The Best of Intentions Page 6

  “Actually, my older brother has become Christian’s guardian.”

  “Oh.” Grace couldn’t hide her surprise. She’d never considered that possibility. Maybe her brother was married and felt he and his wife would make the best guardian for the boy.

  “If it were up to me, I would take Christian in an instant.” A shadow of sorrow passed over the woman’s pretty face. “However, circumstances in my life dictate otherwise.” She gave a shrug. “I’ll have to wait for a child of my own one day.”

  “Did his parents die in an accident?” Grace asked softly.

  “No. His mother died recently from the flu, and my brother . . .” Her voice broke. “He died in the war.” She sat the boy up straighter and hugged him.

  For the first time, Grace’s heart filled with compassion for the Eastons. No matter what family rifts had ensued, they must have loved Frank very much and mourned him as much as Grace mourned Rose. “I’m so sorry. I lost a brother in the war too, so I know a bit of what you’re going through.”

  Horror flooded the woman’s features. “Oh, forgive me. Here I am going on about my own troubles when you’ve been through the same thing.”

  “No need to apologize. We’re among thousands who lost someone we love in the war. I’m glad this wee boy has family to look after him. An orphanage is no place to grow up.” Without thinking, Grace reached out a finger and touched the soft satin of the baby’s cheek. Just a quick brush, then she pulled her hand away before the temptation to linger could take hold.

  “Well, I shouldn’t take any more of your time.” Grace rose from the bench. “I’m glad I found this park. I’ve been taking my daily walks on the streets, but it’s much nicer to stroll among the trees and watch the children playing.”

  “Are you new to Canada?” The look of sadness was replaced by one of curiosity.

  “Yes, I’ve only been here a few weeks. So far I’m finding Toronto to be a fascinating city.”

  “That it is. I, however, am excited to be traveling to Europe later this summer.”

  “Europe? How . . . how nice.” Grace fought to calm a spurt of panic. Were the Eastons leaving Toronto? Would they take Christian with them? “Is your family going on vacation?”

  “No. I’m going with friends of the family. It will be hard to leave this little fellow though, now that I’ve become so attached.” She kissed the baby’s cheek and placed him back into the pram. “We’re in the process of hiring a nanny before I go.” She arranged the blankets, then straightened. “Not having much luck, I’m afraid. All the candidates are unsuitable in one way or another. My mother has very high standards.”

  Grace’s palms grew damp as a thousand thoughts flew through her mind at once. She pressed her lips together. Should she say anything? The woman might think her too forward. Yet if she didn’t take advantage of the situation . . .

  “It so happens I’m looking for a full-time position.” The words burst forth of their own volition.

  “Really?” The woman gave Grace a curious stare. “Do you have any experience with children?”

  “A little. I’ve minded my neighbor’s children and taught Sunday school in my home parish.” Grace’s nerve endings shimmied like an electric charge had passed through her.

  “Sunday school? So you’re a churchgoer then?”

  “I am. In fact, right now I’m doing odd jobs for the rector of Holy Trinity Church. I’m sure Reverend Burke would give me a reference, if that would help.” She held her breath, a hand pressed to her stomach.

  “It would.” She studied Grace. “You obviously love babies or you wouldn’t have stopped to talk. Would you want to be a live-in nanny?”

  Grace’s pulse raced. Living in the Easton household? She’d never dreamed of such a possibility. She thought of her cozy room in the boardinghouse and the unexpected friendship she’d developed with Mrs. Chamberlain. She’d miss their cups of tea in the evening before they retired. But for a chance to be close to her nephew, Grace could do almost anything.

  “It sounds like the perfect job to me.” She gave her best smile, hoping to convince the woman that despite being a total stranger, she would be a good candidate for the position.

  “You know, you might be just the type of person we’re looking for. What’s your name?”

  “Grace A . . .” She bit her lip. She couldn’t give her surname or they’d connect her to Rose. Yet the idea of lying had acid rising at the back of her throat. For the time being, she would have to shove her conscience aside. “Foley. Grace Foley.” The only name that came to mind was her aunt’s married name.

  “Foley. Isn’t that an Irish name?”

  Grace froze. “It is. There’s some Irish on my father’s side.” She gave a nervous laugh, and the woman nodded.

  “Well, Grace, I’ll see if I can arrange an interview with my mother. Is there a phone number where I could reach you?”

  “I can give you my landlady’s number. Her name is Mrs. Chamberlain.” Grace took a pencil and a scrap of paper from her purse and quickly jotted down the number that Mrs. C. had insisted she memorize. “I’m usually home in the evenings.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll call you tonight with a time and the address. And don’t forget to bring that reference.” She smiled as she gripped the pram’s handle and swung it onto the path. “Oh, by the way, my name is Virginia Easton.”

  “Thank you, Virginia.” Grace waved as the woman headed out of the park, then sank back onto the bench, her head swimming with the ramification of her deception. She hated not being honest with Virginia, but if she’d given her real name, she’d never have been considered for the position and would have lost the opportunity to learn the true circumstances of Christian’s life. Surely something as simple as hiding her identity was justified under the circumstances.

  Lord, I don’t know if this is a miracle or the biggest mistake of my life, but I’m going to have to trust you to guide me through it.

  CHAPTER 7

  June 9, 1914

  Did I mention Frank is the son of Mr. Easton, the owner of the hotel where I work? We’re trying to keep our relationship a secret for now. Frank recently ended an engagement to someone his father wanted him to marry, and Frank wants to wait before telling him about us. He’s worried it might affect my job. Isn’t he thoughtful?

  Andrew stopped outside his father’s office and paused to let his temper settle. Paul Edison had summoned him for an unscheduled meeting, wreaking havoc yet again with Andrew’s timetable. He’d hoped to finish up his work and get away early in order to sit in on the nanny interview his mother had scheduled this afternoon. But this interruption meant that likely wouldn’t happen.

  What scheme did Edison have up his sleeve this time? Something designed to make Andrew look incompetent in his father’s eyes, most likely.

  He ran a hand over his hair, adjusted his spectacles, then entered the office.

  Edison lounged in the chair across from Father’s desk as if he owned the space. His slicked-back blond hair and light blue eyes gave him the look of a playboy. Handsome enough to turn the ladies’ heads and charming enough to sway the men.

  “Andrew, come in. Paul and I were just discussing an idea, and we’d like your input.”

  Paul’s arrogant expression brought flashes of Frank’s smirk to mind. Frank had always been the golden boy, his father’s pride and joy. The one who could do no wrong.

  “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” Father used to say. “Talk to the customers, make them feel special. Watch how Frank does it and try to imitate him.”

  His father could never understand that Andrew didn’t have the kind of gregarious personality his brother did. That while Frank craved the limelight, Andrew preferred to remain in the background, quietly going about his business.

  As painful as Frank’s estrangement had been, at least Andrew no longer had to face constant comparisons that proved him lacking. Foolishly, he’d believed he would now have his father’s full attention, the chanc
e to gain his approval at last—a notion that had lasted only until Edison had joined the company as a junior executive.

  Andrew took a seat. “What is this idea?” Whatever it was, it had better not require a large infusion of cash.

  “I’ll let Paul explain.” His father sat back in his chair, his hands folded across his stomach.

  Edison stood and straightened his jacket as though preparing for a theatrical performance. “Now that the war’s been over for six months, people are ready for a celebration. I think we should host a gala—a victory celebration, if you will—in honor of our winning the war, and in recognition of the soldiers who fought for our country.” He got more enthused as he went on, his expression animated. “We’ll invite a few key veterans and make a show of presenting them with some sort of tribute. We’ll charge an exorbitant entry fee, which no one will mind, because it’s for a good cause.” He winked at them. “It will be a great way to bring the community together and boost the city’s morale. Not to mention an opportunity to raise a lot of money.”

  Andrew’s gut tightened. “So you want to exploit the soldiers who have survived the horrors of war—something we can’t even imagine—for your own selfish purposes.”

  Edison’s face darkened. “Of course you couldn’t imagine it, staying here in the comfort of your family estate. But speaking as one who experienced a taste of battle and lived to tell about it, I can assure you I won’t be exploiting anything.”

  Andrew clenched his back teeth together. Trust Edison to poke at Andrew’s sore spot—the fact that the army had turned him down because of a physical limitation, while everyone else he knew had passed with flying colors.

  “The profits would be split evenly,” Edison continued. “Half for the veterans, half for the hotel. A benefit to everyone involved. And, as I said, it would bring the community together in a positive way.”

  “I, for one, am in full support of the idea.” Father leaned forward over the desk to focus his attention on Andrew. “And I expect you to extend Paul your full cooperation. We’ll need to set a date, and get some of the other staff involved. But first and foremost, we’ll need to set up a budget. That’s where you come in, Andrew. I want you to work with Paul to decide how much capital we’ll need. Give him whatever funds are necessary to get this event off the ground.”

  So this was why his father had brought him in. Not because he valued Andrew’s opinion, since it was obvious he’d already decided to go ahead with Edison’s proposal no matter what Andrew thought. He pushed to his feet with a grunt. “Fine.”

  Edison raised a hand. “Before you go, I have one other idea.” He turned, a smug glint in his eye. “I believe Cecilia Carmichael might be the perfect one to work with me on this project. She has a flair for the dramatic and is used to throwing lavish parties. This would only be on a slightly grander scale.”

  Steam built in Andrew’s chest. He clenched his hands at his side. “We have employees who are far more qualified than Miss Carmichael. I fail to see—”

  “A splendid idea,” Father said. “And I’m sure we’d all enjoy having Cecilia around.”

  Before Andrew could protest further, a knock sounded at the door and their secretary entered. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir. There’s a call for Andrew.” The woman had taken to calling him by his Christian name because it was too confusing with two Mr. Eastons on the same floor.

  “Thank you, Martha. I’ll be right there.”

  As he stalked into his office seconds later, he paused for a breath before picking up the receiver. Whoever it was did not need to bear the brunt of his foul mood. “Andrew Easton here.”

  “Drew, it’s Ginny. I need a favor.”

  Grace walked up the long drive toward the Easton estate, tension twisting her stomach into knots. This could be a disastrous idea on so many levels, yet she couldn’t pass up the chance to possibly become Christian’s nanny and see for herself that the boy was well cared for. She owed it to Rose and to their mother.

  Even if she didn’t get the position, she’d have managed to see inside the house where her nephew now resided. That would be worth all these nerves. She hoped.

  Her pace slowed as she approached the front entrance. Afternoon shadows filtered over the house and surrounding property, giving it a slightly ominous feel. The building, even more imposing close up, was as far removed from her tiny cottage back home as the stars were from the moon. Three stories of grand white walls towered above her. A portico with two stately columns sheltered the entrance. She climbed the few stairs and stared at the impressive carved door. Not wishing to be late for the appointment Virginia had so kindly arranged with Mrs. Easton, Grace smoothed down her jacket. She hoped the navy blue suit she’d chosen would give the impression of a trustworthy woman. With a last deep inhale, she knocked.

  A few seconds later, a middle-aged woman dressed in a uniform answered. “May I help you?”

  “Good afternoon. I’m Grace . . . Foley. I have an appointment with Mrs. Easton.”

  The woman opened the door wider. “Please come in. I’ll inform Mrs. Easton that you’re here.”

  “Thank you.” Grace stepped into the impressive entranceway and waited on the mat.

  While the woman disappeared down a hall, Grace took in the elegant interior of the residence. Rich burgundy carpets lined the wooden floors. Warm oak railings framed the staircase. Every wall showcased paintings of all sizes, landscape and still-life mixed with what appeared to be family portraits. She’d never been inside such a grand house before. Squeezing the handle of her purse, she prayed for God’s strength to sustain her through this interview.

  The housekeeper reappeared. “Right this way. Mr. Easton will see you now.”

  “Mr. Easton?” Grace forced her feet to follow the quick-moving woman. “I-I was supposed to meet with Mrs. Easton.”

  “I’m afraid Mrs. Easton is under the weather, so Mr. Easton will be filling in.” She reached an open door and poked her head in. “Miss Foley, sir.” Then she gestured for Grace to enter.

  Grace had only a moment to swallow her panic at having to face the dreaded patriarch of the Easton family—the one who’d disowned his own son for marrying beneath him and who’d caused Rose such despair. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the room.

  Her gaze swung from the floor-to-ceiling bookcase to the massive oak desk that dominated the room, then finally to the man sitting behind it. He wore a charcoal gray suit and striped tie. A shock of light brown hair swept back off his forehead, and dark-framed eyeglasses highlighted a pair of unforgettable blue eyes.

  Her jaw dropped open. The same man who had rescued her last week stared at her now, appearing as stunned as she.

  He removed his glasses, set them on the desk, and rose. “You’re Miss Foley? The candidate for the nanny position?”

  “I . . . Um, that is . . . yes.” Her tangled thoughts fell over one another as she attempted to make sense of the situation.

  Andrew gave her a warm smile. “What a pleasant coincidence. Please sit down.”

  “Th-thank you.” She stumbled forward and sank onto the chair, grateful to be off her shaking legs.

  “So, I understand you met my sister at the park. Mother told me Virginia was the one who presented you as a potential candidate.” One eyebrow quirked. “A somewhat unorthodox manner to get an interview, I must say.”

  She held her gaze steady under his scrutiny, and despite the perspiration dampening her back, attempted a light laugh. “Yes, it was most unexpected. I stopped to admire the baby, and we struck up a conversation. When I found out she was looking for a full-time nanny, it seemed like a God-given opportunity.”

  “I remember you told me you were seeking work.” He frowned suddenly. “How is your ankle? You didn’t walk all the way here, did you?”

  “It’s fully healed, thank you. And I took the streetcar most of the way.”

  “That’s good news.” The lines in his forehead eased. “Well, let’s begin the interview, shall
we? Do you have a letter of reference?”

  “I do.” Grace opened her handbag and pulled out the envelope containing Reverend Burke’s glowing report. He’d been kind enough to write it for her last night on very short notice.

  Andrew removed the letter and began to read.

  Grace tried to breathe normally as she waited, while her mind whirled with the implication that this handsome stranger, the one who had rescued her that night, was little Christian’s uncle and guardian. No wonder he was so quick to retrieve his auto. He’d been only a block or two from home.

  Andrew laid the paper on the desk. “Reverend Burke certainly has nothing but the highest praise for you.”

  “He’s been very kind.”

  “His letter speaks to your work ethic and your character, but do you have any experience with children?”

  This time Grace was prepared for the question. “Not formally. But I did teach Sunday school at our church for several years. And I’ve minded a good number of the neighbors’ children.”

  “What about babies in particular?”

  Grace hesitated. She desperately wanted this chance to spend time with her nephew, but she couldn’t outright lie and claim to have experience that she didn’t. “I adore babies,” she began. “Some of the neighbors’ children I looked after were infants, and though I might not be an expert, I can surely learn whatever I need to. I’m more than willing to be trained.”

  “Fair enough.” He picked up a pen and poised it over the paper in front of him. “Why don’t you tell me a little of your background.”

  “Right.” She clasped her handbag tighter. “I grew up in a small town near Southampton. My father worked in the shipyards, but he died when I was fourteen. I had planned to go to college, but my mother became ill and needed me at home to care for her.” Grace paused. She wanted to give a semi-complete picture of her life in England, yet certain details she would keep private. Most especially her connection to Rose.