Wishing Cross Station

Chapter Nineteen

I expected my first day of work at Best Watches and Jewels to be much more enjoyable than the job at Wilson's as a delivery boy.

For one thing, it would allow me to stay in a warm environment, dry and away from the harshness of winter as I worked. But the shelter wasn't what mattered most.

What mattered most was the company and the change in overall atmosphere.

Not to mention, I didn't have to make several trips to the station each day, thus avoiding contact with Marigold's family.

"Did you two do the decorating?" Marigold asked, as Mr. Best turned on the lights and opened the shades on the front windows.

"I think we did a pretty good job of it, too," I said, but Mr. Best shrugged.

"It's missing a woman's touch. If you see anything you'd like to improve upon, Miss Sutton, please feel free to do as you see fit."

"Are there any more ornaments?" she asked.

Her mood seemed to be improving for the first time since she'd arrived on Best's doorstep. Maybe a distraction, no matter how small, could bring her some comfort.

"I...think there is one more box in the attic..." he hesitated, finally adding, "Sarah's favorites."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No," Best interrupted, reassuring her. "It's time to bring them out. Mr. Wainwright, if you'd be so kind."

"I might need someone to hold the ladder for me, so I don't kill myself coming down out of the crawl space."

"Of course. Miss Sutton, will you keep an eye out here? If any customers come, just tell them I will be back in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir." Without being asked, she picked up a feather duster and began tidying up the displays.

Mr. Best and I proceeded upstairs, to the apartment and into my room.

He looked around for the book and, not immediately seeing it, glanced at me sideways.

"Has that thing been of any use to you...as far as...understanding how you're going to get home?"

"Not really. It seems as though I still have to wait and hope the special returns," I replied as we moved the ladder into position, and I slid the hatch in the ceiling open to access the attic. "However, the book, and Sutton's actions, have confirmed what I must do."

"I don't like the sound of that, not one bit," Mr. Best replied, in the sternest tone he'd ever taken with me. "What good will telling Marigold of her parentage do? It will only work against a reconciliation with her father. Something I hope, somehow, I can mediate."

"Do you really think it possible?" I asked, as I pulled the last and only box of ornaments I could find from the space and handed it gingerly down to him. If these were his wife's favorites, I didn't want anything to happen to a single one of them.

"I don't know, but it must be attempted. For her sake."

"It's better for her to be around the heartless bas..." I paused, stopping myself from cursing. "Beast than to be living with your wife's sister? A place where she might actually have a little peace and independence?"

"I don't know how she'll get along with Prudence over time. That remains to be seen. Not to mention, what happens later on, after you go?" He waited until I was standing with both feet on the ground again before looking me straight in the eye. "I know you're taken with her, Mr. Wainwright. I have little way to judge based upon her behavior if she's also taken a liking to you. I only know you're leaving here soon, and I worry what will become of her after you've gone."