Lunch was held in the campus cafeteria, where she ate with Dr. Leal and a professor from Iowa. Professor Gottschalk’s research on arctic groundwater was fascinating, and he agreed to send her copies of his articles. She had plenty of questions, all of which he answered courteously, but never once did he ask a single question about her own research.
Which was fine with her. Questions about her research could stray into her work in Germany, a dangerous topic she’d prefer not to discuss. For the most part, she let Dr. Leal carry the conversation and any discussion about their work in chlorination.
There was still plenty of time before the afternoon sessions, and Washington Square Park was just across the street. She stepped outside for some fresh air, strolling toward the marble arch built to commemorate George Washington’s inauguration.
That was where Nick found her.
“Thought I might see you here,” he said, sweeping his hat off and giving a little bow. He wore a tailored suit of dark superfine wool and sported a gold watch chain. So different than the last time she saw him, in suspenders with a wrench in his hand.
“Mr. Drake,” she said with a nod.
“Ouch. I thought we’d dropped the formality.”
It had been dropped when she gave him permission to use her first name in the boiler room, then smashed to pieces when they’d kissed like there was no tomorrow in the alley. As though he could read her mind, his face settled into a warm tenderness.
“I thought you might like to know that there’s no need to worry about those reporters in the alley,” he said. “They published a story in the next day’s newspaper, but most of it was just about my work at the orphanage.”
She latched onto the one problematic word. “Most?”
He shrugged. “They mentioned that I was caught kissing a woman in the alley. No name, and no photograph. They still don’t know who you are, so you are completely safe. It’s over.”
Relief flooded through her. The prospect of another scandal had been making it difficult to sleep, and now that the fear was lifted, she couldn’t help but smile at him like an idiot. It seemed that all he had to do was come within ten feet of her to make her spirit come alive and the sun shine brighter. He was smart and funny and could work with his hands, installing all sorts of complicated plumbing.
“I’ve been anxious to hear about how the toilets at the orphanage are coming along,” she said.
His laughter rang out through the park. “Only you could talk about toilets while looking and sounding like the most attractive woman in the city.”
“Don’t prevaricate, or I’ll think you weren’t up to the task.”
“Tell me what ‘prevaricate’ means, and I’ll tell you about the toilets.”
“It means a reluctance to answer a direct question. You know . . . the kind of thing plumbers always do when they don’t want to admit they couldn’t hook up a bunch of simple toilets for some poor orphans.”
“I’ve got four floors in operation. One more to go. Want to come next weekend and watch?”
Heat gathered in her face as she glanced around the park. “Last time I did that I got into trouble.”
“I know. That’s what I’m hoping for again.”
“And will there be photographers on hand?” She’d had a close call last weekend and couldn’t be so careless again.
“Like I said, Frank is going to keep quiet about what he saw. That’s the thing about newspapermen. They hunt for gossip like sharks sniffing blood in the water. I can’t stand them.”
Rosalind knew all about being the target of journalists swarming in for the kill, but she wasn’t prepared to condemn the entire profession. “I don’t believe there are any truly bad people,” she said. “Only people who sometimes do bad things. There’s a big difference.”
“Ha!” Nick burst out. “You’ve never met members of my extended family. You could dissect my Uncle Thomas down to his core and not find a single redeeming quality.”
She shook her head. “I’ve never met your uncle, but I believe God has given all of us qualities of great valor. Sometimes fate causes our lives to intersect in ways that mean we only see the worst of each other, but most people are good. My brother accuses me of being a hopeless optimist, but it’s what I believe.”
“I kind of like that about you,” Nick said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm as they strolled deeper into the park.
They continued teasing and prodding each other as they circled the small patch of green in the middle of the city. It would be nice to spend the entire day with him, except her sides would probably ache from so much laughter.
At five minutes before one o’clock, they headed back toward the auditorium. He held her elbow as they crossed 4th Street, keeping an eye on the rackety automobiles and lumbering horse-drawn carriages, holding his hand up to slow them down as they crossed. It was totally unnecessary, but it felt good to have a man be so protective of her.
As they entered the building and crossed the lobby, a man flagged them down. “Mr. Drake!” he shouted from the far side of the room. The portly man hurried across the floor, a young woman in an emerald-green walking dress in tow. “I’m glad I caught you before the presentations begin again. You remember my daughter Matilda?”
Nick gave a polite nod. “Of course. How are you, Miss O’Grady?”
Rosalind missed the girl’s reply. She was too busy looking at the father, a man she recognized as a biology professor from Princeton. Proper decorum would have dictated that he introduce his daughter to her as well, but he seemed oblivious to her presence as he stepped back and propelled his daughter closer to Nick.
“I was hoping to catch you at lunch,” Professor O’Grady said. “Matilda enjoys conferences such as these, and I’m sure she’d be very interested in your work with the New York aqueducts. Perhaps we can all go for a cup of tea and discuss it?”
Nick glanced at the clock hanging above the door to the auditorium. “Maybe some other time,” he said. “I don’t want to miss the next discussion, and I know Dr. Werner doesn’t either. Have a good day, Professor. Miss O’Grady.”
With a polite nod, Nick left the pair staring after them as they headed toward the auditorium. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “They’ll throw their daughters at me, but they won’t let me join their club.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but they both knew he was correct. She hurt a little on his behalf. He truly had no business being part of this scientific society, but it was painful to see him try so hard when they would never grant him membership.
When she headed toward her seat in the back aisle, he joined her. There were still a few minutes before the next speaker stepped up to the podium.
“Why do you come if you know they won’t let you join?” she asked.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I’ve been waiting all my life to hear a speech on”—he flipped the schedule open and squinted at it in the dim light—“the use of deep freeze as a means of eliminating spurious contamination in water?”
She tried to block the laughter from her voice. “You’ve been waiting for that?”
“My whole life, Dr. Werner.” He put the program on the seat beside him. “Especially since the speaker later this afternoon is General Mike O’Donnell, one of the three commissioners in charge of New York’s water supply. And it seems good politics to attend his speech.”
Suddenly she understood his reason for mingling with a group of people who would never open their ranks to him. All morning he had been working the room like a seasoned professional. The commissioner of a water board needed connections across a huge range of industries. He needed to understand engineering, labor unions, political networks, and scientific research. Now that she knew him better, she realized Nick Drake was actually uniquely qualified for such a position.
It was hard to concentrate on the presentation with him only inches away. She feared he might try to carry on their flirtation when the lights were lowered, but
he didn’t move a muscle and paid full attention to the speaker.
He respectfully took his leave at the next break and proceeded to mingle with others for the rest of the afternoon’s sessions. But at the end of the day, he materialized at her side. She was heading toward 4th Street when he jogged up alongside her. With his jacket draped over an arm and a loosened collar, he looked more appealing than when he was all buttoned down with old-school formality.
“Can I walk you to the subway station?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m off to catch the 42nd Street Ferry. I’m afraid I couldn’t impose on you to go such a distance.”
He looked confused. “Why would you go that far out of your way? The subway station is just a few blocks over.”
She didn’t want to confess her fear. The first subway line to New Jersey had opened to great fanfare only six months earlier. It was faster, cheaper, and closer than the ferry, but it would mean taking one of those awful escalators deep beneath the city, and then riding a train that tunneled under the Hudson River. She didn’t trust it. The notion of traveling beneath the river, with no fresh air, no natural light, no way to escape . . . no, absolutely not.
“I like the ferry,” she said. “I like to look out over the river and feel the breeze on my face.”
“It probably adds at least half an hour to your trip,” Nick said.
More like an hour, given the additional travel she had on both sides of the river, but she wouldn’t admit it. “I don’t mind,” she said. “The ferry is so much more pleasant.”
“Have you ever ridden the subway?”
She sent him a pointed glare. If she admitted she’d never ridden it, he would know she was frightened. It made no sense to go so far out of her way for a ferry when the subway could slice an hour off her travel time.
“Come on. I’m riding it with you. Then you’ll see there’s nothing to be frightened of.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but he’d already taken her arm and set off toward the Christopher Street station. He was being very assertive in taking over, but in truth, it would be nice to learn how to ride the subway. Her mind told her that thousands of people rode it every day, but each time she tried to screw up the courage to attempt it herself, the thought of being trapped in a metal compartment beneath the river made it hard to breathe.
But she was going to ride it this time. Nick’s brash confidence was bolstering her courage.
“All right,” she said with conviction. “Let’s do it.”
Nick enjoyed every second of escorting Rosalind on her first subway ride. The moment they started descending the escalator into the Christopher Street station, she clung to his hand as though it were a lifeline, and he did his best to calm her. The station was new and featured gothic arches and electric lamps with shaded glass bulbs that made the place look like a church. It was a far cry from the water tunnels beneath Manhattan where he’d worked as a plumber for twelve years. The work had been tough, challenging, and dangerous, but he’d been good at it.
It also made him perfectly at home deep beneath the streets, which Rosalind clearly was not. A departing train left the station with a rumble that escalated to a mild roar as it hurdled into the tunnel, the suction pulling a gust of wind with it and causing a few tendrils of silvery-blond hair to tug free and float about Rosalind’s face.
“I think I’ll catch the ferry after all,” she said as the noise died away, already heading back to the escalator. He slipped an arm around her waist and guided her toward the benches on the platform.
“I’ve already bought our tickets, and they’re nonrefundable,” he said reasonably.
“They cost five cents, and you’re a millionaire.”
He grinned. “But I grew up a plumber, and that sort of thriftiness isn’t something you forget. I’ll charge you the five cents if you back out on me.” He couldn’t resist smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t push if I didn’t know it was entirely safe. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”
And just like that, her eyes softened and she looked up at him with a combination of trust and admiration that practically knocked him flat. He locked gazes with her, trapped in the clear blue eyes that reminded him of a cloudless summer sky. By all that was holy, this woman could get to him.
Another oncoming train soon roared into the station, but still he gazed at her like a lovestruck fool. The hiss of the pneumatic doors sliding open roused him from his temporary trance, and he guided her aboard. They shared a bench, her slim hand entirely engulfed in his.
She startled as the train jerked and pulled away from the station. “How long is this going to take?” she asked.
“Eight or ten minutes. It will be over before you know it.”
She sat rigidly on the bench and clung to his hand.
“Take a breath,” he reminded her.
She did. “Are we under the river yet?”
“Probably. And the air is still fresh and plentiful, right?”
She agreed. And like magic, her muscles relaxed and her entire body eased.
“There’s something you should know,” he said hesitantly, uncertain where this sudden shyness came from. He didn’t want to brag, but he wanted her to know that he was more than just an uneducated grunt who’d lucked into a fortune.
She looked up at him expectantly, and he was struck again by her delicate prettiness. She was so smart and well-bred, and maybe someday soon he would actually be worthy of her.
“Last night I got a telegram from the governor’s office. I’m going to be appointed the next commissioner of labor for the State Water Board of New York. It’s official.”
He hoped he didn’t sound like he was boasting, but he’d been the only man at that conference without a college degree or a fancy title. Tomorrow the announcement would be made at the conference and printed in the New York Times. He would be a person worthy of respect in his own right, and not just because of the fortune dumped in his lap.
Instead of looking impressed, a hint of disappointment flashed across Rosalind’s face. “Congratulations,” she said tepidly. “I know you’ve been working toward that appointment.”
“Nonstop for the past five years, ever since I started at the water board,” he said.
“Does this mean there’s no hope of New York adopting chemical purification for its water?”
A stab of annoyance hit him, but he tamped it down. “Water quality is only a tiny piece of the job. I’ll be overseeing labor unions and making sure the new tunnels and reservoirs get built on schedule. I’ll make sure the crews have everything they need to get the work done.”
There was a lot more to the job he didn’t care to discuss. He was going to be charged with carrying out difficult decisions that already made him uneasy. It would have been nice to confide in Rosalind, but she seemed to have a one-track mind when it came to chlorine.
“New York and New Jersey share some of the same watershed,” she said. “Dr. Leal and I would love the opportunity to meet with you to discuss techniques for—”
“I think you already know my position on chlorine,” he said. “Besides, the judge in New Jersey has already ruled—”
“He gave us an extension. We’ve still got seventy-six days left to make our case.”
Nick had liked her better when she was timid about riding the subway. Her fear gone, she was back on the quest to dump chemicals into the drinking water, and he’d gone and made himself a target by getting appointed to the water board.
But he couldn’t help it. He found her bossiness insanely attractive. On the outside she looked as fragile as spun glass, but beneath it was the heart of a crusader.
“I’m installing the last of the toilets at the Hester Street Orphanage this weekend. You’ve got an open invitation to join me.”
There! He caught the quick flicker of interest and a renewed spark of attraction crackling between them. If he could only clear away the aggravating court case and let this glorious
and unwieldy magnetism have free rein. He was tired of being alone. He’d wanted Rosalind Werner from the instant she stepped into Sal’s Diner looking for him.
“Tempting, but I’ve got a ticking clock keeping me in the laboratory, working to make our case. Of course, you might intervene on our behalf. . . .”
“Forget it, Dr. Werner. Either you want to come help me with the toilets, or you don’t. On the other hand, we can wait out the next seventy-six days, and once the judge drives the final stake through your case, I can court you like a normal man who fancies a woman.” He lowered his voice. “I’m hoping we can run out into an alley again and act like smitten idiots.”
She sucked in a quick little breath. “Can we please forget that happened?”
“I can’t. Can you?”
“It would be better if we could. Glass, china, and reputations are easily cracked and never well-mended.” At his confused look, she clarified. “Benjamin Franklin. The font of all wisdom.”
He grinned, but the train was slowing as it moved into the station. Electric lights anchored to the tunnel walls rolled past the windows as the brakes kicked in and slowed the train. He gave her a wink. “You survived your first subway ride beneath the Hudson.”
She let him help her rise. “You must think I’m so foolish.”
“Never. Bossy, prim, obsessed—you can be all those things, but never foolish. Can you ride it on your own tomorrow, or should I come fetch you?” He’d welcome the opportunity to spend more time with her. Tomorrow’s conference would be crammed with activity as men learned of his appointment and started clamoring for attention.
“I’ll be fine. And congratulations again on your appointment. I’m sure that sort of accomplishment was a real high-wire act. Not many men could pull it off.”
Once again she made him feel ten feet tall. She didn’t fawn or flatter him, and a compliment from a woman like her was worth twenty from the Gramercy Park heiresses constantly thrown his way.
A Daring Venture Page 7
