“We have a good start,” Miss Diller said as the girls rose.
A wave of muggy air carried in the stench of cabbage mixed with rotted garbage from the neighborhood. Lilly breathed easier once she and Miranda hurried down the narrow hallway to a classroom where a group of girls and women gathered for an English lesson. Immigrants from all over Europe chattered in foreign languages. They dressed in dark colors, and some of the older Polish and Russian women wore head scarves tied under their chins.
“Ladies, may we begin?” The room quieted to a hum. Distracted by the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall, Lilly glanced toward the door.
Jack stood there, in business attire, with a top hat resting on a box. He bowed to the group and stepped back into the hall, obviously waiting for her to emerge.
I
’ll take over if you’d like to speak to our visitor,” Miranda murmured, obviously recognizing Jack from years before.
Lilly nodded. “Yes, thank you—I think.”
Lilly strode into the hallway and found Jack waiting for her. “What a surprise. What brings you here?” Lilly pushed stray pieces of hair behind her ears and patted her chignon, hoping it wasn’t askew. She tried to sound collected, but shock rattled her voice.
“I’m looking for Miss Phoebe Diller. I came to New York to meet with Mr. Jarman. He gave me this box of Fannie Cole books to bring over. I was happy to do it.”
“How kind of you. I believe Miss Diller is in her office.”
“Truth be told, Lilly, I also came to speak to you.”
“Oh?” Lilly swallowed hard. “What would you like to know?” She walked briskly down the hall with Jack following close behind.
“I was wondering if you could put me in contact with Miss Fannie Cole, the dime novelist. According to
Talk of the Town
she ’s in society, so I thought you might know her or at least have an idea of who she is.”
“I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t help you.
Talk of the Town
could very well be mistaken.”
“I don’t believe so.”
“No?” She said nothing more as they approached the office, but Jack’s raised eyebrow expressed his skepticism.
They entered the directress’s cramped room and found her cleaning a window with ammonia and newspaper. After Jack deposited the box on the floor, Lilly introduced him to Miss Diller. She wiped her messy hands on her apron and then reached out a hand to greet him. “I’m so happy to meet you, Mr. Grail. Please thank Mr. Jarman for sending over the books so promptly. The ladies will certainly appreciate them. They love the Fannie Cole stories.”
“Ah yes, Fannie Cole.” Jack gave her a rueful smile. “When I meet her I’ll mention how much the ladies here enjoy her books.”
“You intend to meet Miss Cole?” Lilly struggled to keep panic from raising her voice into the upper octaves.
Lord, please don’t let Miss Diller mention that Miranda knows her
.
Jack’s curious brown eyes angled in her direction. He gave her a little shrug. “I’m her new boss. At least I will be tomorrow morning, when I buy the publishing house.” His gleaming smile sent shivers spiraling down her back.
Lilly leaned against a file cabinet, her legs weak. She had so hoped Jack wouldn’t purchase Jones and Jarman.
“May I congratulate you on your new acquisition,” Miss Diller said. “I wish you every success. Please sit down, Mr. Grail, and tell us more about your new endeavor.”
He talked for five minutes without pausing. When he finally wound down, Miss Diller said, “Mr. Grail, I’d like to thank you for assisting us in our hour of greatest need.”
“I’m glad to help. If there ’s anything else I can do . . .”
The directress nodded. “If you happen to know of any potential contributors, perhaps we could ask for their support. We ’re able to continue operating for the time being, but in the future— well, that’s in the Lord’s hands.” She sighed, the first real sign Lilly had seen that the responsibility of keeping the institution functioning weighed heavily upon her.
Jack rose. His lips pressed tight as he stood still, apparently lost in thought. Finally he said, “I’d like to make a sizable donation, one to give you breathing space for more than a few months.”
Lilly’s eyes widened. “Where will you get the money if you’re buying Jones and Jarman? I thought—I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”
“Are you sure you can afford it, Mr. Grail?” Every line of Miss Diller’s face registered shock. And eagerness, as if the Lord had dropped Jack straight down from heaven.
Maybe He had
, Lilly thought. After all, God worked in mysterious ways.
Jack sported a rueful grin. “I put aside money for a sailboat, but there ’s no reason why that can’t wait until next season. Why it’s nearly August, so I wouldn’t have much use for it anyway, with autumn so soon upon us.”
Jack’s lighthearted explanation didn’t quite cover the disappointment he must feel. Lilly gripped her hands and resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and kiss him for his selflessness.
He twisted the top hat in his hands. “Well, uh, I’ll see that you receive the funds tomorrow, Miss Diller. Good day, ladies.” He headed for the door.
Miss Diller stopped him. “Please stay and eat supper with us in the dining hall. And if you’d like to see our facilities, I’m sure Miss Westbrook would give you a tour.”
“Yes, thank you. I’d like that very much.”
Lilly stifled a groan. She needed time alone to process all the disconcerting news Jack brought. Instead, he stood close by watching her every expression. And she knew she didn’t hide her feelings too well.
She forced her mouth into a smile. “Follow me. I’ll show you our classrooms before supper.”
As they paused at each doorway, Lilly commented on the different activities. They observed immigrants learning to read, write, and speak English. Another group practiced sewing on the Singer machines, guiding the fabric while their feet pumped the treadle.
“We need several more sewing machines. There’s a high demand for seamstresses in the garment industry. It’s low-paying and back-breaking work, but at least it’s employment. Sometimes I teach sewing.”
“You? Now that’s a surprise. Socialites are more apt to pore over their embroidery than a machine. Surely your mother didn’t instruct you.”
Lilly laughed. “No, of course not. I learned here. I discovered I had a knack for using the machine and I enjoyed it. Believe it or not, I’ve even made dresses for some of the little girls in the neighborhood.”
When they came to the door of the dining hall she gestured toward a black-haired, olive-skinned child carrying her bowl to the table. “I made Angelina’s dress from leftover material I bought from my dressmaker.” She gazed at the green plaid garment trimmed with white grosgrain ribbon.
“Now I am shocked. And impressed.”
Lilly pretended a reprimand. But really his compliment pleased her. “Really Jack, I’m not a helpless woman.” But she couldn’t keep from smiling at his surprise.
They entered the dining room where a long line was forming along the wall near the kitchen. Volunteers ladled steaming soup into bowls and handed them to children and adults garbed in old and soiled clothes. Mothers steered their little ones to the long trestle tables covered in clean red-and-white checked cloths and reached for the crusty bread piled high in baskets.
“Shall we get in line?” Lilly asked.
“I’d be delighted to take you out to dinner,” Jack said, his voice hopeful.
Lilly shook her head even though his invitation tempted her. She couldn’t think of anything more pleasant than spending an evening with Jack. “No, I can’t leave my friend Miranda Reid. I’m her houseguest while I’m in New York.”
“Of course your friend is invited as well.” But he didn’t look quite as enthusiastic as before.
“No, I think not. I appreciate your thoughtful invitation, but I’d like to eat here. Please join us. The food is quite good. In fact, I helped make the soup.”
“Truly? You continue to surprise me, Lilly.” His eyes lit with admiration.
She turned her head until her cheeks cooled. They took their soup over to a table where Miranda joined them a few minutes later. Lilly re-introduced Jack to Miranda. They’d met a few times when he’d visited George—and Lilly—during their college days.
Jack finished the generous portion and said, “Excellent soup, though a bit more meat would help.”
Miranda put down her spoon, her expression serious. “It most definitely would, but meat is expensive, so we can’t serve it as often as we ’d like.”
Jack nodded. “I can see the need for more money. But I’d say the Settlement House is doing a remarkable job.”
“Miss Diller is a tremendously dedicated Christian woman,” Lilly said.
“As are you ladies.”
Embarrassed, Lilly changed the subject. “Someday, we ’d like to enlist the services of another nurse to expand our hygiene program. And we desperately need more supplies.”
Jack nodded. “I shall ask Mr. Jarman to consider making a donation once the sale is complete.” He grinned at them both. “After all, my pockets will soon be empty, and his will be full.”
“Oh, thank you,” Miranda said, smiling at him.
Lilly reached for a piece of hot, fresh bread at the same time that Jack reached for one. Both of them stopped in mid-air. Lilly looked up and found him staring at her. Warmth flooded through her. She apologized, took a piece of bread, then continued with the meal. While barely conscious of Jack and Miranda’s conversation, she thought about and was shocked at Jack’s altruism. He used to covet things for himself without giving the less fortunate much thought. Not that he was any worse than anyone else she knew. In fact, she ’s always known she’d fallen in love with a generous man with a big heart. How wonderful that this visit caused him to stop and think.
Thank you, Lord
. She couldn’t resist smiling along with Miranda, but then a dark thought gave her pause.
“Jack,” she said casually, not meeting his gaze, “do you think it wise to purchase Jones and Jarman? Irene mentioned Miss Cole is being hounded by
Talk of the Town
, so your author may wish to stop writing for a while.”
He took time to answer. “It’s a risk without speaking to Fannie Cole first, but Jones and Jarman is a solid company with great potential for growth, and there ’s another buyer in the mix. If I don’t move now, I might lose the opportunity.”
“What about starting your own publishing house?” Lilly asked, her appetite suddenly gone.
“I’d prefer not to begin from scratch. With the newspaper and magazine, I don’t have enough time to develop a new company. Besides, Jones and Jarman already has Fannie Cole under contract.”
“I see.”
Would both Colonel MacIntyre and Jack soon be on her trail? Apprehension spun her into a tight coil.
Dear Lord, don’t let them discover Fannie’s true identity
.
After Jack departed for his apartment and the other helpers were busy scraping the dishes into the heap for the compost pile, Lilly whispered to Miranda, “What a shock to see Jack. But if I’m vigilant he won’t suspect a thing.”
“I’m sure you’re right. But Lilly, you may have another problem.”
“Oh, no. I don’t believe I can cope with one more difficulty.” She groaned as she washed the last bowl.
Miranda found a dish towel and dried. “A few days ago an awful fellow stopped me on the sidewalk and demanded I tell him everything I know about Lillian Westbrook. He promised to pay me for information. I’m afraid he was one of Colonel MacIntyre ’s spies. Fortuately, a policeman was coming down the street at the time, so the rogue fled.”
Lilly leaned hard against the counter and cradled her forehead in her hand. She glanced at Miranda. “Please pray all this will go away. I’m living a nightmare and I want to wake up.”
“Don’t fret. I shall pray for you, my friend, without ceasing.”
JACK HIRED A carriage to drive him to the Dakota out on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. As the tall building came into view, he stared, still amazed that he actually lived here among the elite. His four-room space was tiny compared to some of the twenty-room apartments, but that mattered little to him.
Even after residing at the luxurious Dakota for several months, its high gables, deep roofs, and dormers still awed him. The hired cab halted beneath the
porte cochere
and Jack disembarked. Luggage in hand, he strode through the courtyard and rode the elevator to the fourth floor.
After visiting the Settlement House and viewing the surrounding slums, he scrutinized his own rooms with their soaring ceilings, carved moldings, and gilt. He ’d come a long way from his childhood home, but maybe this place was more pretentious than necessary. Sitting alone on a brocade sofa decorated with gold fringe, he once again looked over the Jones and Jarman financial statements, satisfied that the company’s potential trumped the risk. But the amount of money he’d spent on this residence troubled him for the first time. And he didn’t like the feeling.
Lord, I’ve forgotten where I came from. Please help me to remember
.
LATER IN THE evening his hunger returned, so he ordered a roast beef dinner from the downstairs kitchen, and soon, it was delivered via the dumb waiter just inside the door of his apartment. When he heard the bell, Jack lifted the door and carried his meal into the dining room where he ate sparingly before heading to bed. He wondered if those he had dined with at the Settlement House also suffered from stomach pains and rumblings. He suspected they didn’t have nearly enough in their larders.
Sliding between fresh sheets soon after, he pictured the faces of the people he ’d seen today. He pitied them, especially the children, and wished he could do something more to help. When he finally fell asleep, it was a restless sleep.
The following morning Jack bought Jones and Jarman and secured a contribution from Lewis Jarman for Miss Diller’s fine establishment.
Two days later he finished his work at the
Manhattan Sentinel
and headed for the train terminal, anxious to return to Newport to search for his novelist. As he strode toward the first class section of the train platform, he spotted Lilly and Miranda Reid sauntering toward the back of the train behind Mrs. Carstairs, one of the New York ladies who summered in Newport. On the side of the Carstairses’ private rail car, he glimpsed gold letters spelling out the name Beatrice.
Not a bad way to travel
.
Jack watched Lilly, Miranda, and Mrs. Carstairs follow uniformed porters to the door of their car. Lilly turned to speak to two small children, smiling at them as she did so. Miranda paused from the entrance of the car, looking back in her direction. Then without warning a man pushed his way through the crowd and stepped directly in front of Lilly, blocking her path. The fellow said something that seemed to frighten her because she glanced around, no doubt searching for help, then tried to sidestep to the safety of the train. Jack increased his pace, sprinting the last few yards. He feared the stranger in the plaid sack suit and brown derby might grab Lilly’s reticule and run.