Part 20 (1/2)
”Sam says he's getting himself an ice pick,” Nat told Berkeley.
She tapped the page he was supposed to be reading. They were sitting at one of the gaming tables near the Phoenix's entrance. Except for Sam stocking behind the bar, the hall was empty. The Phoenix was closed all morning and several hours each afternoon to everyone except its boarders and employees. It was then that the business of operating the establishment took place. Sam Hartford completed his inventory, wrote out his order, and restocked the bar. Donnel Kincaid inspected for damages made each night by a few rowdy miners and oversaw the repairs to the main hall or the rooms above it. From the kitchen at the rear, Annie Jack's stentorian voice was always audible as she ordered her a.s.sistants around but did most of the work herself. The Phoenix required a staff of thirty to keep her boarders happy and the gaming tables filled. There were dealers and musicians and housekeepers and waiters. Now that all the living quarters were spoken for, the second-floor dining room was always occupied by a few of the boarders. No matter the time of day, the back stairs from the kitchen to the dining room was the busiest thoroughfare in the hotel.
Grey avoided most of the daily rumblings. If he was not at the bank or the wharf or haggling with one of his suppliers, then he was in his office with Shawn going over the books and supervising his other investments.
The hours when the Phoenix was closed were not so demanding on Berkeley. Now that Mike was recovered and on his way east, she kept a closer eye on Nat, making certain he didn't run afoul of Grey. The simplest way to keep that from happening was to keep him busy. While the boy made himself useful to everyone at the Phoenix, he was most attentive to her. When she suggested tutoring him each morning following breakfast, he fell in with her plan without complaint. If she wanted to go shopping or simply for a walk, he was invariably at her side. He accompanied her on errands and sat beside her at meals when she didn't take them by herself. She kept him out of mischief, and he kept her from being alone.
It was an arrangement that seemed to be working remarkably well. Which was why Berkeley was surprised when Nat closed Emerson's first series of essays over her tapping finger.
”Must I?” he asked plaintively.
Berkeley withdrew her finger from the book. ”What are you asking me, Nat? A moment ago you were talking about ice picks. Really, I can't follow your conversation sometimes.”
Nat's face had filled out since he'd come to the Phoenix, but it still retained its narrow shape. His grin was almost too big to be contained in its width. ”Do you know that Mr. Janeway often remarks the same about you?”
She sighed. For once Nat's toothsome smile did not melt her heart. ”Mr. Janeway and I understand each other perfectly. And you shouldn't repeat things you don't necessarily understand, Nathaniel.”
The use of his full Christian name brought Nat to attention in his seat. ”Then I shouldn't have told you what Sam said about the ice pick.”
”I don't even know what that means,” she said. Berkeley held up her abused finger to keep him from explaining. ”Let's inquire of Sam, shall we?'' She had raised her voice just enough to carry to the bar. ”Sam, I know very well you heard both of us. Stop hiding back there. Why is Nat thinking I should know you want an ice pick?”
Sam's head rose slowly above the mahogany horizon of the bar. ”To chip ice?” he said.
Nat completely ignored Sam's sour look in his direction. ”No, Sam. Remember you said it this morning, just after breakfast? We were all still sitting around the table except for Mr. Janeway and Miss Shaw. Donnel said it was getting colder and colder between the two of them and Shawn said he was wearing a coat at breakfast from now on. You kinda laughed and said you were getting yourself a d.a.m.n ice pick.'' Nat's mouth screwed up to one side. ”Sorry for cussin',” he apologized to Berkeley. ”It sorta slipped.” He glanced back at Sam. ”You remember that, Sam?”
”I sure as h.e.l.l don't remember cursin',” he said, his flushed expression both stern and cautionary. ”Miss Shaw's been particular that no one does that in front of you.”
Berkeley raised a brow at Sam. ”Does Nat remember most of it correctly?” she asked.
”I reckon so,” he said. He began polis.h.i.+ng an imaginary smear off the top of the bar.
”You and the others talk about me and Mr. Janeway?”
”No, ma'am. We don't. Leastways not regular-like.” He polished harder. ”But this morning it was pretty chilly at breakfast. Thought Annie's pancakes would get a touch of frost on them the way you two were pleasin' and thankin' each other just like you meant it when you didn't mean it at all. It don't take someone with your gift to see you ain't happy and that he's worse off than you. Donnel and me, we figure it's been goin' on since about the time Nat here came. Six weeks, give or take a day. 'Bout time someone says somethin'.”
Berkeley didn't respond immediately. She took Emerson's essays from Nat and came slowly to her feet. ”I'm sorry it's been so uncomfortable for you and the others,” she said carefully.
Sam stopped polis.h.i.+ng and pulled at his eyebrow again. ”Aplaints about her work. She moved easily among the crowd, chatting with the regulars, acquainting herself with the first-timers. She stood at the tables, watching the play. Sometimes someone would let her take a hand or give her money so she could play her own. She never won. The miners laughed about it; even teased her good-naturedly about her poor luck. They found it ironic that she couldn't make her extraordinary talent work for her at the tables. Not one of them seemed to understand it was impossible for someone to lose as consistently as she did.
Berkeley Shaw, Grey thought, was slow-witted like a fox.
Every loss for her was a win for the house and every win for the house put money in her coffers. She was simply more patient about getting it than the men who frequented the Phoenix.
Grey's attention strayed from Berkeley as he saw Donnel approaching. The man's fiery brows were a single furrowed ridge above his eyes. ”What is it?''
”Have you seen Nat?” asked Donnel.
”I better not see him down here. Why? What do you need?''
”I need Nat,” he said. ”He's supposed to be delivering coals to the rooms. We're in for a cold night.”
”You can look in my apartments,” Grey said. ”The last time I saw him he was returning The Three Musketeers to my library. Miss Shaw has him reading Emerson.” Grey shook his head, plainly sorry for the boy. ”Has to be painful for him.”
Donnel grunted. ”Oh, I think he'll find all reading painful if he has to sit down for it.” He began to stalk off, but Grey brought him up short. Donnel's surprised expression froze when he saw his employer's face.
”Don't lay a hand on him,'' Grey said. His voice was steady. His eyes were like ice chips. ”Find him, have him do his work, then send him to me. You might want to check with Miss Shaw. She may know where he is.” He took his hand from Donnel Kincaid's muscular forearm. ”We'll talk later.”
Donnel nodded once, then wended his way through the crowd.
Several hours later Grey noticed Donnel again. This time the redhead was moving more gingerly among the guests, almost as if he didn't want to touch them. When Grey saw Donnel bend close to Berkeley, getting her ear while she was engaged in a palm reading, Grey saw the reason for his foreman's circ.u.mspect tour of the tables. Donnel's hands were as black as the coal he had been carrying to the rooms.
Grey saw Berkeley's features pale as Donnel spoke to her. To her credit she didn't jump away from her customer and follow Donnel immediately. She completed her recitation before excusing herself. There was the usual clamoring for her to do another, but she declined as she always did. When she retired to her rooms the guests didn't know, as Grey did, that she had no intention of returning to the hall this evening.
By the time Grey reached her room Berkeley was on the point of stepping out. She wore a black woolen mantle with a hood that was pulled up over her hair. Her head was bent as her fingers twisted around the silk frogs. She almost barreled into him.
Grey caught Berkeley by the elbows to steady her. It was the first time in six weeks that he had touched her unexpectedly. She looked up at him, not merely startled, but shocked. His hands fell away slowly. He didn't know if he should apologize or shake her. In the end he did neither. While he was contemplating his options she was brus.h.i.+ng past him.
Grey fell in step beside her. ”Talk to me, Berkeley. What's happened? Where are you going?”
”Nat's missing. Donnel's searched everywhere. He took on Nat's ch.o.r.es himself to make certain Nat wasn't in one of the boarders' rooms. He wasn't. Donnel had looked all around before that. Donnel says you saw him in your library this morning. That was after Sam and I saw him. As near as Donnel can tell he hasn't been seen by anyone since.”
”But that was twelve hours ago.”
”Exactly.” She paused on the landing at the back stairs. ”Sam's going to drive me. There's no need for you to bother yourself.”
”Like h.e.l.l.” He followed her closely. ”Why do you think it's a bother? Do you think you're the only one who cares what happens to the boy?”
”I'd say we're all suspect where caring is concerned. As you pointed out, it's been twelve hours.” Berkeley drew on her gloves when she reached the kitchen. Her back was rigid with anger. ”Excuse me.”
Grey waved Annie and her helpers back to work and stepped outside behind Berkeley. ”I'm going with you.”
She shrugged. ”Suit yourself.”
Grey stepped around her and blocked her path to the stable.
Her face was lifted defiantly. ”Dammit, Berkeley, this isn't my fault!”
”You're wrong,” she said. ”It's yours and it's mine. Ask Sam.”
Sam was looking miserable himself when Grey took the reins from him and told him to step down. ”Don't mind helpin' out,” Sam said. He a.s.sisted Berkeley into the carriage, then jumped down. ”No tellin' where Nat's like to end up.”
”I'll drive her,” Grey said. ”Berkeley says I should ask you why this is my fault.”
”I said it was mine, too.” She sat down, her eyes straight ahead.