Make-Believe Beau. Keli Gwyn
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she preferred to think about the crops that would flourish with a proper irrigation system.
The whistle blew, signaling the end of the break. She deposited her lunch pail in the closet, washed up and returned to the Den, eager to begin her next drawing.
She entered to find Trace and George standing in front of a brand-new drafting table in the spot between Kurt’s board and Flynt’s, which had been empty before.
Trace turned, a grin on his face. “Look what was delivered while we were at lunch.”
George sauntered to her side. “Allow me to escort you to your station.” He held out his arm.
She wrapped one hand around his elbow and pressed the other to her chest. “That lovely board is mine?”
Trace loped over to take her other arm. “It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”
Kurt, seated at his drafting table, spit his response. “It’s fancy.”
That it was. The four draftsmen’s tables had plain black bases with three heavy brass feet. Her board’s base was all black with beautiful gold stenciling.
Kurt kept his focus on his drawing. “Wait until Arnold sees it. He’ll have something to say, for sure.”
Trace gave her arm a brotherly squeeze before releasing it. “Don’t pay him any mind. He’s just upset on account of his board isn’t as fine.”
“Yours is very nice, Jessie. Look at this.” George pulled out a drawer on the upper left. “There’s a matching one on the other side.”
“Sure is.” Trace pulled it open. “There’s something inside. Instructions perhaps?” He pulled out a cylindrical piece of paper and handed it to Jessie.
She unrolled it and spread it on the drafting board. Her drafting board. “It’s a drawing.”
“For a drafting stool?” Trace scratched his head. “Why?”
“That’s a good question.” George stood behind her and placed his hand so close to hers they practically touched.
She pulled hers away and ran a fingertip over the legend, where the initials FK appeared. According to the date, Flynt had completed the drawing the day before. But what had prompted him to do so? And why was the drawing in the drawer of her drafting board? She checked the dimensions. The stool had a circular rung right where she would need it.
“Look!” George directed her attention to a penciled note at the bottom of the paper. The notation indicated that the stool was being built by a furniture maker downtown and would be delivered by the end of the week. “It seems you’re going to have a stool just your size.”
As much as Flynt’s gesture meant to her, he’d given her special attention. She couldn’t allow that. “Excuse me, please. I need to speak with Flynt.” She headed for the door.
Trace stopped her. “What’s wrong, Jessie? Don’t you like the board?”
“I do, but...” She glanced at Kurt, whose rigid posture and jerky movements evidenced his displeasure. “I’ll be back.”
She found Flynt in the hallway. “Why did you do it?”
He stopped short. “What did I do?”
“You designed a stool for me. Between that and the new board...” She shook her head. “It’s different than the others. It should be the same.”
“I designed the stool, but I had nothing to do with the board. You’ll have to take that up with Corby.” He jabbed a thumb toward the manager’s office. “It was all his doing.”
Her irritation faded. She softened her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just that I don’t appreciate being singled out. It’s hard enough for me to gain acceptance as it is.”
“That wasn’t my intention. I saw how sitting on an ill-fitting stool caused you discomfort. My goal was simply to make things easier on you.”
Her lips parted. She quickly pressed them together, drew in a calming breath and attempted to set things right. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions. As I said before, I’m not used to being shown such consideration.”
But Flynt wasn’t like many of the other men she’d known. “The stool will be wonderful. I look forward to using it. And I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, even though I misinterpreted things.”
“Apology accepted.” He held out a hand toward the Den. “How about returning to your station so I can get you started on that new drawing?”
“I want to talk with Corby.”
“I know. You will. Later.”
He was right. Approaching their manager in her present state wasn’t a good idea. Besides, the beautiful drafting table could be his way of showing her that he wasn’t as resistant to having her there as he’d led her to believe. She’d have to give that some thought.
The afternoon passed quickly. Working on her new board was a joy.
Before Jessie knew it, the whistle for the mine’s shift change blew, signaling the end of their workday. She put her tools away and gathered her things from the closet. Lunch pail in hand, she hurried to Corby’s office and rapped on the door.
“Come in.”
She stepped into the smoky room and was transported back in time to the High Stakes, where the air had been blue on busy nights. She shoved aside the memory. “Good evening, sir. Do you have a minute?”
“Indeed. I was actually going to call you in. Would you ask Flynt to join us, please? I have something important to discuss with the two of you before Harvey shows up with the wagon.”
Corby’s serious tone didn’t bode well. “Yes, sir, but first I wanted to discuss my drafting board.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s wonderful, but—” she summoned her courage, which had a tendency to falter when he frowned, as he did now “—I don’t know that it’s the wisest choice.”
“Why’s that?”
She clutched the handle of her lunch pail so tightly it dug into her palm. “It draws attention to the fact that I’m a woman.”
“You are a woman, Jessie.” A fact he liked to point out. “According to my wife, Delia, women like pretty things. Isn’t that right?”
There would be no arguing with him, so she might as well accept his generosity. “Thank you for the board. It’s very nice, but I would appreciate it if you would treat me like the other members of Flynt’s team from now on.”
“Your request is noted. Now, if you’ll get Flynt...” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
She located Flynt in front of the office and relayed Corby’s request.
Flynt fell into step beside her. “Did he say what it’s about?”
“No. Just that it’s important and won’t take long.”
“It doesn’t have anything to do with your drafting board, does it?”
She shook her head. “That matter’s been resolved.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Flynt opened the door to Corby’s office and followed her inside.
Corby looked up. “Good. You’re here.”
Flynt pulled out a chair for her, and she took a seat. Then he sat. “What’s this about?”
Jessie admired his forthright manner. She’d learned to speak her mind without preamble as men did, but her confidence wavered in the face of Corby’s scowl.
He gathered the papers on his desktop into a single pile, thumped them on the surface to