A ripple of alarm raced down Darius’s spine. “What does that mean?”
Walcott tilted his head. “I heard you called off your engagement to Meredith Cheeseman.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It affects one of our top clients.” Walcott scowled. “What if Horace Cheeseman pulls his account because of this and finds someone else to manage his properties? You’ve already cost us the Peterson contract. We can’t afford to lose Cheeseman as well.”
With effort, Darius held on to his temper. How had Walcott turned this back on him? “Mr. Cheeseman is a professional. I’m sure he’s able to keep his personal life separate from business matters.”
“We can’t take that for granted.” Walcott jabbed a finger at him. “I’m leaving on a business trip in a few hours. While I’m gone, you need to smooth things over with Cheeseman. Arrange a meeting. Better yet, take him out for dinner and drinks on our dime.”
Darius’s shoulders tightened. He would not stoop to bribery to appease the man. “I’ll call Mr. Cheeseman and make sure everything is satisfactory.”
“Do whatever is necessary to make sure he’s happy. And get your priorities straight, once and for all. This is the last chance you’ll get, Reed.” On that ominous note, Walcott pointed to the door.
With no other option except to quit his job on the spot—an action too rash to make in the heat of anger—Darius blew out a breath and left the office. The encounter had left a decidedly unpleasant taste in his mouth.
But Walcott was right about one thing.
Darius needed to decide where his priorities lay and determine whether or not to continue on his current career path.
By midday, Darius had scheduled a meeting with Mr. Cheeseman and had lined up two potential properties to view. Both locations would be ideal sites for Walcott Towers, if only his boss would take off his blinders and consider a different option. Darius hoped when Mr. Walcott returned from his trip, he might have gained a new perspective and be willing to forget about Bennington Place.
Unable to stop thinking about Olivia, Darius decided to use his lunch hour to go and see how she was doing and make sure that the protestors hadn’t returned. If they had, he would find a way to disperse them.
Ten minutes later, he parked across the street from the house, relieved to note that no demonstrators were visible at the moment. Ruth’s calling the authorities must’ve had a lot to do with that.
A ladder leaned against the exterior of Ruth’s house, and the sound of hammering indicated that a repairman was likely at work. Hopefully the company he’d recommended had given the women a good price. A twinge of guilt flared. He wondered if the repairs were even necessary or if they were invented by the inspector to satisfy Walcott. Unfortunately, there was nothing Darius could do about it now, so he consoled himself with the fact that at least they would be spared any potential leaks in the attic.
As he entered the gate, Darius paused to admire the majesty of the residence, with its tall gables, redbrick exterior, and shuttered windows. The ivy climbing the sides of the house added to its charm, softening its lines and giving the place a welcoming air. It would be a travesty to destroy such a beautiful home solely to satisfy Mr. Walcott’s desire for an office tower.
He knocked on the door. Moments later, Olivia appeared with Abigail in her arms.
His cheery greeting died on his lips at the tragic look that haunted her features. “Good afternoon, Olivia. Is this a bad time?”
Her lips lifted in a hint of a smile. “It’s fine. Come in.”
He stepped inside, noting she wore a hat that matched her navy skirt and that a baby carriage took up most of the entryway.
“I was just about to take Abigail for a walk. Would you care to join me, or are you here to see Ruth?”
“I’d love a walk if you don’t mind the company. Allow me to lift the carriage down.”
“That would be helpful. Thank you.”
Soon they were headed down the sidewalk. He waited for Olivia to begin the conversation, but today she seemed unusually subdued.
At last, she released a long breath and glanced over at him. “We received some bad news after you left the other day.”
“Oh?” His muscles tensed. Had his boss tried some new trick to discredit the home?
“Dr. Henshaw telephoned to say that Mary passed away that morning.” Her voice quavered.
Immediate visions of the woman’s battered face leapt to mind. The way she’d grasped his arm before collapsing at his feet. Darius ground his back teeth together. Whoever had beaten Mary was responsible for her death as surely as if they’d plunged a knife into her. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
The first birth that had occurred at the maternity home had ended in a mother’s demise. Olivia and Ruth certainly didn’t deserve this added strife.
“I feel so bad for Abigail. Left all alone without a mother’s love.” Olivia lifted tear-filled eyes shimmering with sorrow.
He laid a hand on the carriage handle to stop it, then gently pulled her against his chest, the need to offer comfort too strong to ignore. Her breath hitched, and her frame trembled before she relaxed against him. Her warmth, combined with the beat of her heart beneath his, sent streaks of electricity through his system. After several seconds, she released a breath and tilted her head to look up at him, her expressive brown eyes filled with longing.
When his gaze fell to her full lips, heat seared across his chest. This courageous woman, who cared for others so deeply, so selflessly, had no one to lean on to give her strength. His head dipped toward her. She needed—no, deserved— someone to comfort her.
Someone to love her.
Love? He froze, every muscle tensing. Where had that thought come from?
Surely he couldn’t be in love with her. This woman, though highly admirable, was not at all right for him and
