“I don’t want to talk about that. All I’ll say is he’s a deceiving liar and I bought his pretense of concern.” Sarah threw her notebook and pencil onto the nearest table. The pencil rolled off the edge and Rufus shot out from behind the settee to bat it around. At least the cat remained happy and playful. Drat Daniel Cady. Drat him. “I suppose your father was forced to explain to Mr. Winston who Daniel Cady is and what he’s after?”
Lottie nodded grimly. “Papa tried to assure him that our backers could save us, that you had planned our finances very carefully, but Mr. Winston did not want to listen.”
“The lithograph press . . . it’s set to arrive in an hour.” She frowned at Lottie. “This is ridiculous. Mr. Winston’s qualms will cause the business to fail, especially if he succeeds in convincing the others to withdraw their offers of support too.”
“Papa explained that to him, as well.”
“What a mess we’re in, Lottie.” All because Daniel Cady decided to turn up.
“Perhaps this will help. I have money to pay the balance on the press.” As proof, Lottie opened her beaded reticule and withdrew a small roll of bills.
“Don’t tell me you sold any of your jewelry to finance our shop.”
The dollars returned to the depths of Lottie’s purse. “I shall remain quiet, in that case.”
“We both can’t continue to sell all of our possessions as a solution to our financial problems.”
“I have not given up on Mr. Winston, for ‘tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope’,” Lottie responded, quoting the Bible. “He and his wife have been invited to my birthday luncheon, and I have more tricks up my sleeve.”
Sarah cocked an eyebrow at Lottie. “Perhaps you could work your tricks upon the despicable Daniel Cady and his equally despicable real estate agent.”
“You were supposed to be the one charming him.”
Clearly, the impetuous kiss she’d given him hadn’t softened his heart.
“I have apparently failed.” Sarah untied her apron and threw it after the notebook. The ribbon ties dangled over the table edge, giving Rufus another toy to bat. “Lottie, I need you to attend to the delivery of the lithograph press today. Because I mean to speak to Mr. Cady. He has a few actions to answer for.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve set the house up for auction in two weeks, before you even own it?”
Daniel stood at the door to his hotel room, one hand on the knob, the other gripping his straight razor. When he’d heard the knock, he’d anticipated finding one of the chambermaids outside with a fresh pile of towels. Not an indignant Sarah Whittier.
“Miss Whittier, it’s not even eleven in the morning. Couldn’t this have waited until later?” A dollop of shaving foam dripped off his razor onto the carpet. “And been discussed in a better location than my hotel room?”
Sarah blushed and glanced up and down the empty hallway. The elevator rattled on its ascent from the ground floor, but it glided upward without anyone disembarking on his floor. “I had no way of knowing if—or when—you’d come down to the public lounge, Mr. Cady, and I wanted to talk to you urgently.”
“Might I finish shaving while you’re talking?”
“I’m not coming in,” she said, peeking past his shoulder at the room. As he’d told her, he’d taken one of the smallest in the hotel, so if she’d been expecting a lavish sitting room or a private attached bathroom, she would be disappointed.
“You can stand and query me from the doorway, then,” he answered, leaving the door open and stepping over to the small shaving station he’d set up on the dressing table. His sisters stared at him from their tintype alongside the washbasin, somewhat reprovingly, it seemed.
“They have a barber in this hotel, I believe.” Sarah’s face was reflected in the mirror atop the dressing table, and he could see her fleeting, amused smile.
“I find giving myself a shave relaxing.”
“And free.”
“No need to spend money on an occupation I enjoy.” He’d had to learn frugality, these past years, when doctor’s bills and growing girls hadn’t come cheap. He wasn’t about to change his habits overnight. And after pawning his watch to buy her water-color of the Seal Rocks, along with some dolls for his sisters, he didn’t mind saving the cost.
His gaze flicked to the painting, lying where he’d set it on the bed, the paper partially unwrapped. If she noticed it, she’d have more questions than why he hadn’t told her that Sinclair’s real estate agent friend had set up a house auction.
“The barber might have asked embarrassing questions, anyway.” Sarah was studying him with unconcealed fascination, observing every motion of the blade, even as he swished it through the basin of warm water. She had to have seen Josiah shave, maybe even shaved him herself.
Daniel became acutely aware he was standing there in his shirt-sleeves and stockinged feet, collar undone and hair tousled from a hasty comb-through. A domestic scene normally only shared by husband and wife. One far too intimate for the two of them.
He hastily dragged the razor under his jaw, nicking his skin and drawing a bead of blood.
She didn’t notice. “For instance, he might have asked why you needed a shave so late in the morning.”
Daniel daubed at the blood with the corner of a towel. “Maybe he’d assume I’m a late riser.”
“He certainly wouldn’t assume it was because you’d spent the evening sleeping on my porch.”
Daniel wet the towel and wiped residual shaving foam from his chin. “Ah Mong told you.”
“He didn’t mean to.” Her eyes tracked him as he buttoned up his shirt and threw on his vest. He found her scrutiny unsettling, and if he thought about why he found it unsettling, he would have to admit how much he was attracted to her. “There wasn’t any need for you to stand as guard last night, Mr. Cady, and you certainly won’t need to repeat the act. The police came by the house this morning to tell me they’ve caught the culprit and thrown him in jail.”
“And you believe them?”
“You sound just like Lottie.”
He crossed the room, rejoining her at the door, feeling more comfortable now that he was, minus a pair of shoes, fully dressed. “If you’re satisfied with your safety, then I’ll have to be too.”
“You can’t be worried about my safety, Mr. Cady. You were worried about the contents of the house. The house you seem to expect to own.” She pulled in a deep breath and clutched her reticule closer to her waist. It had the effect of making her look prim and righteously angry. “The one you’ve hired a real estate agent to put up for auction in two weeks.”
“I didn’t hire him. My lawyer did.” As if that were a defense.
“You knew, though, didn’t you?” she accused. “And didn’t warn me. I had to find out through Lottie, who found out from one of our backers. Or I should say, probably former backer. He was alarmed by the news and is dithering on whether or not to advance us the money he promised. If more people decide to withdraw their support, the shop is as good as doomed.”
“What if I offered you a thousand dollars to make up for it? I would like to invest in the studio.” She hadn’t believed his offer last time and he doubted she would now. But he watched her face for her reaction, because his brief experience with her had taught him she hadn’t learned to guard her expressions well, and he’d learn as certainly as a finger held aloft which way the wind blew.
Sarah narrowed her gaze. “You’re teasing me about wanting to invest. Just like you did the other day when we returned from Tar Flat. I’m not even certain I’d accept money from you if you were sincere, Mr. Cady, because it feels like a bribe.”
“You tried to bribe me, as I recall. Only seems fair I return the favor.”
She flushed and looked away, finding something interesting to examine on the hotel carpeting.
“If you’ve decided money from me would be tainted, Miss Whittier,” he said, “then we don’t have much e
lse to talk about. I’m sorry, I should have told you about the auction. The time never seemed right. But you had to suspect it would happen. That house appears to be the bulk of Josiah’s estate. If I don’t sell it—”
“You don’t get your money,” she interjected, saving him from stating the obvious. “You could have had the courtesy to wait to engage a real estate agent until after the probate hearing was concluded, though.” Scowling, she stepped back from the doorway. “I’m going to the shop. The lithograph press is being delivered today and I want to be there when it arrives. I’m not giving up on my studio until I can’t find two pennies to rub together and my landlord runs me off.”
She had set her jaw with its typical stubborn tilt. “I wouldn’t expect you to do anything else, Miss Whittier.” She was obstinate and strong and he rather liked her that way. Watch it, Daniel.
“At least one of us is predictable, Mr. Cady.”
He inclined his head in concession to her point. “By the way, if Miss Tobin is at work today, tell her I’ve bought some dolls.”
“Why?”
“She’ll understand.”
Brow crinkled in confusion, Sarah turned to go. “Good day, Mr. Cady. And I won’t ask why you have my painting of Seal Rocks lying on your bed. I don’t have the time to try to figure that out too.”
Nineteen
The two men grunted as they wrestled the hulking iron base of the lithograph press through the side door of the shop, sweat streaming down their faces. With a concerted heave, they cleared the threshold and clomped across the floor, Cora dashing ahead of them to indicate where to place the machine.
Lottie smiled over at Sarah, who had just arrived at the shop. “You should have seen when they unloaded the stones. They were startled by how heavy they were and nearly dropped one.”
“Have there been any problems?” Sarah peered into the store. She thought she might see Anne, but only Cora and the two men from the artists’ supply company appeared to be inside.
“No, but they are not finished unloading the wagon yet.” Lottie considered the wagon parked at the curb, its draft horse nosing the contents of a bag strapped to its head. “Not much left to mishandle, though.”
“Thank goodness.”
Lottie removed the chunk of broken cobblestone propping the door open and tossed it into the gutter. “Did Mr. Cady defend the planned auction of the house?”
“Not in the least.” He hadn’t even appeared apologetic. Although maybe she hadn’t exactly noticed what he’d been feeling, as distracted as she’d been by the sight of him with his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his hair damp from an attempt to tame it, a dab of shaving foam clinging to his ear. “He made another joke about investing in the shop and then told me to tell Minnie he’d bought some dolls. The man is confusing and infuriating.”
She wouldn’t mention that he’d purchased her watercolor of Seal Rocks, the one he’d so admired. Not when just thinking about it left her even more bewildered. And flattered.
“I continue to hold out hope for his ultimate and total reform, nonetheless.” Brushing off her hands, Lottie watched Sarah’s face. Probably seeing more than Sarah was willing to admit. “Do you want to go inside and see what has been delivered?”
Sarah followed her, setting her reticule on the counter alongside a paperboard box. She lifted one of the flaps. Inside rested a thick cast iron disc about the size of a supper plate. Six holes had been drilled in the top at regularly spaced intervals. A wood handle lay alongside, tucked against the wall of the box. The levigator would be used to polish the lithograph stones: water and fine sand would be placed on the stone’s surface and then, with broad circular motions, spun along the stone until any prior etching was removed and the surface properly ground to accept the new work. Any ridges left behind would mar the next print. Careful work requiring a careful hand. Like Anne’s.
Sarah let the flap drop into place. “I really thought Anne might change her mind and be here to see the equipment delivered.”
“I thought so too.” Lottie opened another box and started to lay out the crayon holders and squeegees and palette knives in neat rows across the counter. Elsewhere, Sarah knew she’d find the inks and stacks of tracing paper. Probably on the shelves in the back room.
With a huff, Cora bustled around the half-wall separating the main room from the lithograph area, wiping her hands down a sackcloth apron. “You’re going to have to talk to those two, Miss Sarah. They don’t seem to know where to put the press, but for the life of me, I can’t understand what they’re saying! I think they might be gypsies or something.”
“They seem to be working very efficiently, Cora,” chided Lottie.
The girl cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “Yeah, well, you’re not in there with them.”
Lottie laughed and went to tend to the press. Sarah went to finish unpacking the box Lottie had opened when the shop bell rang.
Minnie rushed through the door, her brunette curls springing free of her straw bonnet. “Miss Sarah, you have to come. I went to Anne’s place to convince her to come to the shop today, but no one answered the door and no one I could find said they’d seen her leave. But there’d been a row between her and that Frank and . . .” Fear was sharp in her eyes. “Oh, miss, I’m just scared to think what’s happened to her!”
With Minnie close on her heels, Sarah turned down the alleyway toward Anne’s house. She dreaded what they might find. She would break down the door, if required, to find it.
Sarah dashed up the steps and paused to look back at Minnie, standing, pale and trembling, at the street. “I need you not to faint if we find . . .” Lord, not that. “If Anne has been hurt and there’s blood.”
Minnie squared her shoulders, looked defiant. “I don’t faint, miss.”
Good, because I might. She banged on the door. “Anne? Anne!”
“Are you going to break it down?” Minnie asked.
“I will if I have to.” She rattled the knob. The door shook on its hinges. It wouldn’t take much to knock it down.
A stout woman, her rough wool skirts hiked above her ankles and tucked into the waist of a filthy apron, strode out of the adjacent tavern and tossed a bucket of slop water onto the roadway. She spotted Sarah. “Hey! What are you doing there? Frank’ll thrash you all to pieces if he sees you trying to break in!”
“I’m here for Anne.”
The woman looked Sarah up and down. “Don’t know why you’d bother.”
“Because I think he’s hurt her badly this time.” Sarah pressed her shoulder to the door and bumped against it as hard as she could, wincing at the responding pain.
“Oh, here, let me. You’re as scrawny as a wet cat.” The woman set down her bucket and charged up the steps. With one heave of her elbow, she broke the door latch. She grinned at Sarah, revealing a few missing teeth. “After you.”
Sarah went inside, Minnie hurrying behind her, skirting the woman from the tavern. “Anne?” Sarah called.
Minnie ran into the tiny back room, returned in a second. “She’s not here.”
“They’d a dreadful row earlier.” From the doorstep, the woman squinted at the dingy front room, the stains on the rag rug, one looking pretty much like the other, any one of which could be blood.
“Do you think she’s run away?” Sarah asked her.
“If she had any sense, she would’ve.” The woman scratched at her bare forearm and considered the contents of the room as if she might return after Sarah had left and help herself to some of the items. “I might’ve seen her running off. Couldn’t say for certain, though. Was just a glimpse when I was scrubbing the floors over there. Through the door, I noticed a tall woman rushing down the road. I noticed ’cause she was all bundled up. Sorta strange, given it’s a warm day. Might’ve been Anne.”
It might have been. “Any idea where she would have gone? Who would take her in?”
“Can’t say. Other than that Miss Whittier and Frank, there’s no one she ever talked ’bout
at all.”
“Thank you for your help,” said Sarah.
“Guess I should get back to work.” The woman stomped back to the darkness of the tavern.
“We’ll never find Anne,” said Minnie, stepping around the reddest stain on the rug.
They left, Sarah closing the door as best she could behind them. She couldn’t lock it again—the mechanism was ruined.
Out in the street, she glanced up and down the road, hoping—pointlessly—that she might find some clue as to Anne’s whereabouts. “Where might you go if you wanted to get help, Minnie? Someplace where your man might not be able to bother you?”
Brow furrowing, Minnie considered the questions. “The streets wouldn’t be safe at all. Not if he was looking for her. I don’t know if she has enough money for one of the better boardinghouses away from around here. And if she didn’t look for a room with me or with Emma, then I’d guess she’s gone to one of the charity organizations. Though they’re not all as sympathetic as they claim to be. Some of the women who run those places can be awfully harsh to females like Anne and Phoebe and Cora.” She lifted a shoulder, her expression more sober than Sarah had ever seen it. “And me.”
Sarah hugged her hastily. They must look a sight, two women embracing in the middle of a Tar Flat alleyway, sure to be run over by a trundling delivery wagon or cart at any moment.
“If you think she’d go to one of the benevolent societies, then I have an idea of where to search for her. You don’t have to go with me. Go back to the shop and help Lottie. I think she’d appreciate that.”
“Good luck,” Minnie said, her hand catching Sarah’s, her callused fingers rough against Sarah’s skin.
“I’ll need more than luck.” She’d need help from God. Could she rely on Him, though?
Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel spotted an unwelcome figure leaning against a column near the elevator. He wouldn’t make it to the dining room for dinner without Jackson spotting him.
He tried, though. Within moments, the reporter trotted over.
Josiah's Treasure Page 19
