Free When Love Calls by Lorna Seilstad Page A

Reuff, the supervisor of the operators’ school, stepped from the streetcar bearing a package. Hannah’s breath caught. What was the instructor doing here? Apparently, mailing a package, as the post office was in the Federal Building. But what if she spotted Hannah?
    “Hannah, is something wrong?”
    She turned away from the streetcar. “I can’t be seen with you.”
    “Why not?”
    “See that woman over there in the big peach hat? It’s Mrs. Reuff, one of the instructors at my operators’ school.” Hannah glanced back at Mrs. Reuff.
    “And?”
    “The operators’ school has rules about gentleman acquaintances.” She held out her hand. “Please, take this so I can go home. I can’t afford to jeopardize my position.”
    “Mrs. Reuff can’t say anything if you’re consulting your attorney.”
    “But you’re not my—”
    He inclined his head toward the approaching instructor. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
    A few minutes later, Mr. Cole had secured a table near the window at one of the small restaurants on Mulberry Street. He signaled the waitress and ordered them each a cup of coffee.
    “I shouldn’t be here, Mr. Cole.” She sipped from her porcelain cup. The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air, and shewondered if a pie had recently come out of the oven. Her mouth watered at the thought.
    Two businessmen at the window table behind them must have had the same idea and called the waitress over to add to their order. Mr. Cole did likewise.
    “I don’t need any pie, Mr. Cole.”
    “Please call me Lincoln.” He peeked over his own cup. “Remember, that’s my name.”
    “If Mrs. Reuff sees us—”
    He set the cup down. “Then you’ll explain we were dealing with matters of your parents’ estate.”
    “But we aren’t.”
    “Did your parents have any life insurance?”
    “You know they didn’t.” She pressed her cold hands to the sides of the warm cup.
    “See? We’ve already addressed one facet of the estate.” His blue-gray eyes flickered as though he were pleased with his own subterfuge.
    “Does lying always come so easily to you?”
    His scowl made her regret the sharpness in her words. “No. In fact, honesty is a trait I greatly admire. And as long as we’re on the subject, why don’t we start with you telling me the truth about why you came to see me today?”
    “I came to pay you back for the groceries.”
    “But that’s not why you personally came when you could have easily mailed me the money and saved yourself the trip.”
    “But . . . I . . . It didn’t seem proper to mail it.”
    His brows peaked. “You know what I think? I think you wanted to see me again.”
    “That’s ridiculous.” Her face and neck grew warm, and she gathered her handbag and stood. “This is strictly business, Mr. Cole. I apologize for entering your office in such a—”
    “A huff?”
    “No, I was going to say for entering your office in such a waythat I drew attention to your nap.” She slapped her napkin beside her plate. “Next week, I can assure you I’ll mail the money.”

    Lincoln heard glass shatter behind him, and Hannah screamed. He grabbed her waist, pulled her to the floor, and covered her body with his own. A second window splintered, and shards rained around them.
    “Hannah?” He rolled off her and reached for her arm. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
    She sat up and brushed herself off. “No. I’m fine. What about the others?”
    He looked around. The two businessmen were being aided by the waitress but seemed mostly unharmed. He carefully drew Hannah to her feet and studied her.
    “Lincoln, you’re bleeding.”
    “So are you.” A long, thin scratch marred her pale cheek. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the blood. He’d deal with his own wound later.
    “What happened?” Hannah looked around the scene.
    Lincoln pointed to two bricks lying on the floor with notes tied to them. “I think someone threw those and broke the windows, and