Page 22 of Olive Becket Plays the Rake (The Seattle Suffrage Society)

“But Ollie, it’s Sunday. You said we were going to the park,” Robbie pouted, kicking up whorls of dust in the dirt path hugging the banks of Lake Washington.

“And we will.” She placed both hands on his shoulders and propelled him forward. “After we call on Mr. Anderson.”

“How do you know he’s home?”

“If he isn’t, then we’ll leave our thank-you note and carry on.”

The Beckets might lack many things, but manners were not one of them.

And Emil had been so terribly kind to them, so generous with his time and money.

To Robbie, especially. Her brother had been so happy in the park, eating his Cracker Jack and telling Emil all about the three-legged dog on their block.

In fact, he’d rhapsodized about Emil for so long that evening before bed that Anna had taken Olive aside and demanded to know if he was her beau.

Olive had stammered objections until she was out of breath, but her mother had only given her a knowing look and fallen silent.

And Olive had gone to sleep with a refrain echoing in her dreams:

I was thinking about you. I wanted to see you.

A wooden sign marked the entrance to the floating house community.

Olive peered down the steps, her brow furrowing at the discovery of a dozen homes clustered together.

The way Emil had spoken of it, she’d gotten the sense his home was isolated.

Safe from prying eyes for the handful of minutes it would take to deliver a note.

Now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she should have sent it by post, the small cost aside.

Or it could have waited until they next met up to continue the investigation. Or—

“Mornin’, miss,” a booming voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. An older, thin man with silver hair dressed in a tweed suit and flat cap stepped onto the path before them. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Good morning,” she murmured, charmed by the slight Irish lilt in his words.

“We don’t get many visitors this time of year. My name’s Seán Meany. Can I help you find someone?”

“We’re looking for the home of Mr. Anderson.”

“Ah, Emil, the young rogue.”

“He’s the one,” Robbie assured him.

Olive swatted her brother’s arm. “Be respectful.”

The man laughed loudly. “The sight of you warms my blood, so it does. Your sister reminds me of my own sister Aisling. She was always giving out to me and her husband. When she wasn’t hurling cans of boiling water from the windows, that is.”

Olive froze. Surely, she hadn’t heard correctly.

“Boiling water?” Robbie echoed. “Why did she do that?”

“Because the greedy landlords were coming to evict, that’s why. The whole village was in on it.”

“Did you see a fight? Was anyone blasted to smithereens—”

“That’s enough.” She grasped Robbie’s arm tightly. “Please excuse my brother’s rudeness.”

“Not to worry. I have plenty of tales for anyone who will bend me an ear.” Her unease must have been obvious, for he gave her a wink and added, “But you’re busy looking for your young man.”

Why did everyone seem to think Emil was hers? “Oh, but he isn’t—”

“Head down the boardwalk past the fearsome seagulls, and continue all the way to the house on the left. There you’ll find himself.”

“Thank you, sir. Come along, Robbie.”

But when they arrived at the address the man had indicated, Olive’s feet remained rooted to the boardwalk. She’d insisted they were there to thank Emil, but now, faced with the reality of her decision, she admitted it was all a big, fat lie.

She was there because she’d spent sleepless nights reliving every word, touch, and nuance of those brief moments when she’d tended to his injury. Their lips had been so close. His skin against her palm so warm. His eyes so intent and devouring.

I was thinking about you. I wanted to see you.

What if she was making a mistake? What if Emil wasn’t happy to see them? What if he dismissed her brother and broke his little heart? What if he looked at her with confusion? Or worse, like she was just another silly woman who’d fallen prey to his charm? Oh no, what was she doing?

“We should leave—Robbie, no!”

He slipped from her grip and sprang onto the deck to rap an enthusiastic rhythm on the door. Olive cringed, her hands fluttering at her sides. Was there still time to grab Robbie, sling him over her back like he was a child again, and bolt? Moments passed, yet the door remained closed.

“No one’s home.” She waved her brother back to her side and shoved the note into his hand. “Put this under the door and we’ll go.”

“Or you could give it to me.”

Her shriek was matched by Robbie’s pained yelp as her nails dug into him.

“Good grief. You’d think I was a monster.”

Emil stood at the corner of the deck, watching them with an amused expression. Olive’s gaze skittered over him, taking in the casual knit sweater, the house slippers, the mug, and the newspaper tucked under one arm with growing horror.

“I—that is to say, we—interrupted your morning. Mr. Meany told us where you…I’m so sorry.”

“Not at all.” He gestured with the newspaper. “Come aboard.”

Robbie wrenched free of her hold and hopped onto the deck with a whoop before Olive had gathered her wits.

“Slowly,” Emil admonished in a kind, firm voice that Robbie miraculously obeyed. “Hit a patch of ice and you’ll go skipping into the lake. What then?”

Robbie crossed his arms over his chest and considered the question. “Will a cold swim earn me pirate credentials?”

Emil threw his head back and laughed. “You’ll have to ask Old Meany about that. He’s the swimmer. And it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he were a pirate in his former life.”

“I knew he was interesting.”

“He is.” Emil opened the door and held it open. “Now come in before your sister expires from worry.”

Robbie ducked inside. It was either leave without him…or enter Emil’s home. She let out a slow breath and carefully made her way to the door.

Pausing beside Emil, she asked, “Is this…is this all right?”

“Well, now, that depends,” he said, his voice slow and smooth. “Why are you here?”

I was thinking about you. I wanted to see you.

“To deliver this thank-you note. And—and to see how your shoulder fares.”

“How proper Bloody Ollie is this morning,” he teased, but was she silly to think she’d seen a flash of disappointment before he covered it up? “And I’m much better, thank you. Well enough to get back to rowing this morning.”

She stared at him in helpless fascination. “You’re a rower?”

“In my family, you have to be.” He jerked his head toward the inside. “Come in and I’ll tell you all about it.”

She cast another glance around. “Is there anyone here who might be…troubled by my presence?”

“The community is quiet these days. Mostly just me and Old Meany, and we have an understanding.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“Nothing of the sort. As long as I don’t comment on his early morning swims—clothing optional—he minds his own business. Though he does have a habit of striking up conversations with visitors now and then.”

Her lips quirked at the thought of the sprightly man leaping off the docks in the nude. “Like me.”

“Exactly. Now, in.”

She bit her lip and ducked into what turned out to be the kitchen.

She turned in a slow circle, taking in the cheerful, well-designed space.

Her mother would adore the painted wood paneling and the spacious built-in cabinets.

Sunlight shone through a large window, highlighting the open cabinet lined with dried herbs and preserves.

Fresh-brewed coffee scented the small room, and a few dirty dishes sat near the sink, waiting for attention.

It was far more than she’d expected of Emil’s living quarters.

“This is the family vacation home,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I’m keeping an eye on it over the winter.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Mor would be pleased to hear it.”

“Mor?”

“Mother, in Swedish. My family immigrated when I was five years old, so we tend to go back and forth between languages.”

“I didn’t realize you speak two languages.” She let out a small laugh. “I feel I’ve learned more about you in the last two minutes than in the last two weeks.”

He leaned a hip on the kitchen counter and folded his arms over his broad chest. “Then it’s only fair you tell me something in return.”

“I’m not so interesting,” she assured him.

“I don’t believe that for one minute. Go on.”

She thought for a minute. “I was born in Pittsburgh. My father’s people are from there.”

“When did you move to Seattle?”

“When I was five. Like you.”

He hummed. “What else?”

“I collect baseball cards,” she admitted nervously, staring at the line of ceramic mugs behind Emil’s shoulder.

“Well, my father did. Now, they’re mine.

I’d like to collect more. Did you know a new set will be released this year?

They’re supposed to be wonderful—full color and all the best players in the leagues.

Can you imagine finding a Ty Cobb or Eddie Plank card?

That would be…nice.” She forced herself to stop babbling and awaited his opinion of her unusual pastime.

“Olive, you are one surprise after another.”

Her gaze flew to his. “I am?”

“Yes. And that’s a compliment.”

“Oh.”

I was thinking about you. I wanted to see you.

A loud crash echoed from the room behind them. They both jumped.

“Robbie, sit down.”

“Sitting!” came the innocent reply.

“Emil, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He laughed. “To be honest, I forgot all about him.”

“Me, too,” she admitted. “I’ll clean up whatever mess he made.”

Emil waved a dismissive hand in the air. “It was probably the magazines I was sorting earlier. Have a seat, and I’ll bring out some tea.”

She slipped through the kitchen doorway and past a marine-inspired dining room to a brightly lit living area. Her trouble-making brother sat in a chair with his hands folded in his lap, an enormous pile of colorful magazines at his feet.

“It was an accident.”

She sighed. “How many times have we told you not to leap around indoors?”