A Daring Venture

by Elizabeth Camden

  That didn’t mean he would ever be welcome in their ranks. But he didn’t care about being welcomed, he cared about getting appointed to the State Water Board of New York. Only then could he ensure that poor people and immigrants got the same quality of water that rich people took for granted.

  He made his way to Mayor Jenner’s side.

  “Mr. Drake!” the mayor said in a hearty tone, pumping Nick’s hand with vigor. Obviously the hefty contribution Nick gave to the mayor’s reelection campaign had not gone to waste. “Welcome to my home. You remember my wife, Adelaide?”

  Mrs. Jenner wore a pearl choker that probably cost more than a typical plumber earned in a year, but she had a kind smile as she greeted Nick. “Congratulations on today’s victory! My husband says your testimony was key in persuading the judge to see reason.”

  That was because Nick spoke in plain English, not like the witnesses on the other side, whose scientific blather and chemistry tomes could bore the paint off the walls.

  “How’s that charming daughter of yours?” the mayor asked in a booming voice. “She must be, what, eight? Ten?”

  “She turned three years old last month.”

  “Oh yes, I remember now. Charming girl. Sally?”

  “Sadie.”

  “That’s right! Sadie! And her mother is doing well, I hope?”

  This probably wasn’t the time to explain that Nick’s wife had died two days after giving birth to Sadie. Most politicians were masters at remembering the names and family details of their supporters, but it appeared Mayor Jenner had imbibed too much celebratory champagne, and Nick saw no point in embarrassing him. He swiftly changed the topic.

  “I was hoping to discuss the meeting you’ve got scheduled next week, dealing with the new subway to Manhattan. I understand the governor of New York will be in attendance.”

  “Will he? I suppose so.”

  “I’d like to be invited to the meeting.”

  Mayor Jenner set down his glass. “I wasn’t aware you had any interest in subways.”

  “I don’t, but I’d like to meet the governor. I can make myself available if you can arrange the introductions.”

  It was the governor who would appoint the new commissioner to the State Water Board. As the acting commissioner, Nick was the logical choice, but he didn’t have the personal connections of the other men vying for the job. If he could meet the governor, he’d be able to prove himself. He didn’t have a fancy college degree like his competitors, but he had more real-world experience and a knack for relating to people. All he needed was to get his foot in the door with the governor, and he’d have a clear shot at the appointment.

  Mayor Jenner laughed uncomfortably. “I can’t imagine you’d be interested in a meeting like that. Just a lot of arguing about subway tunnels and tax money.”

  “I’m interested. Can you make it happen?”

  A pause stretched between them, and Mrs. Jenner rushed to her husband’s rescue. “Oh look, the harbor master of Port Elizabeth just arrived. Perhaps I should introduce you?”

  “No offense, ma’am, but perhaps your husband can introduce me to the governor of New York. I think I’ve earned that.”

  The mayor shifted uneasily. “That’s not how business is done, Mr. Drake. I’m sure everyone in this room understands why you’ve been invited to this event, but it wouldn’t make sense for you to be at a high-stakes political meeting.”

  “How about because I just saved your city a million-dollar payoff to a water company that didn’t deliver on their contract? I think you can spare me five minutes with the governor.”

  The city’s lead attorney broke the tension. Herman Dressler was a thick-set man who had suggested the unconventional tactic of recruiting Nick as a plaintiff expert who could explain complicated water filtration systems to the judge.

  Herman extended his hand. “You’re a good man to have in a fight, Mr. Drake!”

  “My pleasure, sir.” And it had been. It was a privilege to be part of a team committed to ensuring the growing cities of the eastern seaboard continued to have plentiful supplies of clean water.

  “With luck, we will no longer need your services,” Herman said. “But should the deferment prove difficult, will you be available through October?”

  “What deferment?” he asked.

  Nick’s temper heated as he learned that instead of a complete victory for the city, the judge had hedged his bets by allowing the defendants an additional ninety days to let their scientists make the case for a chemical alternative. Two of the defense experts had managed to persuade the judge to give their bizarre and unproven technique another bite at the apple. Their plan amounted to a newfangled method using chlorine to kill germs in the water. They claimed it wouldn’t harm humans, but it had never been tested or proven anywhere in the world. Nick wouldn’t stand aside and let them test it on his family or the people of Jersey City either.

  “I’ll be available,” he promised. The opposition was grasping at straws, turning to a pair of meddlesome scientists to avoid building another pricey filtration plant. He looked pointedly at the mayor. “And I’ll be available for next week’s meeting with the governor. I trust you will make it happen.”

  It was a statement, not a question, and Nick succeeded in collecting his favor before leaving the gala celebration.

  Chapter

  Two

  Rosalind awakened early for her meeting with Nicholas Drake, but everything was going wrong, and it was still an hour before sunrise.

  “Have you seen the two beakers of water I had on the kitchen counter?” she asked her brother, Gus. “They were here last night, but now I can’t find them.”

  Gus ducked beneath a line of baby diapers strung across the tiny kitchen, eyeing the counter. “Ingrid washed baby bottles last night. She probably washed the beakers as well.”

  That meant Ingrid had dumped out the water. Brilliant. Rosalind had intended to bring the chlorinated water samples to prove to Mr. Drake that it was impossible to smell or taste the difference. Ingrid probably hadn’t done it on purpose, but Rosalind couldn’t be sure. Ingrid’s simmering hostility had been impossible to overlook ever since Gus returned from overseas with his German bride. Rosalind’s house was too small for all of them, and Ingrid still resented her for what had happened in Heidelberg. On top of all this, the baby was cutting a tooth, and none of them had gotten much sleep last night.

  In one hour, Rosalind and Dr. Leal were supposed to meet Mr. Drake to begin the herculean task of persuading the opposition’s lead expert witness that water filtration was inefficient, overly expensive, and not nearly as effective as chemical treatment. Dr. Leal thought a breakfast meeting would help set the right tone. People tended to be on their guard in a courtroom or in an office. It was much easier to establish a rapport over a meal, and a breakfast meeting at a restaurant had been arranged by Mr. Drake’s secretary.

  Rosalind navigated around the laundry line to stand before the tiny mirror on the back of her kitchen door, trying to tack the ivory button that secured her high stand collar to her blouse. Her fingers slipped, and the button pinged on the floor.

  “Don’t be so nervous,” Gus said.

  “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

  “You can’t fasten your collar, you won’t sit down for a cup of tea, and you’ve checked your portfolio three times to be sure your papers are in order. And this is after you paid a messenger to carry copies of the same research reports to Mr. Drake’s office yesterday. Over-preparation is a sure sign you’re terrified.”

  She forced her fingers to be steady and successfully inserted the pin into her collar. “I should think Mr. Drake would want to read our papers in advance of the meeting. I was being considerate in providing the copies.”

  “Rosalind, you know I love you, but your research papers are so dull, they could actually be used as a weapon against unsuspecting readers, causing them to die of boredom.”

  She turned around to peer at him. �
��Our research caused quite a sensation when it was published. The American Chemical Society was so excited that they—”

  “And is Nicholas Drake a chemist?”

  No. He was a plumber who had somehow vaulted into a position of great power over the water systems of the entire state of New York. It was maddening that a man with no scientific qualifications had so much influence, but Dr. Leal was right. They needed to do a better job persuading ordinary people of the benefits of treated water.

  She would let Dr. Leal take the lead in their meeting this morning, for one thing was certain: she had absolutely nothing in common with Nicholas Drake.

  By the time Rosalind arrived at the crowded Manhattan restaurant to meet Mr. Drake, her nerves were wound as tight as a piano wire. Dr. Leal had abandoned her! A telegram arrived just as she was leaving to say that his son was ill and he would be unable to attend the breakfast meeting. I have full confidence in you, he had concluded the message.

  Rosalind wished she had that level of confidence. What Gus had said was right. She wasn’t good at communicating scientific information in plain English. It was going to be impossible to find common ground with a man so starkly different.

  Sal’s Diner was on a street corner, nestled between a laundry and a fishmonger. Mr. Drake had picked the location, for it certainly wasn’t the sort of place she would normally eat.

  “Oh my goodness,” she murmured as she entered the diner, barely able to squeeze through the door for all the people lined up at the counter. Every table was occupied, and the clatter of utensils, the sizzle of meat, and boisterous voices filled the air. Some of the customers wore coveralls, others wore suits with ties. The only thing they had in common was that they were all men.

  She scanned the crowd, looking for Mr. Drake’s tall frame. A pair of policemen jostled her as they angled out the door. It certainly appeared to be a popular restaurant, but it would be hard to converse over the din of a hundred people being served in a place no larger than a matchbox.

  “Let me find you a table, ma’am.”

  She looked up at the grinning man who had appeared alongside her. Thank heavens, Mr. Drake had rescued her! He looked so different than he had in the courtroom, where he’d worn a formal suit and a fighting expression. Here he had an open collar and dark eyes flashing with humor. Even though he was physically imposing, with a strong build that towered over her, he seemed so friendly that she was immediately at ease.

  “Do you already have a table?” she asked.

  “I do, but let’s find a place for you to sit at the counter, or those barbarians lined up for the next batch of Sal’s doughnuts will never let you through. Stand aside, yokels! Lady coming through.” Mr. Drake shouldered his way through the crowd, tugging her along behind him.

  “I’m not eating with you?”

  He grinned down at her. “Nothing would please me more, but I’m here for a business meeting.” He scanned the counter, but every seat was already filled. “Tell you what, since it looks like none of these guys are close to being finished, you can sit with me, provided you’ve got the constitution to last through a pointless lecture from a pair of do-gooders. It won’t take long.”

  So he hadn’t recognized her. She let him guide her to a booth tucked along the back wall and slid onto the bench opposite him.

  “I’ve never seen you here before,” he said. “First time at Sal’s?”

  “Yes. Is there a towel, perhaps? The table is a little sticky.”

  Before she finished the sentence, he stood, reached over the patrons at the counter, and grabbed a damp towel, then wiped up the splotches left by an earlier diner. He tossed the towel back to the waitress and handed Rosalind a two-sided card with the menu printed on it. The cardboard was a little shabby, with coffee stains and a few unsanitary grease marks. She didn’t touch it.

  “I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” she said.

  Mr. Drake stood and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Martha,” he shouted. “Make that an order for two!”

  Rosalind put her portfolio on the table and set out copies of her research articles, since it appeared he hadn’t brought the ones she’d sent him. She opened her wire-framed spectacles and put them on, then scanned her paperwork quickly, making sure she had everything in order. When she looked back up, Mr. Drake was staring at her with a dazed expression.

  “What?” she asked.

  He swallowed. “No disrespect, ma’am, but I think those spectacles make you look like an A-class fetcher.”

  “A what?” Having spent most of her adult life in Germany, there was a lot of American slang she didn’t quite grasp.

  “A fetcher. As in ‘really fetching.’ Top shelf. Classy.”

  Heat gathered in her cheeks. The last thing she’d expected was to be paid such compliments. Mr. Drake would never rival the great poets for an elegant turn of phrase, but there was a sincere admiration in his eyes that made his compliments immensely flattering.

  She adjusted her glasses. “Thank you. I think. I just need to be sure I’ve got all the paperwork in order, and then I can . . .” She was babbling. A strange attraction to him was growing by the instant, and she needed to rein it in. She took the glasses from her nose and set them aside. “Did you have a chance to read the articles we sent you?”

  He lifted a brow. “What articles?”

  “The articles on calcium hypochlorite distribution as an alternative to water filtration.” She waited for recognition to dawn, but he just stared at her as though she were speaking Greek. Now that she could see him up close, she noticed he had the strong, even features of Michelangelo’s David, complete with the curling dark hair, chiseled features, and strong line of his neck.

  “Who are you?” he finally asked.

  “I’m Dr. R. L. Werner, but I go by Rosalind in real life. Or Dr. Werner, if we are being formal. I’m afraid Dr. Leal won’t be able to join us this morning.”

  He looked befuddled. “That seems like false advertising. Making everyone assume you’re a man by writing those articles under your initials.”

  It was true that many people instinctively distrusted the work of female scientists, but she had plenty of other reasons to hide behind her initials. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention.

  “Did you have a chance to review the articles?”

  He scrutinized her over the rim of a coffee mug as he took a long drink. That dark gaze had the power to render her a speechless idiot, and it was disconcerting.

  “Are you really a doctor?” he asked.

  “My specialty is biochemistry. I study the effects of chemical compounds on microorganisms.”

  “So you don’t treat patients?”

  “No. I’m afraid of blood.”

  His laughter was warm and appreciative. “Well, Dr. R. L. Werner, that makes two of us. When I hear ‘doctor,’ I automatically assume someone who carries a little black bag and wears a stethoscope. I didn’t know there was any other kind.”

  The tension between them eased. “I suppose that’s understandable. I don’t treat patients, but I hope that my research will help prevent disease before it starts.”

  He was gaping at her again with that dazed look in his eyes. He was so open and blatant in his admiration that it ought to be uncomfortable, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply smile back. She never wanted it to end.

  The waitress arrived and set two large platters of steaming food on the table before them. The spell was broken.

  Oh dear. She wasn’t going to be able to eat this. Generous slabs of bacon rested beside three eggs served sunny-side up, the uncooked yolks glistening brightly. Mr. Drake pierced all three of his yolks with a fork, stirring and dribbling the liquid across his bacon and toast.

  He looked up and caught her appalled gaze. Immediately, he dropped his fork, folded his hands, and bowed his head.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for this meal and the fine company. With your help, I’ll do my best to make t
his rowdy and irreverent city a better place. In your name we pray. Amen.”

  “Amen,” she echoed, even though her horror hadn’t been because he was skipping a blessing, but entirely due to the unwholesome and downright dangerous meal before them.

  He ripped his toast in half and sopped up some of the uncooked yolk, took a bite, and grinned at her across the table. “Nothing beats Sal’s cooking,” he said with good-natured appreciation.

  She looked down at her plate. The toast might be okay to eat. “Were you aware that eating the uncooked yolk of an egg is dangerous and liable to give you a salmonella infection?”

  “You don’t like eggs sunny-side up?”

  Hadn’t she just implied they could cause crippling gastric illness? “No,” she said gently. “They are a health hazard. I could not in good conscience let you or anyone else consume such a potentially dangerous meal.”

  Mr. Drake grabbed her plate and stood. “Hey, Martha! Can you ask Sal to put these eggs back on the griddle and scramble them up? My fault. I ordered wrong.”

  Rosalind winced as the harried waitress swung by their table, reached for the plate, and disappeared behind the counter. Rosalind hadn’t meant to cause such a scene, and the toast would have been fine, but the waitress and her plate disappeared before she could protest.

  At least Mr. Drake didn’t seem offended. If anything, he seemed amused as he leaned forward to speak in a conspiratorial tone. “You might want to cover your eyes, ma’am. I’m about to take another bite of my dangerous breakfast, and I wouldn’t want to frighten you.”

  Laughter bubbled up inside her and leaked out in an ungainly squeak, causing a healthy grin to break across Mr. Drake’s face. She really shouldn’t laugh, because health was a serious business, but his humor was contagious, and it felt good.