As they sat down to Sunday dinner, Emily said, “It’s been three weeks since his heart attack. How is your boss getting along?”
“As well as can be expected, considering how cantankerous he can be. Last week he tried to get out of bed, but a sharp pain in his chest made him collapse in pain.”
“Who’s taking care of him?” Henrietta asked.
“A woman who lives next door. She brings him soup and the occasional stew, but she’s elderly and she won’t be able to keep it up much longer.”
“Does he have family?” Emily asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, then who’s going to take care of him?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.”
“I could do it.”
Michael and Emily turned to stare at Henrietta. “You?” they said in unison.
“Don’t look at me like that. I took care of my infirmed father for over two years. I suspect I can handle Mr. Cullinane.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Michael said. “He can be very irritating when he’s healthy, but being a sick man confined to his bed hasn’t helped his disposition.”
“Well, I’m willing to give it a try, that is, if you can spare me, Emily.”
“That’s not a problem, Henrietta. Dermot’s not an infant anymore. We’ll manage.”
“Are you sure?” Henrietta knew that Dermot could be unmanageable.
“I am.”
“Very well. I could go to his home in the morning, take care of him during the day, and be home in time to cook dinner.”
“Oh, that’s too much. I don’t expect you to come home after taking care of an invalid all day and then prepare dinner.”
“Well, who’ll do it?” Michael asked.
“I will,” Emily said.
Henrietta and Michael burst out laughing at that thought.
“What’s so funny?” Emily asked, irritated by their mirth.
Michael patted his wife’s hand. “Emily, remember the mutton dinner?”
“That was a long time ago. I’ve been watching Henrietta. I think I can manage in the kitchen.”
“No,” Henrietta said firmly. “I will continue to cook our meals.”
“I agree,” Michael said, slamming his hand down on the table.
Michael had his doubts about Henrietta taking care of Cully. He was a headstrong man and she was a headstrong woman. He envisioned them clashing on everything from soup being too hot to her bossy ways. He held out little hope that the arrangement would work. Still, despite his misgivings, he took her to meet Cully the next morning.
“Cully, I want you to meet Mrs. Henrietta Winslow. She has agreed to come here every day to tend to your needs.”
The old man instinctively pulled the covers up protectively around his neck. He was not accustomed to seeing a strange woman in his bedroom, especially one eyeing him so critically. “I don’t need a nursemaid, Ranahan. I thank you for your generous offer, Mrs. Winslow, but I’ll manage meself.”
Henrietta folded her arms and looked down her nose at him. “When I am introduced to a gentleman, it’s customary for the gentleman to rise.”
A red-faced Cully threw his covers aside and tried to get up, but the effort made him gasp in pain and he fell back onto the bed.
Henrietta pulled the covers back over him and smoothed them out. “Clearly, Mr. Cullinane, you cannot manage yourself. Now, let us have no more such foolish talk.” She turned to Michael. “You can go. Mr. Cullinane and I will be just fine.”
A wide-eyed and slightly terrified Cullinane croaked, “Ranahan, don’t go ...”
“I’ve got to,” Michael answered, barely suppressing a grin. “I have to get the men out on the jobs. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
As Michael went down the stairs, he realized that Henrietta had already won the battle of wits with Cully. He almost felt sorry for his poor intimidated boss.
Emily and Michael sat in their kitchen drinking coffee and enjoying a Sunday morning alone. With Henrietta off to tend to Cullinane and Dermot taking a nap, the house was quiet.
“So, how do you think it’s working out with Henrietta and your boss?” Emily asked.
“Surprisingly well.” Michael grinned. “Cully has become downright docile in the presence of our fearless and resolute Henrietta.”
“From what I can see, she seems to be enjoying herself. She thrives on taking care of him and then coming home to take care of us.”
“I’ve got to admit, she’s a remarkable woman.”
Emily opened the kitchen window and took a deep breath. It was still mid-April, but the red maple trees in their front garden was showing signs of blooming. “It’s very balmy for mid-April.”
Michael came up behind her and put his arms around her. “It is that. I have an idea. Why don’t we take Dermot to see the Croton Reservoir today?”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a holding tank of sorts that supplies water to the whole city. Flynn said there’s a great view from the top of the walls.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Dermot could use the fresh air. We both need to get out more. As soon as he wakes up, we’ll go.”
It was mid-afternoon by the time they stepped off the omnibus. Immediately in front of them was a huge construction site that ran the length of Sixth Avenue from Forty-Second Street to Forty-First Street. The cast-iron frame of what was to be a massive structure soared over a hundred feet in the air.
Looking up, Emily said, “This is so strange looking. What is it?”
“This is going to be the site of something they call the Crystal Palace.” He chuckled. “We’re not allowed to even utter that name in front of Cully.”
“Why?”
He tried to get work here, but he was shut out by more, shall I say “influential,” Tammany men.
“You mean they paid more in bribes?”
“Exactly. Flynn says he was madder than a wet hen over that one.”
Emily gazed up at the massive structure. “Why does it look so odd?”
“Because the entire building is going to be all cast-iron and glass. Nothing like this has been built before in the city. I’m told they got the idea from the Great Exhibition Hall in London.” He gazed up wistfully at the structure. “I’m sorry Cully didn’t get the contract. I would have enjoyed watching this building go up.”
Pushing Dermot’s carriage east toward Fifth Avenue, they were awed by a second massive structure—the soaring fifty-foot brick walls of the Reservoir, which, indeed, did vaguely resemble an Egyptian tomb. Michael carried Dermot’s carriage up a long flight of stairs that opened onto to the promenade.
They weren’t the only ones taking advantage of the mild spring day. Dozens of men and women strolled along the walkways, some with perambulators, while young children ran with their hoops.
“Flynn was right about the view,” Michael said. “It is spectacular.” He pointed south. “Look, you can see the steeple of Trinity Church way down on Wall Street. And that land on the other side of the East River is Queens.” He turned to look north. “Just look at all that rolling country up to Harlem and beyond.”
Emily shook her head in amazement. She knew Manhattan was vast, but it was only from this vantage point that the vastness and wildness of the island could be truly appreciated. “There’s so much land on this island, yet everyone’s crowded into the lower end of the island.”
Michael surveyed the surrounding panorama. “True enough. But look south. You can see the city is slowly moving north. There’s going to be a lot of building in this city in the next ten years. And there’s going to be a lot of money to be made. I’ve got to get my own business started.”
“Well, we’re saving where we can, Michael, but it’ll take time.”
“I know we’re saving,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice, “but I don’t want to miss the building boom that I’m sure is coming. What are we saving, a dollar here, a dollar there? It’ll take forever.
I just wish there was some way to get hold of some real money right now.”
“You mean like a loan?”
“That’s what I was thinking, but it’s not possible. I talked to a banker and he told me I’d need collateral. But I have nothing to offer.”
As they strolled the promenade toward Sixth Avenue, Michael peeked into the carriage. “Too bad Dermot’s asleep. He’s missing a great view.”
“Let him sleep. I can use the break. I’ve never seen a baby crawl so fast. When he’s on the floor, I’ve got to watch him every second to keep him out of mischief.”
“Do you miss Henrietta being around to help?”
“Only when Dermot’s being rambunctious.”
“And is that often?”
“Often enough.”
Michael shot Emily a look of concern. “Maybe we should ask Henrietta to stop going to Cully’s.”
“No,” she said emphatically. “It’s a good thing she’s doing and to tell you the truth, I think she really enjoys sparing with your boss.”
Michael chuckled. “He pretends she’s a great annoyance, but I think he likes having her around.”
“And baking cookies everyday doesn’t hurt either.”
In silence, they stopped to look at the spectacular view across the Hudson River of the New Jersey palisades. As they turned to head back to the exit, Emily said, “I’m beginning to feel guilty taking Henrietta’s five dollars a week. Do you think we could get along without it?”
Michael frowned. “I’ve been putting her money aside for my business. It’s really the only way we’ve been able to save.”
“I know. But it just doesn’t seem right.”
Michael watched little giggling girls engaged in a heated hoop race. “Well, I suppose we can do without her money. With the extra money that Cully’s paying me to run the business, we’re doing just fine. Of course, when Cully comes back to work, I’ll lose that extra money.”
“But when your boss comes back to work, Henrietta won’t be needed any longer.”
“True enough.”
Emily pulled the blanket up around Dermot’s neck. “It’s starting to get chilly. Let’s get the child home.”
On the way to the omnibus, they stopped at the Croton Cottage, a popular destination for people visiting the reservoir. There was a huge sign on the side of the building that said “Billiards,” but it also served ice cream and refreshments. Dermot woke up just in time to enjoy his first ice cream cone, which he managed to smear all over his face and clothing.
Emily studied him pensively. “You know, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve seen him genuinely happy.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.”
When they got home, Henrietta was already at the stove preparing dinner.
“How’s Mr. Cullinane doing?” Emily asked.
“As well as can be expected for a grumpy old man.”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t know how you put up with him. I have to work with him all day, but you don’t.”
“Ah, his bark is worse than his bite.”
Michael waited until Emily took Dermot upstairs to change his diaper. “Henrietta, we’ve been thinking. Since you’re spending so much time taking care of Cully, it isn’t fair to go on charging you five dollars a week.”
She stopped stirring the gravy and turned to him. “That’s nonsense. I sleep here, don’t I? I eat most of my meals here, don’t I?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I won’t hear any more talk about my rent. Everything will remain status quo.”
Her tone of finality told Michael it would be futile to argue any further with the headstrong woman. Changing the subject, he said, “So, how’s Cully coming along?”
“His progress is slow. The doctor said his attack was worse than he’d thought. When he feels pain, I give him laudanum to relieve his physical pain. I also put mustard plaster on his chest. The doctor says it stimulates the internal organs.”
“Did he say when Cully will be able to come back to work?”
She turned away from Michael, hesitant to say what she knew he didn’t want to hear. “He said it could be weeks. It could be months.”
Michael had mixed emotions about that. On one hand, he wanted Cully to be well enough to come back to work, but on the other hand, he appreciated the extra money he was making and he enjoyed being in charge. He wondered how he would handle it when Cully came back and he would become just a foreman again.
Chapter Twenty
1853
It was February by the time Cully’s doctor allowed him to come back to work. The old man’s ruddy cheeks were now pale, the barrel chest deflated, and his clothes hung from his thin frame. Watching the frail old man, Michael was convinced the doctor had made a mistake in letting him come back so soon. But knowing Cully, he suspected the old man probably badgered the doctor into agreeing.
For the next several weeks, Michael’s concern grew as Cully’s condition continued to deteriorate. He never went out to visit the construction sites anymore, something he’d always done— to the great annoyance of the work crews. He stayed holed up in his cramped office and on more than one occasion Michael had caught the old man asleep at his desk.
A brutal snow storm brought all exterior construction work to a halt. Fortunately for Cullinane Construction, most of their work had moved indoors. Although it was bitter cold in the unheated buildings, at least the work could continue. But there were still friction and scheduling conflicts with other contractors. Windows were not installed on time. Gas lines were not connected properly. All these mistakes caused Cully’s men to delay their own work. For the most part, Michael shielded Cully from the bad news. Usually, there was other work that could be done while they were waiting for the other contractors to finish their work. But now Michael was running out of side work for his men and there was no way to disguise the work crews coming back early.
With a scowl on his face, Cully stood in the doorway of his office watching the crews, one by one, coming into the warehouse.
“Ranahan,” he shouted in a hoarse voice, “into my office.”
Michael had been dreading this confrontation, but there was nothing more he could do to keep the men working.
“Why aren’t the men still on the job?” he asked accusingly.
“It’s the same old story, Cully. We’re waiting for other contractors to finish their work.”
Cully slammed his hand down on his desk. “I have a reputation to uphold, Ranahan. I’m the most reliable contractor in this city and I want it to stay that way. Goddamn it. I can’t let these slackers affect my business.”
Michael watched Cully’s face redden and the veins in his neck bulge. This was exactly what he was afraid of. As part of his agreement to let Cully come back to work, his doctor had made Cully promise to remain calm, but now, to no surprise of Michael’s, the old man was getting himself all riled up. He knew Cully could never stick to that promise.
“It’s going to be all right,” Michael said soothingly. “We’ll get the work done.”
“How?” Cully bellowed. “You can’t work around those bastards. You can’t—”
Suddenly, he grabbed his chest. ‘Jasus, Mary and Joseph…”
“Cully, are you all right?”
The old man began to slump in his chair and his face was turning blue. Michael ran to the door. “Flynn,” he shouted, “get the doctor here. Quick!” Then he remembered the laudanum medicine that the doctor had prescribed. He rushed to Cully’s side. “The medicine, Cully, where’s the medicine?”
“In the drawer…” Cully whispered, slipping out of his chair and onto the floor.
Michael yanked open drawer after drawer, but he found nothing but piles of architectural drawings and bills of lading. In a panic, he shouted, “Where is it, Cully? I can’t find it.”
But there was no answer from the old man, who appeared to be unconscious. Just then, he
spotted a small black bottle under a pile of papers. With a shaky hand, he poured some of the medicine into Cully’s mouth. The old man coughed and gagged, but color began to come back into his face.
By the time the doctor arrived, Cully was breathing normally and color had returned to his face. The doctor shook his finger in Cully’s face. “I told you this could happen if you didn’t control your temper. You’ve no business being back at work.”
Cully wouldn’t look his doctor in the eye. “The work’s not getting done,” he said, feebly.
“What’s more important, the work getting done or you dying?”
Before Cully could answer, the doctor turned to Michael, “Get him back to his house. He’s done here.”
As February gave way to March and March gave way to April, there was no improvement in Cully’s condition. Henrietta had come back to help and it was only her fierce determination to nurse him back to health that had kept him from slipping deeper and deeper into his illness.
As he had been doing since taking over again, Michael reported the work’s progress to the old man at the end of the day.
Propped up by fluffy pillows, Cully sipped his hot tea. “Are we on schedule?”
“We are. The weather’s been cooperating and we’re all caught up. Things are going well.”
For a moment, Cully said nothing, then, blinking away tears, he said, “The doctor says I can never go back to work.”
“My God, Cully, that’s terrible.”
Cully stared into his cup. “It’s probably time I packed it in.”
Michael felt for the old man. He knew that Cullinane Construction Company was his whole life. But he felt a knot in his stomach as well as it also occurred to him that his own future was in jeopardy. He dreaded asking the next question, but he had to. “What will become of Cullinane Construction?”
Cully took a sip of his tea and he looked up at Michael with rheumy eyes. “I want to sell it to you.”
It took a moment for Cully’s words to sink in. Michael’s heart pounded in his chest. At last, here was his chance to own his own business. Here was his chance to be in charge of his own destiny. But his joy at the thought of being his own master quickly faded when he realized his predicament. “Cully, I don’t have enough money to buy the business.”
Manhattan Page 15
