He flipped through papers and pulled out a small sheet. “My man in New York wrote me that Mrs. Sylvia Hardwick is wanted for questioning on a theft.”
“Who is she?”
“My man seems to think she’s related to your Angel Hale. Her stepmother, to be exact.”
Lucy said sat very still, her mind a whirl. Angel’s stepmother was a thief. Her heart sped up. Like mother, like daughter.
“Did he say who wanted to question her?”
“New York City Police.” He sat back in his chair and linked his fingers together over his bulky middle.
Lucy’s mind whirled. “What about Angel? Are the police looking for her as well?”
“Not as far as I know. But I’m still investigating that.”
Rising, Lucy nodded at Moses. “Thank you for that piece of information, sir. I hope to hear from you when you have something more to tell me.” Gathering her belongings, she nodded in his direction, and walked out the door, her step buoyant as she smiled at this bit of good news.
Sylvia had tried on and discarded one dress after another, fighting both excitement and nervousness. The restaurants she had patronized in New York City always had men acting as hosts, and they were dressed formally, but she didn’t think any of her formal ball gowns would do at the Golden Buck.
She finally settled on a rose velvet skirt, and a ruffled cream-colored blouse. The skirt fell loosely to her soft, leather ankle boots. A flare at the bottom of the skirt, to allow for a hoop she chose not to wear, permitted her to walk freely.
After arranging her hair in a neat chignon at the back of her neck, she pulled a few wisps of curls to dangle on her neck and forehead. Looking at herself in the small mirror over her dresser, she decided she looked acceptable for the first day on her new job. She took a deep breath and placed her palms against her stomach to squelch the butterflies.
“Angel’s mama, you look pretty,” Luke said, as she left her bedroom and walked to the parlor.
“And smell good too,” John added, not to be outdone.
Angel stuck her head out the kitchen door to look at her stepmother. “Sylvia, you look wonderful.”
“Thank you, dear.” She pulled on gloves, and pinned her deep rose velvet hat to her head. “Now, I think I’ll take a slow walk to the restaurant.”
Angel came out of the kitchen, still holding her stirring spoon. “Your shawl is lovely, but it won’t keep you warm, and you shouldn’t walk by yourself after dark. I’ll have Nate drive over in the buggy and pick you up when the restaurant closes.”
“That would be nice.” Then taking a deep breath, she said, “Well, I’m off.”
Angel gave her a hug. “Good luck.”
Sylvia left the house, closing the door softly. She smiled brightly as she strolled away from the house. A working woman. She actually had a paid position!
Eli frowned at his watch once more. Eight o’clock, and diners occupied every single table in the Golden Buck. Ordinarily he would be thrilled at the business, but he’d spent so much time glaring at the tables of men ogling his new hostess, he hadn’t time to think about the money filling the cash register.
The line of men waiting for tables snaked out the door. Sam Palumbo, his head cook, had already told Eli they were close to running out of food. It seemed every man in town wanted to watch Sylvia’s hips sway back and forth. And that blouse, emphasizing her generous endowments!
Eli’s gut clenched as he followed Sylvia around the restaurant to glower at the men who couldn’t keep their eyes in their sockets. Close to making a fool of himself, he couldn’t wait for the restaurant to close.
His hostess smiled and laughed as she ushered grinning men to tables, stopped to talk to those already seated, and beamed at Eli each time their eyes met.
He was miserable.
When Sylvia arrived in that outfit, outlining her delightful breasts, he thought his heart would stop. Why had he given her a job where she would be so visible? He wanted to tuck her into a corner for his eyes only.
No woman had ever affected him this way. He’d had a lot of invitations over the years, mostly from women who hoped to snag him into marriage, but it had always been easy to finagle his way out of reach. From the time Sylvia walked into his restaurant, he’d been smitten.
Finally, with a sigh of relief, he announced at eight fifteen the restaurant had run out of food, and they should all go home.
“What about a cup of coffee?” One of the-would be diners shouted.
“Out of that, too. Now go on home.”