Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] Read Online Free PDF Page B

wasn’t the kind of greeting Cass expected, and instead of making him feel relaxed, it made him wary. Duncan’s conversation as the two walked to the hotel didn’t help. By the time he and Cass were seated at a table in a remote corner of the dining room, Cass felt like he was on the witness stand in a trial.
    “Sterling was impressed with you” had been followed by seemingly innocent questions, but Cass couldn’t shake the impression that Duncan was checking what he heard today against what the boss might have said at another time. Duncan even brought up the war. “Sterling said you were in the thick of it. I was surprised. You don’t seem nearly old enough to have served.”
    The tone was affable, but the unspoken question set Cass’s nerves on edge. Why was a man who hadn’t so much as bothered to talk to him when the boss brought him out to the job site suddenly so interested in Cass Gregory? While the waiter poured coffee, Cass pondered what to say about his war service. He didn’t want to admit to running away from home and lying. Not to a man who would probably wield a significant amount of power over the company, at least until the estate was settled.
    “I wasn’t old enough,” he admitted. “But I’ve always been big for my age, and I grew up fast. I was working long days on the farm by the time I was ten. I’ve always acted older than my age.”
    “Which is?”
    “I’m thirty-four.”
Not that it’s any of your business.
    Duncan frowned. “It’s a pity you have so little schooling.”
    Was the man going down a mental list?
War record.
Pass.
Education.
Fail. Cass shrugged. “My stepfather thought school a luxury for the rich. He didn’t see a need for anything beyond the basics.”
    Duncan’s bushy eyebrows rose with surprise. “And you haven’t wished for more?”
    “I have,” Cass said, “and I’ve found ways to get it over the years. Lincoln has a good library, and I’ve attended more than my share of lectures and lyceums.” He paused. “What I do suits me. There’s great satisfaction in being able to say, ‘I built that.’”
    The waiter came to take their order. Cass asked for a stack of flapjacks and a refill on the coffee. Duncan wanted poached eggs and dry toast. Cass wondered if the man had a nervous stomach—and if that was the case, what was making him nervous.
    After Duncan had asked a few more pointed questions, including if Cass had family, Cass said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I wasn’t expecting to be interviewed this morning. I came on behalf of the crew. We just need to know if payroll will be on schedule—or if there’s to be a delay while lawyers divide the spoils.” He leaned forward a bit to emphasize his point. “They’re good men, and the boss always did right by them. I’d appreciate your letting me know if you think the company’s in danger of folding—or if the house isn’t going to be finished. The men deserve fair warning.”
    Duncan made a show of spreading his napkin on his lap while the waiter settled their food before them. Once the waiter was out of earshot, he said, “Surely Mr. Finney knows that the company can make payroll.”
    “Mr. Finney doesn’t sign the checks.”
    Duncan poked at one of his eggs with a fork and muttered, “I said soft poached.” With a sigh of displeasure, he laid his fork down. “I can sign the bank drafts. In fact, I am mandated to act on Sterling’s behalf in the matter of day-to-day business, should the unforeseen occur. Which it has. That is why I thought it might be good for you and me to become better acquainted.”
    So,
Cass thought,
this doesn’t just
feel
like an interview. It
is
an interview. Duncan’s in charge now.
    Cass thought of Mrs. Sutton. Did a woman have property rights in Nebraska? He hoped so. He might not know her well, but he associated her name with elegance and style. And he’d never felt like she was looking down her nose at him. He hoped the boss had provided for his