Blanche glanced at Ike, and he nodded. “That would be best. Perhaps we can meet later this afternoon?”
They arranged to meet at half past two.
Ike didn’t have much of an appetite, which was just as well as guests continued interrupting them to speak another kind word. Blanche ate even less than he did, mostly sipping sweet tea. Effie stared straight ahead without saying a word. Within half an hour, Blanche was yawning. Perhaps the last few days had caught up with her. Ike sought out the pastor. “This has been a difficult day for my sister and Miss Lamar. Is there a room where they can withdraw for a short time?”
The pastor led them next door to the parsonage. His wife invited the ladies to retire to one of the guest rooms before offering Ike a comfortable seat in the front parlor. The next thing he knew, the pastor was gently shaking his shoulder. “I hate to bother you, but you mentioned an appointment this afternoon?”
The grandfather clock rang two bells. Blanche came down the hall, looking somewhat refreshed from her brief rest. A smile had returned to Effie’s face. “Thank you for giving us refuge. It has been a difficult few days.”
“Churches have always offered sanctuary.” The pastor’s smile offered understanding. “We could do no less. I have hitched up my carriage, and I will take you to your appointment.”
A couple of minutes before the half hour, they pulled up in front of a single-story building that housed three of the city’s law offices. Ike assisted first Effie, then Blanche, out of the carriage.
“I’ll wait out here,” their host said. “It’s a long walk back to the wharves.”
“Thank you.” Blanche managed to get the word out. She took short breaths between biting on her lower lip to keep panic from setting in full force. She had lived a lifetime since Ike had walked into Christ the King Church at her mother’s funeral and turned her life upside down. In reality, only a month had passed.
God, give me strength and wisdom. She had already completed her first quest, finding her father. She had also found an unexpected family in Ike and Effie. However, her desire for a relationship with her father had been cut short. Soon she would know what provisions he had made for her in his will, if anything.
What if he’d left her penniless? Fighting the urge to pant, she accepted Ike’s arm and walked up the steps to the office to learn her future.
CHAPTER 25
Blanche was surprised when Mr. Carver met them at the door himself. “Please pardon the informality. My clerk doesn’t work on Saturdays. Would you care for a cup of coffee? A glass of cool water?” He gestured to a sideboard that held glasses and cups, together with a pitcher of cream and a sugar bowl. Blanche would have preferred tea, but she accepted a glass of water to keep her mouth moistened. As much coffee as she had drunk in the past few days, she was afraid she’d turn into a coffee bean if she drank more.
Only Ike was brave enough to take more coffee. Effie declined anything to drink. A few minutes later, they had taken their seats in Mr. Carver’s office.
The lawyer turned his gaze on each of them in turn, a trick Blanche recognized from singing in public—make a connection with the members of the audience. The simple gesture helped her relax, prepared to hear what he had to say.
“I have had dealings with Mr. Gallagher in the past, and I have had the pleasure of meeting Miss Gallagher before. I looked forward to making your acquaintance, Miss Lamar, but I am sorry it is under these circumstances.” He paused, took off his glasses, and wiped at his eyes.
Putting his glasses back on, he assumed a serious expression and opened a file in front of him. “Captain Lamar has always kept his affairs in good order. He came to me on Thursday instructing me to draw up a new will.”
Effie let out a soft moan.
“So he came here on the day he had the accident.” Ike spoke the words that were on all their minds.
“Yes.”
Ike frowned. “So which will is in effect? The one he had previously drawn up or the one with changes?”
That’s right, Ike knew the terms of the old will. The lawyer’s announcement must be as unsettling for the brother and sister as for her.
“The new will is in effect. The captain always waited while we drew up whatever document he needed and had it witnessed. He didn’t like to wait on the fortunes of the river for his legal matters.”
Ike sat back straight in the chair, eyes intent on the lawyer, but he didn’t speak.
“He said he had recently had a change in family circumstances. He was delighted to have you in his life again, Miss Lamar, and wanted to be sure you were provided for.”
The tears Blanche had held at bay for the morning welled up and tumbled out. This isn’t the time or place. What must this lawyer think of me? But no amount of self-criticism stopped her tears. She pressed the handkerchief she had tucked into her pocket to her eyes. No one spoke. Effie placed a hand on Blanche’s arm while Ike rested his hand on her shoulder.
She drew in a shaky breath. Wordlessly, Ike handed her a fresh handkerchief. Nodding, she gave the others a smile. “I believe I’m ready to go on.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come back another time?” Mr. Carver leaned back in his chair, not rushing her, open to whatever happened.
“No. I’m ready to listen. We can’t make any plans until we know where we stand.” She wiped the last of the traces of tears from her face and crumpled the handkerchief in her lap. She focused on the diploma behind the lawyer’s head, testifying to the successful completion of his college studies at the University of Texas.
“I assume that the captain added his daughter to the will. How significant were the other changes?” Ike asked about the heart of the matter.
At Ike’s query, the lawyer spread his hands. “Captain Lamar brought in the most recent financial information from Lamar Industries. The Cordelia, while still showing a profit, no longer brings in the money that it did when he first set sail. He wanted to be fair to everyone concerned.”
Blanche’s blood pounded in her ears. She didn’t want any provision her father made for her to put others in jeopardy.
Ike nodded, but his face gave away none of his emotions.
“He left token amounts to all the employees who had worked for him for a minimum of a year. He also requested that every effort be made to retain any employees who choose to stay with the boat.”
“Of course.”
“He regretted that he didn’t have more cash for the three of you. Most of his capital was tied up in the business. Of his cash, he left half to his daughter and the other fifty percent to be split between Isaac and Effie Gallagher.” He named the amount. “It’s not much, but the captain hoped it would help ease the transition.”
Blanche sat back. Not much, perhaps. She wouldn’t be rich. But it would provide a living, more than she had from her mother. “And the boat?” Her father’s pride and joy.
A smile played around the lawyer’s lips. “Here, Captain Lamar’s wishes were a trifle unusual.” He looked straight at Blanche. “The boat belongs to you, Miss Lamar. It was your father’s wish that you study for a pilot’s license. I questioned that direction, but he informed me that a lady pilot on the Mississippi recently accomplished the feat.” His smile widened a fraction. “But the ownership comes with one important stipulation.” He turned his attention to include Ike. “Miss Lamar owns the Cordelia provided she leaves the running of day-to-day operations in Mr. Gallagher’s hands, with a salary commensurate with his position. If this is a problem for either one of you, the Cordelia will be sold and the profit divided among the three of you.”
Ike threw his head back and laughed. “The old salt.”
Tilting her head, Blanche glanced at Ike. “Is this arrangement acceptable to you? It sounds like you will be doing the majority of the work while I control the money.”
Ike shifted in the chair. “What about my sister?”
“Yes, what about me?” Effie spoke for the first time.
“She sh
ould have a salary for her work. She acts as hostess and she arranges entertainment.” Blanche sounded like an owner already.
Ike opened his mouth about the entertainment then closed it. Blanche wouldn’t welcome his comments.
“Oh, that’s not necessary. The Cordelia has always been my home.”
“It still will be your home, but that doesn’t mean you should work for free.” Blanche smiled. “No argument.”
“You’re sounding like the captain already.” Ike put encouragement in his tone.
“Captain Blanche Lamar.” Blanche’s face lit up more than at any point all week. “I like the sound of that.” Then she grew serious again, worry darkening her eyes to walnut brown. “But I do have one concern. I know you host games of chance for passengers in your room. I am willing to enter into this partnership only if you agree to end all gambling activity.”
Ike ground his fists together, keeping a smile on his face. If he hesitated too long, she wouldn’t believe anything he said. “I promise not to do anything that will bring trouble to the Cordelia or bring disgrace on the Lamar name.”
Tiny wrinkles tented between her eyebrows. Ike held his breath. His promise didn’t quite match her request. He admired Blanche with all his heart, but he couldn’t work under the conditions she wanted to lay down. He extended his hand. “Are we partners?”
“Yes.” A thin smile took away some of the wariness in her eyes. “We will work out the details as we go.” She stared at his hand for a moment before accepting it. Her handshake was surprisingly firm, but nothing about Blanche shocked him anymore.
No one spoke much after that. Blanche spoke in monosyllables at the evening meal. The crew remained quiet, so still that Ike could hear the teapot whistling in the kitchen.
Blanche struggled to her feet to address the group. “I’m sure you have questions about the future. I don’t have any answers for you tonight. I appreciate your patience while we figure things out.” She placed a trembling hand on Ike’s shoulder. “I am going to bed and hopefully sleep. Take things slow tomorrow. But first thing Monday morning, we’ll get together and make plans for the trip back to Roma.”
Old Obie’s death had accomplished one important thing: Blanche would remain aboard the Cordelia for the foreseeable future. Whether the business would survive, he wouldn’t risk a bet. His desire to take action, to get away from this city of death and mourning, to return to the business of riding the river and making money, chafed against Blanche’s desire to spend an extra day in Brownsville—a Sunday, at that.
After a quiet evening—Ike couldn’t name the last Saturday night he hadn’t spent playing cards—he slept soundly, awakening shortly before breakfast. After a good night’s rest, he had a better perspective on Blanche’s day of forced inactivity. After all, she hadn’t demanded everyone attend a worship service, and she hadn’t said he couldn’t work. His initiative should please her. He shook his head. No. She’d be happier if he sought out a church for Sunday morning worship.
Blanche didn’t come to breakfast. Ike considered taking a tray to her cabin but decided against it. The earlier he left, the sooner he could finish his business in town. After sending a message to Ventura to meet him for lunch, he took the list of items that customers upriver needed and headed to the warehouse district. The greater the margin between what the cost of the purchase and the amount he was authorized to spend, the more profit Lamar Industries would make. He enjoyed the challenge of the hunt.
First up: fabrics. A seamstress in Roma had a specific request for silk taffeta. He knew the best sources.
Greg Palmer, a portly man, greeted him at the door. “Mr. Gallagher, I didn’t know if we would see you on this trip. We were saddened to learn of Captain Lamar’s passing.”
After accepting the condolences, Ike waited while Palmer disappeared into the bowels of the warehouse to bring out the requested materials. Ike took advantage of the break to walk up and down the aisles, studying the variety of colors and textures and shine. He found himself measuring each bolt against how they would appear on Blanche. Materials that were practical, yet beautiful. Vibrant colors, but not ones that would shout out loud. She would look good even if she only had dark calicos in her wardrobe. Classy and classic, in other words.
He forced himself to walk the aisles a second time, thinking in terms of the shop owners along the river route. This warehouse carried everything needed for a well-dressed lady’s wardrobe, from fabrics from around the world to sewing notions. To purchase other items requested by merchants in Roma, he would have to make several more stops.
The warehouse manager wheeled the bolts of materials to the center table. Ike examined them, looking for those minute imperfections that could bring about a reduced price. A water stain appeared on a tiny section of mustard-colored silk. Perfect. He haggled with the manager until they arrived at a price that was more than Ike wanted to pay, but less than he expected to.
“Thank you for doing business with Lamar Industries.” Ike made arrangements for delivery of the materials. After he doffed his hat in a salute, he headed to the next warehouse.
Several hours later, Ike left the final warehouse, dust dirtying the light gray of his suit and grinding into the creases on his hands. Sweat had welded his hat to his head. Levi’s would make more sense, but then he’d reduce himself to the level of the working man. Dressing as a man of means served to keep prices at a profitable level. He would enter the day’s purchases in the account books this afternoon.
As he walked back in the direction of the Cordelia, a thought struck him. Perhaps Blanche would have preferred to shop with them. But Old Obie had left daily operations up to him, and shopping fell into that category, didn’t it?
When he turned onto the wharf leading to the steamboat, the deck lacked its usual bustle. The Lady Cordelia looked sad, almost dead, lacking signs of life. Part of him hoped Blanche would be waiting for him at the railing, and he felt strangely empty at her absence.
Ike resisted the urge to wipe his grimy palms on his already dirtied suit. He would change, leave his clothes for Agatha, and head to the captain’s quarters to update the books. Sunday’s slower pace usually brought him pleasure, but today loneliness and grief weighed him down. The prospect of Sunday afternoons gathered around the kitchen table, replete with food his wife had prepared, their children gamboling around the table legs—that held appeal. Children with curly, flame-red hair and the captain’s hazel eyes.
The Cordelia‘s accounts should distract him from thoughts of marriage and family. He wished he could hand Blanche a fortune, not a business on the brink of failure.
Tomorrow Blanche was expecting a full accounting of the state of affairs with Lamar Industries. While entering the days’ purchases, he realized no one had noted the goods delivered from upriver. He pawed through the papers on the desk and found everything except the receipt for the cotton. Chewing the end of his pencil, he studied the room, searching for spots where the receipts could have fallen. He poked around a few places but didn’t find it.
Without a record of their largest delivery, the trip registered as a loss. Old Obie’s death couldn’t be considered a business expense, but that led to another question. Where did he keep track of his personal expenses?
So much needed to be done, starting with sorting through the things in Old Obie’s cabin. He kept a room in Roma, but Ike couldn’t do anything about that until they returned downriver. If possible, he would like to hire another pilot. Old Obie didn’t entirely trust Pete at the helm, so Ike wouldn’t either. The problem was, the best pilots were already employed or had retired.
Ike had promised Old Obie that he would make sure Blanche was provided for, and to help her obtain her pilot’s license.
He had no idea how he would keep either promise.
CHAPTER 26
The hours on Sunday passed pleasantly. Blanche remained secluded in her cabin, refreshing body and soul. With her remaining sheets of stationery, she decided to record her s
hort time with her father. Words spilled on page after page until she had filled front and back of each sheet. She wrote in the margin to finish the last sentence. Thoughts crowded to the front of her mind, wanting to find their way on paper. If there was time on Monday, she would buy more, or perhaps even a journal. She could think of so many things she wanted to say, things about her mother, even new things she had learned about herself.
Tears stained and blurred portions of almost every page, but by the end, her tears had dried.
The more she wrote, the more she realized how little she knew about her father. Despite her immersion in life aboard the Cordelia for the past two weeks, she remained so ignorant. She’d have to depend on Ike. Her father’s insistence on his continued employment made total sense.
Blanche awoke on Monday morning refreshed, ready to make some preliminary decisions about her future. Her black suit needed laundering, so she set it aside for Dame Agatha. Instead, she reached for the deep purple dress her father had adored.
Effie turned over in her berth with a groan. “Would you like me to bring something back for you?” Blanche asked.
Effie flopped onto her back and yawned. “Maybe some toast and tea. I’m not all that hungry.”
“I’ll bring some.” With honey and butter and jam and maybe some bananas and orange juice—anything to tempt Effie’s taste buds. “I plan to meet with Ike about the business later this morning. I’d appreciate it if you could be there.”
Effie’s eyelids fluttered as if she were trying to see something through the curtain of her blindness. “I know very little about the business side of things. I wouldn’t be any help.”
Effie might not know dollars and cents, but she had her fingers on the pulse of the ship and crew. She would ask her opinion at a later time.
After a brief spell in front of the mirror, arranging her hair in a loose knot on top of her head, Blanche inched the door open. Smithers stood outside, his hand raised, ready to knock. “So you are joining us for breakfast.” He sounded pleased.
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