“I like to think of it as the city’s perfume.” Buck sat back down, carrying on as though we’d never been interrupted. “Speaking of smells, I hear tell you been sniffin’ ‘round the wallets of this town.” He leaned back, a smug smile spreading across his face at my surprise.
“Have you been watching me?”
“Nah, nothin’ so time-consuming as that. But the city has ears, girl. You best remember that.”
“Why are you here, Pa?” I asked, desperate to change the subject. “And why drag the whole family with you? James told me he saw Utica and Maggie. I know Ma’s here too. You couldn’t have all this supply without her.”
“Time for a change of scenery is all. Thought it was time to catch up with my two best girls. You two have been quite busy from what I hear, cozying up to them bankers on Wall Street.”
“You’ve been quite busy yourself.” I gestured to the shop around us.
“I hear there’s one prize bird you can’t seem to snag though,” Buck went on as though I hadn’t spoken. “A commodore, no less. But I may be able to help you out there…if you will trust your dear old dad.”
I snorted. “What reason have you ever given me to trust you? We all still have scars from your hand.”
Buck contorted his face into something resembling contrition. “I want the chance to make it up to you, to show you I’m a changed man.”
I stood, crossing my arms. “Let’s hear it.”
“Your Mr. Vanderbilt may be closely guarded, but he’s got his weaknesses, same as any man.” Buck began to pace, slowly warming to his audience of one. “Nothin’ the man likes more than horses. And I know a thing or two about them creatures.”
“Pa, you stole horses and sold them for profit. You didn’t breed them.”
He waved away my interruption. “Six of one, half a dozen of the other. I happen to know a few people at the track he favors. Them jockeys is always looking for a leg up on the competition”—he guffawed at his own joke—“so they buy my elixir. Anyway, no one will question my coming or going. If I can get you an audience with Vanderbilt, can we say all’s forgiven?”
I narrowed my eyes at my father. He never did anything for free. “What’s in it for you?”
“Peace of mind knowing that I can die in my girls’ good graces. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
“You’re losing your touch, old man. Try again.”
Buck hooked his thumbs around his suspenders and rocked back on his heels. “I do want to make things right between us, darlin’. Is that better?” When I continued to be unmoved, he changed tack, leaning forward onto the balls of his feet. “Look, he’s ripe for the taking, and you want in with his crowd, so why shouldn’t I do this for you?”
“Why should you—that’s the real question.”
Buck threw up his hands. “Ask around. Everyone knows Vanderbilt believes in the spirits and willingly supports any medium or fortuneteller who crosses his path. Why shouldn’t he benefit from you? At least you’re not a crook.”
“If he’s such an easy mark, why aren’t you moving in on him?”
“Well, for one, I no longer have my best medium.” He glared at me, obviously still sore over the loss of Tennie. “And two, I have enough of an in to arrange a meeting but nothing to hold his attention. If there’s one thing the commodore likes more than horses, it’s young women. Let your sister entertain him while you talk to his dead mother or son or Ben Franklin if he wants.”
I watched him closely, analyzing his every change of expression, every flush and paling of his skin. A suspicion had been niggling at the back of my mind, and I was waiting to see if he’d admit it. When he fell silent, I pounced. “You want a cut of whatever Tennie and I make from him, don’t you?”
Buck scooted back his chair, trying and failing to look offended. “Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?”
I advanced until I was leaning over him, in the position of power for the first time in my life. “You do! God, Pa, we left for a reason. We will never work for you again. You can take Ma and the whole stinkin’ family back to Chicago or Cincinnati or wherever it was you came from. We will not have you humbug us in our new life.” I stomped toward the door, fuming.
“Vickie,” Buck called after me, “please wait. I don’t want anything from you. Let me do this for you to prove I mean it.”
I slowly turned around to face my father. He was begging me with his eyes to give him one more chance. I took a deep breath, weighing my options. “If I let you do this, I owe you nothing. Tennie owes you nothing. You will never again interfere in our lives or disturb our peace. Is that clear?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Buck put out his hand. “I’ll shake on it like any business deal.”
“I know the nature of your business,” I muttered, but I took my father’s hand anyway, praying I hadn’t made a deal with the Devil.
OCTOBER 1868
Tennie and I scampered up the front steps of 17 Great Jones Street, arms interlocked at the elbows, giggling, hands full of parcels from a morning of shopping. Our levity faded, however, when we nearly tumbled into Katherine on the porch, barring our entrance.
“Katherine, what’s this?” Tennie asked sweetly. “We’re paid up for the next two months, and I don’t believe we’ve broken any rules.”
“No, no. ‘Tis nothing of the sort. I thought you’d like to know,” she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “that there’s a gentleman to see you in the foyer.” She tilted her head in the general direction of the front door. “Claims to be your father. I can have him removed if you like.”
Tennie stiffened and pulled away from me, edging backward toward the steps, but I clamped down on her arm, preventing her escape.
“No need for that, Katherine, thank you. We’ll see him.” I tugged at Tennie’s arm, ignoring her acerbic glare. “Come on. You can’t avoid him forever.”
As soon as we stepped over the threshold, Buck greeted us with a blinding grin and open arms. “Girls, so good to see you. Hope you don’t mind me tracking you down like this, but I couldn’t wait to share my news.”
I couldn’t make myself move toward my father, much less embrace him. I eyed him, my wariness increasing at the sight of his formal attire. He was wearing his best suit, so something had to be afoot.
“You’re leaving town?” I said with a measure of hope.
Tennie stood stony-faced, arms crossed.
“Confound it! No.” He scowled at us. “Remember that favor I said I’d do for you?”
I set down my packages, using them as a makeshift fort between my father and petrified sister. I tapped my chin and pretended to think. “I don’t recall asking you for a favor, but I do remember a business agreement.”
Buck gave a small nod. “One and the same. I’m here to tell you you’re expected at the Vanderbilt residence at one this very afternoon. The commodore would like to speak with you both.”
I turned to Tennie, greeted by a mirror of my own shock. Tennie’s mouth was slightly agape and her blue eyes wide.
“You’re not cutting a shine on us, are you, Pa?” I asked, finding my voice first.
Buck shook his head and rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Not at all. I’m as serious as a gravedigger.” When we didn’t respond, he stepped aside, giving us a clear path up the stairs. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go on. Get up there and make yourselves pretty. You want to impress the old coot, don’t ya?”
Tennie needed no more encouragement. She scooped up her packages and scurried up the stairs as if her shadow was on fire.
I picked up my bundle and stood before my father. “You came through.” It was a statement, but there was a hint of question in my voice.
Buck held up a hand. “Don’t thank me yet. I got you in. It’s up to you two to make the sale.”
Within the hour, we were dressed and taking a short carriage ride to Washington Park. Cornelius Vanderbilt’s home was in keeping
with his imposing reputation. Though made of the same brownstone as many others in the city, its four floors and grand staircase with wrought-iron railings made it more akin to a palace than to the place Tennie and I called home.
Buck ushered us up the stairs with a slight pressure on our shoulder blades. I tensed at his touch and sensed Tennie stiffen next to me, but neither of us said a word. After rapping the door knocker several times, Buck stepped back, waiting. A tall, thin man with graying black hair opened the door and greeted us.
Before I had a chance to speak, Buck slid in front of us, blocking us from the butler’s view. “Please tell Mr. Vanderbilt that Mr. Claflin and his daughters are here for their appointment.”
The butler eyed us dubiously but did as requested.
A few moments later, the servant returned and stood to the side of the doorway. He motioned Tennie and me inside but put out a hand to stop Pa before he could step foot in the foyer. “Mr. Vanderbilt thanks you for accompanying your daughters and will consider that a formal introduction, but he wishes to speak to them alone. Good day.” He closed the door before Pa could offer a rebuttal.
Having shed my unwanted chaperone, I relaxed, trying not to stare in obvious wonderment at the white marble floors, gilded walls, carved wainscoting, and frescoed ceilings of the foyer. I glanced away so as not to soil them with my lower-class gaze.
“A lot of the places over on Broadway try to look like this, but this isn’t some cheap imitation. This is the real thing,” Tennie whispered to me. “Look at that fireplace. You could fit half a dozen women in there.”
“Maybe that’s what Mr. Vanderbilt does with his mistresses when he’s done with them,” I joked, a smile lighting my voice. “Let’s hope he likes us, or we may be forced to find out.” At Tennie’s outward distress, I hastened to add, “He’s a man like any other client. Remember that.”
“A filthy rich one,” Tennie mumbled.
The butler led us through a set of tall French doors leaded with blue glass and through an airy sitting room painted in pastel blue and peach. After a few more turns, we arrived at a dark corner office. The dim illumination from a few oil lamps and the meager afternoon light that survived the sheer curtains gave the area a sense of foreboding, as if we were trespassing on sacred ground or delving into secrets meant for others’ eyes and ears.
The hair on the backs of my arms and neck stood on end. “There are spirits here. I can feel them.”
“But can you hear them?” asked a booming voice from somewhere behind us.
I pivoted on the ball of my foot. A tall, sinewy man in a black suit with white cravat stood in the doorway, posture ramrod-straight despite the white hair and balding head that dated him as old enough for a well-earned stoop. He peered at me with intelligent blue eyes that sought answers but not only from me.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the swirling gray figures all around us. At first, they had no form, but as I concentrated, a young boy in a suit, maybe fourteen years of age, took shape. “I see a young boy. He has your nose, your bearing.”
Please tell me your name that I may let him know you are here. I opened my eyes, still seeing him in my mind’s eye.
“He says he’s named after a president and wants me to guess which one.” I scrunched up my forehead, unsure of the meaning of the riddle.
The commodore clapped in glee. “That’s my boy all right. It was one of his favorite games to play with strangers. His name was George Washington Vanderbilt. Please, please, sit down.” He motioned toward two leather chairs on the fore side of a heavy wooden desk that, like so much other furniture in this house, was inlaid with gold. He took a seat on the opposite side. “Please forgive my rudeness in not asking your father to join us. I wished to meet with you alone for it is you with whom I would be working, am I correct?”
Tennie leaned forward. “Yes, Mr. Vanderbilt. I’m Tennessee Claflin, a medium like my sister.” Her voice came out in a rush, like a girl forcing herself to speak to her first crush. She extended her hand.
He grasped it gently, taking in her reddish-brown curls, bright blue eyes, full lips, and cleft chin with obvious pleasure. “And you must be Victoria.” He extended me the same warm greeting.
“I am, sir. So nice to meet you.”
“I don’t quickly trust those claiming to have your gifts, but I have to say I’m impressed with what I’ve seen so far.” He removed a small container of chewing tobacco from one of the drawers and placed a wad between his lip and gum. “Now, your father tells me you can predict the stock market.” His eyes shifted between the two of us expectantly.
Does he? It would have been nice to know that before we came in. The bastard hadn’t breathed a word to me about this. Reformed, ha! Traitor more like. I’d have words with my father later. But true or not, Mr. Vanderbilt needed an answer. What had I read in the paper that morning? Surely there had to be something that would save us. Mr. Vanderbilt had made his fortune in railroads and water shipping, so it was likely he’d want to know about one of those. But which one? And what if I was wrong? I shot Tennie a pleading look.
“You’re an expert in that already,” Tennie said, coming to my rescue. “I’m sure you have plenty of advisors. Plus, you probably have a natural instinct for that sort of thing.” She batted her eyelashes and leaned onto the desk, giving him a clear view of her ample cleavage. “We’re also healers—if you’re interested in those services.”
“Are you now?” He spit tobacco juice into a spittoon hidden behind the grand desk. “I want to hear about that, but first”—he turned back to me—“I want to hear more about the market. Give me a prediction about Canada Southern Railway. If you’re correct, you’re hired.”
I swallowed hard, praying he couldn’t see the sweat beading on my brow. The spirits had spoken to me of many topics over the years, but I’d never asked them for financial advice. If they remained quiet, I had an equal chance of being right or wrong. I closed my eyes again, trying to remember something, anything, I’d read about the railroad.
I started as Demosthenes appeared. “Tell him this, ‘No man can tell what the future may bring forth, and small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises.’”
Of all the times for him to be unclear. Trembling inside, I faced the commodore with a steady gaze and repeated Demosthenes’s answer.
He was stock-still for a moment, pondering my words, then a grin split his features. “By golly, you do have a talent, young lady. There’s no way you could have known that earlier today I was approached to buy stocks of Canada Southern, to get in at the ground floor as they say. It’s a small sum, but your spirits seem to think it won’t remain that way for long.”
“This is absurd!” a male voice shouted behind us.
Tennie and I whipped around. A tall, middle-aged man with brown hair and a carefully waxed handlebar mustache stalked into the room. Within three long strides, he was at the commodore’s side.
“You can’t actually believe them, Father. Tell me you don’t believe them,” he demanded.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Mr. Vanderbilt laced his fingers together and rested them on his protruding stomach, a gesture that implied the matter was closed. He nodded toward the fuming gentleman. “My son, William.” Next, he inclined his head in our direction, introducing us.
William bowed politely and murmured a rote “How do you do?” before returning his attention to his father. “That last thing she told you”—he pointed at me—“is a well-known quote from a famous Greek orator. Anyone could have said the same.”
“Indeed, it is a quote from Demosthenes,” I acknowledged. “He is my spirit guide and has been for some thirty years. He brought me from abject poverty to sitting in your salon, so you cannot say his advice is unsound.”
“I can say anything I please,” the younger man bellowed. “It is not him I question. I care not for a man who has been dead for centuries but for the two swindlers sitting across from me. I suppose they’ve told
you they can contact Mother?”
“No. Only your brother George. But she knew about his clever name game,” the elder Mr. Vanderbilt said, mouth turned down in a frown.
“Names she could easily have read in the papers.” William pressed a fist to his mouth as if to stop an expletive. “That’s how these people operate, Father. I’ve told you this before. They are thinking only of how to part you from your hard-earned money.”
“Money you believe would be better off in your hands, I suppose,” I interrupted, rising. I stepped toward William. “Tell me, how would it profit your father for you to gamble it away?”
I was taking a risk with that guess, but if there was one thing I knew about rich young men, it was that two influences easily parted them from their cash: women and sporting bets. This one was too uptight, too refined, to be tied by his prick to a woman, so gambling had to be his vice.
I tapped my cheek theatrically. “It’s the ponies, isn’t it? Gave up on the dog races—too small-time—and moved on to something more lucrative.”
William’s eyes bulged, but his father laughed, clapping once with a loud smack. “She’s got you there, son. To a tee.”
William stared between his father and me before finally finding his voice. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing, you who admittedly grew up in the gutter.” He turned to his father, his voice rising in pitch. “I will not see you humbugged by a pair of harlots. Harold!”
The butler appeared.
“Remove these women at once.”
Mr. Vanderbilt held up a hand to stop Harold. “William, please. You’re making a damned spectacle of yourself. You should be the one to be removed.” He flicked his long fingers at his son in a gesture of dismissal. “Harold, while you’re here, please tell Cook there will be two more dining with us this evening. I do hope you ladies don’t have other plans.”
“Why, no, of course not,” I said.
“Bully for you!” Vanderbilt came around the desk, offering his arm to Tennie. “I do hope you will tell me more about this healing gift of yours over cocktails.”
Madame Presidentess Page 10
