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  “It’s a lot to take on,” he said slowly.

  “Not for an energetic young man like you.”

  Sawyer strolled to the front window and pulled aside the thick draperies. Dust sifted down, making him sneeze. The additional light revealed yet more needed repairs. The wallpaper was peeling in places. The ceiling bore the telltale signs of water damage. The porch roof must have pulled away from the main structure, letting in rainwater and snowmelt. It all added up to far more money than he had.

  “I can’t afford it.” Sawyer let the curtain drop and turned to face VanderLeuven. “It’s going to take a lot of money fix up this place.”

  “Not so much if you do the work yourself,” VanderLeuven whined. “A little paint. A little hammering here and there...”

  Sawyer fingered a piece of wallpaper that had curled down to within reach. “New wallpaper and carpets. Roof repairs, new mattresses and bedding, and that’s just the beginning.”

  “Now, there’s no need to do all of that right off. Why, you could make the repairs off your profits.”

  Sawyer ignored the man’s wheedling tone. VanderLeuven was desperate to sell. Perhaps his wife had given him an ultimatum to sell the hotel or run it by himself. She clearly wanted to return to Holland to be near her children’s families. She’d talked about nothing else since last week’s concert.

  “I haven’t even mentioned the kitchen.” Sawyer shook his head to emphasize his dismay. “Most houses in town have a better cookstove than the one in this kitchen.”

  “It works just fine.” The man’s hackles rose. “You haven’t turned down any of my food.”

  Sawyer couldn’t counter that without insulting the man, who’d served as cook last Saturday night, or his wife, who cooked the rest of the meals when they couldn’t hire on another cook.

  “True. But you won’t be here. No one else would be able to coax the same quality out of that stove.”

  The man puffed up. “That might be the case, but I’m saying it’s good enough for now. You’re wantin’ to make everything new right off. That’s not the way things go here.”

  It might not, but it was the way Sawyer intended to begin this venture. Father was wrong about a lot of things but not his philosophy on starting out in a new business—make sure you’re the biggest, the newest, and the best.

  “You might have a point.” Sawyer looked VanderLeuven in the eye. “But it’s not my way. I’ll buy the hotel, but not at your price.” Finally it was time to name the price Sawyer had settled on before beginning negotiations. This figure took into account the cost of refurbishing the place.

  VanderLeuven’s eyes rounded. “That’s ridiculous! An insult.”

  Yet after twenty minutes of haggling back and forth, they settled on a price very close to Sawyer’s preference and shook on the deal. The papers still had to be drawn, and Sawyer would go into debt, but he was the new owner of Astor House. The idea put a bounce in his step as he headed across town to the mercantile.

  Fiona drifted back into his mind as he walked past the boardinghouse. He’d ask her after tonight’s concert if she would give him some ideas on furnishings. They could begin with the dining room.

  He pushed open the mercantile door, eager to tell Roland his news.

  The man looked up from his post at the counter with a grin. “It’s here.”

  “It?” Sawyer searched his memory. “I didn’t order anything.”

  Roland held up a folded piece of paper. “No. It. The response you’ve been waiting for. She delivered it this morning.”

  “Fiona?” Sawyer strode to the counter.

  Roland nodded toward a woman across the store looking over the white goods. Mrs. Calloway.

  Sawyer blew out his breath. Mrs. Calloway was the biggest gossip and matchmaker in Singapore, and he’d just gone and spoken Fiona’s name. Now she wouldn’t stop until she’d successfully paired them. Even worse, she might put the pieces together and figure out that he was the one who’d placed the advertisement. If so, the news would spread through Singapore like wildfire.

  The thought made him want to walk right back out of the store and keep going until he reached Allegan. But he was the new owner of the hotel—or soon would be. He was putting down roots, making his own way, and that meant enduring the matchmaking attempts of the local matrons. Unfortunately, those were bound to increase once they learned he was now a business owner.

  He fingered the folded sheet of paper and tucked it into his coat pocket. One thing could quiet all that feminine speculation. If this letter said what he thought it did, he might stand a chance of courting Fiona O’Keefe.

  * * *

  Fiona regretted turning in the letter, but there was no taking it back now. She’d agonized over each revision last night. This morning she nearly tore it up. Before she changed her mind, she handed it to Pearl Decker, who accepted her excuse that she was bringing the sealed letter for a friend. But Pearl must know. Who wouldn’t? Fiona’s only unmarried friend was Louise, and she’d probably already written a response.

  Oh well, it didn’t matter. Soon enough Mr. Stockton would have her letter, and then he could decide if she fit his criteria. Since she matched the advertised list of requirements precisely, he must have written the advertisement with her in mind. She should be pleased. Instead, she felt like a weight was suspended over her head.

  “Are we going to practice or not?” Clara asked.

  “There’s other things I’d rather do,” added Violet with a giggle.

  The other ladies joined in.

  “All right. Attention!” Fiona had to shout and then clap her hands. “From the beginning.”

  But she’d lost them. Half the women didn’t begin on the proper beat. The rest gave a halfhearted off-key effort.

  “Stop!” Fiona shouted with a wave of her arms. “That was awful.”

  The women stared at her sullenly.

  “You can do better than that. Remember, this is for Easter Sunday.”

  “In some backward little town,” snorted Violet.

  “That’s enough,” Fiona snapped. “Singapore has just as much right to beautiful music as Chicago or New York.”

  Eyes rolled and whispers were exchanged.

  Fiona’s temper strained. “Fine. If you want to act like that, then we’re going to be here all day and night. I don’t care how long it takes. We’re going to practice until you get it right.”

  Naturally, protests rained down on her.

  “I wanted to go to the concert,” moaned Violet.

  “I got me a beau,” added Linore.

  “Aren’t you singing tonight?” pointed out the plain one with the brown hair whose name Fiona could never recall.

  That reminder only made her angrier. Yes, she was supposed to give a concert tonight, and these ladies were ruining even that.

  “If you don’t get our songs right, there won’t be a concert.”

  More protests rained down.

  Clara shook her head. “But everyone’s expectin’ you.”

  “Everyone is expecting beautiful music from you,” Fiona shot back. “From all of you. This isn’t just for the people of Singapore, you’re singing for the Lord.”

  The girls quieted and resumed their positions.

  Fiona was impressed. At least the mention of God could get them focused. She’d have to remember that in the morning. “Now,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go through these from the beginning.”

  The remainder of the practice went smoothly. Apparently the ladies knew the songs and could sing their parts perfectly when their unruly temperaments didn’t get in the way. Only Mr. Adamson or reminding them that they served God could get them in order.

  After Fiona dismissed them, she spent a few minutes putting her music in order for the morning.
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br />   “Miss O’Keefe?” The shy voice pulled Fiona from her work.

  “Dinah. What is it?”

  The petite blonde looked distressed.

  Fiona’s thoughts immediately went to tomorrow morning’s singing. “Is there something wrong? Does your throat hurt?”

  “No.” Dinah blushed. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me. Leastways, not that way. I was wondering about something.” Her blushes grew more furious.

  “About what?”

  “You’re an experienced woman.”

  Fiona didn’t like the sound of that. “I am an experienced singer.”

  Dinah face was as red as a hot stove. “That’s what I meant.”

  Fiona suspected it wasn’t.

  Dinah drew a deep breath. “I was wondering what you’d do if there was somethin’ you really wanted.”

  Fiona relaxed. The poor girl had finally realized what a foolhardy thing she’d agreed to do and wanted out. She led the girl to the sofa. Once seated, she took Dinah’s hands and tried to look in her eyes, but Dinah kept her gaze averted.

  “If you really want something, you need to pursue it with all your heart.”

  Dinah’s face scrunched with puzzlement. “But what if it ain’t possible? What if...bad things happen if I do what I want?”

  Fiona squeezed the girl’s hands. “Sometimes the most important things we do come with a measure of risk. We must proceed with courage, trusting in the Lord that all will work out in the end.”

  “Will it?” Dinah raised scared, wistful eyes to look at her. “Or will things be worse?”

  Fiona couldn’t promise that. She could only give advice. “Ask yourself how you’d feel if you never attempted to follow your dream. That will tell you what you need to do.”

  Understanding dawned, and Dinah’s expression gradually eased until a smile darted across her lips. “Oh! Thank you, Miss O’Keefe. Now I know what I gotta do.”

  Fiona wanted to tell her that she would be welcome here, but she couldn’t. She had no authority at the boardinghouse and no means to help Dinah. Her idea of a boarding school was just a dream. Employment for women was scarce in Singapore. At least reputable employment.

  “You do understand the consequences of going astray,” Fiona cautioned. “Be sure to guard your reputation above all.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. I understand.” Dinah hopped up as if nothing had ever troubled her and bounded from the room, giving Fiona one last smile before she disappeared. “I know now that everything’ll work out just fine.”

  Fiona puzzled over Dinah’s quick turnabout from gloom to happiness. Choosing not to go to Harmony would be a difficult route, yet the girl hadn’t asked one question about how to do it. Surely Dinah didn’t already have another means to avoid going to Harmony. Or did she?

  * * *

  Sawyer stopped at every table in the dining room after the concert to make sure the patrons were pleased and to ask what needed to be changed. The food wasn’t up to its usual standards tonight. Several remarked on that. The linens could be cleaner. The room brighter. Sawyer anticipated each criticism and noted them.

  Every concern would be addressed under his administration. The hotel would sparkle. The food would melt in the guests’ mouths like, well, like Fiona’s pastries.

  He eyed Fiona, who chatted with Amanda and Garrett Decker while they waited for Mrs. VanderLeuven to bring out their meals. Did he dare ask if Fiona would cook at the hotel? She was an unlikely cook. True, she could bake delicious breads and confections, but to work in a hot kitchen day in and day out didn’t fit the image of elegance that she portrayed. No, she seemed more suited for high society, which was doubtless why Pearl had worded that advertisement the way she did.

  He patted his pocket where Fiona’s letter was tucked away. He’d read it a dozen times but didn’t know how to take it.

  Dear Sir,

  I would be honored for you to consider me for your wife. Perhaps you have heard of my musical talent, which graced the finest stages in New York City. On the other hand, you might have caught rumors about my baking prowess. I assure you, the comments were not exaggerated. For years I walked among the highest of society and know full well the rigors that a powerful businessman’s wife must face with grace and elegance. Our first meeting will assure you of my qualifications. I await word of that meeting with the deepest anticipation.

  Miss Fiona O’Keefe

  Clearly she believed the potential bridegroom either lived in Singapore or had visited it recently enough to have heard of her. Most likely she, like many other women, believed the advertisement was for Mr. Stockton. The entrepreneur would be furious if he heard those rumors.

  Fiona’s letter left no room for him. She expected a powerful businessman, not one beginning a new venture in debt.

  “Here you go, Sawyer,” Mrs. VanderLeuven puffed as she carried two heaping plates of roast turkey and potatoes to an empty table.

  Thick gravy smothered the whole thing and made Sawyer’s mouth water. It had been a long time since he last ate. Breakfast, if he recalled correctly. He followed the hotel proprietress to the table and waved at Fiona to join him.

  “No bother,” Mrs. VanderLeuven said. “I can take her plate over to the Deckers’ table.”

  That would not help his plan. He needed to converse with Fiona, not watch her eat with a recently married couple.

  “No, she’s headed this way,” he reported with relief.

  Mrs. VanderLeuven set down the plate and left to wait on another table ready to order some of her pecan pie.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Fiona said as she sat down. “Garrett Decker said that Mr. Stockton asked them to wait before painting the name of the new schooner on the hull. I wonder why.” She settled back with a smug look and then proceeded to answer her own question. “Perhaps he’s waiting because he hopes to name it after someone.”

  “I thought he was naming it after himself.”

  “Perhaps he has another person in mind.”

  Sawyer placed the napkin on his lap, all too aware who she thought that person should be. She didn’t know he was the object of the advertisement and had read her letter. Though tempted to reveal the truth, the results could prove disastrous. She expected a wealthy businessman, not an indebted hotel owner. In her place, he would be furious that he’d been misled. Best pretend he didn’t understand what she meant.

  “Like who?” He tried his best to look innocent. “He’s never mentioned any family.”

  “Perhaps he expects a new addition.”

  “A new grandchild? I didn’t realize he and his late wife had children.”

  Fiona laughed. “Silly me, I should never have expected you to understand.” She leaned close and lowered her voice. “Most people think Mr. Stockton is the one who placed the advertisement for a bride in the newspaper.”

  Sawyer tried not to choke. It was just as he thought, but the idea of her pursuing Stockton rubbed him the wrong way. That extra sparkle in her eye tonight wasn’t because she enjoyed being with him. She thought Stockton would marry her. He clenched his fists under the table. This was too much like what Julia had done. When he’d enlisted in the war effort, she had shifted her affection to a man with even greater prospects than his.

  “I suppose he can name his ship whatever he wants,” he muttered.

  “Well, of course he can, and why not name it after someone special?” Her cheeks glowed, and her eyes sparkled even brighter than earlier that evening.

  Sawyer ground his teeth. She was excited about the future, but that future again centered on someone wealthy. Like Julia, Fiona thought the man beside her was not good enough. Never mind that he’d told Fiona he wasn’t ready to marry. She could show a man a little consideration.

  “Will you say grace?” she asked, her gaze wi
de and innocent.

  Sawyer felt a twinge of guilt. She didn’t know. She’d come to Singapore to marry and was simply following through on that desire. She didn’t know he was the one behind the advertisement, not Stockton. She’d simply leaped to conclusions like everyone else, and he’d let disappointment cloud his reactions.

  “All right.”

  She smiled, all artifice gone, and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  For a moment he could see the real Fiona, the one she tried so desperately to hide. Deep down, she had the joy of a little girl visiting her first circus. Wide-eyed and eager. That’s the Fiona that tugged so deeply on his heart. That’s the one he wished would show herself all the time.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

  She started, and the little girl vanished again behind a wall of caution.

  “Why, thank you.” Yet she said it the way she would to any stranger who’d dare unleash such a compliment, as if she didn’t believe it was true.

  “You truly are. Not the dresses or the jewelry or the way you do your hair. You.”

  Her eyes widened for just an instant before she shuttered them. “My, I’m famished. Do say the blessing on our meal.”

  After Sawyer finished praying over their supper, the moment was gone. They ate and talked about insignificant things like small changes to make in each song.

  When she finished, he gave her his news.

  He leaned close so only she could hear him. “Mr. VanderLeuven and I have come to agreement. Before too long, I will own this property.”

  She dropped her fork with a clatter. “You will?”

  Clearly she hadn’t expected him to be able to purchase the hotel.

  “Between my savings and the bank loan, I can afford it. But I will need help getting it ready.”

  “Ready?” She looked around the room. “It’s already open.”

  “Not the way I want my hotel to run. It needs refurbishing.”

  She sucked in her breath and then frowned. “If it took a loan to buy the place, how are you going to afford to refurnish it?”

  “I calculated in those expenses when seeking funding.”