All in Good Time (The Gilded Legacy) - By Maureen Lang Page 0,56
away.
But Mariadela was already shaking her head. “We have a buyer coming this afternoon from Cheyenne and a salesman due to arrive any minute all the way from Chicago. I must be here for both. The order from Cheyenne is important, and the salesman from Chicago is bringing sewing samples. William depends on me to know what we need in such matters.” She frowned. “Why do you think you need me there, anyway? Jane is with you now; you won’t be alone.”
Dessa sighed, looking momentarily at the ceiling but seeing right through it all the way to heaven. How could she explain that Turk Foster reminded her of her greatest failure? One that had very nearly ruined her life? “You know Mr. Foster—”
Mariadela shook her head again. “I know of Mr. Foster. I don’t know him personally.”
“That’s more than I know! Mr. Hawkins told me I’d have little in common with the man’s interests. And believe me, from the few minutes I spent in his company, I think I already know the kind of man he is.”
“What kind of man is he?”
“One who knows how to get a reaction out of someone else—particularly a woman.”
Mariadela’s brows shot upward. “Don’t tell me he got a reaction out of you!”
Dessa looked around to be sure neither William nor any of their children were nearby, then whispered, “Tell me, Mariadela: What would you do if a handsome man made you feel as if you were the only woman in the world?”
“And that’s how he made you feel?”
“Let me just say I know that’s what he’s capable of making a woman feel.” Unlike a certain banker who might be every bit as handsome, only he made her feel as though he’d rather be with anyone except her.
Mariadela grinned. “If it’s Mr. Hawkins who warned you about him, then why don’t you go to him for help? Invite him to tonight’s supper.”
“Oh, Mariadela,” she said, exasperated.
Her friend patted her hand. “I wish I could help you, honey. But I just can’t get away. The best I can do is to try to stop by afterward. You can make it clear that I hope to join you for dessert. Would that help?”
Dessa nodded slowly, though she wasn’t at all sure. This was, she knew, ridiculous. She’d learned her lesson, hadn’t she?
Bennet Pierson was the only male heir to the Pierson name and money—and as smooth-talking a man as Turk Foster. Bennet had gone through one maid after another, even after his marriage. When it had been Dessa’s turn—just after she’d reached seventeen—she’d been foolish enough to welcome his attention. He was not only older, wiser, and handsome; he was so important, so respected. And he’d chosen her! A girl of no means, an orphan. She couldn’t deny dreaming that she would last longer than the others, if she ever had a chance.
It had only taken one time for Dessa to realize she’d been as much a fool as the others who’d believed themselves to be special recipients of his attention.
Thankfully, Sophie had learned what happened and rescued Dessa from ruin by taking her along on her travels. As Sophie used to say, it was God who had rescued Dessa, since He’d inspired the mission to help women in need. Given Dessa’s experience in the Pierson family’s employ, as well as in the orphanage, she had been the perfect choice to understand some of the girls they would encounter.
But this was neither the time nor the place to tell all that to Mariadela. Perhaps the memory of Bennet Pierson was all Dessa needed to remind her how shallow were the promises of some men.
Even so, when her favorite market stop took her within a few blocks of Hawkins National Bank, she couldn’t help going out of her way to pass by. Without conscious effort, her steps slowed. Perhaps she’d overreacted to Turk Foster’s visit. Had it only been Mr. Hawkins’s warning that made her so wary of Mr. Foster? And what did it matter what Mr. Hawkins thought, anyway?
It didn’t, of course. And yet Mr. Hawkins was the kind of man she knew she could trust, even if he’d never offered her more than disapproval over both her mission and how she’d spent his bank’s money. He was an honest man, if a bit curmudgeonly.
She had half a mind to go in there and invite him to dinner, just as Mariadela had suggested.
Yet she knew she would not. She kept walking, the grip on her market basket