A Lady's Choice (11 page)

Alex cleared his throat. “I'd like to speak with Miss Sarah Whittaker, please.”

“I'm sorry, sir. Miss Whittaker isn't here right now.”

“Do you know when she'll be back?”

“I'm not sure, sir. She's gone to a dinner meeting with Mrs. Simpson and Mr. Thorne. Would you like to leave a message?”

If she was out with those two, it could only mean one thing— a suffrage dinner. He slumped in his chair and closed his eyes. “No thank you. I'll call back later.”

Alex hung up the phone, but he knew he wouldn't call back later. Sarah had been right. Their paths lay in different directions, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

October in Memphis had always been Sarah's favorite time of year. Leaves were turning the bright colors of fall, and the nights were getting cooler. It also meant Christmas wasn't too far off. The holidays were a time for family, but without her parents there was only one place she wanted to be this Christmas—Richland Creek with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Clara. She dreaded telling Mrs. Simpson and Roger. They expected her to be in Memphis.

In an effort to put the troubling thought from her mind, Sarah looked up at the chimney on top of Mrs. Simpson's house as Roger's car rolled to a stop in front. Smoke curled up the brick chimney and drifted across the night sky. Dora had a knack for knowing how to comfort the people she served, and she'd made a fire to welcome them home from the suffrage dinner.

When the three of them entered the house, Sarah rushed right to the fireplace and held out her cold hands to the flames. Roger smiled as he entered the room and came to stand next to her.

Mrs. Simpson sat down in a chair facing them, leaned back, and frowned at Roger. “That was quite a boring dinner. We need some new speakers in our group. I'm tired of hearing the same thing over and over.”

Sarah shook her head. “Oh, I thought it was a wonderful evening. I enjoyed every minute of it.”

Roger laughed. “That's because this is all so new to you, but you'll come to feel the way we do before long. That's why I think it's time we started preparing you to speak at some of our gatherings.”

Sarah turned to him in surprise. “Me? Who wants to hear me?”

“Evidently a lot of people. There were many at the dinner tonight who asked when they were going to hear from you, especially after your picture made the newspaper today.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “That was just luck the reporter chose me. It could have been anybody at the meeting.”

Roger cocked an eyebrow and smiled. “You think so?”

“Of course I do. Who—” She stopped, and suddenly the truth hit her. “Roger, did you have anything to do with my picture being in the paper?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “It's amazing what you can get in the paper when you slip the reporter a few dollars. Besides, the man is a friend of mine. He was glad to do it for me.”

Sarah crossed her arms and directed a stern look in his direction. Her first impulse was to berate him for doing such, but the childish pleasure she detected in his eyes silenced her. Ever since she'd returned to Memphis, Roger had tried to make her happy, and she couldn't be angry. After all, he wanted to promote her within the Memphis suffrage group, and this was his way of doing it.

“I suppose it's all right this time. But don't do it again. I imagine some of the older ladies in the group are wondering why they weren't chosen.”

Roger threw back his head and laughed. “Nobody wants to see those women in the paper. They want a beautiful, young girl like you.”

The newspaper lay on a table next to Mrs. Simpson, and Sarah walked over and picked it up. She studied the picture for a moment. It really was a good picture, and her pulse raced at the thought that a picture of her sitting next to one of the staunchest suffrage promoters in the country had made the Memphis paper.

She glanced up at Mrs. Simpson. “Would you mind if I cut this out and keep it?”

Mrs. Simpson reached out and patted her arm. “Of course not, my dear. You need to keep it to remember such an important night in your life.”

“Thank you.” As Sarah turned away, her gaze drifted to a small article at the bottom of the page. Her heart constricted at what she read, and she shook her head in disbelief. “Oh no.”

Roger straightened and walked toward her. “What is it?” He stopped behind her and peered over her shoulder.

Sarah pointed to the article. “There was a young girl murdered down on Beale Street last night.”

Roger leaned closer. “What's her name?”

Sarah scanned the article again. “It says they're withholding the name until her family has been notified. She was strangled.” She glanced up at Roger who now stood directly behind her with his hand on her arm. She eased away from his touch and turned to face him and his aunt. “That must have been horrible for her. She had to face her killer while he was choking the life out of her.”

Sarah glanced over at Mrs. Simpson, who looked as if she'd suddenly taken ill. “Oh, that poor girl.”

Roger arched his eyebrows and glanced from his aunt to Sarah. “It's about time somebody cleaned up that part of town. Only prostitutes and gamblers hang out down there. In fact, I've joined a group of local businessmen who want to see Beale Street cleaned up. In years to come we want it to be an area that honors the place that gave birth to the blues.”

Sarah frowned. “But Roger, that's in the future. The women who are unfortunate to be in that neighborhood now shouldn't be prey for some crazed killer.”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “Of course the people who frequent that area should be safe, but their lifestyles put them at danger. They should think about the danger before they choose that way of life.”

Sarah stared at him, unable to believe what he'd just said. “How can you be so callous?”

“I'm not callous, my dear. I'm realistic. You've had it so good all your life you don't even realize what it's like outside your world.” He yawned. “But that's enough talk of murder and killers. I'm tired. I think I'll go home.” He leaned over and kissed his aunt on the cheek. “I'll come by tomorrow afternoon and take you and Sarah for an afternoon ride. Then we can come back here for dinner. Tell the cook I'd like to have her chocolate cake for dessert.”

Sarah watched him walk from the house, and her heart pounded at how unfeeling he'd been about the death of a woman. Alex would never have responded that way.

Her heart lurched at the thought, and she looked back down at the paper she still held. Had Alex seen her picture? If he had, he was probably telling himself right now how lucky he was not to have her in his life anymore. She should be thinking the same way, but every day it grew harder to forget him.

She glanced at Mrs. Simpson, who sat huddled in her chair and stared into the fire. A faraway look hooded her eyes, and Sarah wondered what she was thinking. Perhaps both of them had memories tonight that troubled them. Sarah sighed and headed to the staircase.

“Good night, Mrs. Simpson.”

“Good night, Sarah. I hope you sleep well.”

Sarah nodded, but somehow she didn't think she would. Suddenly her head was too filled with memories of what she'd lost and would never regain.

Larraine pulled her car to a stop outside Alex's apartment building, rested her arm on the steering wheel, and turned to him, a coy smile pulling at her lips. “I hope you had a good time tonight, Alex.”

Alex scooted closer to the door and fumbled for the handle. “I enjoyed dinner very much. Please tell your mother again how much I appreciated the invitation.”

Larraine leaned closer to him, and the perfume she was wearing enveloped him. “Mother had nothing to do with it. I was the one who invited you.” She put her hand on his arm and ran her fingers down to his hand. “You can thank me by taking me out to dinner this weekend.”

Alex looked down at her fingers that rubbed against his knuckles, and loneliness washed over him. But it wasn't for the beautiful young woman with dark hair and flashing brown eyes. He closed his eyes and pictured a blond beauty with brilliant blue eyes that made him think of the summer sun and baseball games.

He opened his eyes, covered Larraine's fingers with his, and moved her hand back to the steering wheel. A voice in his head screamed for him not to ruin his chance of working in Mr. Buckley's firm, but he needed to establish an understanding with Larraine.

She glanced at her hand and back to him. “What's the matter?”

Alex took a deep breath. “Larraine, you're a very beautiful young woman, and I'm flattered that you seem to like me. But the truth is I'm an old-fashioned kind of fellow. I like to be the one who asks a woman out. And I sure don't want to ruin my chances at the firm by upsetting the boss's daughter. So let's just agree we had a good time tonight and leave it at that.”

She blinked and leaned back in the seat. “Aren't you afraid I'll tell my father you were rude to me?”

Perspiration popped out on Alex's head, and he nodded. “Frankly, yes. But I don't understand why you would care one bit what I thought or did. I grew up on a dirt farm. We didn't have much money, and we worked hard. My sister sacrificed a lot to get me to law school in Nashville, and I owe her a big debt. I don't want to do anything to endanger the chance I have at your father's firm. I'm sure you have more in common with your other friends than you do with a farm boy who's just out of law school.”

She swiveled in her seat, crossed her arms, and settled against the car door. “I saw you, you know.”

He frowned. “When?”

“The day you came for your interview. I was in Lydia's office when you walked down the hall. She told me who you were. Later I got the file my father had on you, and I read every word. I know all about you, Alex. And what I read intrigued me. You're going to be a great lawyer.”

His face grew warm. “Thank you, Larraine. I'm honored you have confidence in me.”

She tilted her head to one side. “But it wasn't your academic record that impressed me. It was the letters of recommendation from your teachers and friends who've known you all your life. I saw something in their words that told me you were a man I wanted to know better. I'd like for you to give me that chance.”

“Larraine, I don't know…”

She held up a hand. “Maybe I came on too strong today. That's been the way I've gotten what I want all my life. But I see that's not going to work with you. I'd like for you to know the real person I am. I keep that person hidden from most people. Won't you give me the chance to introduce her to you?”

Alex stared at her for a moment.

“I'd like to get to know you better. Maybe we need to start over.”

He smiled. “Maybe we do.”

Larraine repositioned her body behind the steering wheel. “I'd better be getting home now. My parents will be wondering where I am.”

Alex reached to open the door but stopped. The picture from today's newspaper flashed in his mind, and he gritted his teeth. If Sarah had been at a suffrage meeting, Roger Thorne was probably close by somewhere. She seemed to be making it fine without him in her life. If she could do it, he could too.

He turned back to Larraine. “Since we're going to start over, how would you like to have dinner with me Saturday night?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Really?” When he nodded, she smiled. “I'd love it. What time shall I pick you up?”

He shook his head. “I don't feel comfortable with you picking me up. I'll come to your house to get you.”

“Will you have a car?”

“No, but we can walk to the streetcar stop and ride it down to Main. That is, if you're okay with a little walking.”

She smiled. “I've never ridden a streetcar. It sounds like fun.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Never ridden a streetcar? Well, ma'am, you're in for a treat. I'll see you about six.”

“That sounds wonderful. And thank you, Alex, for giving me another chance.”

The sincerity of her words convinced him she was being truthful. He hoped so, because he'd never been lonelier than he had since he'd arrived in Memphis. It would be good to have a friend. He just needed to remember she was his boss's daughter and not let anything happen that would put his job in jeopardy.

He smiled and climbed from the car. “I'll see you Saturday.”

He'd barely slammed the door before she waved and roared off down the street. He watched the car disappear in the distance and shook his head. He'd never met a woman like Larraine Buckley in his life, and he wasn't sure if that was good or bad.