He cut a glance her way that effectively silenced her, and she followed him down the rest of the stairs and through a few doors that disappeared seamlessly into the wall as they swung shut behind them.
Eventually, he reached the massive door through which she’d entered the mansion and held it open for her, bowing his head as she passed through. “I suppose you’ll be moving into one of the guest rooms.” His tone didn’t change but it was clear as day that he didn’t welcome the idea.
She was no more inclined to discuss her housing needs with him than she had been with his boss. “Not that I’m aware of,” she said with her own measure of coolness. “It’s not something that has been discussed.”
“It will be. Since she’s come to Wyoming, Mrs. Templeton has developed the habit of taking in strays.”
“I’m not a stray,” Nell said evenly. “I’ll see you Monday morning, Montrose. Have a pleasant afternoon.” Before he could say anything else, she turned and briskly crossed the courtyard paved in herringbone bricks to where she’d parked her car. Her nerves were jangling as she got behind the wheel and drove away from the mansion.
But she didn’t give in to them until she was well away from the mansion.
Then she pulled off the side of the highway, put the car in Park and lowered her forehead to her steering wheel, hauling in several long, deep breaths. She had a job. She’d have money coming in again.
And even though the position with Mrs. Templeton was temporary, it would give Nell some needed breathing space until she could situate herself more permanently.
Regroup. Figure out what it really is you want to do.
Archer’s words circled around inside her head but then a livestock semi roared past, making her car rock slightly, and she sat up again. She blew out a cleansing breath.
“You’re moving to Weaver,” she said aloud. She absolutely was not going to entertain the notion of living at Vivian Templeton’s mansion if that option even arose. And although Archer had tossed out the suggestion that she use his guesthouse, she couldn’t imagine that he’d been serious.
She’d find a place to rent that didn’t involve him.
She waited until the narrow highway was clear again, then pulled out and finished the short drive into the town proper. Because of her previous times there, she was already somewhat familiar with Weaver. She knew that the newer part of town was on the far side, toward Braden, which was the next closest town—some thirty miles away. She was now driving through the more historical center of town. The speed limit was cut in half as the highway turned into the main drag.
She drove past a picturesque park with a white gazebo in the middle of it, then the courthouse where she’d spent many hours sitting next to Martin Pastore as he administrated the Lambert estate on behalf of the state. And all that time she’d been oblivious to his under-the-table dealings.
She let out a frustrated grunt directed solely at herself. “Move on, Cornelia,” she muttered as she slowed even further for a pickup truck reversing out of a slanted parking space into the street.
When the truck was finished, it drove ahead of her and she impetuously angled her car into the spot it had just vacated. When her front wheels bumped the curb slightly, she parked, grabbed her briefcase and climbed from the car. She automatically locked it, then crossed the sidewalk and entered the restaurant on the other side.
It was crowded. Lunch rush, Nell thought, and instead of joining the group of people standing to one side against the wall who were obviously waiting for tables, she crossed to the counter where one stool remained unoccupied near the cash register.
The older gentleman sitting on the stool next to it glanced at her when she set her briefcase on the floor.
“Mind if I sit here?” She touched her fingertips to the red vinyl-covered seat.
“Only if you mind sitting next to me,” he said with a drawl. He had iron-gray hair, and the lines on his face could mean he was anywhere from sixty to eighty. His blue eyes were strikingly pale, sharp and clear, and held a glint of humor.
She smiled in return and slipped out of her suit jacket. She folded it and laid it over the top of her briefcase. “Busy place.” She slid onto the round stool.
The man smiled. The humorous glint in his eye seemed to take on a new dimension. “That it is. Take it you haven’t been to Ruby’s before.” His gaze flicked to her briefcase sitting on the floor between their seats.
She shook her head.
“You’re in for a treat, then. Specials are there.” He nodded toward the chalkboard on the wall. “I’m partial to the meat loaf sandwich.” He glanced at the very young, dark-haired waitress who approached and set an insulated coffeepot in front of him. “Thank you, darlin’.”
The woman had a friendly smile and a pencil stuck in her untidy ponytail. “Sounds like Squire’s been telling you about the menu,” she said, nodding at Nell in greeting.
Nell couldn’t help her small start of surprise at the name. She figured he was likely the same Squire whom Vivian had mentioned. It wasn’t exactly a common name.
“I’m Tina.” The waitress was sliding a plastic-coated menu on the counter toward Nell. “Can I get you something to drink? Water? Soda pop?”
The man next to her—Squire—was loosening the lid on the urn filled with fragrant coffee.
She started to order coffee, too, but hesitated when she saw him pour his coffee into a nearly flat saucer rather than the cup itself. Then with the saucer balanced on his fingertips, he sipped from the edge.
She realized she was staring and looked quickly toward Tina. “Coffee,” she finished, “with cream and sugar, please.” None of the other diners seated at
