25 

Closing her book, Caitlyn glanced at the clock on her nightstand and sighed, her concern for Cassie foremost on her mind.

“Cassie isn’t feeling well,” Alli had informed her at the Cliff House, insisting she and their escorts would see her home. And, indeed, her niece had appeared as pale as her champagne-colored dress when she’d kissed her goodbye. But it had been the hollow look of grief in her eyes that set Caitlyn so on edge, she’d asked Logan to take her home early. When she’d peeked in Cassie’s room, the poor thing had been sound asleep and her forehead cool, and yet Caitlyn couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that prevailed. She could sense it—something was wrong. Reaching for her robe, she slipped from her bed and put it on, tying the sash with a firm tug. The grandfather clock in the parlour chimed the midnight hour as she hurried down the hall, its deep bongs eerily foreboding while they echoed through the house like a portent of gloom. Reluctant to enter without knocking, she put her ear to Cassie’s door, ready to give a gentle tap. Her body stilled at the sound of muffled weeping. Oh, Cassie!

“Cassie?” Silence. A reedy breath escaped her lips as she tried again, unwilling to let her niece be alone if something was wrong. She waited, wondering if she’d only imagined it. Inhaling, she turned the knob and poked her head in the door. “Cass . . . are you awake?”

No answer.

Silently crossing the room, Cait bent over Cassie’s sleeping form to place a hand to her forehead, grateful it was still cool. She released a shaky sigh. Thank goodness—obviously her imagination was working overtime. Relieved, she caressed a gentle hand to her niece’s cheek and stopped, her fingers suddenly wet to the touch. She straightened to stare at the sleeping girl and noted the sheen of moisture on her face in the moonlight. Oh, Cass . . .

Whether asleep or not, she was tempted to leave and close the door, but only because she knew it was what Cassie wanted, to be left alone, to fend for herself in this sudden malaise she’d found herself in. And yet, Cait could not. Not when her own heart had been wounded by the hurt she’d seen in her niece’s eyes. “Alone” might be the coping mechanism for Cassidy McClare, but not while Caitlyn drew air. Padding to the door, she leaned to shut it with a quiet click of the lock and waited, suspecting her niece was still awake.

A muffled sob broke from the shadows, and Caitlyn’s heart broke in her chest, propelling her forward with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Cassie, I will not allow people I love to cry alone. Not when prayer can heal an aching heart.”

Cassie jolted up, face slick with tears and her voice nasal from weeping. “Aunt Cait . . . ?”

Caitlyn eased down on the edge of the bed, and with a quiver of her lip, Cassie launched into her arms with a sob that wracked both of their bodies.

Head bent to hers, Caitlyn soothed with a gentle massage of her back. “It’s okay, darling, you just go ahead and get it all out.” She stroked her hair, eyes closed and heart heavy, until the last sob trailed into a shuddering heave, leaving Cassie limp in her arms. Tugging a handkerchief from her pocket, Caitlyn wiped the tears from her niece’s eyes before handing it over. Her gaze was tender as she watched Cassie blow her nose. “Oh, darling, what’s wrong?”

With a sorrowful sniff, Cassie inched back against the headboard, shoulders slumped and voice congested. She stared at the handkerchief in her hands, gaze lapsing into a soulless stare. “I did it again, Aunt Cait,” she whispered, “fell in love with a man who broke my heart.”

Cait’s stomach lurched. “What? But who—” She sucked in a sharp draw of air, Jamie’s absence at family dinners of late suddenly making more sense. Exhaling slowly, she laid a hand to Cassie’s leg. “You mean Jamie? Goodness, Cass, I knew he was interested in you, of course, but I thought you just opted to be friends.”

A harsh laugh tripped from Cassie’s lips. “Oh no, Aunt Cait, a man like Jamie MacKenna wouldn’t settle for ‘just friends.’ No, he pushes and prods and pretty boy’s his way into a girl’s heart whether she likes it or not, until the chase is over, and then he’s gone.”

“What?” Caitlyn’s body went cold. “What do you mean?”

Cassie peered at her aunt, eyes narrowed enough to convey her anger. “I mean Jamie pursued me since the night I arrived, making advances that I deflected at every turn. I insisted on friendship, but no . . . the man was so desperate to win me over, he proposed courtship.”

Caitlyn stared, mouth agape. Good heavens!

“But I remembered what you said about God’s best, about saving myself for a man who loves God as much as I do, and Jamie’s faith was minimal at best, if he even believes at all.”

“No . . .” Caitlyn’s voice was a shocked whisper.

“So I put him off again, which only challenged him more.” She sniffed and blew her nose while some of the anger ebbed away. “But he was winning me over, Aunt Cait, with his attention, his charm, his persistence. So much so that I . . .” A heave shivered her chest. “Well, I agreed to give him a chance to court me if he drew closer to God . . .”

Caitlyn blinked, the pieces of the puzzle taking shape. “Which is why he started attending church with us on Sundays and then book study with you on Thursday nights,” she whispered.

Cassie nodded, blotting her face. “Yes, along with the stipulation he make no more advances until we were officially courting. But then in Napa, he . . . ,” her throat shifted as she stared at the handkerchief in her hands, her voice wavering, “kissed me to coerce me into courtship, and when he did, I knew . . . knew that I loved him and wanted to say yes.”

Caitlyn caught her breath. “And now he’s courting Patricia?” She cupped Cassie’s face, the hurt in her eyes a mirror reflection of her niece’s. “But why?”

———

Why, indeed. Cassie’s eyes weighted closed, her aunt’s question piercing her heart. Because money’s more important to Jamie, she wanted to say, but knew she could not. As much as Jamie had wounded and betrayed her, she would not do the same to someone she loved. And although every nerve in her body railed and raged against it, love him she did, even still. Albeit a love so steeped in hurt and anger that there was no way she could stay. She opened her eyes to see the worry in her aunt’s face and determined she would not burden her further with what Jamie had done. She had no desire to damage her family’s opinion of a man they loved and counted as their own, and if Alli hadn’t badgered her tonight, she wouldn’t have told her either. As it was, she had to beg Alli not to scratch Jamie’s eyes out—something she herself was inclined to do at the moment. Heaving a weary sigh, she stared at Aunt Cait through eyes blurred with tears. “Why? Because he said he couldn’t have faith in a God who would his allow his sister to be in such pain.”

“Oh, Cass . . .” Aunt Cait swallowed her in a hug.

She sniffed, tone wobbly as she leaned into her aunt’s embrace. “Why do we have to fall in love with men who are no good for us?” she whispered.

Her aunt paused a long while, and Cassie suspected she was thinking of Uncle Logan. A wispy sigh feathered her face as Aunt Cait stroked her hair, her voice soft and low. “Why, darling? Because you see, as crazy as this sounds, men like Jamie and your Uncle Logan are . . . ,” she paused to cup Cassie’s face in her hands, the barest trace of a tease on her face, “chocolate layer cake.” Her smile turned sad. “And sometimes, my love, one has a weakness for sweets.”

Cassie sat up, a crimp in her brow. “What do you mean, Aunt Cait?”

She smiled and tugged Cassie back, settling in once again. “I mean sometimes we want what we shouldn’t have.” She paused, her gaze wandering into a faraway stare while the faintest of smiles tipped on her lips. “I remember the first time your Uncle Liam took me to our favorite restaurant—oh, how my mouth watered when I saw the dessert tray that night. There, under a crystal dome, sat the most beautiful piece of cake that I just had to have—my favorite, of course, white cake with seven layers of chocolate buttercream icing. Oh my, how your uncle laughed when I closed my eyes for that very first taste, promptly spitting it into my napkin when I discovered it was dark chocolate.”

She shivered, and Cassie couldn’t help but smile. “Good heavens, how I despise dark chocolate, so your Uncle Liam was kind enough to trade desserts.” A soft chuckle drifted from her lips as she shook her head. “Do you know that I ordered that same piece of layer cake at least four times throughout the course of our marriage? I was so enticed by how it looked, I was convinced it would taste different each time.” Her chest rose and fell with a wispy sigh. “Of course it never did, but oh, how it would make your uncle laugh.” Her smile turned melancholy. “He claimed I was bedazzled by sweets, and of course he was right. Goodness, how I would moan and groan when Mother or Rosie threatened no dessert until I ate my vegetables, especially broccoli, which I detested almost as much as dark chocolate. Once when Rosie made one of my favorites—vanilla bean cheesecake—I made up my mind that this one night I would eat dessert first. So while Mother napped and Rosie ran errands, I helped myself to half a cheesecake.”

“Oh, Aunt Cait, no!”

She chuckled. “Yes, I’m afraid I did, not only earning the biggest bellyache I’d ever had, mind you, but ruining me for cheesecake ever again.” She tucked a strand of Cassie’s hair over her ear, offering a smile tinged with sadness. “You see, Cassie, when I met your Uncle Logan, his pull over me was a lot like that seven-layer cake—I just had to have him. No matter that he had a reputation my parents didn’t trust or that he didn’t seem to have a heart for God, all I knew is that he was oh, so sweet and his kisses tasted oh, so wonderful. It wasn’t until I married Liam that I realized Logan was a dessert that enticed, while Liam was a main course with substance that would nurture and help me grow strong. A man of faith who drew his sustenance and strength from a God who is the Bread of Life, whose very Word sustains us and grows us into the women we are meant to be.”

Her aunt shifted to look into her eyes, the affection in her gaze as warm as the gentle hand that now kneaded Cassie’s arm. “Why do we fall in love with men who aren’t good for us? Perhaps because God wants us to know that without him, a relationship will not grow or sustain like he wants it to and may, in fact, make us sick. That without him, we will never fully be satisfied or enriched in anything we do, especially our relationships. Which means, Cassie,” she said with a tender touch of her face, “as wonderful as Jamie is, without God, he’s not the man for you, and God is likely allowing this heartache to spare you a bellyache down the road.”

Cassie drew in a deep breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. “I know,” she whispered, aware that God had, indeed, spared her from a man she obviously could never trust. But that didn’t stem the pain at the moment. Only time and distance could do that. “Aunt Cait?”

“Yes, darling?” Aunt Cait skimmed a hand over Cassie’s hair.

“I . . . don’t think I can face him again . . .” Tears welled.

Aunt Cait stared, finally consenting with a nod. “You want to go home . . .”

Cassie nodded, the motion unleashing a trail of moisture down her cheeks. “Just until next summer, when you’ll be readying the school to open in the fall.” She pushed her tears away, chin jutting enough to let Aunt Cait know Jamie would not deter her from her dream. “Nothing will stop me from being here for you then—nothing!”

It was Aunt Cait’s turn to nod, her sigh mournful to Cassie’s ears. “When?”

“Tomorrow . . . before Jamie even knows I’m gone.” She swallowed hard, her eyes pleading with Aunt Cait’s. “I . . . don’t want to leave, Aunt Cait, truly, but I just can’t face him right now.” A heave rose in her throat, but she fought it off with anger, infusing a hint of humor to temper her tone. “Or so help me, God—I will seven-layer the man.”

Aunt Cait half chuckled, half sobbed as she gathered Cassie in her arms with a groan. “Oh, we are going to miss you, Cassidy McClare.” She pulled away to study her face as if memorizing every detail. “And you mark my words, darling, by this time next summer?” A melancholy sigh drifted while her smile belied the sadness in her eyes. “You may well have a fondness for broccoli that will put layer cake to shame.”

“I don’t understand, Mama, why does Cassie have to leave?” Maddie asked.

Cassie tucked her toiletries into her luggage and glanced up with a tender smile. “I miss my family, darling, just like you missed your mama when she left early from Napa, remember?”

Tears pooled in the little girl’s eyes. “But we’re your family too.”

Cassie’s heart buckled. “I know, Maddie, and I love you all very much, but my visit is almost over anyway and Mama and Daddy need me, so it’s time to go home.”

“But you talked about getting a teaching job here,” Meg reminded with a glaze in her eyes that matched her little sister’s. “Why did you change your mind?”

Cassie glanced at Alli, who sat against the headboard, her tight-lipped smile infusing Cassie with the strength she needed to see this through. She’d sworn Al to secrecy regarding what Jamie had done, of course, but she deeply regretted Alli’s loss of respect for him, now as flat as her own. She closed her suitcase with a firm click that sounded all too final. Yep, squashed just like her heart, as thoroughly as a june bug beneath the hooves of a twelve-legged mule. Releasing a withering sigh, she chanced a peek in Meg’s direction. “Yes, I was considering a teaching job here, Meg, but I could tell from Mama’s last letter she needed me at the reservation, so I’ve decided to teach there till your mama and sister open their school next year.”

“It won’t be the same here without you.” Aunt Cait’s usual bolstering smile was as shaky as Cassie’s. “Heaven knows Jamie’ll be impossible to live with, winning at pinochle and pool.”

Cassie’s smile dimmed. Impossible to live with. Ah, yes . . . the very reason I can no longer stay.

“Will you come back?” Maddie’s eyes were hopeful.

“Of course she’ll be back, shortcake,” Alli said. “Maybe at Christmas, right, Cass?”

“Absolutely,” Cassie said with a grateful smile. She angled a stern brow at her youngest cousin. “And, I fully expect you to best Blake in checkers by the time I return, is that clear?”

Maddie giggled. All at once her rosebud smile wilted. “I’m gonna miss you, Cassie.”

“Oh, me too, sweetheart.” Cassie scooped her up in a hug, kissing the top of her head.

“I hope you packed that nasty rope,” Alli said, a touch of the imp in her smile. “Heaven knows what Rosie would do with it.”

“Hog-tie your Uncle Logan, no doubt,” Aunt Cait said with a droll smile. “Which come to think of it, might not be a bad thing.” She glanced at the clock on Cassie’s nightstand and rose. “Time to get Cassie to the station. I’m surprised your uncle isn’t clamoring downstairs, as prompt as he likes to be.”

“I can’t believe Uncle Logan’s taking off work just to drive me to the station.” Cassie hefted her bag with a grunt. “He’s way too busy for that.”

Aunt Cait retrieved Cassie’s hatbox. “Well, it’s Logan’s firm and the man can do what he wants.” Her lips twisted. “And usually does.” She paused to sear Cassie with a mock glare. “Put that suitcase down this instant, young lady—Hadley will carry it down, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cassie drew in a deep breath and dropped her bag, giving the room a quick scan. “Well, that’s it, I suppose. Ready?” She linked arms with Aunt Cait to head downstairs, wishing she didn’t have to run away from those she loved to heal a heart twice broken.

“All set?” Uncle Logan stood in the foyer, fedora in hand and face so somber, it prompted more tears in Cassie’s eyes. He and Aunt Cait were certainly an unconventional family, but family nonetheless, and Cassie ached at the prospect of leaving. All at once Uncle Logan swallowed her up in his arms, and her heart ached at the hoarseness in his voice. “You tell your parents I want you all here for Christmas, understood? My gift, no argument.”

She nodded against his chest, the scent of lime shaving soap and the barest trace of wood spice tugging her heart. Oh, how she would miss them all!

“Humph . . . you gonna hog her like you hog the best chair in the parlour?” Rosie darted down the hall from the direction of the kitchen to shove a cylinder tin against Logan’s chest. She yanked Cassie from his grasp to crush her in a strong hug that was nothing short of remarkable given the housekeeper’s petite form. She pulled away to cup both of Cassie’s cheeks, a squint of a warning in blue eyes as firm as the woman’s backbone. “Now, so help me, lass, if you care a whit about this big lug uncle of yours, you and your family will be here for Christmas or I will make his life so miserable, he’ll hightail it to Texas himself.”

“Miserable?” Logan grunted. “Don’t you mean ‘more’ miserable?”

Rosie patted Cassie’s cheeks as she sent Logan a scowl. “You haven’t seen miserable,” she muttered, “except in the mirror.” She snatched the tin and handed it to Cassie. “Here—your favorites—snickerdoodles for the train. For you, not him, you hear?”

“Oh, Rosie, I’m going to miss you so much,” Cassie said with a fond embrace. She leaned close to the old woman’s ear. “And Uncle Logan really is wonderful, you know.”

“Humph—matter of opinion. Gotta get back to the kitchen—don’t want to burn the roast.” She turned to hurry down the hall, tossing a thin smile over her shoulder. “Rump roast,” she said, searing Logan with a look. “Because somebody invited him to dinner.”

“Come on, Cass,” Uncle Logan muttered, “before I ruffle the feathers of a cranky old bird.” He opened the door. “And I’m not talking Miss B.”

Hadley arrived with Cassie’s suitcases in hand and affection in eyes that belied his usual stoic manner. “You will be sorely missed, Miss Cassidy.”

“Thank you, Hadley, and the feeling is more than mutual, I assure you.” Cassie gave the butler a tight squeeze, leaning close to his ear. “Don’t let Rosie bully you, you hear?”

The makings of a grin inched across his lips. “No, Miss, I shan’t.”

“Hadley!” Rosie poked her head out the kitchen door. “I need you to snap the peas, lickety split.”

The butler clicked his heels. “Yes, miss, tap the bees—honey coming right up.”

“Peas!” Rosie screamed.

“Very good, miss,” Hadley said loudly enough for Rosie to hear. He gave Cassie a wink.

Uncle Logan braced Cassie’s shoulders. “It’s time to go,” he whispered, nudging her to the door. She leaned into him all the way down the steep marble steps lined with boxwoods to the cobblestone street where his black Mercedes Double Phaeton glimmered in the August sun. The others followed as Hadley and Logan placed her things in the backseat.

Aunt Cait tugged her into her arms. “Oh, Cassie, how I wish this had turned out differently, darling. My heart breaks for you . . . and for all of us.”

Wetness pricked Cassie’s eyes, and she was grateful no one but Al knew of Jamie’s true motives in turning her away. As far as Aunt Cait, Uncle Logan, and Meg knew, she cared for Jamie so deeply that friendship was too painful an option to stay. She pulled back, attempting a grin she hoped would deflect the grief in her eyes. “Well, like Daddy always says, ‘keep all skunks, bankers, and lawyers at a distance’—and I reckon this way, I’m doing two of the three.”

“Ready?” Uncle Logan helped Cassie into the front seat while the others crowded around.

“Bye, Cassie—we love you!” Maddie’s little fingers pinched tight on Uncle Logan’s car, and it was all Cassie could do to keep from bawling.

She stroked her cheek. “Love you, too, shortcake,” she whispered.

Alli hefted Maddie up in her arms, blinking the gloss from her eyes. “So help me, Cass, the next time I see MacKenna, I have a good mind to slap him alongside the head for being so blamed stupid. I swear, the boy’s so slow, he couldn’t catch a cold.”

“Just give me the word, Cass, and I’ll dock his pay.” Uncle Logan rounded the car, the humor in his tone at odds with the sobriety in his eyes.

Aunt Cait’s chuckle seemed forced. “Well, as difficult as it may be, I suppose it’s best if we all try to forgive and forget. Come Christmas, Cassie will be back and it’ll all be behind us.”

Cassie sighed while Uncle Logan started the car, the rumble of the engine drowning out all farewells. One can only hope, she thought as the automobile veered away from the curb, the family she loved slowly fading from view. “Forgive and forget,” Aunt Cait had said. The sea breeze cooled the tears on her face while Jamie’s memory lingered in her mind. Forgive? She swallowed hard, painful emotion clogging her throat. Most certainly. But forget? Uncle Logan gave her hand a gentle squeeze and more moisture pooled in her eyes.

Oh, not for a long, long while.

So this is what it feels like . . . a child leaving the nest. Caitlyn stared blankly out the open French doors of her study, gaze fixed on the cobblestone street where Cassie said goodbye not twenty-four hours ago. Last night the house felt like a tomb—no cousins giggling or whispering secrets, no laughter from games of whist, no playful gibes between Rosie and Logan. A sad smile edged her lips. Even Miss B. seemed blue, her raucous squawks noticeably absent.

Caitlyn sighed and wandered aimlessly into the foyer where the early-morning light peeked through the glass of the lead-crystal front door. The noisy clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen confirmed Rosie’s grumpy mood as she prepared for another day as somber as the house in Cassie’s absence. Caitlyn paused with a hand to her eyes, heart heavy over the grief of her niece’s departure, certainly, but also the painful circumstances that precipitated it. Few things weighted a heart more than loving someone you could never have, and all at once Jamie’s image merged into Logan’s. Perhaps that was part of the reason she was taking Cassie’s departure so hard—her niece and she shared a common bond that had knit them close—loving two men who didn’t share their faith and were now estranged from them both. Thank goodness Cassie would have the strength of distance to help ease her pain. Unlike me, Caitlyn realized, the polite chill of Napa between Logan and her growing cooler all the time. Which was exactly why she’d sent her resignation to Walter a few days ago—clearly her feud with Logan made her an albatross around the committee’s neck, especially in light of their proposal being denied.

The front door opened and Hadley stepped through with a newspaper under his arm, distinguished as always in his crisp white shirt with black tails despite the sprig of juniper in his hair. A smile played at the corners of Caitlyn’s mouth as she stared at her beloved butler, his craggy face especially handsome with the absence of his new glasses. “The paperboy missed again?” she asked loudly enough for him to hear, plucking the juniper from his silver hair.

“I’m afraid so, miss,” Hadley said with his usual calm, a smile shadowing lips that never voiced a complaint. “I do believe the young ruffian relishes the thought of me rifling through the brush each morning. But I don’t mind. Rather like a trek through the jungle, if you will.”

She stood on tiptoe to graze an affectionate kiss to the old butler’s cheek. “Perhaps because you’ve misplaced your glasses again, Mr. Hadley?”

His eyes actually sparkled. “At times I find life to be more of an adventure without them, miss,” he said with an imp of a smile, “especially where Mrs. O’Brien is concerned.”

Caitlyn chuckled. “I do believe there’s a scamp beneath that regal pose, dear Hadley.”

He smiled. “Well, with Mrs. O’Brien, miss, one finds his pleasure wherever he can.”

The doorbell rang, and she startled, glancing at the beveled glass door where the image of a man shone through along with the sunlight. She heard Rosie’s shouts for Hadley to answer the door and patted his arm. “I’ll get it, Hadley,” she said with a grin, “and I’ll leave Rosie to you.”

“Very good, miss,” he said with a click of his heels, but she noted humor in his eyes.

Peering through the thick glass, she sighed, grateful for something to do other than lament a niece who was more like a daughter. She opened the door to the disgruntled look of her dear friend, Walter Henry, and instantly unease churned over the resignation she’d tendered. “Walter,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt, “what a pleasant surprise.”

His lips flattened into a wry smile. “Come on, Cait, we both know my visit is neither a surprise nor pleasant, judging from the pallor of your face.” He removed his hat and nodded toward the foyer, sparse head gleaming with silver. “You plan to invite me in or do you want to duke it out here in the street?”

The blood that drained from her face upon Walter’s arrival now whooshed back, heating her temper along with her cheeks. She opened the door wide, motioning for him to enter, but her knuckle-white grip on the crystal knob was a key indicator he wouldn’t get far.

He marched past and turned mid-foyer, the pinch of his hat in gnarled fingers as taut as the clench of his jaw. “Resignation denied,” he snapped, one bushy white brow jagging low. “Never figured you for a quitter, Cait.”

Her anger seeped out on a weary sigh as she carefully shut the door. “I’m a liability, Walter,” she said quietly, “and the Vigilance Committee will achieve far more if I’m out of the way.” She reached to take his hat. “Would you like some lemonade to cool off?”

He snatched his bowler away. “The only thing that will cool me off, Mrs. McClare, is your retraction. And you’re wrong—we’ll achieve far more with you presiding over this board.”

Her lips curved into a gentle smile, her affection for this friend as deep as if he were the doting father he always appeared to be. “Dear Walter,” she said with a look of tenderness that eased the furl in his brow, “if I had misgivings about accepting the position before, I certainly have them now when my very presence has jeopardized the committee’s most critical vote, and this after tireless months of work to even bring it before the Board. I just think it’s best if—”

“It passed.” The glint of anger became a twinkle as a smile crooked his weathered lips.

She blinked, her mouth still open from the statement he had so effectively halted. Shallow breaths wisped forth. “Pardon me?” He knew as well as she that the resolution had been defeated six to five after the meeting, including Logan’s negative vote. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, barely able to speak. “The vote was taken—we lost.”

The twinkle in his eye turned mischievous. “The preliminary vote, yes, Mrs. McClare, but the final vote debated behind closed doors?” He winked. “We won six to five.”

“S-someone c-changed his v-vote?” Her mind scrambled to envision the faces of each and every board member. She recalled Logan’s granite scowl while she’d taken the floor, and knew this would only deepen the divide of any civility they shared. “Who would do that?” she whispered, too stunned to be fully impacted by the victory they’d won.

Walter raised up on rolled heels as a satisfied smirk curled the edge of his lips. “Why don’t you ask your brother-in-law?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He grinned. “The deciding vote was his, Cait, although no one is supposed to know that.”

With an audible gasp, she listed against the glass door, utterly speechless.

Walter’s low chuckle prompted a blush to her cheeks. “You and I both know, Caitlyn, there’s only one reason why a man with a vested interest in keeping the Coast as is would change his mind.” He winked. “And she’s standing before me right now.” He grasped her hand to graze a soft kiss to her fingers. The warmth of his laughter tickled her skin. “So you see, Mrs. McClare, if you are a liability, it’s to the opposition, my dear, not us.”

“I . . . I c-can’t believe that.” Her voice was a rasp caught in her throat, the shock of Logan’s actions effectively stealing her wind. And then in a rush of giddy air, laughter rolled from her lips in a little-girl giggle that brought a wide grin to her friend’s face.

“Believe it, Cait—as you know, the closed-door vote is supposed to be secret, but I have it on good authority as to the board member who changed his mind.” He lifted her gaping jaw with a gentle finger. “But you didn’t hear it from me, understand?” The tenderness in his eyes was matched by his look of paternal pride. “There’s only one person alive who could have changed Logan McClare’s mind on that vote, male or female, and we need that person’s influence on this board.” He gave her chin an affectionate tap. “We need you, Cait.”

“But—”

Head cocked, he held up a hand, the stiff bent of his mouth evidence he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “No ‘buts,’ young lady. I expected at least a year’s commitment from you, not a mere month, and besides, your position on this board can only assist in your plans to open a school for the poor in the Barbary Coast, can it not?”

The breath caught in her throat. The Hand of Hope School—her dream to bring hope to an area so badly in need—could certainly be served by her influence on this board. The moment Walter uttered the words, Caitlyn knew he was right. She drew in a calming breath and squeezed his hand. “You’re a wily one, Walter Henry,” she said with a tilt of a smile. “I may have the board chair, but it’s a certain gentleman who garners the influence.”

“Ah, yes, my dear, but when it comes to Logan McClare?” He leaned close with a sparkle in his eyes. “I’m not the one who has his ear, now, am I?”

Caitlyn shook her head, giving Walter a scold of a smile. The realization of what Logan had done suddenly spread through her chest like embers aglow that seeped all the way up to her cheeks, warming her blood. No, Walter, not his ear. Her stomach did a little flip. Nor his heart . . .