Love on a Dime

by Cara Lynn James

  FIVE

  The next morning Lilly strolled across the back lawn toward the sea. Chilly from the stiff breeze, she pulled her shawl around her arms.

  Lord, I need You to settle my nerves and bring me through this nightmare. Please don’t let me fall in love with Jack all over again. He’ll only bring me misery. She couldn’t deny how his presence fluttered her heart and sent her mind reeling. But the Lord would strengthen her to battle her powerful emotions.

  The Lord had never failed her. He ’d comforted her through the agonizing days after Jack left and eventually guided her into writing. Yet now He seemed so distant, so invisible. I trust You, Lord. It’s not easy at the moment, but I do believe You’ll watch over me. She certainly didn’t trust herself. The words of her favorite verse came to mind. Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths. Her spirit calmed.

  When Lilly came to the rough boulders that jutted into the surf, she noticed her father standing on the edge, fishing rod in hand. A shabby old vest strained against his round form; baggy pants and a tattered shirt completed the outfit her mother would have discarded had she known it existed. Lilly hiked up her ecru skirt and picked her way across the craggy surface.

  As she approached the water, the wind freshened, sweeping her hair out from its topknot and carefully pinned sides. She held on to her skirt before it billowed like a bell.

  Papa glanced sideways. “Lilly! Have you come to fish?”

  “No, I’m out for some exercise and a bit of solitude.”

  Papa grunted his approval. “The rest of the family thrives on constant activity, but I can see you still treasure your rare moments of peace and quiet. As do I. This bracing sea air is certainly good for my lungs.” He demonstrated by taking deep breaths without his usual wheeze.

  “It’s a blessing your health is improving.”

  He sidestepped and made room for her on the giant rock. “I’m glad you joined me, Lilly. I’ve been meaning to speak to you but haven’t had a chance. Or maybe I just hate being the bearer of bad news.”

  When she noticed Papa’s somber expression, Lilly’s muscles tightened. “Is something the matter?”

  Papa sighed. His jowls sagged and he looked older than his sixty years. “I’m afraid I’ve had a financial setback. I’ll have to stop contributing to the Christian Settlement House, at least for the time being. Perhaps by the first of the year things will improve, though commerce is always uncertain.” He glanced at her sideways, empathy in his eyes.

  Lilly swallowed hard. “Oh no, Papa. That’s very bad news, indeed.”

  A sheepish look flickered across his face. “You’re upset, aren’t you? I can’t blame you one bit. The Settlement House counts on me for much of its support, so this was quite a blow to their budget. I know how important their mission is to you and your dear friend Miranda. This morning I telephoned Miss Diller to explain the situation as best I could. The poor woman was almost too distraught to speak.”

  “I’m sure Miranda will be as well.” Friends since childhood, they volunteered together during much of the year. “Does she have other donors in mind?” Lilly refused to think of the consequences of Papa’s devastating news. “You couldn’t be the only one. Surely there are many other contributors.”

  Papa’s mouth pulled down in a frown. “According to Miss Diller, I’m their primary sponsor. They operate on a shoestring budget with the help of volunteers like you and Miranda. Even with my support they barely make ends meet. I didn’t realize my help was so vital.” He shook his head. “That makes it all the worse.”

  “I wish I could contribute more,” Lilly murmured. The slap of the wind on her face seemed sharper and wetter than before.

  “My dear, you give so much of yourself already—in addition to your donations from your trust fund.”

  Her monthly stipend was too small to provide much assistance, but she gave it willingly along with significant proceeds from her dime novels. She ’d hoped to write less for a while until Harlan settled her future and the disturbing Fannie Cole comments in Talk of the Town died down. But obviously this news changed her plans.

  Papa looked her straight in the eye. “I’m afraid the place will shut its doors within a month unless they receive a generous contribution.”

  Lilly sighed. “No, Papa. Not close! What will the poor women do?” She dropped down onto the boulder and winced as the jagged edge tore her white silk stocking.

  Papa lowered himself, too, groaning as he awkwardly positioned himself beside her. “I’m so sorry, Lilly. Perhaps we could ask someone to assist with a financial gift. Harlan might oblige.”

  “Harlan?” Her heart soared for only a second before it plunged downward. “If I ask him, I shall be in his debt. You know how I detest begging for favors.”

  Papa nodded. “Yes, I know. But if he ’s to be your husband, he won’t mind. Goodness knows he has the money to spare. And the kindness, too, I trust.”

  There was no point in reminding him that Harlan hadn’t proposed as yet. Despite her reservations about marriage, Lilly mustered a modicum of enthusiasm. “I don’t think he favors the Settlement House, but of course I’ll speak to him—now, if I can find him.”

  “Good luck, my dear.” Papa brightened and then turned back to his fishing.

  Lilly strode toward the cottage. No question about it, she needed to pound out more dime novels, though she had hoped for a short break. If she mustered the nerve, she’d ask for more money.

  Before she reached the veranda she saw Harlan striding across the grass. She quickened her pace and greeted him with her warmest smile.

  “Good morning. You’re just the man I hoped to see. May I have a word with you?”

  Harlan helped her up the veranda steps. “Of course.”

  Strolling through the French doors and into the back hallway of Summerhill, Harlan looked more amiable than usual. Her courage bolstered, Lilly plunged ahead. “I hope you’ll do me a very important favor, Harlan. Papa is one of the major supporters of the Christian Settlement House, but unfortunately, circumstances require him to cancel his contributions in the foreseeable future. This is catastrophic for them. They’ll be forced to close if another donor isn’t located.”

  She stopped, caught her breath, and glanced into Harlan’s glacial eyes. “I was hoping, perhaps, you’d see fit to take over for Papa. It’s such a worthy cause. And they’d be so grateful for your generosity.” She was pleading and she loathed herself for it. But what other option did she have?

  Harlan’s lips thinned. “Ah, the Christian Settlement House—my cousin Miranda’s pet project. Ordinarily I’d say no. I already support all the charities I care to.” He gave her arm a condescending pat. “But since you’re so fond of the place, for some reason, I’ll give it serious consideration.” A weak smile flit across his face, bypassing his eyes. “Now if you’re not too busy, maybe we can golf today.”

  Between gritted teeth, Lilly answered, “I’d be delighted.” Any sacrifice for the Settlement House seemed small and worth the effort. Harlan knew she disliked golf, but he played well and enjoyed it immensely. “As soon as I change my clothes, I’ll be ready to go.”

  Several hours later, after nine holes in the brisk wind of an approaching storm, Harlan’s mood seemed to plummet. On the manicured course of the Newport Country Club, both Jack and George beat him soundly in front of his friends and Lilly, a most unfortunate occurrence. Jack’s jaunty step and ear-to-ear grin aggravated Harlan’s sour disposition. On the drive back to Summerhill, Lilly avoided the subject of his donation, but Harlan wouldn’t be deterred.

  “I’ve come to a decision, Lilly. I’m quite impressed with your loyalty and dedication to New York’s poorest. Heaven knows they need all the help they can get.” He turned toward her, his face crushed with false regret. “Yet in all good conscience, I cannot advocate a cause which encourages dependence upon the good will of others when se
lf-sufficiency is required. So I must regretfully decline.”

  Lilly fought to retain her composure. “They’re worthy young women, not parasites.”

  Harlan held up his hand to stop any further discussion. “Nevertheless, my funds are allocated elsewhere.”

  “I’m”—she paused, searching for an appropriate word— “disappointed.” Lilly turned away before a flood of inappropriate words drowned her good manners. She ’d try again later when his mood improved.

  In the meantime she ’d ask Jack, though she doubted with his possible purchase of Jones and Jarman he’d be able to offer any assistance. Yet perhaps he could help in some small way. She ’d wait for the right opportunity to broach the subject.

  That night Lilly and Harlan conveniently followed Jack into the musicale held at Belcourt Castle. The Louis XIII–style mansion was set atop a first floor stable, which housed Mr. Belmont’s horses and collection of fine carriages. An unusual design to say the least, but quite grand, Lilly mused while the violinists tuned their strings.

  “What’s wrong, Lilly? Did Harlan do something to upset you?” Jack asked, leaning toward her as the three of them took their seats on delicately carved chairs. “You look distraught.”

  “That’s quite enough, Grail,” Harlan said. But then a woman on his far side engaged him in conversation.

  From behind her open fan Lilly explained the plight of the Settlement House and ignored his subsequent gibe about Harlan. “So you see,” she concluded, “they desperately need your assistance.”

  Harlan, situated on her other side, twisted the end of his mustache and cocked an ear again.

  Jack shook his head with obvious regret. “Unfortunately, I plan on using all available funds for my business enterprise. But rest assured, I’ll make a small donation first thing tomorrow morning.” Jack leveled a gaze at Lilly. “And I’ll ask some of my business acquaintances if they’ll help too. I’m familiar with the fine work done there.” His voice softened to velvet. “The Settlement House is fortunate to have you as an advocate.”

  “Thank you.” Her blush deepened as she lowered her gaze and ignored Harlan’s penetrating stare.

  Jack leaned across Lilly and tapped Harlan on the wrist. “Say, Santerre, why don’t we both contribute to the Settlement House and ease Lilly’s concern?” The twinkle in Jack’s eyes sent a smile to Lilly’s lips which she quickly hid behind her feather fan. “What do you say?” Jack asked and squinted at Harlan. “You’re not speechless, are you?”

  Harlan sputtered, “Don’t be absurd.” His mouth twitched in a frown. “I will gladly cover a month’s worth of expenses if you’ll do the same. That should tide them over until they locate a permanent sponsor for their most worthy endeavor.”

  “Excellent,” Jack said, through gritted teeth.

  “Better yet, why not make it two months, until they find a permanent sponsor?” Harlan looked toward Lilly, obviously looking for her approval.

  “Fine,” Jack said.

  “Splendid! I’m very relieved. Thank you so much.” Lilly tossed a grateful smile to Jack and then to Harlan. Jack grinned broadly while Harlan seemed to force his small smile. “If both of you search for a benefactor, I’m certain the Settlement House will stay open.”

  But until that happened, everything the volunteers and staff had worked so hard to achieve stood in jeopardy. This was only a stopgap measure to temporarily solve a chronic financial problem.

  She trusted Jack to contact everyone who might donate to such a worthy cause, but she feared he wouldn’t have the proper connections. His short time in society provided some rich and influential acquaintances, though probably few who would owe him a favor.

  Harlan knew the prominent society players in New York and Newport, so he could raise funds with just a letter or personal visit. Perhaps after more thought he ’d reconsider and write a generous check to cover expenses for six months or a year. She hoped they’d both continue their support.

  As she fanned herself against the stuffy, humid air, she wondered why Harlan couldn’t bring himself to donate an even more generous sum to such a worthwhile institution so desperately in need of assistance. What good was an abundance of money if you didn’t use it to eliminate the suffering of others? Yet she was grateful he ’d decided to help.

  THE NEXT MORNING on her way to the library to find a research book, Lilly was stopped in the hallway by Mr. Ames, the butler.

  “You have a telephone call, miss. It’s Miss Reid. Do you wish to speak with her?” His ancient voice quaked as his narrow shoulders hunched, caving his chest inward. A devoted servant since Papa wore knickers and slid down banisters, Mr. Ames refused to retire.

  “Yes, indeed.”

  He tottered away while Lilly slipped into the study. The telephone rested on Papa’s oak desk. Unaccustomed to using Mr. Bell’s marvelous new invention, she studied it for a moment before raising the receiver to her ear, thinking it looked rather like a fancy candlestick.

  She cleared her throat and shouted into the mouthpiece. “Miranda, it’s wonderful to hear your voice. I do miss you so much—and working at the Settlement House as well. Papa told me he’s had to discontinue his support for now. How is Miss Diller reacting?”

  Miranda’s voice crackled. “She ’s dreadfully upset. It was an awful shock, but your old friend Mr. Grail and Harlan telephoned earlier to donate funds which will help for a while. That was very thoughtful of Harlan, especially since he doesn’t approve of immigrants.” She paused for a second. “You asked him to contribute, didn’t you?”

  Lilly laughed. “Yes, I did and he agreed.” She left out the fact that he said no at first.

  “You must be terribly persuasive,” Miranda murmured. “I wonder why Jackson Grail suddenly donated funds. How odd.”

  “No, not really. He ’s staying here for a few weeks as George ’s guest. I asked him to contribute too.”

  Miranda chuckled. “Good thinking. But having him at Summerhill must be rather unpleasant for you.”

  “It’s a bit awkward at times. Very awkward, actually. Anyway, is there something I can do to help the Settlement House?” Lilly asked.

  Her best friend didn’t hesitate. “Yes, that’s why I telephoned. I’m so sorry to trouble you while you’re in Newport, but to be blunt, we need you here. Miss Diller hopes we can assist her in developing a long-term solution to this financial crisis. Together, perhaps we can come up with a plan. And Florence is out with some lung trouble. Miss Diller was hoping we might be able to cover her English lessons this week.”

  It felt good to think she might be of some assistance. “I’ll gladly come to New York. I’ve been half-sick here, missing you and the girls. Unless you hear otherwise, I’ll arrive tomorrow afternoon—if I can convince Mama to let me go.”

  “That’s splendid.” Miranda sounded relived. “Thank you so much. Do come straight to the Settlement House. I’ll meet you there.” She paused and then asked the next question so quietly, Lilly barely heard her. “May we speak freely? There ’s something else you need to know.”

  The office door was closed, but anyone in the hallway could overhear. “I’m afraid not. Will it keep until tomorrow?”

  Miranda replied with a tentative, “Of course. And don’t worry. It’s probably nothing but my overactive imagination.”

  Lilly dismissed the tone of her friend’s voice and rushed off in search of her mother. She found her on the back veranda with George, Irene, and Harlan lounging on wicker chairs set among a jungle of potted plants.

  “Come join us, Lilly.” Her mother gestured to a vacant chair, half-concealed by ferns waving in the breeze.

  “Thank you, but I don’t have much time to chat. Mama, I received a telephone call from Miranda. She asked me to come to New York for a few days to work at the Settlement House. You don’t mind, do you?” Of course she knew her mother would mind, very much.

  Mama’s eyelashes fluttered. “Now isn’t the best time.” She glanced toward Harlan, whose glowe
r distorted his normally pleasant features, and then she pursed her lips. “You volunteer countless hours during the rest of the year, so you should take time off to enjoy yourself during the summer. Stay here with your family and friends. Miranda is sensible. She ’ll understand.”

  Lilly toyed with the lace at the neck. Though she usually followed Mama’s wishes to keep peace in the household, this time she couldn’t. “Miranda wouldn’t summon me unless they truly needed my assistance. So I must go for a short time. I’ll return by the end of the week.” Lilly excused herself and stepped toward the door.

  “Wait a moment, Lilly.” Mama’s pale skin reddened from the tight collar of her pearl gray dress upward to her hairline. “I suppose if you must go,” she sputtered, “it would be all right for a day or two. But you must return for the van Patten’s ball. You’ve accepted their kind invitation, so it would be unforgivable to decline at the last moment.”

  “Of course.”

  Before Lilly could escape, Mama added, “The Carstairses are leaving for the city, early tomorrow morning. I’m sure Beatrice would welcome you along. I’ll make the arrangements. And do ask Miranda to return with you for a visit.”

  “Thank you,” Lilly said, surprised Mama didn’t insist she remain at Summerhill where she could keep an eye on her. But naturally Mama wouldn't argue in front of guests. She simply had to make it appear that it was her plan too.

  SIX

  The next morning Jack held the telephone receiver to his ear. “Good morning, Mr. Jarman. It’s a pleasure to hear from you, although I didn’t expect we ’d be in contact until I returned to New York. I’ve been giving serious thought to making an offer.”

  “I’m delighted. But just yesterday I received another proposal. I wanted you to know since you were the first to show an interest.”

  Jack’s pulse quickened. He’d counted on a few more weeks to study the financial statements for the publishing house. “Oh? May I ask from whom?” His stomach tightened. He could see his hopes slipping away.