of his mouth. He could see that she had not considered this in her zeal to assure her father-in-law’s comfort, but after a moment she offered him a tentative smile.
“We can perhaps make do if you would agree to certain minor changes that would allow Pleasant to feel more at ease.”
“What kinds of changes?”
“If we might have some plain muslin cloth—perhaps some linens that are plain, we could cover some of the more…” Her voice trailed off.
Levi closed his eyes in a vain attempt to get control of his irritation and found himself thinking about the room he had given the women for the night. The cabin had ample room for two. A sofa upholstered in Parisian brocade that folded out into a bed and an upper berth. Above the cabin door hung a painting from his collection in a thick gilded frame. The dressing table was stocked with a variety of toiletries in elegant crystal bottles, each set into a specially designed compartment to keep it secure when the train was in motion. The lighting in the room came from wall sconces that sported laughing cherubs and the floor was outfitted with a thick sheepskin rug. For people like the Goodloe family, he could see that the place might come across as anything but “plain.”
“Could we not do the same for Mr. Goodloe in my room?”
“I suppose. It’s just that he’s beginning to think that we made a mistake in accepting your kind and generous offer.” To his shock her eyes filled suddenly with tears. “Oh, Mr. Harmon, I want so much to find my son and bring him home but if my father-in-law decides we’ve made a mistake and the train stops to take on more passengers and…”
A woman’s genuine distress had always been Levi’s undoing. “Hans!”
The manservant appeared immediately. “Sir?”
“Mr. Goodloe will be bunking in with you for the duration of our trip. I apologize for any inconvenience but it’s necessary.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll see to it at once. Will there be anything else?”
“Yes, while we are at dinner, please see that Mrs. Goodloe’s stateroom is refurbished. Remove anything that shines or glitters or smacks of flamboyance. Use plain linens to make up the beds and see if you can locate a couple of those rag rugs you use at the mansion for wiping our feet inside the garden entrance to put by each bed.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And cover the paintings and mirrors,” Levi added as Hans hurried off to do his bidding. “They are bolted to the walls,” he explained when he saw Hannah’s puzzled look.
“I’ll go and let the others know. May God bless you, Mr. Harmon.” She was halfway down the narrow corridor when he called her back.
“Mrs. Goodloe?”
This time her face was wreathed in a genuine and full-blown smile that took his breath away. He had intended to reassure her that her son would be found and before she knew it, she and her family would be safely back home. But the attraction that shot through him like a bolt of adrenaline before a tightrope walker steps out onto the wire for the first time made him react with the same philosophy by which he had lived his entire life. Never let the other person believe he—or she—has won.
“I am a businessman,” he began, and saw her smile falter slightly. “I rarely if ever do anything without expecting something in return.” The way her spine straightened almost imperceptibly and her chin jutted forward with just a hint of defiance fascinated him.
“I thought you had invited us here as your guests, sir.”
“That’s true.”
“Then what is your price?”
“I would like to know your given name and be allowed to call you by it when we are alone.”
Her lips worked as if trying to find words. Her eyes widened. And then to his delight she burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s a good one, Mr. Harmon. You had me going there for a moment.”
“I’m serious.”
She sobered. “My name is Hannah.”
“Hannah,” he repeated. “Well, dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, Hannah. And I assure you that the food will be plain enough even for your father-in-law.” He turned away, busying himself by flipping through a stack of messages Hans had left for him on the sideboard. He was aware that she remained standing in the doorway to the corridor but he refused to turn around.
“I’ll tell my family,” she said, and then added in the lowest possible tone to still be heard clearly. “Thank you, Levi.”
All the way back to her room, Hannah sent up pleas for forgiveness. From childhood on she had been known for her impish personality. But she was a grown woman now—a mother, a widow. Surely such mischievous behavior was beneath her. Levi Harmon could have turned her away at the door of his lavish Sarasota estate. He could have thrown up his hands and informed her that Caleb’s running away was hardly his concern. He could have done so many things other than what he had done—shown her kindness. And yet the way he had strutted about just now as if he owned everything within his view—which, of course, he did—nevertheless irritated her. And there was another cause for prayer. She sometimes suffered from a lack of patience when it came to the quirks of others. Her mother had often suggested that she look on the qualities of others that frustrated her as habits beyond their control. Such people were to be pitied, not scolded, she had advised. But her mother had never met Levi Harmon who did not inspire pity on any level.
She turned the engraved silver knob of the room she was to share with Pleasant and found her sister-in-law staggering about the cabin bumping up against the furnishings as the train rocked from side to side, and yet clearly reluctant to touch anything. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, fingers knitted together as she murmured prayers in the dialect of Swiss-German they always used in private. She was earnestly beseeching God’s mercy and deliverance from this place that was surely the devil’s own workshop.
“Pleasant?” Hannah caught her sister-in-law as the train rounded a curve. Although the woman was three years younger than Hannah’s age of thirty-two, she looked older. Her face was lined with anxiety. “It’s all going to work out,” Hannah assured her in their native tongue as she led her to the upholstered bench that was bolted to the floor in front of the dressing table.
They sat together with their backs to the mirror and the array of bottles and jars that filled the insets on top of the ornately curved dressing table. Hannah kept her arm around Pleasant’s shoulders as they rocked in rhythm to the train’s movement. “I spoke with Mr. Harmon. He’s going to do his best to see that we are more comfortable.”
“So much temptation,” Pleasant muttered, glancing about with wild-eyed worry.
“Not if we refuse to be drawn to it,” Hannah said.
There was a soft knock at the door and Hannah got up to answer it.
“Oh, miss,” a young woman in a starched uniform exclaimed. “I thought you would be at supper and Hans said that I should…” She clutched a large bundle of plain linens to her chest.
“Let me take those,” Hannah urged, reverting to English. She engaged in the brief tug-of-war it took to persuade the woman to release them. “These will do just fine. Please thank Mr. Winters for us and thank you, as well. I’ll get started and while we’re at supper you can finish, all right?”
The maid nodded then bowed her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. Hannah immediately began covering the large full-length mirror with one of the sheets. As if in a trance, Pleasant got up and unfolded another cloth to drape over the dressing table. “I suppose we could use the bench,” she said, speaking German once again and looking to Hannah for approval.
“Absolutely,” Hannah agreed as she covered the seat’s tufted satin with a plain muslin pillow case. “We’ll leave these for the maid,” she decided as she knelt on the sofa and pulled down