“You know where she is,” Gus said.
“What makes you think that?”
Gus clenched his fists and leaned forward. “You claim to have hired the best private investigator in the city, and his report is right there in that file, and you won’t let me look at it.”
Nick thrummed his fingers atop the closed file, racked by indecision.
His lawyer’s voice was sympathetic, but that couldn’t soften the sting of his message. “You need to pick, my friend. Loyalty to Dr. Werner or to your cousin, a girl who doesn’t seem to mind that an innocent woman is rotting in jail.”
A girl who’d only sought the approval of her mother, who had been fighting for it since childhood, and in return for her devotion had been stabbed in the back by Margaret. And now Nick was doing the same.
He stood and wandered to the window, hands fisted as he glared outside, as if the answer to his dilemma was somewhere in the crowded streets below. Behind him, Gus and Vinni discussed strategy, throwing around legal terms Nick didn’t understand. Affidavits, indictable offenses, constructive fraud and extrinsic fraud. All of it ratcheted his headache higher.
Gus suddenly had the bright idea to file civil charges on top of the criminal ones as a way to put pressure on Eloise. The excitement in his voice made Nick’s temper snap.
“Listen to yourselves! You’re talking about how to ruin an innocent girl who’s just barely finding a foothold in this city!”
“And what did that ‘girl’ do to my sister?” Gus demanded.
Nick looked away, stalking back and forth in an office that suddenly felt too small. He was being painted into a corner, and he hated it. No matter what step he took, someone was going to be hurt. That day in the churchyard still haunted him. He’d chosen Rosalind over Ellie, and he hated himself for it. It was the right thing to do, and he would do it again, but he still felt sick over it.
Sometimes there were no easy answers. Rosalind had been painted into a corner over that chlorine case, and he hadn’t shown her an ounce of sympathy over the decision she made. When both sides are right, how did one choose? He’d ripped Rosalind to shreds over her decision, and now he was in the same situation.
A quick knock broke into his thoughts as General O’Donnell opened the door and met Nick’s gaze across the office.
“The judge in Jersey City has his final ruling on the chlorine case. It’s going to be announced in an hour.”
All bickering stopped as everyone ran for the elevators.
Rosalind lay on her cot, her blouse damp and sweat-stained from another day at the laundry. The scent of lye saturated her hair, and even now she could smell it. When she got out of here, she’d never use lye again.
And according to Gus, she would be released on bail soon. Someone had come through with the money, although Gus insisted the person wished to remain anonymous. It was the sort of thing Nick might do. He had been willing to attach his name to their final report, which meant he had finally seen reason, and perhaps was willing to forgive her.
She rolled into a more comfortable position and tried to ignore the ongoing spat between Gabriella and Melinda over an extra muffin left over from dinner. Most people wanted Gabriella to have it because of the baby, but Melinda insisted that as the person who performed the hardest manual labor, she was entitled to it. Finally someone suggested Rosalind be called in to render the decision. As the calmest-thinking person among them, Rosalind had already been asked to settle disputes on three separate occasions.
She sighed. She’d rather get up and play mediator than listen to them caterwauling for the next hour.
“Can’t you just split the muffin down the middle?” she asked.
Gabriella’s voice was exasperated. “I suggested that, but Melinda won’t compromise. And the doctor said that I should be eating more than prison rations.”
“Then get your no-good husband to bring you something,” Melinda demanded.
“How can he do that when he is at sea?” Gabriella shrieked.
Rosalind slid the muffin toward Gabriella. “Eat it quickly,” she said. “I’m sure that next time Melinda will be willing to split it with you.”
A noise from outside caught her attention. It sounded like someone shouting her name. As she turned to look at the window, a clatter of pebbles sprayed against the plate glass.
She scurried to the window. If someone broke the glass, the jail might replace it with something that couldn’t be rigged to open.
More than a dozen people were congregated on the lawn outside the prison. Dr. Leal was there and Gus—good heavens, even Nick was there, all of them grinning and craning their necks to see her. They were surrounded by the students who had been assisting them in the lab.
“Rosalind!” Dr. Leal shouted up at her through cupped hands. “We won! The judge just handed down the final ruling, and we won!”
The others on the ground bellowed in mighty roars of approval, cheering and applauding. She couldn’t help shrieking too. She jumped up and down, screeching like a crazy woman, but they had won! She placed her hands on the glass, barely able to see through the sheen blurring her vision. Thank God! Thank you, God, for letting the judge be brave enough to rule this way.
“Congratulations, Rosalind!” Gus hollered. “I never doubted you could do it!”
She glanced at Nick, whose expression radiated with joy and pride. She looked away as though she’d been burned. It hurt too much to look at the man who’d brought her such pain during the happiest moment of her life.
She had a million questions, but the crack in the window was so high. She grabbed a chair to stand on so she could get her face close to the crack.
“What happens now?” she called down, looking only at Dr. Leal.
“We move forward as planned,” he shouted back. “One step at a time. We won the first battle—a huge one—but there are more on the horizon. Cincinnati has telegrammed. They want our help replicating the process.”
It was happening! Their research was already starting to make the country a safer place, and she was torn between laughter and tears. The students cheered and took swigs from a bottle, and Dr. Leal grinned like an idiot.
And Nick . . . well, Nick was climbing the maple tree right beside the jailhouse. Fist over fist, he climbed higher. The attic was on the third floor, and this was dangerous. Given his abhorrence for the outdoors, this was probably the first time he’d ever tried to climb a tree in his life.
“Nick, you’re going to kill yourself,” she called out the window.
He’d grown up in Manhattan; he didn’t know how to climb trees. Besides, she didn’t want him up here. It was wonderful that he’d changed his mind about the chlorine, but that couldn’t obliterate the chasm still between them.
He reached the second story but still didn’t look at her. He was too busy scanning the spindly branches for a way to get even higher, but there were no other branches to latch onto. He was still ten feet below her and wobbling at a dangerous angle when he swiveled his head to meet her gaze.
He shouted in a confident voice. “Two months ago I said I wanted to be the first man to dance in the streets if chlorine worked. I’m sorry I was such a dolt along the way, but I want to keep my promise and dance in the streets with you. As soon as you’re out of jail, we’ll dance and celebrate and set the city on fire.”
Her eyes softened. How easy it would be to get swept up into his enthusiasm, but it would be wrong. She’d been reckless and impulsive once before and couldn’t afford to risk her heart again. It was impossible to stop a wistful smile, and she had to talk around the lump in her throat.
“Go out and dance, Nick,” she managed to choke out. “Today is a magical day, a once-in-a-lifetime kind of day, and it shouldn’t be squandered.” This was going to be hard. She drew in a ragged breath and forced herself to meet his eyes. “Don’t wait for me. I’m not the right person for you.”
It hurt to say the words. It hurt even worse as the elation on Nick’s face f
aded into pained resignation.
“Oh, Rosalind . . . don’t say I’ve ruined everything. Tell me how to make things right, and I’ll do it. I know I’ve hurt you. I was wrong and I’m sorry. I hit you where I knew it would hurt the most, but if anyone in this city doubts that you are a bright, shining woman of honor, I’ll change their minds. Let me try. Every hour of every day, I’ll set you up on a pedestal so high the whole world will see it. I’ve been a jerk and an idiot, but I can’t shake this insane idea that we can be perfect together. I adore you.”
What could she say to that? That all was forgiven? It wasn’t. She loved him but couldn’t trust him. He’d hurt her too badly. She touched her fingers to the glass, then turned to look at the students and Dr. Leal below. They couldn’t hear what she and Nick were saying, and the celebration continued unabated. They hooted and hollered, waving a piece of paper she assumed was the judge’s ruling.
“Go down and join them,” she said through the crack in the window. “Give them my very best, but I need to say good-bye to you, Nick.”
He swallowed hard, and she wondered at the howling ache that opened in her chest as he lowered himself hand over hand back down to the ground, turned, and walked away.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Nick couldn’t blame Rosalind for turning her back on him. He’d taken a pure, shining gift and trampled it in a fit of bad temper. That didn’t mean he would obediently go away. They had both hurt each other, but he wasn’t giving up. She would be released on bail soon, and he needed a permanent solution to protect her from further attacks orchestrated by Aunt Margaret.
He invited himself to dinner at Colin and Lucy’s apartment, desperate to make progress unraveling the plot woven by their aunt. Lucy was appalled when she learned what Margaret had done to Rosalind.
“But why aren’t they letting her out of prison?” she demanded. “If the police officers overheard Eloise admit to forging those ledgers, why didn’t they let her out of jail that very day?”
Nick smiled tightly. “They think I may have bribed Eloise into making up a story that would set Rosalind free. Margaret denied everything to the police when they confronted her with Eloise’s story, so they’re still investigating.”
A part of him couldn’t blame his cousin for not wanting to testify against her mother, but he was still incensed that she had disappeared. Rosalind was sweltering in a cramped, stifling jail cell right now because of Eloise.
“I don’t suppose there is need for a new accountant at the AP, is there?” he asked.
Lucy shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Colin? What about Reuters?” As the managing director of Reuters, Colin held a lot of power over that sort of thing.
“We have a separate accounting agency,” he said. “Millhouse Jones.”
Great. The firm that had fired Eloise when they learned about the investigation.
Colin rose from the table and went to the sideboard, pouring himself a cup of tea. “I’m reluctant to raise the topic, but do you believe Margaret is done? Or does she have more victims lined up?”
Margaret had implied as much at the Scandinavian Tearoom, gloating as she taunted him with how much he had to lose.
“I think she may be on a roll,” he said. “It was probably just a lot of blather, but she mentioned the pair of you. And Sadie. We need to be on the lookout.”
Colin shot him a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’ve hired a little muscle to be on hand when I can’t be at home,” he said. “It means I’ve told my people not to let any strangers into the apartment. I suggest you do the same.”
Colin wadded up his napkin and threw it down. “Brilliant,” he muttered. “Now we must barricade our own home against that woman’s poison?”
Lucy had gone white, her hand clutched over her midsection. Her surprisingly large midsection. Instead of the wasp-waisted gowns she usually favored, Lucy wore a loose tea gown. Come to think of it, she’d been favoring such gowns for months.
His gaze flew to hers. “Are you pregnant?”
“Seven months,” she said.
“Seven months! Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her eyes looked a little watery, and her voice was soft. “I’ve lost three babies so far. They all happened after only a few months, so the doctor thinks this one will stick, but I didn’t want to announce anything until . . .”
Her voice trailed off, and his chest split wide open, knowing his little sister had been enduring these calamities and hadn’t breathed a word of it. And now he had just dumped a heap of stress into her world, all because he’d had the harebrained idea to be nice to Aunt Margaret.
“Ah, Luce . . .” he said in an aching voice. “It’s the best thing in the world. I don’t want you worrying about a thing. I’ll pay for bodyguards, doctors, the works.”
“Thank you, Nick,” Colin said dryly. “I have been practicing my telephone skills for years, and I think I’m up for the challenge of summoning help.”
Nick stood, reluctant to bring up the topic, but he didn’t want Lucy repeating the mistakes he’d made. As much as he wanted to deny the facts, he owed it to his sister to share what he knew.
“When the time comes, it would be best to go to a hospital,” he said. He explained what Rosalind had told him about the dangers of infection during home births. Although he’d been incensed when she first suggested it, Nick had asked General O’Donnell’s opinion, and the general confirmed that hospitals had a better track record for keeping infection at bay. There could be no more denying it, and Nick would wonder until his dying day if Bridget’s death was his fault.
A part of him accepted that God worked in mysterious ways, and that Nick couldn’t expect his puny human brain to understand the infinities of the universe. He didn’t know why Bridget had to die so young or why Lucy had lost so many babies. He didn’t know why he’d inherited a fortune or why Rosalind was orphaned at such a tender age. Maybe it was all part of some grand plan to use his talents and money to help pave the way for a new era of science.
All he knew for sure was that he needed to become a better man than he’d been over the past few weeks. Helping Eloise get another job would be a start. She had been fired because of him, and at least this was one area where he could repair the damage he’d caused.
Unfortunately, that meant appealing to Fletcher Jones, the commissioner of finance for the water board. Fletcher was a world-class stickler for rules, regulations, and decorum. He was also the kind of man Nick always secretly envied. A Yale education, travel abroad, appointments to powerful positions dropped into his lap.
But there was nothing easy about his conversation with Fletcher the next morning.
“My cousin has several years of experience handling private accounts,” he said, pacing the space before Fletcher’s glossy walnut desk. “Rumor has it she’s a genius with numbers.”
“And precisely what are her qualifications, aside from being your cousin and accused of fraud?”
“She’s a CPA. That’s some kind of fancy accounting certification.”
“Thank you,” Fletcher said archly. “I know what a CPA is. I still don’t hire people accused of fraud.”
Nick tried to make light of it. “I don’t think the district attorney is going to file charges against her. She was tricked into creating those fraudulent records.”
Fletcher shifted in his chair, his fingers thrumming against his immaculate desk. “I’m already fully staffed.”
“Make room.” Nick had been bending over backward to meet every request the finance department sent his way, and this was the first time he’d ever come to Fletcher asking a favor. He intended to get it.
“I run a tight ship,” Fletcher said. “I don’t have any openings until the Catskills project opens up, and those people will be working upstate.”
“At Duval Springs?” Nick asked. An assignment in that town meant she would have to work with the Duval brothers, and
Nick’s shoulder still ached from the beating he’d taken last time he was up there. He didn’t want her within a stone’s throw of that simmering hostility as thousands of people were evicted from their homes.
“Yes, Duval Springs,” Fletcher affirmed. “I can’t imagine any city woman would want to be sent into the middle of nowhere for a basic accounting position.”
But Fletcher hadn’t seen the longing in his cousin’s face when she spoke about her love of mathematics. She’d probably take a position on the moon if it meant she could keep working in her chosen career. Nick was almost certain Bruce Garrett was her father, so she wouldn’t be without a protector in the face of the Duval brothers.
“Eloise has family in the area. I think she would take it.”
Fletcher still looked skeptical, but if Eloise was willing to fall on her sword and confess to what she had done, Nick was going to get that position for her.
After six days in jail, Rosalind stepped into the August afternoon and savored the cloudless expanse of blue sky overhead and the fresh, green-scented air.
“Don’t get too close to me,” she warned as Gus helped her into the rented cab. “I reek to high heaven and can’t wait for a bath.”
Gus had been a hero. He had come twice a day to visit her, negotiated with the prison warden for buckets of ice to be sent up to the attic, and brought baskets of home-baked treats, always with plenty to share. Most importantly, he’d teamed up with a high-priced lawyer who had managed to get all the charges against her dropped.
“Who paid the bail?” was her first question as the carriage set off toward home.
“Nobody. The charges were dropped, so there was no need for bail.”
“Then who paid the bill for that attorney?” she pressed.
A Daring Venture Page 26
