by Sharon Ihle
Susan was still laughing, making Libby feel completely at ease, when Donovan stepped into the room. He was wearing a trim dark suit without the brocade vest, and in place of his usual string tie, he wore a smoke-gray tie fashioned into a large bow at his throat. Donovan the businessman supplanting Donovan the gambler, she supposed, but Libby missed the charm of his satiny vest.
Smiling warmly at his sister, Donovan glanced repeatedly at the floor near the bay window as he greeted her. "Hello, Susan. What a nice surprise."
"Good morning, Donovan," she replied. "I probably should have sent advance notice of my visit, but I was just too eager to talk with you to wait. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all." He glanced at Libby, favoring her with a smile which would have gotten him arrested had he flashed it in front of her father when he was alive. "Morning, Libby. You're looking bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked today. Sleep well, did you?"
She willed herself not to blush and tried to think of something sassy to say in return, but the best she could do was, "Thanks. You're looking pretty good yourself."
"I can't remember when I ever felt better."
At least then he had the decency to turn away, giving Libby a chance to regain her composure. After checking all three mousetraps and finding them empty except for bait, Donovan made his way across the room and joined her at the sofa.
"So," he said, addressing his sister. "What are you so eager to talk about?"
Shyly dropping her gaze to her lap, Susan's voice was surprisingly strong as she said, "I've been thinking over some of the things Libby talked to me about the night of our welcome party for you. I'm proud to say that I've decided to join the National Woman Suffrage Association."
Mortified to realize how much influence she'd had on the young woman, Libby beat Donovan to the obvious question. "Oh, but Susan—what about your father? He'll be furious if you join the cause. Are you aware of that?"
Still keeping her eyes downcast, Susan shrugged. "I'm to be married soon, and won't have to answer to him much longer."
"That might be true," said Donovan, "but then you'll have a husband. What if he objects?"
At last, Susan looked up and regarded them both. "I plan to tell Henry about this decision later, but I can't imagine that he'd be terribly interested in our country's political problems, at least regarding suffrage. We'll be living abroad within the year, anyway, and I did so want to do something to help the cause before I go. Surely there must be some way for me to be useful."
Libby and Donovan exchanged glances. She nodded, giving him the floor—Susan was, after all, his sister.
He propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "It sounds to me like you've already made up your mind, even though you know our father won't be happy about it. What are you looking for from me? Advice?"
"Not really." She glanced at Libby, suddenly looking uneasy, then back to her brother. "I just wanted you to know about my decision. I thought, with Libby being so active in women's rights and all, that you'd be... happy for me, I guess."
"Of course I am, Susan." He rose and crossed over to her chair. "If you want to champion the women's vote, I think you should. The idea doesn't bother me the way it does R. T. Just be sure to leave the San Francisco Tribune and its affiliates out of whatever you do." He laughed heartily, then reached down and took her hand in his. "Speaking of the newspaper, this is my first day on the job at Savage Publishing, and I'm already late. I have to go."
He brought Susan's fingers to his lips, bestowing a kiss to them, and Libby could see the unspoken love, or at least, a deep family affection, reflected in his stormy blue eyes. If Donovan had been planning a sentimental good-bye to Libby, it was interrupted as Gerda lumbered into the living room carrying a serving tray.
"Mr. Donovan." Her heavily-lidded eyes went round for a moment. "But you are not home."
"Ah, but yes, I am. I just came in."
"I did not hear you arrive." Looking puzzled, she asked, "Do you vant tea and muffins with the ladies, or me to cook you a nice big breakfast?"
"Neither, actually. I have to leave now."
"You just came in and now you must leave?"
"That's right."
Shaking her head and muttering to herself in German, Gerda set the tray on the coffee table and then waddled out of the room. Donovan was one step behind her.
"I really do have to be on my way," he said over his shoulder. "Glad you stopped by, Susan, and good luck with your enterprise. Libby... I'll see you later this afternoon."
"Good day, Donovan," said Susan. "Oh, and Henry and I would like to take you and Libby to the Cliff House this coming Saturday. Can you make it?"
At the arched doorway, he turned and shrugged. "Whatever Libby decides is fine with me." And then he was gone.
Looking much more relaxed, Susan settled back against the chair, yet strangely enough, her spine never quite met the fabric. Libby saw the gesture as an opposite to her own social status and upbringing—her idea of relaxing would have been to throw her leg over the arm of the sofa. How long before Donovan would be employing this same stiff-backed formality? No longer looking into her lap, but directly at Libby, Susan said, "I had the feeling you were a little surprised by my decision. I hope the fact that I mentioned you as a major reason for joining the cause didn't upset or embarrass you."
In some ways it did, but Libby could hardly explain any of them to her. She smiled. "No, of course not. I'm just concerned that I didn't also mention some of the difficulties you'll be facing as a suffragist. Most men don't think much of our activities, and here in San Francisco, I've noticed that many women feel that way, too."
"You don't need to worry about me. I'm stronger than I look." This surprised Libby, as she hadn't noticed a wealth of insight in the young woman before. Susan went on, indeed sounding stronger. "Those few things you said to me the other night got me to thinking about my life and what I hope to accomplish with it, especially the part about my living in a fantasy world, compared to most women. I do want to help others, in particular those who cannot help themselves. I also think it's about time I started raising more... hell."
Libby almost laughed out loud. Susan had eked out the word 'hell' with so much effort, she was sure this was the first time the young woman had ever sworn. Something sharp, a feeling close to envy, slashed through Libby's breast as she studied the enthusiasm radiating from Susan's expression. The neophyte suffragist was really excited by the idea that she could make a mark in this male-dominated world, no matter if her contributions made only a barely discernible scratch.
Seeing this in her, watching the embers of pride catch fire in Susan the way they'd once caught fire in her own heart, a lump of regret swelled in Libby's throat. She felt like a traitor to the cause, a turncoat. How could she be dispensing advice on equal rights to anyone?
"How do I sign on?" asked Susan.
"You're absolutely sure you want to do this?"
"One hundred percent, completely."
"If that's the way you feel..."
To test her a little, Libby considered the possibility of asking Susan to gather some information she'd been wanting since she'd found out R. T. Savage owned a distillery. She hadn't done a thing about it herself yet because, frankly, she was more than just a little nervous over the idea of rattling the cage of such a powerful man. Especially since the man in question already regarded her with a jaundiced eye. However, if his own daughter were to do a little checking up on his holdings, Libby doubted he'd even notice, much less connect Susan to the NWSA.
Feeling good about the plan, Libby said, "I need some information on a company called Eldorado Distilleries. I understand it belongs to your family. Are you aware of that?"
"Of course." She laughed as if Libby had made some grand joke. "We've only been in the newspaper business a few years now. The distillery is our backbone."
"Then perhaps I shouldn't even consider you for this job."
"But why not? You've got to give me a chan
ce."
Careful with her wording, Libby lowered her voice and said, "This job involves the investigation of your family's business. I feel awkward asking you to do such a thing, especially knowing that it won't be easy for you."
Susan contemplated this for a minute. "I can't say I'll enjoy checking up on my family, but easy is all I've ever known. I really want to do something useful, even if part of what I do gets to be a little unpleasant." The excitement was back in her expression, more flagrant than ever. "What is it you want me to do?"
"All right then." Sure she'd given the young woman every chance to back out, Libby said in hushed tones, "I need for you to send a couple of wires regarding Eldorado and the liquor industry in general. You may not like the answers you get, and in fact, may choose not to bring them back to me once you study their content. If that's the case, I'll understand and nothing more will be mentioned about it. Either way, you and I will remain friends. Understood?"
"That's it?"
"Yes, that's all there is to it."
Susan leaped out of her chair. "Then I'd better get going. Whom do I wire and what do I say?"
"I'll give you written instructions." Although the tea had gone cold and the muffins were untouched, Libby rose from the sofa and bid Susan follow her as she headed for the credenza in the foyer. After removing paper and pencil from a drawer in the small hutch, Libby jotted down a couple of names and queries. Before she handed the paper to Susan, she asked, "I want this information gathered as quietly as possible. Can you send these wires without your father knowing?"
"Of course. I've got a driver out front who'll be with me all day. Should I wait for the answers or go back to the telegraph office and check on them from time to time?"
Libby shrugged, not certain how long it would take to make the contacts necessary. "Do whatever you feel is safest for you—and while you're at it," she muttered, thinking of more complications, "be sure to use an assumed name, not your own or mine. Make one up, but be sure to mention that you're representing a small group of women from the NWSA here in California."
Her blood heating the way it used to whenever she began an assignment for the cause, Libby handed the note to Susan and issued one final warning. "Get back to me as soon as you have answers, but make sure it's me you come to—and only me."
"I understand." Susan grinned as she stuffed the paper into her velvet bag. "In regard to the cause, I suppose Donovan is the enemy, being a male."
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Libby said as she opened the door, "but he is—"
The rest of the sentence died on her tongue when she realized someone was standing on the other side of the threshold.
Chapter 17
"Oh... hello."
There stood almost the last person Libby expected to see today, Donovan's mother, wearing a buttoned up day dress of pale pink calico that screamed respectability.
Lil glanced from Libby to her guest, her expectant expression demanding an introduction. "Hello back, I guess."
"Oh, excuse me, Lil. This is Susan Savage."
Susan extended her hand. "I'm Donovan's half sister."
"Are you now?" Frowning, Lil ignored the young woman's attempt to shake her hand. "You don't look much like him."
Obviously sensing some hostility, Susan recoiled a little. "I've always been told that I favored my mother strongly."
Lil doubled up her fist and planted it on her hip. "So you're what she looked like, huh?"
Susan turned to Libby, her expression begging for a little help getting out of the awkward situation. The best Libby could do was finish the introduction. "Susan, this is Lil... well, just Lil, I guess. She's Donovan's—"
"Partner," Lil supplied, laying down her own rules. "Is he in?"
"No, sorry. You just missed him."
Looking thoughtful and disappointed, Lil exhaled heavily. "Are you two coming or going?"
"I was going," said Susan. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Lil, but I have a lot of important errands to run now." She turned to Libby and gave her arm a squeeze. "Thank you for trusting me. I'll come back as quickly as I can." And with that, she stepped around Lil and hurried down the walkway.
"Please come in," said Libby. "I've got fresh blueberry muffins waiting in the living room, and Gerda can have some hot tea ready for us in a minute."
After stepping into the foyer, Lil tugged off her white gloves and glanced around the house. "Where did Donovan get off to so early?"
"Today is his first day working at the publishing company." Until that moment, Libby hadn't realized that Donovan's mother did not know about his new position. Her lovely face blanched with surprise, then crumpled in pain. "He's an advertising solicitor," Libby added lamely.
"Is that a fact?" Looking beaten and a little lost, Lil wandered into the living room. "I guess I will have that tea if you've got the time. See if you can't talk Gerda into shaking a little whiskey into mine."
"I'll see what I can do. Make yourself comfortable." Libby dashed into the kitchen, gave Gerda her instructions, then hurried back into the living room. She found Lil standing near the corner cupboard fingering a pewter vase on one of the shelves.
"I decorated this place for him, you know." Her tone was solemn. She even didn't bother to turn and confirm that it was Libby who'd entered the room. "I chose the paint colors, the wallpaper, and even the matching chintz curtains."
"And you did a lovely job of it." Libby purposefully made the comment short and brusque. She did not want to discuss the wallpaper. Gesturing to the chair Susan had just vacated, the one which faced the west wall, not the bay window, she said, "Why don't you have a seat? Gerda will be in with the tea any time now."
Finally moving away from the cupboard, Lil failed to notice Libby's "directions." She crossed the room instead, and sagged down on the sofa, which would give her a perfect view of the missing wallpaper strip, should she choose to look there.
Taking the chair she'd offered the woman, Libby slid onto it as she tried to think of ways to lighten Lil's obviously dark mood and not incidentally, keep her distracted. "You're looking lovely today. Is that a new dress?"
Lil smirked, looking at Libby as if she'd grown two heads. "I came here to talk to Donovan about his father, not exchange mindless pleasantries."
Deflated more than offended—she did recall that bluntness, among other things, was a hallmark of Lil's personality—Libby lifted the plate of muffins and offered them as she said, "You seem to be a little sad today. I was just trying to cheer you up. Why don't you at least have a muffin?"
"Thanks, I'll take you up on that, but I don't think anything's going to make me feel better—not even if Donovan walked through that door about now." Lil studied the muffins a moment, then snatched the one most weighed down with berries. Settling it onto the napkin in her lap, she sighed heavily. "I probably couldn't have gotten through to him, even if he were here. He'd never believe the things I'd like to tell him about that father of his, especially since they've obviously gotten so close that he's working for the no-good son of a bitch."
Deeply interested in what Lil had to say about R. T., even if most of it stemmed from hurts of the past, Libby waited until after Gerda served two piping hot cups of tea to ask, "What kind of things were you thinking of telling Donovan?"
After dipping the corner of muffin she'd torn from the whole, Lil scooped it between her lips, and studied Libby closely as she chewed. She took a sip of tea, shuddering slightly, but looking pleased by the addition to her beverage. Then she took another sip, and asked, "What interest is R. T. to you?"
Picking at her own muffin, Libby popped a fat blueberry into her mouth, savored the juicy morsel a moment, then decided to trust Lil with the truth as she knew it. "We're not exactly what you'd call friends. In fact, if I were to choose one word to describe his feelings for me, I think 'hatred' would do it."
The bite of muffin Lil had just raised to her lips fell back down to her lap. "Explain. Tell me why you think R. T. hates you
."
Normally, anyone who'd ordered Libby around this way would have gotten a good dose of nothing out of her. But in this case, she felt a certain bond forming, a sense that what they had to say to one another might just be woven with the same thread. "I had a meeting with R. T., his son Francis, and Donovan yesterday. We talked about my equal rights editorials, which they're all very opposed to, and a few other things. It wasn't exactly the words he used or even the way he said them, but I had the feeling the whole time he spoke to me that R. T. almost wished me dead."
"Humph." Lil shook her head in open contempt. "I think he's spent a minute or two wishing the same of me. Believe me, I know the look."
Encouraged by Lil's admission, Libby continued. "I also had the feeling that R. T. is very good at keeping his hatred inside, and that even when he lets it out, it seems to touch only the object of his hatred."
One sienna-brown eyebrow raised high, Lil encouraged, "Go on."
"I'm trying, but this is really hard to explain." She paused, picturing the moment when she'd first felt that malignant gaze burning into her—through her. "I would say that R. T. has eyes like a pair of dueling pistols—harmless enough when sheathed, even easy to ignore, until they're pointed at your head. Donovan sat right next to me in R. T.'s office yesterday, and never realized that his father had fired both guns at me. This may sound too crazy to you, but that's the best I can do to explain the way that man struck me."
"You make a hell of a lot of sense to me." Lil laughed, but it was a bitter, gravelly sound. "I don't know what took me so long to recognize those tendencies in Rand, but I do know exactly what you're saying about him."
"You do?" Libby perched on the edge of her chair. "Should I tell Donovan how I feel? After we left the office, he seemed really happy and, frankly, fond of his father. I was afraid to say anything for fear he'd—" Libby cut off her own words, realizing she was getting in a little deeper than she wanted to be, where her feelings about Donovan were concerned. "Well, anyway, I didn't say much. I didn't want to upset him."
