The Glass Shoe Page 4

  Halfway down the list with an arrival date of the following day was the name of Ryder Duncan Foxx.

  “Miss Trask?”

  Trying to gather her scattered thoughts, Amanda looked up as the cook/housekeeper approached. She conjured a smile. “Make it Amanda, Mrs. Elliot, will you?”

  “Then I’m Penny.”

  “Penny it is. What’s up?”

  “I hate to bother you, since you’re just settling in and all, but I was wondering about Nemo,” Penny Elliot said, leaning against the high counter that served as a front desk. She smiled, her blue eyes pleasant. She was a middle-aged widow with a capable manner and an air of unruffled placidity.

  “Nemo? Who’s that?”

  “Well, he—”

  Before the housekeeper could explain, Amanda felt something cold and wet touch her ankle. She started in surprise and jumped back. There was a sudden heavy thud, and she looked down to find a very large dog sprawled bonelessly at her feet.

  “What on earth?”

  Penny leaned over the counter to look down. “Oh. That’s Nemo. Don’t worry, he’s just fainted.”

  Amanda let that sink into her bemused mind for a moment while she studied the dog. He was a brindled black and tan mastiff and clearly weighed nearly two hundred pounds. While she watched, he stirred and sat up, blinking. He looked up at her, and his tail thumped against the floor. In his black-masked face, the heavy wrinkles around his big eyes made him look like a startled octogenarian, she thought.

  She looked at Penny. “He fainted?”

  “Well, yes. Whenever he’s startled or scared, he faints. You must have startled him.”

  “I didn’t know dogs fainted,” Amanda said after considering the matter dispassionately.

  “He’s the only one I’ve ever known to do so. The vet in town says he’s never seen it either. Anyway, that’s why he washed out of the army; they were training him to be a guard dog, which obviously wasn’t going to work.”

  “Obviously. So why’ve we got him?”

  Penny rubbed her nose. “The former owners of this place bought him about four years ago. When they cleared out last summer, they sort of forgot him. On purpose. He’s an aloof dog, and doesn’t take to many people. No meanness in him, though. I’ve been taking care of him, but I was wondering what Mr. Wilderman wants to do about him.”

  Amanda looked down into Nemo’s big, mild eyes, then looked somewhat helplessly back at Penny. “Don’t you want him?”

  “He doesn’t like me well enough. Since you came out here to manage the place—”

  “Just until the renovations are complete,” Amanda protested.

  Penny smiled at her. “Well, you’re the authority here for the time being. Your decision.”

  Amanda glanced at the dog again, then shook her head. “I’ll get in touch with Mr. Wilderman later. In the meantime, just—well, just keep feeding Nemo, I guess.”

  “Okay. Which room do you want for our first arrival?”

  “Um…we’ll put him on the third floor in the room at the end of the hall.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Penny said, “That’s the coldest room in the house; the furnace people haven’t figured out where it is yet, but there’s a blockage in the system.”

  Briskly Amanda said, “Then have the maid, Sharon, put an extra blanket on his bed.”

  “You’re the boss,” Penny said, still a bit surprised.

  When the housekeeper had gone, Amanda stared down at the list of guests and bit her lip. It wasn’t, she told herself firmly, that she was trying to drive Ryder Foxx away. It was only that the room in question happened to be the farthest from her own second-floor bedroom.

  She also told herself she was being an absolute fool about this. Ryder Foxx couldn’t possibly know she was here; these reservations had been made months earlier. Uncle Edward had simply forgotten to mention he was one of the guests. And, at any rate, Ryder wouldn’t recognize her as the Cinderella from more than a week before.

  If he even remembered that woman.

  Still, Amanda couldn’t help but feel defensive and decidedly unnerved. Even though the masquerade hadn’t been her idea, she was conscious of an absurd sense of guilt. She argued with herself during the remainder of that day and well into the night, and her defensiveness won out over guilt. After all, she told herself, she’d feel like a total fool if she admitted to having been Cinderella—and he didn’t even remember.

  The next morning, edgy and a bit heavy-eyed after her sleepless night, she kept busy helping out wherever she was needed. She was somewhat hampered by the determined presence of Nemo, who had slept outside her bedroom door and now followed her every step.

  “He likes you,” Penny said.

  Amanda nudged the dog out of her path with one knee while she struggled to position a ladder in the entrance hall. “He gets in my way,” she said, but kept her voice even and casual; she’d discovered that brusque voices hurt Nemo’s feelings, and watching him slink out of sight with his tail between his legs made her feel guilty.

  Penny smiled at her, then went upstairs when Sharon called down to her in a harassed voice. Alone in the entrance hall except for her canine companion, Amanda propped the ladder against a wall and looked at it doubtfully. She wanted to examine the strip of molding across the top of the doorway leading into the den; the molding was an original part of the house, but she thought it looked peculiar where it was. If it could be taken down in one piece, undamaged, she had an idea that it would be perfect trim for the mantel she was having made for the den.

  The thing was, Amanda strongly mistrusted ladders, and this one looked more than usually rickety. She started to call for someone to come and hold it for her, but the crew members were busy in other parts of the house and both Penny and Sharon had their hands full getting rooms ready for the guests. So, anchoring the ladder as firmly as she could, she cautiously climbed up the rungs.

  She was slightly to the right of the doorway, and held the jamb with one hand while she leaned over carefully to examine the molding. She wasn’t the slightest bit unbalanced, and the ladder held steady. Everything would have been fine if the front door hadn’t banged open just then.

  With all his concentration apparently fixed upward on the mistress he had adopted, Nemo was startled by the sound and collapsed into one of his peculiar faints. Unfortunately his massive body brushed against the base of the ladder as he went limp.

  Amanda felt the ladder shift abruptly, and lost her balance. Things happened very quickly. She began to fall, and cried out in surprise. But instead of landing on the polished hardwood floor, she found herself caught and held in powerful arms that were like iron.

  Even in her shock at the near accident she was conscious of a sense of fatalistic certainty, and looked numbly up into the shrewd gray eyes of Ryder Foxx.

  Chapter 3

  “You scared him!” she snapped.

  For a minute or so Ryder didn’t respond to the puzzling accusation. He was struggling with another puzzle just then. He had acted out of pure instinct when he came into the hall to see this petite redhead on the point of tumbling off her ladder, but from the moment he caught her in his arms he’d been conscious of an odd sensation.

  The sensation wasn’t odd in itself; he’d certainly felt desire before. But the suddenness of the attraction he felt for this woman was very unusual in his experience and more than a little baffling. She was certainly a lovely woman, and he’d always been partial to redheads, but the jeans and bulky sweater she wore were hardly sexy attire. He couldn’t understand why he felt so much so suddenly.

  And aside from that, when she had first looked up at him, her bright green eyes had held the strangest expression he’d ever seen. For an instant he’d felt an urge to assure her that everything was all right because she’d looked curiously overcome, but then her expression had gone wary and her eyes had shown sparks of temper.

  “Put me down,” she muttered now, more than a suggestion of gritted teeth in her tone.<
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  Instead of obeying the command, Ryder glanced at the dog stirring at his feet, and her earlier accusation sank in. “I scared him?”

  “Yes, you scared him. Put me down!”

  Ryder looked at her for a moment, enjoying the way she felt in his arms, then took his time putting her down. “You could have broken your neck,” he told her, more than a little surprised at his own scolding tone. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you how to climb a ladder?”

  “I was doing just fine,” she snapped. “If you hadn’t crashed through the door and scared Nemo, he wouldn’t have bumped the ladder when he fainted.”

  “When he what?”

  “Fainted.” She glared up at him, daring him to comment.

  Ryder glanced at the dog and decided not to say anything. “Oh. I didn’t crash through the door; I nudged it with my suitcase and it flew open like something possessed. What kind of guest ranch is this anyway?”

  “One that isn’t ready for guests,” she said with a certain amount of relish. “However, since you and a few others chose to disregard the warning about the renovations, you’ll have to take the place as you find it.”

  He opened his mouth to retort that he hadn’t received any information or warning at all, but she went on before he could speak.

  “All meals will be served in the dining room down the hall there, and if you aren’t on time, you’re out of luck. No room service. The heat works, except when it doesn’t, and you might have hot water for a shower, except when you won’t. The only telephone is on the desk down here. The work crew has the undisputed right of way in this house for the duration, so if they say move, do it. Any questions?”

  Ryder stared down at her. She stood squarely before him, hands on her hips, so belligerent that he found himself torn between amusement and exasperation.

  “Yeah,” he drawled finally. “Who the hell are you?”

  Stiffly she said, “Amanda Trask. I’m managing the place until the renovations are complete.”

  “Am I allowed another question?” he asked politely.

  Even more stiffly she said, “Ask away.”

  “Did the competition send you in here undercover to sabotage this place?” For a brief instant he thought she was going to laugh, but the gleam in her eye vanished quickly.

  “No. I’m being honest, Mr. Foxx. I assume that’s who you are.”

  “That’s who I am,” he admitted dryly.

  “Fine. I just want you to know that if you expect to get first-class treatment here, come back next summer.”

  Ryder thought of a possibly very important and lucrative business deal, but that wasn’t what decided him. He shrugged. “Understood. Where do I register?”

  “This way,” she said, turning toward the high counter near the stairs.

  He followed her, and waited until she was behind the counter before saying gently, “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  She looked at him for a moment, baffled, and then flushed slightly. “Thanks,” she said somewhat ungraciously.

  “I was just being heroic,” he said in a modest tone.

  Her uncomfortable look vanished as the glare returned. “It was your fault that I fell anyway,” she said.

  “I’ve already explained that, Miss Trask. Or may I call you Amanda?”

  She opened an old-fashioned leather-bound register, and thrust it across the counter at him. “I’d rather you didn’t. Sign.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and signed.

  “You’ll have to carry your own bags,” she added in a very sweet and polite tone. “No bellmen, I’m afraid. Your room’s on the third floor; turn right at the top of the stairs, end of the hall. Number 304.”

  “You’ve been so kind,” he said, closely matching her tone. She didn’t unbend, but he was sure he saw her lips twitch.

  “I’m afraid you’ve missed lunch,” she told him with the same spurious apology. “Supper’s at seven.”

  Ryder went to get his two bags where he’d dropped them at the door, then walked to the stairs. Hesitating at the bottom, he looked across at her. “Black tie?” he inquired gently.

  “Come as you are,” she replied in the same tone.

  “But company manners, surely?”

  “Do you have any?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said.

  She widened her eyes at him, mildly surprised. “Why, Mr. Foxx, I’m wearing my company manners now.”

  He bit back a laugh, keeping his expression one of polite inquiry. “Are you sure you weren’t hired by the competition to drive guests away from the Broken R?”

  Leaning an elbow on the desk, she contemplated him with a total lack of expression. “I’m sure. But if you find your bed short-sheeted, please remember that we have only one maid, and she’s very young. Inexperienced.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Trask. Anything else you want to warn me about?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Just watch where you walk. I’d hate for you to put your foot through a rotten board or trip over something. The last thing the Broken R needs right now is a lawsuit.”

  Ryder contented himself with a nod and climbed the stairs, deciding that the honors had gone to Miss Amanda Trask in the first round. He had no idea why her attitude toward him was so bristly, but he intended to find out. Of course, she might well be hostile to everyone because of her normal temperament, but somehow he didn’t think so.

  Short of ordering him off the place, the lady had done her level best to get rid of him, and he wanted to know why. It was partly simple curiosity, but he was also all too aware of the fact that he was quite definitely attracted to that surly redheaded spitfire. And he had caught more than one glimpse of a sense of humor in her, which appealed to him.

  He’d have a few days before Cyrus Fortune arrived, according to the message he had gotten just before he left Boston, so there was time to find out what made Amanda Trask tick.

  He found his room easily enough, and looked around with wry eyes. It looked fairly comfortable, he supposed, but it was certainly bare. The walls had been freshly painted, he could smell it, and there were absolutely no decorations. A double bed with a faded plaid spread, a nightstand with a single lamp, a dresser, and a chest made up the plain and somewhat battered furniture. A newly refinished hardwood floor sported two worn Navaho rugs, the tiny closet held half a dozen wire hangers, and the bathroom was missing a shower curtain.

  It was also definitely chilly in both rooms.

  He was not, Ryder decided, going to complain. About anything. He refused to give Miss Trask the satisfaction. He unpacked methodically and put his things away. He left only one item out, and eyed it as he changed into jeans and a bulky sweater.

  What on earth had possessed him to bring the damned shoe along? He couldn’t remember packing it, but wasn’t surprised that he had. Nobody had ever defined an obsession as something rational, after all. He placed the shoe on the shelf inside the closet and shut the door firmly.

  Enough of that. He was too far from Boston to continue his search for Cinderella even if he had a clue as to what steps he could take to find her. And, truth to tell, he realized with a faintly guilty feeling that his first encounter with Amanda Trask had pushed both fairy tales and business to the back of his mind.

  Puzzling over his own apparently fickle nature, he left his room and went downstairs. The second floor landing provided a view down into the entrance hall, and he paused there as he heard voices from below. He leaned somewhat cautiously over the banister, and saw that Amanda was engaged in talking to another lady. Or, rather, she was engaged in being talked at.

  The other lady was small, spare, and silver-haired. She appeared to be well past sixty. Beyond that rough estimate Ryder found it impossible to guess her age. She was in faded jeans and wore a thick fleece-lined jacket with scuffed western boots on her small feet. And she talked a mile a minute.

  Amanda was leaning against the high counter as if she needed its support. Nemo wa
s sitting at her side, and she petted the dog’s massive head in a rhythmic manner as she listened to the older lady’s rapid voice.

  “They were dreadful people, my dear, just dreadful. Weren’t willing to spend a dime on the place, and of course that’s idiotic. I was so pleased when the new owner bought it and started fixing things up right away.”

  “Miss Patterson,” Amanda said in the firm tone of someone who’d been trying to get a word in.

  Helen Patterson laughed. “Oh, they call me Miss Nell around here, child. And you’re Amanda? Such a lovely name. It means ‘worthy of love,’ you know. Or ‘beloved.’ It depends on which book you’re looking it up in.”

  There was a faint frown between Amanda’s delicate brows, and a somewhat dazed look in her eyes. Ryder felt a flicker of amusement as he realized that in “Miss Nell,” Amanda had met her match.

  Miss Nell took a few brisk steps to the doorway of the den and peered in, her expression birdlike. “Oh, good, you’ve left it the way it was. This was my favorite room, you see, and I feel a bit sentimental about it. But where’s the mantel, child?”

  Amanda blinked. “The—? Oh. I’m having a new one made, Miss Nell.”

  “But you won’t change the fireplace?”

  “No. We’ll probably have to sandblast the bricks, but—”

  Miss Nell tut-tutted disapprovingly. “You’ll change the tone of the room if you do that. I always thought this was such a warm room, so cozy, especially with the bricks all smoky from so many nice fires. My father hauled those bricks in a wagon behind four mules and built the fireplace himself. Fifty years ago, it was. Goodness. I was just a girl.”

  Amanda cleared her throat. “Miss Nell—”

  “There isn’t much furniture,” Helen noted critically as she continued to gaze into the den. “And that sofa looks quite lumpy. If you want my advice, child—”

  This time it was Amanda who broke in firmly. “Miss Nell, the new furniture is coming only when the rooms are finished. We’ll make do until then. That room still has to be painted, the floor refinished, and the fireplace cleaned up.”