Mr. and Mrs. McAlister were standing by the window. Gwen wondered if they’d watched her and Daniel argue while walking up to the house. She marched over, and followed Constance Harrow’s advice by gripping the outstretched hand of her employer.
“Good afternoon, Mr. McAlister.” She took in his immaculate appearance. He had obviously not deigned to lower himself to assume the position of overseer of his outside workers. Instead, he probably bellowed orders from his home office, seated behind a massive desk that made people entering his domain feel dwarfed in the great man’s presence.
Gwen chided herself. It was not her practice to evaluate someone new through the lens of another’s opinion. She’d allowed Daniel’s comments to predetermine the man’s character, and that was not the way she operated.
She offered a genuine smile to the woman of the house. “And you must be Mrs. McAlister. I want to thank you for the kind gesture of flowers in my cottage. I experienced that homey touch instantly.”
The pompous lady managed to kill that compliment. “Oh, that was likely the maid who left them. I merely gave her the note and told her to clean and stock your cupboards.” Her smile did not reach her eyes. “I have far too much to handle managing this household without worrying about the employee’s quarters.” If that didn’t put Gwen in her place, nothing would. She remained speechless.
“I am pleased you decided to join us, Daniel.” His mother’s face softened somewhat, but when her son smiled politely, she stiffened; as if suddenly correcting her moment of weakness. She pointed to the table. “The kitchen staff are ready to serve. Shall we sit?”
Trivial conversation about Gwen’s family followed, which scored her some favor because of her father’s successful business in Baltimore. She answered their questions about the Harrow School of Nursing, and all seemed to be going well through the meal and into dessert. Daniel remained quiet for the majority of the conversation, offering the occasional grunt of agreement. She wondered what had happened to his earlier enthusiasm, which seemed to have died; not only on his tongue but in the glint of his eyes. This Daniel was the same troubled man she’d met at the station the day before. It was time to get this interview over with.
“I have some plans for your son’s recovery, but I wondered about your expectations.”
“We do not discuss business over dinner, Miss Peters.”
“I’m sorry.” Daniel’s eyebrows lifted when he caught her attention. She ignored his I-told-you-so attitude and raised her fork to her lips. “The lemon cake is delicious. My compliments to your baker.”
“Oh, yes. Maggie has been with us for years and her mother before her. She was a lifesaver when she didn’t desert us for greener pastures when many of her kind did after the war. I’d be lost without her running my kitchen.”
“We pay her wages now,” Mr. McAlister said, as if that were the sole definition of freedom. “No need to put the woman on a pedestal.” He rang the bell, and the waiter appeared. “We will retire to the parlor. Please, bring fresh coffee.” He stood and the rest of the family followed suit. His attention pivoted to Gwen as he waved his arm, beckoning her toward the door. “Miss Peters, shall we tend to the business at hand?”
“Certainly,” Gwen replied, so business-like that she wanted to bite her tongue to check to see if she had been the one to say it.
The foursome moved through the open foyer, every inch of detail screaming European influence. Gwen had never been abroad, but she appreciated the atmosphere it created in the grand entryway. She walked into the parlor only to encounter a continuation of the elegance. Chandeliers hung from high ceilings, oriental rugs covered the brightly polished wooden floors, and luxurious velvet drapery hung from the tall, narrow windows. Striped upholstery covered love seats and chairs, and ornate tables with unique vases filled with fresh flowers sat atop them. The layout created multiple seating areas, that would prove beneficial when entertaining crowds.
Mrs. McAlister led the way to the impressive fireplace, and they all sat around the homiest spot in the room.
Thomas McAlister opened the conversation: “You are rather quiet today, Daniel.”
“Just letting you get acquainted with the new nurse.”
“It matters what you think. Are you still dead set against the arrangement, or have her charming ways won you over?”
Gwen bit her lip to stop from jumping into the conversation, assuming that he might think interrupting the discussion with his son offensive. She certainly had no intention of winning her patient’s confidence with charm, and she’d let him know the moment they left this uncomfortable meeting.
“The woman is charming, Father, but not in the way you imagine.”
Gwen rested easier. Given his evaluation of his father’s womanizing character, Daniel had payed her a high compliment, and she guessed they did not flow easily from the broken man.
Thomas roared with laughter, and his wife stared at the fingers fidgeting in her lap. It appeared she too had been caught off-guard by her husband’s reactions.
When the refreshments arrived, he shooed the maid away with his hand, and Mrs. McAlister busied herself with serving.
Mr. McAlister cut to the chase. “You are under the impression that I care about how you achieve the results I expect from your employment, Miss Peters.”
“We hadn’t spoken, so I supposed…”
“Never suppose with me. I am straight-forward and to the point in all my business dealings.”
Gwen was accustomed to a business-like approach, having worked in her father’s shop, but had somehow imagined that a son’s recovery might touch on something more personal.
When the air became stifled, Daniel cut in. “You are talking about my case as if it were just another account in the McAlister files. Need I remind you, Nurse Gwen’s presence was your idea, and you might do
