Into the Whirlwind (40 page)

There was no softening in Zack’s attitude toward her as he outlined his demands to keep Magruder’s mill producing for her. He sat behind the desk of his half-finished office on Columbus Street as he tossed his requirements out.

“I want sketches of the Copernicus design within one week,” Zack said. “And I want you to go into production by the end of the month.”

It was a ridiculous and unreasonable demand. For one thing, she needed a down payment from him if she was going to undertake an expensive watch design. The Copernicus watch, as Alice had envisioned it last autumn, featured a large ruby in the center with other gemstones to represent the planets, including a tiny diamond to represent the moon. This watch was going to cost a fortune, and she didn’t want to bankrupt herself because Zack Kazmarek had figured out a way to gain leverage over her.

“Don’t you know how risky this design is?” Mollie asked. “Nicolaus Copernicus is not someone the world is clamoring to celebrate, and it will be a hard sell.”

“Last autumn, you believed people remembered the crazy Polish astronomer who dared to believe the earth actually moved.”

“I don’t think there are enough wealthy Poles who want to spend a fortune on such a watch.”

Zack stiffened. “So you think we are all a bunch of dock workers and drones who labor in the stockyards?”

Zack often joked about his Polish heritage, but this was the first time she had seen this smoldering defensive side of him. She stood and began pacing in the blank space before the window. “We’ve made specialty watches before, but never more than five or six. That limits our risk and drives up the value of the watches. I am not confident I can sell this kind of watch.”

Zack steepled his fingers and eyed her. “There are rich Poles in Europe. Zurich. Florence. I don’t care what it takes, I
will
sell those watches.”

“In Europe?” she scoffed. “Thank you for pointing out there might be a market in Europe, but I don’t have any connections there and can’t afford to develop them.”

“I can.”

She looked at him quizzically. “Why would you help me like that?”

“I’m doing this for my mother, not you,” he said pointedly. “She wants to exalt the reputation of Poland, and she likes the idea of these watches. I want them sold at Harrods. On the Ponte Vecchio. I want them in the glittering cities where the merchants and intellectuals of Europe mingle with kings and generals. I want each watch to come with a card outlining the contributions of Nicolaus Copernicus to history and science. Galileo rode on Copernicus’s shoulders.
Polish
shoulders. I want the world to know that.”

The glint of determination in Zack’s eyes was unlike anything she had ever seen before. He might deny it, but he wasn’t doing this for his mother. This was something deeply personal to him, but she couldn’t afford to bankrupt her company so he could help glorify the memory of Poland’s most famous scientist.

“Are you serious?” Mollie asked. “The fate of Polish cultural pride rests in the hands of Alice Adair and the 57th Illinois Watch Company?”

Zack didn’t move a muscle. “Strange, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t going to let this go. He had latched on to this insane idea at which even Silas Knox would have balked and wasn’t going to let it go. He was doing this so he could flex his muscles and assert his power over her, and it was unsettling. Dr. Buchanan swore Zack was over his fascination with her, but there was a predatory gleam in his eye.

She folded her hands and drew a steadying breath. “Zack, I didn’t mean it when I called you a stray dog.”

Zack’s smile was tight as he stood and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a nine-foot center post in my jaws to keep me happy. Now, get out of here and go make me those watches.”

It was maddening, but she didn’t have much choice.

Colonel Lowe simmered with aggravation when he heard about Zack’s demand, but as always, he was too well bred to let it rattle his calm demeanor. His voice maintained an even tone, but there was an edge of steel beneath the words.

“This has the stink of unseemly manipulation all over it,” he said as they navigated through the crowded street market on a quest for summer fruit. After months of dried, salted, and canned food, Mollie always savored the arrival of fresh fruit in the markets. It was unseasonably hot for June, and Mollie waved a fan before her face as they perused a bin mounded with colorful produce. She reached for an apricot, holding it to her nose and breathing in the sweet fragrance. “Do you prefer apricots or peaches? Some people are very particular.”

“Get them both,” Richard said as he tapped his foot impatiently. “So when did you meet Kazmarek about this? It isn’t proper for you to be alone with a man like that.”

Mollie set a few more apricots in her basket. “He holds the keys to the kingdom,” she said. “I can’t get Magruder’s help unless I make the Copernicus watches for Zack. If that’s what it takes to get my center posts, that is what I’ll do.”

The crate of peaches sat awfully high, so she angled around the stall to reach it. She pretended great fascination as she fingered a piece of the velvety fruit. Anything rather than look at the annoyance on Richard’s face.

“It is a foolhardy move,” Richard said. “Those clock parts may have bought you a temporary reprieve, but Mollie . . . the whole idea of building public clocks is an ill-advised plan. All Kazmarek is doing is providing you with enough rope to hang yourself.”

Richard meant well. Hadn’t he offered her an infusion of funds to finance the mechanization of the factory so she could produce sensible inexpensive watches to compete with the East Coast watchmakers? “The business for public clocks is going to soar, and it is going to be our salvation,” she said. “Chicago is building hundreds of new railway depots and banks and public squares. They will all need clocks.”

She was reaching for another peach when Richard grabbed the basket from her. “I think you are wrong about the business, but what I really care about is why you were running to Zack Kazmarek for help.”

She had never heard that level of annoyance in Richard’s voice, and it set her on edge. Rather than answer him, she moved toward a stall selling parsnips. She had always hated this kind of conflict. “There is no affinity between myself and Mr. Kazmarek, if that is what you are implying.”

Richard held her gaze so long she could feel a trickle of perspiration snake down her back. A fruit fly buzzed nearby, and she used the distraction to swipe it away with her fan. A woman
setting out tomatoes stared openly, but glanced away when Mollie glared at her.

“
No
affinity, Mollie?” Richard pressed. “As in, Kazmarek means no more to you than the anonymous lad who delivers your milk, or is he the man you once loved so passionately that you’ve kept me at arm’s length for the past six months? Forgive my persistence, but I’m a little curious.”

The tomato lady was still listening to every word, so Mollie slid a little farther away. “It’s only a business arrangement,” she said in a harsh whisper. “In the last six months, I’ve spoken no more than a few dozen words with him.”

Richard didn’t care who overheard them and planted his hands on his hips. “They must have been powerful words to put that kind of flush on your face.”

She moved on to the next vegetable stand to avoid the nosy tomato vendor. She scanned the bins, looking for something to distract her from the tension that was crackling in the air. “Cherries!” she burst out.

“Forget the blasted cherries.” Richard dropped the fruit basket onto the street, kicking up a cloud of dust as he turned her shoulders to face him. “Is Kazmarek the man you once cared for? I need to know.”

The crowd was dense in front of the fresh vegetable bins. People were knocking into them as they reached around to make their selections, but Mollie couldn’t move anywhere as Richard kept his hands locked in place. “Do we need to have this conversation right here?” she asked tightly. She glared at the tomato vendor, who had waddled forward to continue eavesdropping. “I think the lady behind your left shoulder can’t hear very well, so perhaps we should move closer to her tomato stand so she can listen to every word.”

Richard did not break eye contact. “Don’t change the subject.
I care for you and won’t allow you to be manipulated by a man who overwhelmed you with his attentions. I won’t stand for it.”

Mollie reached down and picked up the basket of apricots, getting warmer by the moment. It was hot, and she was angry he would be questioning her like this, but when she looked into Richard’s eyes, she remembered that long-ago day when he had walked through the rubble of the burned-out streets of Chicago, leading a band of men to come to her rescue. After months of tireless work on her behalf, how could she begrudge him this piece of her soul?

“Yes, Richard. Zack is the man I once cared for, but it is
over
. Any association I have with him now is solely about business.”

Richard locked eyes with her. Although she’d never seen him in uniform or in charge of a battle, it was easy to recognize the glint of command. “Then I will be at your side for any future meetings with Mr. Kazmarek. I think this is fitting, Mollie.”

A trickle of relief eased the tension in her shoulders. She’d be safer with Richard at her side as she negotiated with Zack, and the smile she sent him was genuine. “Fair enough.”

Annoyance rippled through Zack when Mollie arrived at his office to present her Copernicus designs with Colonel Lowe beside her. Wearing one of her prim dark suits, she had a frothy little scarf knotted up beneath her chin. With her hair swept into an elegant twist at the crown of her head, she looked like an aristocrat. A perfect companion for Richard Lowe’s classical perfection.

Zack rose as the pair crossed his office and stood before his desk. He glared at Colonel Lowe. “Ah, the living legend.”

Colonel Lowe flicked a nonexistent speck of lint from his sleeve. “A burden, but I carry it proudly.”

Zack resumed his seat, clearing the latest lawsuit papers from the top of his desk and gesturing for the pair to sit. At least his office now had a decent set of chairs. There was no money for carpets or other amenities in the offices, although the store downstairs was resuming its formal splendor. With luck, they would open in three weeks. He had been working twelve-hour days to juggle incoming merchandise, stave off bill collectors, and insure the construction work was completed on time.

Which was why it was insane for him to be getting distracted by Mollie and her blasted watches. Why was he subjecting himself to this? If he wanted to indulge in self-torture, it would be more efficient to find the nearest vise and stick his head in it.

“What have you to show me?” he asked pleasantly.

Mollie set four proposed designs on the desk, sliding them toward him for assessment. A surge of wistful memories seized him. In the past three years, how many times had Mollie come to his office to present watch designs? Twenty-five? Thirty? And each of those times, he had sat in his chair like an emotionless drone, pretending she was not the most spectacular, intelligent woman he’d ever been privileged to know.

Today was no different. Even after holding this woman in his arms, after kissing her as a firestorm raged around them, after comforting her in the ash-filled days that followed, it was as though that magical time had never happened. Colonel Lowe sat beside her like a mastiff guarding a princess, and Zack kept his face neutral as he looked at the designs.

The drawings showed a stunning concept featuring the solar system depicted with gemstones from front, back, and profile view. They were bold, audacious, and spectacular designs. Those were the only words that came to his mind, and an irrational surge of pride flooded him. He had nothing to do with Mollie’s success in leading this company, and yet he was still so proud of
a woman who could inspire a team of artisans and technicians to produce these remarkable miniature machines.

“Alice has certainly outdone herself this time,” he said, the words completely inadequate to express the awe the designs engendered.

“They are ridiculous,” Richard said. “A frivolous waste of money only rich people can afford.”