Chapter Three

      Elizabeth looked in the mirror the next morning, well before the sun had crested the horizon. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes and weary lines edged the sides of her mouth. Though she hadn’t slept well in weeks, she had tossed and turned all night, trying to think of a way she could earn enough money to buy out Jude Allen.

      More than anything, she wanted to be in control—not only of the hotel, but her life. So many decisions had been made for her since Mama had died. It would have been nice to have a say in her future for once. But before she could think of saving money, she needed to know if she had any legal right to the hotel.

      Not wanting to wake her sisters, Elizabeth found her father’s letter, put it into a pocket in her skirt and left their rooms. Worries about the legality of the letter had plagued her all night long. Surely it was enough to claim her inheritance—it had to be. She had used every penny they’d made on the sale of their things in Rockford to make the trip to Little Falls. There was nothing left to go elsewhere. They’d be destitute.

      Casting aside the troubling thoughts, Elizabeth tiptoed down the dimly lit hall, not wanting to disturb their guests. More than two dozen doors spread out on either side of her, and snores could be heard escaping from several rooms.

      The hotel was clean and orderly, the furnishings were well cared for and everything about the place spoke of top-quality craftsmanship. How much would it be worth if she wanted to purchase Mr. Allen’s share?

      Elizabeth descended the front stairs and found a man seated behind the counter, his keen gaze following her every step. As she approached, he stood and nodded a clumsy greeting. He was a tall man—taller than most she’d ever met. His beefy hands and balding head were the first things she noticed about him, but despite his size, a simple kindness emanated from his hazel eyes.

      “Good morning, miss.” His voice hinted at a lack of education. “Are ya one of them Bell sisters?”

      “I am Elizabeth Bell.” She extended her hand and watched in amazement as it was swallowed up inside his.

      “I’m Pascal Doucette.” He pumped her hand up and down.

      She pulled her hand away and held it by her side—surprised it had returned to her unharmed from his massive grip. “Are you the night watchman?”

      “I am, miss. But I do lots o’ other things for Mr. Jude.”

      “What things do you do?”

      “Well, I watch out for the ladies.”

      Elizabeth frowned. “What ladies?”

      “Violet—and the others when they lived here.”

      “Who is Violet?”

      “The lady Mr. Jude brought here.” Pascal stood a little straighter, his eyes going round. “Didn’t Mr. Jude tell you about them ladies?”

      She shook her head. “Will you tell me?”

      Pascal took a step back and put up his hands, concern deepening the wrinkles on his high forehead. “There’s nothing to tell, miss. Nothing, at all.”

      What was he talking about? Who was Violet and where had Jude brought her from? “Does Violet work in the hotel?”

      Pascal looked all around the lobby, everywhere except at her. He reminded her of a cornered animal and she decided to leave him be for the moment. Soon enough she’d have Mr. Allen answer her questions.

      “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Doucette.”

      “Call me Pascal, same as everyone else.”

      “All right, Mr. Pascal.” She left him and walked down the hall, past the double doors leading into the ballroom, past a few single doors she assumed were sitting rooms and into the large dining room. At least two dozen tables were scattered about, and ferns filled every corner. A bank of windows lined one wall facing the street, with sheer curtains draping from brass rods. White linen cloths covered the tables and a single, unlit candle stood in the center of each.

      Elizabeth was surprised to find that she wasn’t the first person awake. Already there were three men seated in the room, steaming cups of coffee and large plates of flapjacks before them.

      She felt their gazes as she passed through and pushed open the swinging door into the kitchen.

      The aroma of coffee filled the room and she inhaled a deep breath. The smell invigorated her and gave her some much-needed energy.

      “Morning, lovey. You’re up early.” Martha stood at the stove turning a flapjack. “Couldn’t sleep?”

      Another woman sat in the room, polishing silverware, but she paused in her work to stare at Elizabeth. She had bright red hair and brown eyes. At first glance, Elizabeth assumed she was a young woman, but the lines around her hard eyes made her look much older.

      Martha glanced at the woman and then wiped her hands on her apron. “Miss Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet Miss Violet.”

      “I’m pleased to meet you,” Elizabeth said, offering her hand.

      Violet put out her hand and shook Elizabeth’s with a force that surprised her.

      So, this was Violet. Something about the woman didn’t settle right in Elizabeth’s mind. “Do you work here?” she asked.

      “Yes, miss.”

      It was a simple answer and Elizabeth waited for more of a response, but none came. “What do you do?”

      Violet continued to polish a spoon. “Whatever needs to be done. Mostly I clean.”

      “Don’t let her modesty fool you,” Martha said with a merry laugh. “She’s invaluable to us.”

      “How long have you worked here?”

      Violet looked to Martha and Martha hurriedly said, “Long enough to know she’s one of the best maids we’ve ever had.”

      So far, Elizabeth had counted three employees at the hotel—four, including Mr. Allen. Were there more?

      The door swung open and Mr. Allen appeared with a freshly shaved face, the pleasant scent of cologne preceding him into the room.

      He scanned the kitchen and his handsome gaze stopped on Elizabeth. “Pascal told me he met you and that you came in this direction.” He let the door close behind him. “I see you’ve also met Violet.”

      “I have.” She took a step closer to him and said quietly. “Are there any more employees I need to know about?”

      “Not that I’m aware of.”

      Martha placed a flapjack on a plate. “Will you have some breakfast before you go see Mr. Hall?”

      “Mr.