A Lasting Impression

pounding so hard she felt breathless, Claire attempted a pleasant countenance as she lifted her gaze. “Mr. Monroe . . .”
    Mrs. Acklen leaned forward. “You two know one another?”
    Calculation and suspicion darkened Monroe’s features, and Claire quickly realized he was leaving Mrs. Acklen’s question for her to answer. “N-no, ma’am. We don’t know one another. Not formally, anyway. But our paths did cross briefly this morning at the . . . First Presbyterian Church.”
    Claire waited for him to say more. But he didn’t. He only stared.
    “I see . . .” Mrs. Acklen looked between them, curiosity evident in her gaze. “Then allow me to make the proper introductions.” She rose and Claire did likewise. “Mr. Monroe, may I present Miss Claire Laurent, who is interviewing for the position of my liaison. Miss Laurent, this fine gentleman is Mr. Willister Sutton Monroe, the most promising young attorney in the state of Tennessee. Mr. Monroe is responsible for managing interests pertaining to Belmont, as well as my other business holdings. I could not do without him.”
    Claire curtsied, encouraged by Mrs. Acklen’s use of the present tense “is interviewing.” Meaning, perhaps there was still hope. But as she lifted her gaze and met that of Willister Sutton Monroe, she read the very opposite in his eyes. “It’s my pleasure to make your formal acquaintance, Mr. Monroe.”
    He offered a stiff bow. “On the contrary, Miss Laurent. The pleasure is all mine.”
    The way he said it, his voice velvet smooth, made Claire tremble. But not in a good way. Reluctantly adhering to custom, she offered her hand and he kissed it briefly, just as he’d done that morning. But this time, as he drew back, he squeezed her fingers the slightest bit and gave her a smile heavy with meaning. Without knowing exactly how she knew, Claire understood that he intended to have words with her. Words she would not welcome.
    “I’ll leave you two ladies to finish your interview.” Folder in hand, he turned. But he paused at the door. “It’s slightly stuffy in here, Mrs. Acklen. Would you prefer that I left this open?”
    Mrs. Acklen nodded. “Yes, please do, Mr. Monroe. Thank you for your attentiveness.”
    Claire didn’t miss the look Mr. Monroe threw in her direction as he left. Which confirmed what she already knew. Attentiveness was the last thing on the man’s mind. He wanted to hear their conversation. Not that she could blame him.
    Mrs. Acklen reclaimed her seat on the settee and indicated that Claire do the same. “Miss Laurent, in the interest of time, I must be frank with you.”
    “Please, Mrs. Acklen, if you’ll only allow me to—”
    That same silencing forefinger rose. “I’m an excellent judge of character, Miss Laurent. And while I appreciate your interest in the position and the courage you’ve shown in coming here today”—a sly little smile tipped her mouth—“as well as the manner in which you conducted yourself in the face of grave embarrassment, and accepted responsibility for your lack of readiness . . . I fear the nature of this position and its strenuous demands—especially when considering upcoming events—would stretch you beyond your current abilities. You’re a young woman yet, Miss Laurent. You have much to experience and to learn. However, I do see promise in you.”
    Claire didn’t know whether the gripping ache in her chest was due to Mrs. Acklen’s rejection of her for the position, or to the unexpected compliment the woman had just paid her. Or the unnerving prospect that Willister was listening to it all outside the door.
    Whichever it was, she felt unusually emboldened. And coupled with the memory of Reverend Bunting intentionally leaving the storeroom door open, she knew that if she left without saying what she’d planned to say, she would regret it forever.
    She took a fortifying breath. “Up until this morning, Mrs. Acklen, I had never heard of Belmont.” She spoke softly, above a whisper so as not to appear like the beggar she felt, and yet hushed in the hope that her voice might not carry to the next room. Sutton Monroe obviously thought poorly of her already. No reason to give him further evidence to support that opinion. And though she cared—far more than she should have—about his estimation of her, saying what she needed to say to Mrs. Acklen mattered more. “And please know that what I say next, ma’am, I say with the utmost respect. . . . I had never