.
She didn’t need to ask who Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious was, knowing Miss Ruthanne Hill, her fellow Harvey Girl and friend, had to be speaking about Mr. Jack Daggett.
Mr. Daggett was a frequent guest at El Tovar, and during the five months she’d been working at the hotel, she’d encountered him often, taken completely aback when he began making a habit of sitting in her section whenever he showed up to dine.
That he was tall, dark, and incredibly delicious was not in question.
Standing over six feet tall and possessed of a build that suggested he spent plenty of time engaged in physical labor, he was a man who drew attention like honey drew bees. There was a ruggedness to his features that complemented his large form, and his eyes were a piercing shade of green, filled with an intelligence Myrtle hadn’t neglected to notice. His hair was blackest black, occasionally worn longer than was currently fashionable, although that might have simply been because he seemed to travel often around the West, where one couldn’t always expect to find the services of a barber.
Mr. Daggett was always formally dressed, wearing a jacket, waistcoat, and a tie no matter how stifling the heat of the day, which Myrtle found somewhat curious. His size suggested he was a man of labor, yet his attire suggested he was something else.
Laborer or not, Mr. Daggett wasn’t a talkative man and had barely spoken to her over the past few months except to give her his order and then thank her after he was finished with his meal. With that said, though, there was something about the manner in which he watched her as she served him, something that left her feeling all sorts of fluttery inside, and something that had her reconsidering her vow of swearing off gentlemen forever.
She was not a lady who’d ever drawn such notice from a gentleman before, and even though it left her flustered at times, she found it rather delightful. She also found Mr. Daggett’s notice was doing wonders for healing the embarrassment of her broken engagement the year prior, a situation that was responsible for her abandoning New York high society and heading West.
“He’s brought someone with him today, someone just as delicious. I think they might be related,” Ruthanne said.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Myrtle set aside the cup that was now filled beyond the brim and dripping everywhere, taking a second to mop up the spill before she lifted her head, finding her friend peering across the dining room.
Ruthanne was all of eighteen years old, five years younger than Myrtle. She was a lovely young lady with blond hair, a creamy complexion, and blue eyes that always held a touch of mischief. Ruthanne had been vocal from their very first meeting about why she’d joined the Harvey Girls: she wanted a reason to leave her family farm in Ohio, and she was looking for a husband—like many of the Harvey Girls were doing, Myrtle excluded.
Fighting a smile, Myrtle leaned closer to her friend. “You’re more than welcome to take my table so you can meet this new man Mr. Daggett has with him.”
Ruthanne’s eyes widened as she returned her attention to Myrtle. “Goodness, no. Mr. Daggett scares me half to death, what with him being such an intimidating sort. Besides, he doesn’t look at me like he looks at you. We Harvey Girls are expected to give our guests a pleasant experience, and his experience today would be more along the lines of disappointing if you don’t take his order.” Her lips curved. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint the man now, would you?”
“I try not to disappoint any of the guests I serve at El Tovar.”
Ruthanne picked up the cup of coffee she’d poured and leveled a knowing look at Myrtle. “But you don’t like any of those other guests the way you like Mr. Daggett, no matter how much you may want to deny it.” Not waiting for Myrtle to respond to a statement that was, concerningly, all too true, Ruthanne hurried away.
Myrtle watched as Ruthanne moved to a section situated at the back of the dining room that was a favorite section of the guests. Large windows with spotless glass flanked an enormous stone fireplace and allowed the guests unfettered views of the Grand Canyon. Those views, even with her distracted by pesky thoughts of Mr. Jack Daggett, never failed to take Myrtle’s breath away.
There was something mesmerizing about the Grand Canyon. It was a place Myrtle had never imagined visiting, the starkness and beauty of the vast land at distinct odds from the world she’d grown up in—New York City. In New York, one traveled to Central Park to escape the noise and bustle of everyday life. But in Arizona, one had only to step outside to discover a sense of peace. The varied colors of the canyon lent the area a tranquil air, and the lack of moisture in the air was so different from the humidity that blanketed New York—which she didn’t miss in the least.
“Are you done with the coffee urn, Myrtle?”
Realizing that she’d completely forgotten she was supposed to be serving one of her guests a fresh cup of coffee, and that she’d been blocking other Harvey Girls from using the coffee urn in the process, Myrtle pushed her thoughts aside. Turning, she discovered Miss Opal Chapman, an amusing young woman who was always quick to share a laugh or a helping hand, standing behind her, an empty coffee cup in her hand.
“Forgive me, Opal. I fear I was woolgathering.”
Opal’s green eyes twinkled. “I imagine you were, what with Mr. Daggett showing up for the third time this week and sitting in your section again.”
“You’ve noticed how often Mr. Daggett has dined here this week?”
“’Course I have, as have all the other girls.” Opal sent Myrtle a wink. “We think he’s sweet on you. We’ve also taken to marking down on the calendar dates we think he’ll finally get up the nerve to ask you to dinner.”
“You think he’s sweet on me?”
Opal bobbed her head, sending the large white bow attached to her dark hair bobbing as well. “I do. But don’t just stand here, chatting with me. Mr. Daggett won’t be able to get around to asking you to dinner if you don’t go over and talk to him.” She moved closer to Myrtle and lowered her voice. “I’d appreciate it if you could speed up his asking a bit. I’ve chosen today as the day he’ll rustle up his nerve, and I wouldn’t mind winning the prize we settled on—leaving work an hour early one day, that hour covered by other Harvey Girls.”
Having no idea what to say to that, Myrtle sent Opal a weak smile before she picked up the coffee she’d poured and headed across the dining room. Taking a second once she’d delivered the coffee to ascertain that everyone at table five was happy with their meal, she drew in a breath to steady the nerves that had begun to make themselves known. Releasing that breath when she reached Mr. Daggett’s table, she summoned up the bright smile Harvey Girls were expected to wear at all times when serving their many guests.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Daggett,” she began pleasantly. His head jerked up and his lips twisted into what might have been an attempt at a smile, although she wasn’t certain about that, because she’d never seen him smile before. In all honesty, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually grimacing at her. If he was grimacing, that would certainly imply he wasn’t sweet on her at all, which would then reaffirm her decision that men were disconcerting creatures and really not worth the trouble.
“Ah, you must be Miss Schermerhorn,” the man sitting beside Mr. Daggett said, drawing her attention. “Jack’s told me all about you. I’m his younger brother, Walter. Pleased to meet you at last.”
Pulling her gaze from Jack, who was now scowling at his brother, Myrtle tilted her head. “Your brother’s told you all about me, Mr. Daggett?”
Walter nodded. “Indeed, but please call me Walter. With you being such good friends with Jack and all, it seems peculiar to be so formal with you.”
Knowing she couldn’t very well contradict Walter and tell him his brother rarely spoke to her because, well, that would be rude, Myrtle smoothed a hand down the front of her stark-white apron as a flash of heat traveled up her neck to settle on her cheeks.
“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Jack muttered before he turned his full attention to Myrtle. His green gaze sharpened on her, which sent additional heat crawling up her neck.
When he didn’t say anything else and simply continued to stare at her, Myrtle cleared her throat but was spared from having to conjure up something to break the awkward silence when Walter sat forward.
“Sure didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Myrtle,” he began, raking a hand through hair that was as dark as Jack’s. “Here I’ve just finally gotten to meet you, and I’m not making a very good impression by bringing up matters I evidently shouldn’t be bringing up.” He raked his hand through his hair again. “I imagine all of you Harvey Girls like to keep your personal business personal when you’re working, so I’ll not say another thing about you and Jack, at least not until you get off work.”
Glancing at Jack to see how he was responding to his brother’s obviously misguided impression of the type of relationship they shared, she found him buried behind his menu, not paying her or his brother any mind at all.
Finding that less than helpful, she returned her attention to Walter. “Perhaps it might be for the best, Mr. Daggett, if—”
“Walter,” he interrupted.
“Walter, then,” she repeated, her lips curving. There was something undeniably charming about Walter Daggett, even with his entirely wrong impression of what was between her and his brother. “As I was about to say, I believe I should get your orders, because I wouldn’t want you to be late for your train. We at El Tovar pride ourselves on serving four courses in thirty minutes, but that might be difficult to accomplish if I spend half of that thirty minutes chatting instead of getting your food brought out to you.”
“We’re not in a hurry today,” Walter said, nodding at Jack, who was still buried behind his menu. “Jack and I have decided to stay here for a few weeks. He’s teaching me how to do the books, and I convinced him there was no better place to do those books than right here in the Grand Canyon.” He caught Myrtle’s eye. “Bookkeeping isn’t the most exciting part of Daggett Industries, but my mother thinks it’s a task I need to learn to help lighten Jack’s load, what with how much business has grown the past few years. I imagine he’s told you all about that, though, hasn’t he?”
“Ah, no. He’s not mentioned a word about his business.”
Walter’s brows drew together. “Haven’t the two of you known each other for a good few months now?”
“Know each other might be a bit of a stretch,” Myrtle admitted.
Jack suddenly lowered his menu, sent his brother a look that could only be described as glowering, then nodded to Myrtle. “I’ll have the steak, medium rare, mashed potatoes, the cauliflower in cream sauce, and a cup of coffee to start. Walter will have the same.”
Myrtle took the menu he all but thrust her way.
Walter shook his head. “I don’t want steak. I’ll have the buttered spaghetti with chicken giblets.” He handed Myrtle his menu. “I also don’t want coffee. A nice lemonade would be far more appealing, because the heat seems extra stifling today, no matter that everyone keeps claiming it’s a dry heat here at the Grand Canyon. Apparently that’s supposed to mean it’s not that hot, but I’m afraid I can’t agree with that nonsense.”
Myrtle smiled. “I’ve thought the exact same thing. I’m sure a glass of our delicious lemonade will be just the tonic you need.” She turned and hurried for the kitchen before Jack had an opportunity to contradict his brother, something she was certain he was longing to do, given that he’d taken to scowling at Walter again.
Blowing out a breath after she sailed through the kitchen doors, she gave the order to the cook, thanking him before heading right back into the dining room again. After checking on her other tables, she hurried to deliver Jack and Walter their drinks. She was thankful they didn’t seem to expect her to engage in conversation with them, although Walter did open his mouth, only to close it a second later when the table gave a suspicious jump, rattling the cup of coffee and glass of lemonade she’d just set down.
“It’s turning into a very peculiar sort of day,” Myrtle muttered under her breath as she headed across the room again, keeping her smile firmly in place when a guest at table seven stopped her, complaining that his coffee wasn’t hot enough. After assuring him that she’d be right back with a fresh cup, she moved to the coffee urn, wishing she’d worn her other pair of work shoes because the ones currently on her feet were beginning to pinch her toes.
“Did you find out anything about the man with Mr. Daggett?” Ruthanne asked, stealing up behind Myrtle.
“Honestly, Ruthanne, you just scared me half to death.”
Ruthanne grinned. “Sorry about that, but did you find out anything about that man?”
“He’s Mr. Jack Daggett’s younger brother, Walter, and unlike his brother, he seems to enjoy talking. He told me that he and his brother intend to stay at El Tovar for a while, apparently so Jack can teach Walter all about bookkeeping that has evidently turned unmanageable because of all the business coming Jack’s way, or something to that effect.”
“Ah, so they’re men of business. What type of business do you imagine they’re in?”
“Did Mr. Jack Daggett ask you to dinner?” Opal Chapman asked, edging her way around Myrtle to get to the coffee urn Myrtle was no longer using.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Opal, but no.”
“Pity,” Opal muttered before she brightened. “He still has time, though. He could very well get around to it after dessert.”
Before Myrtle could respond, Opal dashed away, her black skirt swishing back and forth as she balanced a full cup of coffee perfectly in her hand, not a single drop spilling to the ground even though she was moving at a remarkable rate of speed.
Ruthanne’s nose wrinkled as she watched Opal all but sprint across the room. “How does she manage to move so rapidly without ending up with coffee down her front?”
“No idea.” Myrtle shook her head. “I tried that last week, and thank goodness it was at the end of my shift, because my attempt at dashing and delivering coffee was not what anyone would deem a success.”
“Dashing may not be your specialty, but you’re very good with delivering more than one meal at a time, no matter how heavy the plates.”
“As are you.”
Ruthanne nodded. “True, but that’s only because I grew up on a farm and am used to manual labor. I don’t get the feeling you did much manual labor in your younger years.”
Since Myrtle couldn’t argue with that, and nor did she care to disclose that her younger years were spent attending one society event after another—those events hardly preparing her for a position as a Harvey Girl, or any position except being some gentleman’s wife—she settled for sending Ruthanne a smile before she headed once again across the dining room.
After delivering the cup of hot coffee to the complaining guest, who didn’t even bother to thank her, she checked on another table, then returned to the kitchen, knowing Jack’s and Walter’s orders would be ready.
She put the plates that were waiting for her on a tray, then moved back into the dining room, serving Jack his steak first, and then Walter his spaghetti.
“Is there anything else you need?” she asked, which had Walter clearing his throat in a rather telling manner that then led to Jack lifting his head and pinning her once again beneath a brilliant green gaze.
“Uh, right then,” Jack began. He tugged on his collar as Walter muttered Get on with it under his breath.
“You’re, ah . . . well . . . ” Jack tugged on his collar again, then said something so quickly that Myrtle didn’t catch it. She thought he might have mentioned fetching, although what he meant by that was a bit of a mystery.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. What do you want me to fetch for you?” she asked.
Jack shot a look at Walter, who was smiling in an encouraging way. Jack narrowed his eyes before he returned his attention to Myrtle. He drew in a deep breath, drew in another, then glanced at his plate and nodded, just once. “I don’t need you to fetch me anything. I was . . . ah . . . talking about the potatoes. They look very fetching today.”
A second later, Walter was on his feet and striding across the room, snorts of laughter following him as Jack’s lips twisted once again into what did almost seem to be a smile as he nodded to his potatoes.
Realizing he was waiting for her to make some type of response, Myrtle swallowed the unexpected bubble of amusement rising in her throat. “I suppose the potatoes are looking fetching today. They seem to have a lovely fluffiness about them.”
His lips stretched into a genuine smile, one that actually showed some white teeth in the process. “They do look fluffy.”
Because she had no idea where to take the conversation from there, a circumstance that would have appalled her former decorum instructors, Myrtle gave a bit of a curtsy and turned on her heel, telling Jack she’d check back with him after he had an opportunity to taste his fetching potatoes. As she all but raced away, additional amusement bubbled through her, and she barely made it into the kitchen before a laugh escaped her lips.
“Should I take that laugh to mean Mr. Daggett finally found his nerve and asked you out to dinner?”
Myrtle glanced around and found Opal and Ruthanne standing behind her, grins on their faces. Everyone else in the kitchen stopped what they were doing and turned her way, evidently wanting to hear her answer to what had seemingly turned into the question of the day.
Having never experienced the delight of being part of a close-knit group before, even as a member of New York high society, Myrtle suddenly realized that here, on the very rim of the Grand Canyon, she’d finally found her place in the world, one where people accepted her for who she really was, never comparing her to others or forming unrealistic expectations.
Growing up, she’d been included in all the right society events, but she’d never been considered a success, much to her mother’s disappointment. Her mother, Cora Schermerhorn, was from one of the oldest New York families and still called herself a Knickerbocker, even though that term was not used much these days by the younger set. Cora, unfortunately, had expected all three of her daughters to take society by storm when they made their debuts. Myrtle’s older sister, Helen, had done exactly that, but when Myrtle made her debut, she’d not made much of an impression on the fashionable crowd, a situation that Cora found most distressing, especially since she feared Myrtle’s lack of success would affect the debut of the youngest Schermerhorn girl, Eloise. Thankfully, that had not come to pass, since Eloise was a greater sensation than Helen, although neither her older sister’s nor younger sister’s success in society was enough to move Myrtle from the ranks of the wallflowers and into a more appealing social standing.
Her lack of appeal had never bothered Myrtle much. She’d not entered society for the express purpose of finding a husband, since she’d had an understanding with Mr. Percy Kane for years. That understanding, which was fully supported and encouraged by their parents, centered around the notion they would wed at some point in time. And even though an official announcement had never been made about a formal engagement, everyone within society had known Myrtle and Percy were considered betrothed. That was why society turned their pity Myrtle’s way after Percy had the audacity to fall head over heels in love with Miss Vivian Davis, a beautiful young lady who’d been declared the belle of the Season the moment her dainty foot stepped into Mrs. Belmont’s first ball of the year.
In all honesty, Myrtle didn’t blame Percy for falling in love with Miss Davis. The young lady was charming, graceful, wealthy, and did not enjoy reading—a pastime Myrtle enjoyed to the fullest but that Percy found appalling. Myrtle did, however, blame him for making her the object of whispers behind gloved hands and far too many pitying glances sent her way, that pity directly responsible for why she’d turned her back on—
“So, did he ask you to dinner?” Opal pressed, drawing Myrtle from her less-than-pleasant thoughts about Percy and his lack of gentlemanly behavior.
Smiling at Opal, who was all but bursting with excitement, Myrtle shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“But he was smiling,” Opal pointed out. “No one has ever seen Jack Daggett smile.”
“And his brother left the table in an obvious attempt to give the two of you some privacy,” Ruthanne added.
“I believe Walter left the table because of a bad case of hysterics, brought about by his brother claiming he found the mashed potatoes to be fetching today.”
Ruthanne’s nose wrinkled. “That’s a strange thing to say about potatoes.”
“Quite, and on that note, and before I serve up more disappointment, since nothing Mr. Jack Daggett said to me could be considered an invitation to dine, I really do need to get some pie out to one of my tables, so if you’ll excuse me . . .” Myrtle picked up the tray filled with slices of pie and headed out of the kitchen, smiling as Ruthanne called after her not to lose hope and Opal reminded her to try and hurry matters along since she had chosen today as the day Jack would ask her out to dine.
After serving the pie to a lovely couple from Chicago who’d brought their two children on an excursion to see the West and had decided to fit in a stop at the Grand Canyon since access to the canyon was now readily accessible through the Santa Fe Railroad, Myrtle moved to Jack and Walter’s table, stopping a few feet away when she realized the two men were engaged in an animated exchange.
Jack was shaking his head while Walter was shaking a finger his brother’s way, saying something about a “complete disaster” and then following that up with “what were you thinking?” before launching into another bit about “lost your mind.”
Deciding to check back with them in a few minutes because it didn’t appear to be a conversation that wanted interrupting, Myrtle was just about to turn when Jack looked up, stopped shaking his head, then nodded to his brother, who immediately turned to her and smiled.
“Ah, Myrtle. Been standing there long?” Walter asked, blinking far-too-innocent eyes back at her.
“Not really, although I was contemplating coming back later, since the two of you were speaking so earnestly to each other.”
Walter gave a wave of a hand. “We were just discussing, ah . . . the progress being made on the new house Jack is building.” He tilted his head. “Jack has mentioned to you that he purchased land in Michigan that overlooks the lake, hasn’t he?”
Myrtle looked at Jack, who’d returned to his meal and had just taken a bite of steak. “I can’t say that he has,” she said, looking back at Walter, who now looked fairly resigned, although the moment he seemed to realize she was watching him, he began smiling again, his look of resignation immediately turning to one of determination.
“Well, that’s exactly what he’s done, and it’s going to be a most impressive residence.” Walter’s smile widened. “Why, I imagine it’ll be finished before Christmas comes this year, or at least it’ll be habitable. That means that all that’s left for Jack to do now is find a good woman who’ll be able to turn that house into a proper home.”
“I suppose a wife would be helpful in that regard” was all Myrtle could think to respond.
Walter sent her an expectant look, which left her swallowing.
“And, ah, I imagine your brother won’t have much difficulty finding a woman to marry?” she finished somewhat weakly.
Walter sent her a nod of clear approval. “’Course he won’t, especially if you hold my brother in the same amount of affection I know he holds for you, which would make his acquiring of a much-needed wife an incredibly easy task to complete.”