The lines around Mrs. Patek’s mouth deepened as she smiled.
For a moment, Gabriel could see the young girl she had been.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. That verse is indeed a compliment. Now, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything.”
She laughed softly. “Oh, Lieutenant. You should never say that to a woman. You may be promising more than you bargained for.”
Gabriel laughed with her. “Still, I would be happy to fulfill any request you made.”
“Very well. What I would like is for you to escort Darina to her home. Her brother is quite tardy and, although she does not live very far away, I do not hold with young women walking the streets alone.”
Gabriel glanced at the young girl, surprised to realize that in his determination to confess to Mrs. Patek, he’d forgotten Darina still sat silently at his side. “I’d be glad to see her home.”
“Good. Now I am going to excuse myself. One of the few benefits of being old is that one need not be sociable when one is not up to it.” Mrs. Patek rose slowly to her feet.
Gabriel stood and took her elbow to steady her.
“Thank you, Lieutenant. And thank you for taking the time to visit. I wish you a pleasant journey home and, if you are ever in Brenham again, I hope you will pay another call.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Patek. Thank you for the tea and…well, for everything.”
She patted his arm and smiled.
Darina dashed to the door and opened it for the older lady. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Honoria, and I’ll bring those cuttings I told you about.”
Mrs. Patek touched Darina’s cheek, smiled at Gabriel one last time, and entered her house.
Darina closed the door quietly and retrieved a wide-brimmed straw hat and a pocketbook from a nearby bench. “It’s so gallant of you to see me home,” she said with another beaming smile.
Gabriel slipped on his hat and followed Darina down the steps and onto the sidewalk. “It’s nothing at all. As long as you can direct me from your house to the depot, I’ll be fine.”
Darina slipped her arm through Gabriel’s and led him toward the corner. “Once you meet my family, they’ll insist you have dinner with us. Please say you will. We get so little company these days.”
“Sorry, but I have a ticket for the seven o’clock train to La Grange. I’ll be glad to meet your family, but then I’ll have to be off.”
“Don’t be silly. We’ll just go to the depot right now and trade in that ticket for tomorrow.” Darina tightened her grip on his arm. “I’ve just met you, Lieutenant. Please don’t leave so soon.” What was wrong with Darina’s eyes? Was she batting her eyelashes at him? He’d read about such behavior in magazine stories, but he’d never seen someone do it.
“How old are you, Darina?”
“Seventeen. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.” He removed her hand from his sleeve as gently as possible. “How far is your house?”
“Have you changed your mind about staying? We could take my daddy’s car for a drive. Momma wouldn’t mind if I went out with a fine gentleman such as yourself. There are so few real gentlemen around these days. What’s a girl of marriageable age supposed to do?” Darina’s intentions were as transparent as a soap bubble.
“I’m not staying, and if you don’t tell me where your house is, I’ll be forced to take you back to Joe’s grandmother.”
Darina’s bottom lip began to quiver. “Please don’t disappoint me. I’ve been so lonely since Joe went away, but now that you’re here, we could have lots of fun.”
Gabriel had never seen such an artful performance. “The last thing I want is to hurt your feelings, but I’m leaving Brenham on the seven o’clock train. Neither flirting nor pouting will change my mind.”
Darina stepped away from him, a look of indignation darkening her young face. “Pouting? Flirting? You think too much of yourself if you think I’m interested in an old man like you.”
Her barb failed to wound. Even though he was not yet thirty, he recognized injured pride when he saw it. Gabriel removed his hat and held it over his heart. “If I’ve misunderstood, I apologize.”
“Well, I would hope so.” Darina bounded across the street and up the steps of a blue frame house. At the door, she turned to look at Gabriel, tilted her nose into the air, and sashayed into the house.
Gabriel turned his back so Darina couldn’t see him laugh. She was young, pretty, and hunting a husband. She’d find one, probably sooner rather than later, but Gabriel was glad he was out of her sights.
****
Etta awoke, remembered what day it was, and wished she could go back to sleep. At six o’clock that evening, she would meet with the bank’s Board of Directors. How would they react when she told them about the embezzlement? Would they blame her for the theft or congratulate her for finding the problem?
She rolled over and pulled a pillow over her head. Why did she have to be in charge of this? She was merely her father’s assistant. Investigating an embezzler was his job. It simply wasn’t fair to expect her to fill his shoes.
A noise from outside her bedroom door let her know Charlie was on the job. His cajoling but no-nonsense tone was matched with angry grumblings from her father. Papa might not like Charlie’s insistent commands, but there was no denying Papa was steadily improving. By the time Gabriel made it back, Papa might even be able to say a few words.
When would Gabriel return? Had he found the widows and grieving mothers? Had they understood that Gabriel was as much a casualty of war as their loved ones or had they assaulted him with accusations? When he returned, would his burden be lifted, or would it continue to torment his soul?
A band of longing tightened around Etta’s heart. It didn’t make sense to yearn for him to the point of heartache. They’d only shared a few hours together. But in that time, he’d touched her heart and left his fingerprints there. Her ears missed the sound of his voice, his gentle teasing, and his whispered confessions. Her gaze missed the sight of him, his confident walk and his heartwarming smile. If only she could sit by Gabriel’s side, talking about everything that had happened or not talking at all. She longed to simply be near him. Breathing the same air would be enough. As long as he returned.
A shiver ran through her body as common sense whispered its chilly reality. Gabriel had made no promises. He hadn’t spoken words of love or hinted at future plans. Etta had pinned her hopes on nothing more than her own fantasies. What was to keep him from turning his back on her and leaving again?
If only she could talk to her mother about everything that weighed on her heart. Her mother had always known how to advise her.
A light tap on her door was followed by Charlie Simpson’s cheerful voice. “You awake, Miss Davis?”
Etta reached for her dressing gown. “Yes, Mr. Simpson. Do you need something?”
“I just wanted to make sure you came down for breakfast. Rosa’s making chilaquiles this mornin’.”
How odd for Charlie to be concerned about Etta’s breakfast plans. Besides, Rosa often scrambled eggs with green sauce, cheese, and corn tortilla strips. Maybe Charlie wanted to show off his burgeoning knowledge of Spanish. “I’ll be down soon, Mr. Simpson.”
“We’ll be waitin’.” He whistled softly as he made his way downstairs.
Etta scooted out of bed and chose her outfit for the day. The flowered skirt and matching blouse might be good for a spring outing, but she needed to appear businesslike, confident, and decisive. She settled for her gray gabardine suit. Nothing said “somber” like gray gabardine.
By the time she made it downstairs, Rosa was cleaning the breakfast dishes and Charlie was lingering over a cup of coffee. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she discovered why Charlie had been so insistent she join them. Sitting beside Charlie and dressed in a starched white shirt, navy stripe vest and matching trousers, was her father.
“Papa!” Etta’s hands flew to her face.
> Her father’s crooked smile reminded her that the right side of his face hadn’t yet recovered from its paralysis, but otherwise, he looked so normal!
Etta ran to his side. “Oh, Papa! You look wonderful!”
He nodded slowly. “an oo.”
Speech still eluded him, but Etta gave thanks for the miracle that had brought him this far.
Rosa set a plate of food in front of an empty chair. “Sit down, mija, and let your father finish his breakfast. Señor Davis has come downstairs almost every morning this week.”
Etta sank into a chair. Tears of joy blurred her vision. “That’s amazing, Papa. You’ve come so far.” She smiled at Charlie. “I prayed for Papa’s recovery, but I never imagined he’d make such quick progress. Thank you, Mr. Simpson.”
Charlie’s cheeks turned pink. “Ah, don’t going thankin’ me, Miss Davis. Your papa may hate doing his exercises, but he does ‘em. He’ll be back at work before you can say how-dee-doo.”
Her father moved his left arm toward her. “orse?”
“The horses are fine, Papa. Benito is still coming before and after school, and I check on them every day. They’re getting a good rest, but it seems to me that you’ll be riding again soon.”
He raised his left shoulder in a careful shrug. “Ank?”
She’d never withheld information about the bank from her father, but now was not the time to trouble him. “The Board of Directors meets tonight. I’ve prepared all the usual reports, and Carolina Swanson will be taking the minutes in my place. We’re showing steady growth in all the investments except agriculture, but that’s to be expected since the War Department has decreased its demand. I moved more of our investment funds into manufacturing. People are buying automobiles like crazy. Perhaps we should consider putting more money into the petroleum corporations. I was thinking of increasing our investment by ten percent.”
Her father nodded. “Eny.”
Etta struggled to understand her father’s garbled word. She looked at Charlie.
Charlie must have seen the confusion in her eyes, because he jumped up, retrieved the pencil and pad Rosa used for her grocery list, and passed them to Henry.
Her father picked up the pencil with his left hand and painstakingly wrote on the pad.
Etta’s heart tensed to see her father strain to do such a mundane task. He’d always been so capable and confident in everything he did, but now he labored to scratch out a few lines. At last, he dropped the pencil and pushed the paper toward her.
Etta studied the childlike scrawl. “Twenty,” she said with a wide smile. “You think I should increase the petroleum investments by twenty percent.”
“Hmph,” he said with a confident nod. “Eny.”
She sprang from her seat and kissed his freshly-shaved cheek. “Twenty. I’ll do it today, Papa.” She looked at Charlie and Rosa and held up the pad for them to see. “Twenty,” she repeated.
“I told you so, Miss Davis,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “Your papa’s still in there, but his brain has to figure out new ways to operate.”
“Now eat, mija,” Rosa ordered with a stern expression on her face. “If you do your job and Señor Davis does his job, everybody will be back where they belong. Then I can do my job without this hombre fastidioso.” Although Rosa had described Charlie as annoying, she’d also given him a playful shove and a wink.
Maybe Charlie’s romantic pursuits weren’t in vain.
Etta squeezed her father’s left hand and said a quick blessing over her breakfast. With such an auspicious beginning to her day, maybe this evening’s meeting wouldn’t be so dreadful after all.
****
“Here’s the lemonade,” Carolina said as she set the glass pitcher into a large bowl of chipped ice. “I’ll bring in another pitcher with water. Where are the sandwiches?”
“Here.” Etta lifted the white linen napkins covering plates of finger sandwiches and an assortment of cookies from Hoffmann’s Bakery. “I think we have everything.”
Carolina straightened a stack of papers on the conference room table. “The board members will be here soon. I’d better get that water.” She bustled out of the room.
Etta took one last inventory of the documents she’d prepared. All she had to do now was remember Gabriel’s advice. What would a confident man do in this situation? Stand up, present the facts, and answer questions honestly and thoroughly. This was no time to shrink back into the quiet helper who’d sat at her father’s elbow, ready to jump at his smallest request.
Judge Thompson, dressed in his usual dark suit and tie, was the first board member to enter the conference room. “Evening, Henrietta. Got everything ready I see.”
“Good evening, Judge. Can I get you anything?”
He hung his hat on the rack near the door. “A nice, cool glass of that lemonade would hit the spot. How’s your father?”
Etta filled a glass and handed it to him. “Better and better every day. Thank you for asking.”
He settled himself into a chair at the head of the rectangular oak table. “I’ve got to get out to your place soon and let him know everything here is under control.”
Etta bit her bottom lip.
Judge Thompson might change his mind after he learned the contents of her reports.
William Clark and Edgar Robinson strode into the room together. Both men hung their hats next to Judge Thompson’s and draped their suit jackets around the backs of their chairs.
“Good evening, Miss Davis,” Mayor Robinson said. “I trust the bank has had another good quarter.”
“What can I get you?” Etta asked. “Would you like some sandwiches?”
“I’ll have some,” William Clark answered, “and a glass of that lemonade. You’re looking well, Miss Davis.”
“Thank you, Mr. Clark.”
William was always so polite, and never failed to compliment Etta in some way. Her mother had often remarked on what a good son he’d been to his widowed mother, but he was at least ten years older than Etta. Most men his age were married.
“Did you see James on your way here?” Judge Thompson asked.
“No,” Mayor Robinson answered as he helped himself to the food. “He’s probably trying to get away from the store. If he’s not here in the next ten minutes, I say we start without him.”
“What’s your hurry?” William asked. “Miss Davis has gone to a lot of trouble to provide these lovely refreshments. The least you can do is relax a few minutes and enjoy them.”
“Will you give me one of those sandwiches, Etta?” Judge Thompson asked. “And two of those cookies, if you don’t mind.”
Etta set the plate of food in front of the judge and then refilled his glass. “I’m sure Mr. Moore will be here soon.”
Carolina Swanson entered carrying a cloth-bound journal and a pitcher of ice water.
The men stood.
“Please keep your seats, gentlemen,” she said. “I’m going to act as secretary tonight and take the minutes of the meeting.”
“Can’t start without me,” James Moore said as he hurried into the room. “Sorry if I’ve kept you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Etta said. “What can I get you to eat, Mr. Moore?”
“Just some water.” James fanned his face with his hat. “Mighty warm for April, don’t you think?”
“It’s good for the wildflowers,” Judge Thompson answered. “We’re going to have quite a show this year. Good rain and warm weather are all it takes.”
“Mind if we get started?” Mayor Robinson asked.
“What’s your hurry, Edgar?” asked James Moore. “Got a hot card game waiting for you?” Mr. Moore’s comment seemed out of place.
In addition to being the mayor, Edgar was a long-serving deacon of the First Baptist Church.
But Mayor Robinson laughed it off. “Card games are for Methodists like you, James.”
“No, no. You’ve got me confused with the Lutherans,” Mr. Moore retorted.
Judge Thom
pson cleared his throat. “Well, as soon as you theologians quit arguing, I’ll start this meeting.”
The men chuckled good-naturedly, helped themselves to more refreshments, and finally took their seats.
“I hereby call this meeting of the Davis Bank and Trust Board of Directors to order.” Judge Thompson announced. “Are you ready, Mrs. Swanson?”
Carolina placed wire-rim spectacles on the bridge of her nose and nodded. “I’m ready, Judge.”
“Very well.” Judge Thompson took a long drink of lemonade, made eye contact with each person gathered around the table, and sat forward in his chair. “In Henry Davis’s absence, let it be shown that Henrietta Davis will be presenting this quarter’s information. Etta?”
Etta stood and gave each man a copy of her reports. “Thank you, Judge. I’d like to begin with the investment report. As you can see, the latest quarter shows steady growth in every sector except agricultural futures. This is concurrent with the end of the war, and I’ve listed my suggestions for reallocating our investment funds to reflect that change.”
“Good thinking,” William said. “I can see the bank’s still in good hands.”
From all accounts, William was a bulldog of a prosecutor, never letting go of a case until he was satisfied that justice had been served, but Etta had never seen that side of him. She smiled at him, grateful for his kind remarks. “The next report shows our various accounts, and as you can see from the profit-and-loss statement, we made a smaller profit than usual last quarter.”
“Still, a profit is a profit,” James Moore said. “My store operated at a loss when we first opened, and that’s a hard row to hoe.”
“Now that most people in town have automobiles, they’ll be driving into Austin to shop,” Mayor Robinson said. “Have you thought about how that’s going to affect your business?”
“Gentlemen,” Judge Thompson said gruffly, “need I remind you that we’re here to discuss the bank and not Moore’s Department Store?”
“Sorry, Judge,” the mayor said. “Go ahead, Miss Davis.”
Etta took a deep breath. Everything had gone well so far, but she was about to reveal the loss of thousands of dollars. She squared her shoulders and lowered her chin. As much as she dreaded the next part, this was her fight. “Next you’ll see the loan reports. Business loans and real estate loans showed neither growth nor loss last quarter. My father’s plan to create automobile loans shows the greatest increase in the number of people requesting the loan and in the total dollar amount collected.”
A Thousand Little Blessings Page 15
