PART TWO
 

Massaging his aching temple with a thumb and forefinger, Laurie—Theodore—Laurence stifled a wearied sigh and let his head fall back to rest against the top of his chair.  It had been a long day and he was anxious to be home where he could stretch out and relax on the satin brocade sofa, enjoying the feel of Amy's gentle hands against his forehead.
      He would have to be content with merely entertaining such pleasant thoughts for now, though, as he had promised not to leave until his secretary finished preparing some papers.  Still, what harm could a little catnap do? . . .
      "Someone to see you, Mr. Laurence."
      "What?  Huh?"  Laurie bolted upright, already bleary-eyed and disoriented from his moment's rest.  "Someone to see me?  But I've finished with my scheduled clients for the afternoon, Mrs. Scott," he reminded the older woman, growing bewildered.  "Please, will you ask him to make an appointment and return tomorrow?"
      She hesitated, "He says it's a matter of great importance . . . "
      "Is he out in the front room?"  Laurie stood.  "I'll talk to him for a moment.  Thank you, Martha."
      "He's right here."  After bowing her graying head, she stepped back and returned to her previous duties, leaving the door ajar so the man behind her might enter the room.
      He extended his hand, "Mr. Laurence."
      Laurie reciprocated the polite gesture, extending his own hand.  "Good afternoon.  How can I help you, Mr. . . . ?"  He was a nice looking young man, clean-shaven and well dressed with an air of educated confidence about him.
      "Gerard.  Thomas Gerard, Jr.  I'm here for my father, Thomas Gerard, Sr.; I'm afraid he's come down with a catarrh, and, due to that and doctor's order, he was unable to make his appointment this afternoon.  He sent me in his place instead."
      He had not been expecting the son of his wealthiest client to show up even after his father's secretary had called and canceled the appointment earlier.  Nonetheless, Laurie smiled, masking his surprise quite well. Leaning over his desk, he motioned toward the chair opposite his.  "Mr. Gerard, won't you sit down?"
 

      "Coast is clear."
      Nineteen-year-old Bess Laurence poked her blonde head around the corner of the staircase, glancing down to where her best friend sat hidden behind the carved rungs, ten stairs from the bottom.  "Are you sure they can't see us?" she inquired, voice soft as not to be heard.
      Nan Harding shook her head, "Nope.  I can't hear 'em, though, either." She sighed in disappointment.  "How long have they been down there?"
      Bess lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, suggesting her ignorance over the matter.  "I'm not sure.  I haven't been counting.  Maybe half an hour?"
      "Half an hour?  In the parlor?  With your mother?"  Nan snickered. "I can't believe he hasn't made a run for the hills yet, knowin' how your mother likes tea.  She's prob'ly tryin' to force a cup of it down his throat." She rolled her light blue eyes heavenward in amusement.  "An' we all know how fond of drinking tea out of a china cup Dan is."
      Smothering a fit of girlish giggles, Bess clapped a slender hand over her mouth.  "Shh, Nan!" she chided, still trying not to giggle, "They'll hear you."
      Her instinctive reaction was to make a playful retort, but, at the moment, Dan's jaw dropped to the floor and a startled expression flickered across his face.  "His mouth just flew open—like this!" Nan demonstrated his gesture, her tone growing excited.
      "What!  Why!?"
      "I dunno."  Nan pressed a finger to her lip, motioning for the blonde girl at her side to be silent and leaned forward as far as the banister would allow.  "Shh. . . . Let me listen.  Your mother's talkin' now, I think."
      "What's she saying?"
      "Shucks!  I can't hear 'em.  Oh, oh, wait—!"  Nan's eyes rounded.  Dan had jumped up from his chair and now looked as though he was preparing leave. "Dan's gettin' up now.  And he doesn't look too happy."
      Bess's teeth came down hard on her bottom lip.  "Oh, dear.  Oh, dear. . . . What do you suppose she said to him?"
      "Beats me . . . " Nan shrugged.  "Wait, she's laughin' now!"
      "Laughing?"  Bess scooted closer to Nan, hoping to get a better idea of the scene unfolding in the parlor.  "Why is she laughing?"
      "Bess!"  Her mouth curved into a wide grin, and she clapped her hands together.  "She just told 'im—"
      "What?"  Bess grabbed her arm.  "What!  What did she just tell him? Nan!"
      "He has her wholehearted permission to marry you!"
 

      Relinquishing his hat and coat at the beckoning of the maid, Laurie stepped into the front hall and gestured to the man at his left.  He requested refreshments in the parlor then and, after asking his wife to please be informed of his arrival, turned back to Thomas Gerard.  "Won't you come in?"
      Thomas offered a polite bow of his dark head and followed Laurie in the adjoining room, though not before catching sight of two girls whispered on the stairs—both evidently oblivious to their presence.  Brows arching upward in curious interest and lips giving way to the slightest hint of a smile, he replied in a respectful manner, "Thank you, Sir."
      "My wife and daughter should be . . . " Laurie stopped mid-sentence, his own brows climbing to his hairline upon notice of his wife embracing Dan Madison. More befuddled than concerned, he questioned with a bit of a lopsided smile, "Amy?"