Once Upon A Texas Christmas. Winnie Griggs

long as she did her job adequately.

      He unfolded the letter and scanned the opening. Then he halted and started over, carefully taking in each word.

      I trust you made the trip to Turnabout in good form. As you have no doubt gathered, there are a few matters I failed to clarify before you left. This was partly because they were not yet definite, and partly because I thought it best you not form any preconceived notions before meeting Miss Fulton.

      That being said, I have asked Miss Fulton to handle the decor aspects of the renovation and to partner with you on staffing decisions.

      His jaw tightened. That could throw a hitch in his plans. Just how involved would she want to be in the staffing process?

      It is my hope that this will be a mutually beneficial arrangement for you both. It will relieve you of the burden of making design decisions, allowing you to focus on overseeing the construction. And the combination of her knowledge of the local townsfolk and your understanding of the skills required should make for a highly effective partnership as you two work on the staffing.

      You will receive your usual bonus at the project’s completion and Miss Fulton will earn the means to achieve one of her own dreams.

      Seth frowned. What did that mean?

      Working with Miss Fulton should not prove an onerous task. Despite her youth, I have found Abigail to be an imaginative, witty and charmingly spirited young lady. I believe she will be a fast learner and an able partner.

      I look forward to seeing the results of your collaboration when I journey to Turnabout in December. If you should have any questions or concerns, you know how to reach me.

      Sincerely,

      Arthur Madison

      As Seth read, he grew more and more incredulous. The judge wanted Miss Fulton to handle the decorating? He’d thought his employer wanted to give the hotel an air of sophistication and elegance. What did this provincial miss know about hotel decor? She’d probably never stayed in a truly elegant hotel in her life. If he had to keep a close eye on her choices it could actually lead to more work for him rather than less.

      He realized he’d stiffened, so he deliberately relaxed. If this was what Judge Madison wanted, he’d just have to make the best of it.

      She’d just better not get in the way of his plans.

      * * *

      Abigail watched Mr. Reynolds as he read the letter. He was certainly a different sort of man than what she’d expected. For one thing, he was younger than she’d imagined—he looked to be roughly thirty. And unlike the judge, who was so warm and forthcoming in his letters, this man seemed aloof and guarded.

      To be fair, though, that might be due to travel weariness. And her announcement had seemed to catch him unawares.

      His silver-handled walking stick had at first seemed an affectation. But then she’d noticed the slight stiffness of his gait as he moved to the bench and she’d realized the cane was more than a mere accessory.

      Though his expression remained closed as he read the letter, she sensed he was displeased with the news. What was he unhappy about—sharing responsibility for the work, sharing it with a woman, or something else?

      When he finally lowered the letter, he seemed lost in thought.

      Abigail cleared her throat. “Is there a problem?”

      Mr. Reynolds glanced up as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Not at all.” He folded the letter and slid it inside his jacket as he leveraged himself off the bench with his cane. “My apologies. I suppose I’m tired from my travels.”

      His expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Then he met her gaze. “May I ask how you came to know Judge Madison?”

      She’d prefer to discuss their assignment, but she supposed it was a logical question. “Of course. We’ve corresponded regularly for going on five years now.”

      He raised a brow at that. “Corresponded? So, you’ve never actually met.”

      His tone remained neutral but something about his demeanor made her feel defensive. “Not in person, no. I’m looking forward to having that pleasure when he visits in December. But I believe we’ve gotten to know each other quite well in all the ways that matter.”

      “I see.” He tugged on the cuff of his jacket. “With your indulgence, we can discuss how best to proceed with this...partnership after I’ve had a chance to freshen up a bit.”

      “Yes, of course.”

      “I’d appreciate it if you could direct me to the hotel.”

      He seemed eager to be rid of her. But she had other ideas. “I’ll do better than that. After you make arrangements to have your baggage delivered, I’ll walk you there—it’s on my way.”

      “On your way?”

      “To the town’s restaurant. My sister-in-law owns and operates it and I promised to help her today.”

      A few minutes later, as they walked down the sidewalk, Abigail pointed out the various businesses they passed. The man said very little in response so she did her best to keep the conversation going on her own. She noticed, however, that his gaze seemed to take in everything, so his silence apparently wasn’t due to disinterest.

      Perhaps he just wasn’t the talkative type.

      Finally, as they approached the hotel, she pointed straight ahead. “The Rose Palace is that red brick building up there.”

      She could hear the sounds of construction above the other town noise, but since the work was taking place on the far side it wasn’t visible from their vantage.

      She cut him a sideways glance, trying to discern his thoughts as he studied the building, but as before, his expression gave very little away.

      When they reached the entrance, he gallantly opened the door and let her precede him. At least there was nothing wrong with his manners.

      The curtains were open so the lobby had a cheery, sunshine-filled warmth to it. Abigail smiled—it was as if the place was putting its best face forward for his benefit.

      “Can I help you folks?”

      The question came from Mr. Crandall, standing at his usual post behind the guest book on the front counter.

      Abigail led her companion forward. “Good day, Mr. Crandall. Allow me to introduce Mr. Seth Reynolds, the gentleman Judge Madison sent to oversee the renovations.”

      She turned to him. “Mr. Reynolds, this is Edgar Crandall, the former owner of the Rose Palace.”

      Mr. Crandall held out his hand. “Welcome to Turnabout and to the Rose Palace. We have a room all ready for you.”

      Abigail took that as her cue. “I’m sure you’d like to get settled in, and I need to head to the restaurant. Perhaps we could continue our conversation over a late lunch.” She smiled. “In fact, you could meet me there. It has some of the best food you’ll find in these parts and it’s a short walk from here. Mr. Crandall can direct you.”

      He leaned casually against the counter. “Actually, I’d prefer to eat here. I want to get a feel for the quality of the hotel’s current menu offerings.”

      Even leaning against the counter, he managed to maintain his all-business air.

      “Of course. Shall I return in, say, two hours?”

      He nodded. “I look forward to resuming our conversation.”

      Now why didn’t she believe that?

      Abigail made her exit, trying not to lose heart.

      Mr. Reynolds wasn’t the friendly, open person she’d been hoping for. Perhaps after he’d had time to rest from his trip he’d thaw a bit. Otherwise it might be difficult working with him for the next few months.