Chapter 4
By faith Abraham, when he was called to go outinto a place which he should after receive
for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out,
not knowing whither he went.
Hebrews 11:8
Pierce closed the door to Abraham’s shop and hailed his driver. He could still feel the rush of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart when he’d seen Darlene about to die. She’d nearly walked right into the path of that freighter and all with a sad, tragic look on her face. It was almost as if she were facing an executioner. Surely she hadn’t intended to kill herself!
Pierce ordered his driver to take him to his commission merchants office, then relaxed back into the plush leather upholstery of the carriage. No, Darlene wouldn’t kill herself. There’d be no reason for that. But perhaps there was. Pierce didn’t really know her at all. He toyed with several ideas. Perhaps she’d just been rejected by a suitor? No, she’d told him there were no suitors in her life. Perhaps she’d lost the will to live? Pierce was certain she couldn’t bear to be parted from her father. Then what had caused such a look of complete dejection?
His Wall Street destination was only a matter of a few blocks away, and before he could give Darlene another thought, his driver was halting alongside the curb. Pierce alighted with some reservations about the meeting to come. His man, Jordan Harper, was quite good at what he did, but Pierce had never gotten used to letting another man run his affairs. Of course, when he’d been abroad it was easy to let someone else take charge. He knew that his father would ultimately oversee anything Harper did, and therefore it honestly didn’t appear to compromise matters in Pierce’s mind. The only thing he’d ever disagreed on with his father had been the large quantities of western land tracts Pierce had insisted on buying. The land seemed a good risk in Pierce’s mind, and it mattered little that hardly anyone had ever heard of the dilapidated Fort Dearborn or the hoped-for town of Chicago.
Climbing the stairs, Pierce pulled off his top hat and entered thebrokerage offices where Harper worked. A scrawny, middle-aged man of questionable purpose met Pierce almost immediately.
“May I help you, sir?”
Pierce took off his gloves, tossed them into the top hat and handed both to the man. “Pierce Blackwell. I’m here to see Jordan Harper.”
“Of course, sir. Won’t you come this way?” the man questioned, almost as if waiting for an answer. At Pierce’s nod, he whirled on his heels and set off in the direction of the sought-after office.
Black lettering stenciled the glassed portion of the door, declaring “Harper, Komsted, and Regan.” The older man opened the door almost hesitantly and announced, “Mr. Blackwell to see Mr. Harper.”
The room was rather large, but the collection of books, papers, andother things related to business seemed to crowd the area back down to size. Three desks were appointed to different corners of the room, while the fourth corner was home to four rather uncomfortable-looking chairs and a heating stove.
Jordan Harper, a man probably only a few years Pierce’s senior, jumped up from his chair and motioned to Pierce. “Come in. I’ve been expecting you.” The scrawny man took this as his cue to exit and quietly slipped from the room, taking Pierce’s hat and gloves with him.
“Take off your coat. Old Komsted keeps it hot enough to roast chestnuts in here.” The man was shorter than Pierce’s six-foot frame, but only by inches. He ran a hand through his reddish-brown hair and grinned. “I’ve made quite a mess this morning, but never worry, your accounts are in much better shape than my desk.”
Pierce smiled. He actually liked this man, whom he’d only met twice before. “My banker assures me I have reason to trust you, so the mess is of no difference to me.”
Harper laughed. “Good enough. Ah, here it is.” He pulled out a thick brown ledger book and opened it where an attached cord marked it.
Pierce settled himself in and listened as Jordan Harper laid out the status of his western properties. “You’re making good profits in the blouse factory. They’re up to eighty workers now and I found foreign buyers who are ready to pay handsomely for the merchandise. Oh, and that property you hold near Galena, Illinois, is absolutely filthy with lead and has netted you a great deal of money. Here are the figures for you to look over. Here,” he pointed while Pierce took serious consideration of the situation, “is exactly what the buyer paid and this is what your accounts realized after the overhead costs were met.”
“Most impressive,” Pierce said, sitting back in his seat. “I see you’ve earned your keep.”
Jordan smiled. “I’ve benefited greatly by our arrangement, Mr. Blackwell, but you don’t know the half of it yet. It was impossible to catch up to you while you were abroad. It seemed every time I sent a packet to you, you’d already moved on. Several of my statements were forwarded, but eventually they’d be rerouted back to New York and, well, they’re collecting dust in the files downstairs.”
“I kept pretty busy,” Pierce commented, “but my father trusted your work, and so I felt there was nothing for me to concern myself with. Of course, I was a little younger and more foolhardy three years ago.”
Jordan laughed and added, “And a whole lot poorer.”
Pierce raised a brow. “Exactly what are you implying, Mr. Harper?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone.
“I’m not implying one single thing. I want you to look here.” Jordan Harper quickly flipped through several pages. “As you will see, I took those tracts of land that you purchased at the Chicago site and, in keeping with your suggestion that should prices look good, I should sell as much as two-thirds of the property, I did just that.”
Pierce again leaned forward to consider the ledger. At the realization of what met his eyes, Pierce jerked his head up and faced Jordan with a tone of disbelief. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Not at all. In fact, it’s quite serious. I take it from your surprise thatyou haven’t bothered to check on all of your accounts when you were visiting the banks?”
“No, I suppose I didn’t concern myself with it,” Pierce admitted. “But you’re absolutely sure about this?”
“The money is in the bank, and I get at least twenty offers a week to buy the balance of your land in Chicago.”
Pierce looked at the figures again. “But if I understand this correctly, and I’m certain I do, the original $100,000 investment I made has now netted me over one million dollars?”
“And that’s after my commission,” Jordan said with a smile.
Pierce shook his head. Who could have imagined such an inflation of land prices? “I knew it would be a valuable investment, but I figured it would be ten or twenty years before I realized it.”
“Chicago is bursting at the seams. It’s growing up faster than any city I’ve ever seen the likes of. People are taking packets across the Great Lakes and making their way to Chicago every day. The population has already grown to over three thousand. Why just yesterday I saw an advertisement offering passage from Buffalo to Chicago for twenty-five dollars. Everybody’s getting rich from this little town.”
“And you saved out the tracts I asked you to?”
“Absolutely! You can sell them tomorrow if you like or build your own place.”
“Sounds to me,” Pierce said thoughtfully, “that hotels and boarding houses would be greatly in need.”
“All those people have to live somewhere, Mr. Blackwell.”
Pierce smiled. “Indeed they do.”
Hours later, Pierce was still thinking about Chicago. He’d picked up all the information he could find on the small town and while contemplating what his next move should be, wondered if his next move might ought not to be himself.
He left the papers on his bed and went to stand by the window, where heavy green velvet curtains kept out the world. Pulling them back, Pierce thought seriously about leaving all that he knew in New York. It had been easy enough to go abroad. European citi
es were well-founded and filled with elegance, grace, and fine things. But Chicago was in the middle of nowhere. It hadn’t been but three years since the Indian wars had kept the area in an uproar. There was no main road to travel over in order to get to the town, and even packets to Chicago were priced out of the range of the average citizen. Perhaps Pierce could invest in a mode of transportation that would bring that price down. New railroads were springing up everywhere and canals were proposed for the purpose of connecting Lake Michigan to the Mississippi River. It was easy to see that this was a land of opportunity. But could he leave all the comforts of home and travel west?
A light snow was falling again, and with it came images of the young woman he’d held so close earlier in the day. He liked the way Darlene fit against him. He liked the wide-eyed innocence and the look of wonder that washed over her face when he refused to release her. He liked the smell of her hair, the tone of her voice, even the flash of anger in her dark eyes. He let the curtain fall into place and sighed. If he went west, there would be no Darlene to go with him. At least here he could see her fairly often on the pretense of embellishing his wardrobe. But a man could own only so many suits of clothing.
He sat down again on the bed and looked at the papers before him. Then without knowing why, he thought of Valentine’s Day and the dance. Darlene had declared herself unfamiliar with both, and this had truly surprised Pierce. A thought came to mind and he toyed with it for several minutes before deciding to go ahead with it. He grinned to think of Darlene receiving her first valentine. What would she think of him? Perhaps he could leave it unsigned, but of course, she’d know it was from him.
Deciding it didn’t matter, Pierce jumped up and threw on his frock coat. Valentine’s Day was a week from Saturday, so there was plenty of time, but Pierce wanted to have just the right card made.
Chapter 5
Wherefore the children of Israel shall keep the sabbath. . .It is a sign between me and the children of Israel
for ever: for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth,
and on the seventh day he rested, and was refreshed.
Exodus 31:16,17
Darlene worked furiously over the cuffs of Pierce Blackwell’s long-tailed frock coat. It would soon be dark and the Sabbath would be upon them. There was never to be any work on Shabbes, for God himself had declared it a day of rest and demanded that His people honor and keep that day for Him.
Esther sat companionably, for once not making her usually busybody statements, but instead helping to put buttons on the satin waistcoat that Pierce would wear the following night. Such deadlines made it necessary for Darlene and Abraham to elicit additional help, and the fact that Valentine’s Day came on a Saturday made it absolutely necessary to have everything done as early on Friday as possible.
Shabbes began on Friday evening when it was dark enough for the first stars to be seen in the sky. By that time, all work would have to be completed and put aside. No work was to be done, not even the lighting of fires on such cold, bitter mornings as February in New York could deliver. For this purpose, Abraham paid a Shabbes goy, a Gentile boy to come and light fires and lamps. Darlene knew that many families could not afford to pay someone to come in, and for them she felt sorry. They were strictly dependent upon the goodness of neighbors and sometimes they went through Shabbes without a warm fire to ward off the cold.
Finishing the cuff, Darlene held up the coat and smiled. She knew Pierce would be handsome in the black, redingote-styled frock coat. The tapering of the jacket from broad shoulders to narrow waist only made her smile broaden. Pierce would need no corset to keep his figure until control. Of this she was certain.
“Such a look,” Esther remarked, staring at Darlene from her work.
Darlene laughed. “I was only trying to imagine what it might be like to dance at a party where men dress so regally.”
“Oy vey! You should put aside such thoughts. Next, you’ll be considering marriage to some rich goy, if you could find one who’d have you.”
Darlene felt her cheeks flush and instantly dropped the coat back to her lap and threaded her needle. She prayed that Esther wouldn’t notice her embarrassment, because just such thoughts had already gone through her mind.
“So, you do think of such things!” Esther showed clear disgust by Darlene’s breech of etiquette. “Bist blint—are you blind? Such things will only lead you to heartache.”
Darlene waved her off. “I’m not blind and I’m not headed to heartache or anything else. I simply wondered what it might be like to own fine things and not be looked down upon by the people in the city. Is that so bad?”
Esther studied her closely for a moment. “There is talk, Havele. Talk that should make your father take notice. The cantor knows that Avrom’s faith is weakening.”
“Never! It’s not true!” Darlene shouted the words, not meaning to make such an obvious protest.
“If he turns from God, he will be a traitor to our people. No one will speak to him again. No one of Hebrew faith will do business with him. If that happens, Havele, you will come and live with me.” She said it as though Darlene would have no choice in the matter.
“I will not leave Tateh. Such talk!” She got up from her work and excused herself to tend to Sabbath preparations upstairs. Hurrying up the rickety backstairs, Darlene couldn’t help but be upset by Esther’s words. It was true enough that her father would be considered meshummad—a traitor—if he accepted the Christian religion of Dennison and Pierce Blackwell. But surely that could not happen. They were God’s chosen people, the children of Israel. Surely her father could not disregard this fact.
She finished putting together the schalet, a slow-cooking stew that would simmer all night long and be ready to eat for the Sabbath. This would enable her to keep from breaking the day of rest by preparing meals. Turning from this, Darlene set about completing preparations for their evening Sabbath meal. This was always a very elegant dinner with her mother’s finest Bavarian china and a delicate lace tablecloth to cover the simple kitchen table.
Setting the table, she hummed to herself and tried to dispel her fears. Surely things weren’t as bad as Esther implied. The small roast in the oven gave off a succulent, inviting smell when Darlene peered inside. It would be done in plenty of time for their meal and it was a favorite of her father’s. Perhaps this would put him in a good frame of mind and give him cause to remember his faith. Perhaps a perfect Shabbes meal would focus his heart back on the teachings of his fathers.
Filling a pot with water and potatoes, Darlene left it to cook on the stove and hurried back to finish the Blackwell suit. Hayyim was to deliver the suits before Sabbath began, and with this thought, Darlene silently wished she could go along to see where Pierce lived. No doubt it was a beautiful brick house with several stories and lovely lace curtains at each and every window. With a sigh, she pushed such incriminating thoughts from her mind and joined Esther.
“It is finished,” Esther announced. “I must get home now and make certain things are ready.”
“Thank you so much for helping me. Did Tateh pay you already?”
“Yes, I am well rewarded,” Esther said, pulling on her heavy coat. Darlene went to help her, but she would have nothing to do with it. “I may be an old woman, but I can still put on my coat.”
Good, Darlene thought. She has already forgotten our conversation and now she will return home and leave me to my dreams. But it was not to be. Without warning, Esther turned at the door and admonished Darlene.
“You should spend Shabbes in prayer and seek God’s heart instead of that of the rich goyim.”
And you should mind your own business, Darlene thought silently, while outwardly nodding. She did nothing but present herself as the most repentant of chastised children. With head lowered and hands folded, Darlene’s appearance put Esther at ease enough to take her leave.
“Gut Shabbos, Hava.”
“Good Sabbath to you, Esther.”
Wit
h Esther gone, Darlene breathed a sigh of relief and called to Hayyim. “The Blackwell suits are finished. You can take them now.” She let her fingers linger on Pierce’s coat for just a moment before Hayyim took it.
“Darlene, you look very pretty today,” Hayyim said, lingering as if he had all the time in the world.
Darlene felt sorry for him. She knew he was terribly taken with her, but her heart couldn’t lie and encourage the infatuation. “Thank you, Hayyim. You’d better hurry if you’re to get home in time for Sabbath.”
Hayyim nodded sadly. Darlene watched him take up the rest of the clothes in a rather dejected manner. Better she make herself clear with him now, than to lead him on and give him reason to hope for a future with her.
Just as she was about to got upstairs and finish with the meal, a knock sounded at the back door. Wondering if Esther had forgotten something, Darlene glanced quickly about the room, then went to open the door.
Five children ranging in age from four to twelve stood barefooted and ragged in the muddy snow. These were her “regulars,” as Darlene called them. Destitute children who came routinely on Friday afternoon to beg for food and clothes.
“Ah, I thought perhaps you had forgotten me,” she said with a smile. “Come in, come in. Warm yourselves by the fire.” She motioned them forward and they hurried to the stove, hands outstretched and faces smiling.
Darlene stuck her head out the door and noted that two older youths, probably in their middle teens, waited not far down the alleyway. She smiled and motioned for them to join in, but they shook their heads and went back to their conversation. They only watched over the little ones. Darlene knew they were probably older siblings who realized the younger children could persuade better charity from sympathetic adults, without being expected to work in return.
My Valentine Page 4
