He lowered the newspaper and appeared to notice her for the first time. “What?”
“I want to have a Christmas Party. Something extravagant. Something that will make everyone green with envy.”
He folded the newspaper, and set it alongside his empty plate. “You can have a party if you want to, honey, but I don’t know that I want everyone to be jealous. That doesn’t seem like a nice reason to throw a party. Especially a Christmas party.”
As heat rose to her face at her papa’s rebuke, she cast her eyes down. “Nothing exciting has happened since I came back from Europe. I’ve told everyone all about my trip, the places I visited, the people I met, the clothes I had made, and my friends seemed bored when I bring it up. I need something to look forward to.”
“I guess if your mama were still alive, she would be having all sorts of entertainments.” He sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t have a woman’s influence. Maybe I should ask your Aunt Adeline to stay with us for a while.”
“No, Papa.” Lucy answered abruptly. The thought of that old, dried up witch living here, judging her every move, sent chills down her spine. It had been bad enough dealing with the older woman for the few weeks she stayed with them while Lucy planned her party. Her aunt had done nothing but criticize, even telling her papa that he’d spoiled her terribly.
“I can do the entertainments myself.
I have Mrs. Flannery to help. It will be fine. Please?” Lucy stuck out her lower lip and used the cajoling voice she had perfected over the years.
Eli studied his daughter. Maybe Adeline had a point, and all the spoiling he’d done was wrong. His daughter seemed too wrapped up in herself and her possessions. It had never occurred to him the lack of a woman’s influence could damage her in some way. With his needs taken care of by a succession of widows happy with the jewelry and clothes he’d paid for, he never felt the urge to take a wife.
Perhaps he’d been wrong. Eventually Lucy would marry and possibly move far away, and he’d be alone in the big house. He mentally shook himself. His ruminations were starting to make him sound like a scared old man, not a vision he wanted of himself.
“All right, you can have your party. But let’s not try to make everyone envious.” He smiled and winked.
“Oh, Papa.” She leapt up and hugged him around the neck. “I love you so much.”
Eli rose, and then kissed her on the head. “I’m off to work now. I’ll see you tonight.”
Eli sat at the back of his restaurant, sipping coffee and going over the books. Since it was the middle of the morning, only two customers finished a late breakfast. Molly Forrester, a waitress in The Golden Buck since before he’d bought the place, wiped the tables, and made trips to the kitchen with dirty dishes.
The front door opened, and a woman entered and looked around. She hesitated briefly, and then made her way to the back where he sat. He watched her approach, intrigued with her feminine walk, almost a glide.
She stopped in front of him, her hands clasped together. “Excuse me?”
Eli sat back and his gut clenched. This was some woman. She appeared to be somewhere in her early to mid-forties. And a woman he could imagine underneath him in his bed. Classy, a real beauty. Petite, probably several inches shorter than his five-foot-seven.
Her pale blonde hair was pulled back in a chignon, which emphasized her light blue eyes. She wore a stylish blue and white flowered dress, with a scrap of material on her head that she most likely called a hat. Her full bosom emphasized a tiny waist, and her slight blush and fluttering hands attested to nervousness.
Eli stood. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes, you may.” She took a deep breath, pulling his gaze to her lovely breasts. “I would like to speak with the manager, if that’s possible.”
“Actually, I am the owner of the restaurant.” He bowed slightly, and said, “Eli Benson at your service, ma’am.”
The woman waved the handkerchief in her hand, and ran her delectable pink tongue around her lips. “Oh dear, I’m afraid I’m not good at this.”
Seeing her distress, his protective instincts rose to the surface. He motioned to a chair. “Won’t you have a seat, Miss . . .”
“I’m sorry. I’m Mrs. Sylvia Hardwick.”
Damn, the good ones are always taken.
“Would you care for tea, Mrs. Hardwick?” He asked politely.
“That would be wonderful.” Sylvia settled in her seat, and tugged her gloves off.
“I’ll be right back.”
He had the cook prepare tea and cookies, and asked Molly to serve them as soon as it was ready.
“Tea will be here in a minute.” Eli returned to his seat. “Now, what can I do for you?”