Love So True (Teaville Moral Society Book #2) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Melissa Jagears

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200 pages

English

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Jagears Delivers a Wonderfully Romantic Read with a Hero and Heroine to Cheer ForEvelyn Wisely has a heart for the orphans of Teaville and works at a local mansion that rescues children out of the town's red-light district and gives them a place to live. But her desire to help isn't limited to orphans. The owner of the mansion, Nicholas Lowe, is willing to help her try to get the women working in prostitution out of the district as well--if she can gain the cooperation and support of local businessmen to go against the rest of the community. David Kingsman has recently arrived in Teaville from Kansas City to help with one of his father's companies in town. While he plans on staying only long enough to prove his business merit to his father, he's shown interest in Evelyn's work and is intrigued enough by her to lend his support to her cause.They begin with the best of intentions, but soon the complications pile up and Evelyn and David's dreams look more unattainable every day. When the revelation of a long-held secret creates a seemingly insurmountable rift between them, can they trust God still has a good plan for them despite all that is stacked against them?

Sujets

Historical romance

Historical fiction

Informations

Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	02 mai 2017
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781441231284
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0432€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2017 by Melissa Jagears
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4412-3128-4
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Koechel Peterson & Associates / Jon Godfredson
Cover mansion photo by Cindy Price
Author represented by Natasha Kern Literary Agency
Dedication
To Naomi,
for having to deal with a rather difficult-to-please critique partner, yet valiantly remains friends with her anyway, who deserves more gratitude than she gets, more encouragement than she hears, and all the strawberries in the world.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Books by Melissa Jagears
Back Ads
Back Cover
1
S OUTHEAST K ANSAS S EPT EMBER 1908
If David Kingsman had any chance of making his father proud, this next decision could be it. Of course, Father was just as likely to disown him for it, but if David’s projections were correct, it would be worth it. Hopefully.
Closing the last ledger, David looked across the room at the factory manager of A. K. Glass. Mr. Burns stood by the window, stroking his gray beard while staring out over the industrial part of town, as he’d done the whole time David had pored over the factory’s books.
The fact that the manager had done nothing for several hours was as telling as the numbers in these ledgers.
Mr. Burns should be glad Father wasn’t the one here right now. Though he wouldn’t like him either once he heard his decision.
“Mr. Burns.” David released a breath and pushed himself out of the chair. “After today’s examination, I’m afraid I need to let you go.”
The man blinked but didn’t move.
“I understand you’ll need time to gather your things.” He gestured toward the man’s desk before striding to the door and entering the front office, where several men handled the glass factory’s paperwork. The stacks of papers on their desks were but a draft away from fluttering to the floor already littered with boxes, crinkled papers, and glass jars. He tapped his hand on the empty desk closest to Mr. Burns’s door. “Does anyone know where Mr. Carlisle is?”
The three other employees in the office looked up and shook their heads.
“Men,” Mr. Burns’s voice boomed from behind him, “I’d suggest you find a job elsewhere before it’s too late. After only one day’s assessment, the owner’s son here thinks we aren’t doing our best. If he’ll fire me, he’ll fire you.”
David held up his hand. “That’s not true. Workers who earn their pay will not be fired.” He turned to glare at Mr. Burns. “I suggest you leave peaceably.”
Mr. Carlisle’s tall, thin frame sneaked in through the outer doorway, his thin mustache twitching. “I heard Liberty Glass is hiring.”
“Better to work under someone who cares about the people in this town rather than some outsider.” Mr. Burns shuffled through the crowded office, holding his box high above his paunch. “Come, George. I’ll put in a good word for you.” He gestured with his head for Carlisle to follow, then stomped out the door.
The three men behind their desks glanced between Mr. Carlisle and the outsider who’d dared to fire their boss.
David took his time to look all four men in the eyes. “I can’t promise anything, but my intention is not to fire anyone who’s competent. If you’ve been hardworking and—”
“Well, my uncle did the best he could with this place, and if that wasn’t enough . . .” Mr. Carlisle shuffled through the mess toward his desk. “I’ll pack my things.”
His uncle? No, no, no. He needed Mr. Carlisle! “Now wait. I know how difficult it can be to work with family, the pressure to remain loyal no matter what. But I’m willing to raise your salary since I need to make this place ready . . . er, I mean . . . start to . . .” Argh. What could he say that wouldn’t offend but would convince him to stay? Especially since he wasn’t sure how long Mr. Carlisle could keep the position. “I’d appreciate your help in turning this place into what my father and I have envisioned.”
The man dumped the contents of a filing box onto the floor and snatched the lone photograph off his desk. Before packing it, he stopped to give David a smug look. “Good luck doing that without me.” He opened a drawer and retrieved a sweater and a tin box.
“Is Liberty really hiring?” The youngest of the three remaining men ruffled his red hair.
David clamped his jaw to keep from begging the man to stay. His father would have immediately handed the kid a box for uttering such a disloyal question.
But why would these men feel loyal to Kingsman & Son? Father had only visited once after he’d received the deed from the former proprietor, who’d signed it over to clear a debt. He’d then left the place to run on its own, expecting the same diligence from his Teaville manager as those who ran his holdings in Kansas City.
As soon as these workers found out Kingsman & Son planned to sell this place, what reason would they have to be loyal?
David refused to let his body posture slump an inch. “You’re free to go, of course, but I won’t rehire you.”
“We’ll put in a good word for you.” Mr. Carlisle waved a beckoning hand toward the redhead.
The two other men stared down at their desks. The one to David’s right pulled an invoice toward him, focusing on it as if fascinated.
The younger man stood and shrugged. “It’s closer to home anyway. I resign.”
David gave the redhead a curt nod and tried not to fist his hands while he and Carlisle finished clearing their desks of personal items.
How would he fix this place up quickly without the secretary he’d been counting on to know the ins and outs of the company?
Uncle and nephew. How he wished that information had come to light earlier.
After the two men exited, David turned to the remaining two employees. “Continue on, I’ll be asking for your help shortly.”
They both gave him a nod before he returned to Mr. Burns’s office. Shutting the door quietly, he wilted onto one of the office chair’s cushioned arms.
Good thing Father had already banished him to Teaville, for it seemed he’d be here awhile. He stared at the papers and ledgers piled on the desk, then looked at the clock. Three fifteen.
As if his stomach could read time, it rumbled, reminding him how he’d skipped his lunch hour while agonizing over the right decision.
Which now seemed to have been the wrong one.
He grabbed the jacket he’d left draped over a chair and shrugged it on. Working on an empty stomach was foolhardy, but he really couldn’t blame this fiasco on hunger.
“I’ll return, gentlemen.” He strode through the office and out onto the metal balcony that overlooked the main floor of the factory, where men sorted, boxed, and hauled all the various iterations of A. K. Glass canning jars. Thankfully the furnaces were clear across the building and the heat was only mildly stifling here.
His hard soles clanged as he descended the narrow metal staircase, like the pinging of a hammer pounding nails into the coffin where his business prowess now lay.
Outside, the early-autumn air was almost as muggy as inside the factory, but at least the sun was shining. He closed his eyes against its bright rays.
Lord, I need help. In more ways than one.
Thankfully the same God who made that very sun rise knew his predicament. He could take comfort in that, if nothing else.
The scent of something fried wafted on the slight breeze, so he took a left turn at the end of the building and attempted to follow his nose. He glanced around at the industrial area surrounding his factory—bland brick-walled alleys, rutted roads, and tall buildings. Why hadn’t he asked the men where he could get something good to eat?
As he passed by another massive factory, the sight of a street a block ahead crowded with buildings better suited for small businesses made him rub his hands together, especially since the fried smell was stronger now. He passed an abandoned building on his way to the shops and squinted to make out the well-painted wooden signs hanging from the storefronts up ahead. Where was the smell of food coming from?
He slowed as he finally reached the sidewalk.
The Dutch Tulip, the California, the Pink Lady, the Charlatan.
The faint sound of a piano playing and subdued laughter somewhere down the street gave him pause. He looked into the nearest two windows. Saloons or inns, maybe, both dark at the moment. He really should’ve asked the man who’d picked him up from the train to tell him about the area, but David had been so focused on accomplishing Father’s request, he’d paid little attention to his surroundings.
He had never stepped foot in the seedy areas back home. Should he just go back to work?
A young man walked out of a nearby building and tipped his cowboy hat. He’d exited from someplace called the Hawk and Eagle Soda Fountain.
The youth looked respectable enough, so David returned