Hearts Through Time

TWENTY-FOUR

Abigail sat at the dining table, stirring her potatoes around the plate with her fork as she played with her heart-shaped locket necklace with the other hand. So much weighed on her mind. She thought about how she'd been unable to find her diamond-studded hair combs that morning. She remembered exactly where she'd put them, and now they were gone. What was wrong with her lately? Was she going insane? Had she fallen for Nick so quickly out of grief over her father's death?

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway, and soon Nick came through the doorway, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tie.

He smiled as he approached the dinner table. "Good evening, sweetheart." He stopped beside her and kissed her lips.

"Good evening." She motioned to the chair next to her. "Are you hungry? Harriet has your food warming in the kitchen."

"I'm starved." After he tossed his suit jacket and tie on an empty chair, he took off his vest. "I wish I could get used to these clothes."

She laughed. "You will." She rang for the kitchen maid, and then slipped her hand into Nick's. "Are you enjoying yourself at the newspaper?"

"Yes, and no." Nick sighed. "It's very interesting to learn how the daily newspaper is put together, but..."

"But what?"

"I'd rather be a lawyer."

Abigail frowned. "I thought you told me you were a lawyer."

"I am in the twenty-first century. I'm not a lawyer here in 1912."

"That's understandable. I can see why you would hesitate to learn another career."

Harriet brought in Nick's plate. He dove into his food, while Abigail continued to pick at hers.

After a few minutes, Nick glanced at her plate then lifted his gaze to hers. "What's wrong?"

"I've just been thinking."

"About what?"

"The newspaper."

He set his fork down and turned his full attention to her.

"Harry talked to me today about the newspaper," Abigail replied. "He doesn't think I can run it."

"Are you kidding? Why would he say that? Doesn't he know how intelligent you are?"

She chuckled. "No, I'm not kidding, and no, he doesn't believe I can think for myself."

"That's just ridiculous." Nick scowled.

"Nick," she said, rubbing his hand to calm him. "Harry has every right to think this way about me. Neither he nor my father gave me room to make my own decisions. They never took the time to discover if I had a mind—and could use it—or not."

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, brushing his lips across her fingertips. "They were fools, Abby."

Her heart leaped, and she wondered what she had done to deserve such a wonderful man.

He kissed her knuckles. "So what are you thinking about doing with the newspaper?"

"I don't know."

"If you don't want the responsibility, why don't you sell it?"

Abigail inhaled sharply. "Sell? Why would I do something like that? My father spent his life building the paper and making the business productive. He'd turn over in his grave if he knew I wanted to sell his lifelong dream."

"He'd also turn over in his grave if he knew you were not happy. I'm sure he understands what a burden this is for you now."

"But...actually selling something that I inherited? What would others think of me?"