Chapter 8

CHAPTER8

Lewis watched Florence Hastings and her women’s club biddies ignore Ellie through a breakfast of fruit, grape nuts, and boiled fish with potatoes—three courses too long. None of them spied him, seated behind a potted palm. But his fist clenched at the way not a single woman had spoken to or even looked at Ellie—and her aunt had done nothing to correct the slight.

Finally, he tossed his napkin and whisked around the corner, executing an abrupt bow as eyes rounded under preposterous hats. Ellie’s shoulders snapped back.

“Why, Mr. Thornton, we did not see you there!” Florence was the first to speak. “How is your dear Cora this morning?”

“She is well, but I ordered her breakfast in bed and insisted she rest until noon.” He cut his gaze to Ellie, who offered a faltering smile.

Florence pressed her palm to her ample bosom. “Very wise. I can’t tell you how badly we feel that Cora was almost injured on my Ada’s watch. I can only hope we are not the object of your loathing now, Mr. Thornton.”

“Of course not, Mrs. Hastings. Cora knows better than to cross a road without her chaperones.”

“We mustn’t place blame on the poor child. To be fair, someone who should not have been there created a distraction.” Florence’s forehead wrinkled. When Lewis did not rise to her bait, she sighed, then reached for her teacup. “Nevertheless, Ada is also abed, prostrate with shame.”

More likely, with grief. But Lewis gave a dismissive wave. “Tell her Cora is fine. I only wish I could say the same of the young gardener.”

“Oh yes.” Florence returned her cup to its saucer. “Have you had an update?”

“Only that he made it to the hospital. But the break was bad enough that, well…” Lewis took in the bevy of dismayed expressions. “They are not sure of the outcome yet.” He didn’t need to elaborate. Everyone knew that severe injuries to limbs all too often resulted in amputation. “Should it not end well, I will help in every way I can.”

Florence thudded the table. “If Nellie Plant was here, I would give the diamond necklace I brought to wear to the ball to start a local hospital fund.”

Ellie ventured softly, “Why…do you need Nellie Plant?”

“She is the chairwoman of our women’s club. We could never initiate such an ambitious fundraising drive without her authorization.”

“I disagree.” A silver-haired lady with a bluebird on her hat spoke up. “I’ve heard Nellie say more than once how strongly she believes the Pinellas Peninsula needs a medical facility. Wouldn’t she be delighted if she returned from her adventures on the Iolanda to learn we’d undertaken such an effort in her absence?”

Murmurs of ascent followed her suggestion.

Morton and Nellie Plant were touring Japan, China, India, and the Mediterranean on their yacht, the second largest in the world. Florence had obviously banked on Nellie’s absence to void her offer, for a look of horror flashed across her face.

Lewis smiled at her. “Mrs. Hastings, it seems you must step into Mrs. Plant’s shoes.”

Florence uttered a nervous laugh. “That may be beyond me.”

“Nonsense.” A plump blonde in a white dress patted her arm. “You should chair our committee. We’ll help you get the word out that everyone should bring donations to the ball.”

Florence spluttered.

Ellie folded her napkin. “It’s a tremendous idea, Aunt Florence. Maybe they’ll even name the hospital after you.”

“Why…yes…” Her face softening, Florence smoothed her hair.

Ellie rose. “And now I must check on Ada. Perhaps Mr. Thornton would be willing to escort me.”

Lewis gave a slight bow. “It would be my pleasure. Might I impose on you to also make a brief call on my niece?”

“Your niece?” Florence’s head swiveled. “Why ever would you need her to do that?”

“Your niece has graciously enlisted mine in a project of an artistic nature, Mrs. Hastings. Have a good day, ladies.” Lewis offered his arm to Ellie, ending the conversation with those at the table—although he took no small pleasure in their curious and aghast expressions. He lowered his voice as they swept away. “She’s been drawing all morning. She cannot wait to show her sketches.”

Ellie’s eyes lit. “I cannot wait to see them. Thank you for rescuing me. I might have crawled under the table if I had to endure one more moment of conversation about cosmetics and chiropody.”

“What even is chiropody?”

“A practice focused on the care of the feet, not only massage but the removal of any…unpleasant features.” When Lewis turned a grimace her way, she laughed. “They say sore feet hasten old age and diseased feet cause hair to gray.”

He let out a breath and shook his head. “What foolishness will the idle rich dream up next?”

Ellie paused in the sparsely furnished lobby. “Is there no foolishness that you find diverting, Mr. Thornton? Or are all your endeavors practical?”

“What insightful questions.” He laughed to cover his surprise and purchase a moment to consider—would Ellie’s curious nature extend to his side interest? Or would she find it wasteful, foolish, or—worse yet—unnatural, as too many others had?

She cocked her head. “Is it? Insightful?”

He patted her hand. “I do enjoy making some inventions that delight and surprise.”

“Such as?”

“Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” He resumed their walk toward the stairs. He was a coward when it came to things that really held meaning for him. “Is Ada truly as troubled as your aunt made out?”

“Yes. She feels horrible. Not just about Cora but about Jesse. I’m afraid she might really love him, Lewis.”

“I’m glad we’re back to first names.”

Ellie’s face reddened, her gaze on the steps. “She asked me to get a message to him. I think she wants to meet up, but I don’t believe the answer lies in continued subterfuge.”

“I agree. It’s time for a direct approach. Tell her I’ve arranged the golf match. In a few days, Jesse will have the opportunity to present his idea to Mr. Mellon.”

“Oh, that will help her so much.” Ellie bestowed a smile so grateful it almost melted his knees. “And just in time too. Her birthday is tomorrow. It’s a big one.” Twenty? The youngest Hastings couldn’t be twenty-five yet. “I’ve been wracking my brain, trying to think what would cheer her up.”

An idea stopped Lewis on the first-floor landing—a way to assure the Hastings, especially Ada, he bore them no ill will while also testing how much of his true self he could show to Ellie.

“What is it?”

He turned to her. “You remember that business acquaintance of mine on the fourth floor?”

“The mystery…er…man?” She raised a brow.

“Yes. I would like to bring him to meet Ada and any friends she can gather for tea time tomorrow in her sitting room. Can you arrange that?”

“Well, yes, but why?”

“I think he can bring a smile to her face. And hopefully, yours.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Just tell her it’s a birthday surprise.”

* * *

The Great Gaspachi. Ellie couldn’t believe she’d been such a poor detective. It all made sense as the mysterious Italian man she’d glimpsed in the basement—clad in a black vest and red silk shirt, the sleeve of which she’d glimpsed on the fourth floor—delighted Ada and her friends with magic tricks. They’d all been sworn to secrecy—although Ellie suspected the men were well aware that a bit of rumor swirling around the hotel would serve to increase anticipation.

As Lewis aided the magician through a number of card, ball, and bunny-in-the-hat tricks, Ellie burned with questions. Was he Gaspachi’s financier? Friend? Was there more to it?

Just when she thought the man could not get more intriguing…

“Is anyone ready for tea?”

Eager murmurs greeted Gaspachi’s unexpected question.

Lewis pushed a teacart in from the dressing room, complete with porcelain cups—which he distributed—and a covered object. Gaspachi whisked the cloth away.

“Allow me to serve you, ladies. This teapot is designed to anticipate the needs of young women of fashion. Merely ask for the type of tea you desire, and my teapot will oblige.” He moved toward Ada. “What type of tea would you like, milady?”

She tittered a moment, glancing at Ellie. “Jasmine?”

“Jasmine, it is.” With calm confidence, Gaspachi tilted the spout above her cup and released a stream of steaming amber liquid. When she stared at it, he waved his other hand. “Go, ahead, miss. Try it. Let me know if it is to your satisfaction.”

Ada sipped, paused, and then a broad smile spread over her face. “It’s the best jasmine tea I’ve ever tasted!”

“Aha! I told you my teapot was obliging. Who is next?” Gaspachi’s gaze fell on Ellie. She tried to wave him off, but he approached. “What will the birthday girl’s cousin have?”

“Um…Early Grey?” Ellie held out her cup, and it was filled with darker liquid than Ada’s. Consternation furrowed her brows when she tasted her request. “How do you do that?”

“By the power of your suggestion, Miss Hastings.” Gaspachi winked before moving on.

Ellie stared at Lewis, but he merely raised his eyebrows.

Aunt Florence approached him, murmuring loud enough for Ellie to hear. “What a treat for Ada that you knew the magician performing for the ball. Your gesture of kindness is noted…and taken to heart.” Her voice deepened on the last, and her gaze strayed to Ada, who was selecting pastries from the tray Maeve brought around.

Ellie’s stomach tightened. With Jesse out of the way, Aunt Florence again honed in on Lewis. Just why had he suggested this event, anyway? Was there credence to Aunt Florence’s assumption?

Gaspachi interrupted the chatter with a sharp clap. “I have one final treat for you before I bid you goodbye.”

A hushed expectation settled as Lewis brought in another cart, this one bearing a small tree in a box planter, an orange on one side and a silver vial on the other.

Gaspachi bowed before Ada. “Miss Hastings, would you sacrifice your handkerchief?”

“Why…yes.” She pulled it out of her pocket and gave it to the magician.

Balling the cloth, he smashed it with both hands until it appeared to grow smaller and smaller. He then picked up the orange and passed the handkerchief through it. Gasps sounded when it disappeared.

Gaspachi pressed the orange between his hands, making it smaller also, as though it reversed its age. When he opened his hands, he showed them a fine powder. Lewis brought him the silver vial. Gaspachi poured the powder into it, then added a splash of what he told them was alcohol from a flask kept in his pocket. Lewis lit the mixture on fire, and Gaspachi set the vial beneath the planter. As the fumes from the blue flame rose, blossoms appeared on the tree.

Ellie sat forward. When Gaspachi waved his wand over the tree and the blossoms turned into oranges, she gasped with the others. The objection leapt off her tongue before she could catch it. “Those cannot be real.”

“I assure you, they are very real, Miss Hastings.” Gaspachi plucked one and tossed it to her, the next to Ada.

Ellie closed her hands around the soft flesh of the fruit. She used her nail to peel back a bit of the skin. “It’s real.”

“But I am not finished. I believe Miss Ada Hastings is still lacking a handkerchief.” Gaspachi waved his wand again, and the last orange at the top of the tree split into four parts. A folded square of white cloth emerged.

Ada jumped up. “My handkerchief!”

Gaspachi bowed. “Do come and retrieve it.” When she got closer, Ellie overheard his whisper. “I believe there’s a message inside for you.”

Her lips parted, but she responded to his secretive tone by clasping the handkerchief close. Only when she returned to her seat did she open it, leaning toward Ellie. Indeed, a small slip of paper was folded inside.

“What does it say?” Ellie whispered.

Ada opened the note to reveal bold, slanting script. Do not give up hope. True love shall prevail. Her eyes glowed. “It’s Jesse’s handwriting.”

Ellie glanced to Lewis, who smiled at her. Her heart flooded with warmth. He knew. He wasn’t angling for Ada. He was helping her reunite with her beau.