Read Online Band of Sisters by Cathy Gohlke - Free Book Online

America.”
    Maureen groaned inwardly, knowing precisely what she meant; it was one more strike in a miserable day.
    She slumped back, thrusting frozen hands into her pockets. And she felt the dollars—thirty American paper dollars—she’d completely forgotten. Surprised, she started to show them to Mrs. Melkford, about to explain about Jaime Flynn and his offer. But something about the memory made her uncomfortable; something about it felt dishonorable in its own right, and she hesitated.
    When she looked up, she saw Jaime Flynn watching her from the next aisle of the ferry. He winked, tipped his hat, and turned away.

Olivia’s October birthday ball had been grueling enough. But Thanksgiving marked the first major family holiday without her father and the foretaste of a long winter.
    Dorothy and Drake had offered to celebrate the feast at their home, but Olivia insisted that they sit down at the Wakefield family table. She could not imagine spending their father’s favorite holiday elsewhere—and Olivia knew that if Dorothy and Drake hosted the day, they would parade yet another entourage of would-be suitors before her. She craved a quiet time with those who’d known and loved her father well.
    But when they waltzed through the front door, late by nearly an hour, Dorothy and Drake were not alone.
    “Olivia, dear.” Dorothy pressed her sister’s arm in greeting. “I meant to tell you that we’ve compelled Mr. Morrow to join us for the day.”
    Olivia could not muster a smile.
    Dorothy pulled her aside as the men handed coats and hats to the parlor maid. “He’s a business associate of Drake’s—all alone today—horrendous! I knew you wouldn’t mind.” She whispered, “I sent word to Cook. We all know how she hates surprises!”
    “You didn’t send word to me!” Olivia hissed.
    But Dorothy shot her sister a warning glare as Drake introduced Mr. Curtis Morrow.
    “We’re so glad you are able to join us, Mr. Morrow,” Olivia lied.
    “It’s most kind of you to invite me, Miss Wakefield. I feel I may be intruding on a family holiday.” He bowed slightly. “Please allow me to express my belated condolences on the death of your father. I understand your loss was great.”
    “Yes, it was. It is,” Olivia returned, trying to keep the irritation from her voice, wishing Dorothy would take up the conversation. “Did you know my father, Mr. Morrow?”
    “I’m sorry to say I never had the pleasure.”
    She nodded again and looked away, relieved when Grayson, the butler, appeared at the dining room door.
    “I believe dinner is served.” Olivia hesitated only a moment before taking the arm that Drake offered and leading her guests to the table.
    The Thanksgiving meal, which had normally included more than a dozen guests, celebrated with such joy when her father was alive, dragged into the late afternoon. Dorothy and Drake kept a lively conversation running with Mr. Morrow concerning the rising opportunities in real estate investments. The two men congratulated one another heartily on their business acumen and strokes of genius but deplored the lack of new investors willing to realize the market’s potential.
    Olivia silently marveled that there was no mention by Drake of the missing founder of their feast and fortunes or her father’s lifelong custom of asking those around the table to share what they were especially thankful for. She sighed inwardly, supposing they’d already rejoiced in the treasures of their hearts. She resigned herself to tight smiles and polite nods when necessary, but her real appreciation was for the change of light and shadows that crossed the table as the day waned.
    “You’re very quiet, Miss Wakefield,” Mr. Morrow observed as Grayson lit the candles.
    “Am I? I beg your pardon.” Olivia laid her napkin upon the table. “Perhaps I’m a little tired.”
    “We’ve overstayed our welcome.” Mr. Morrow was quick to lay aside his own napkin.
    “Nonsense, Curt,” Drake