“Good morning, Mr. Wingard,” Julia Robertson said as he entered the front room of his office. She’d been with the company before him, helping his father keeping things moving smoothly. “There is a stack of messages on your desk and I have a few things to discuss with you.”
He rested a hand on her desk. “Your things first,” he said, knowing they needed immediate answers.
She slid on a pair of glasses and went through a small list of business concerns, and he quickly agreed with her suggestions for addressing them. He’d always appreciated her, but the last two weeks had proven how much he also needed her, and he made a mental note to increase her salary.
“There is one final thing, sir,” she said. “The Metropolitan Opera Company is hosting a benefit concert for Sunday night. The performers are donating their time, and the opera has contacted us about purchasing a balcony suite. All proceeds will go to groups assisting Titanic survivors. Would you’d like me to purchase the suite and offer it to branch managers to attend?”
He nodded. For the past five years, Benjamin and Annette had attended public events on behalf of the company. Something else he’d have to take over. “Yes. Please do.”
“Very well.” She opened her little book full of telephone exchanges. “Just let me know if you need me to follow up with any of the messages on your desk.”
“I will.” The benefit concert continued to filter through his mind as he walked toward his office, but so did Bridget, and how last night she’d said that she’d never eaten at a restaurant until boarding the Titanic. Pausing before opening his door, he turned. “Are there two balcony suites available?”
“Yes.”
“Then purchase two, please. Offer one to employees, and let them know they are also welcome to make a donation of their own, if they’d like to. I will fill the second one.”
Nodding, she glanced down at her desk and then back up at him with a very large smile. “I will, sir. Thank you.”
He nodded, feeling good with his decision. Then, realizing he had no idea, he asked, “How many seats are in a suite?”
“Twelve.”
“Perfect.” He entered his office, and though there was a stack of messages, he made five phone calls and within a short time had the suite full of prominent citizens, who also pledged to make significant donations to the event. His father had said that he had the gift of being able to convince people of what were good investments, and he was glad to use that in this situation.
He went through the messages then, which included a telegram from Mrs. Conrad. Her grief was evident in the message as was her promise to return home as soon as she was able to put weight on her foot. She had been his nanny and was very dedicated to his family, yet he felt that Bridget had handled the situation far better than Mrs. Conrad would have been able to. She may not have had the stamina to survive the ordeal.
* * *
Later, as he was leaving to be in attendance at the meeting between Charles, Bridget and her friends, he asked Julia, “Do you know where a person would obtain an evening gown for the opera?”
“Down the street, where you purchase your suits. They have a full woman’s department.” She opened her desk drawer, pulled out a slip of paper and held it out to him. “Here’s the size you’ll need.”
“Thanks.” He grinned. “The items you bought for her fit perfectly.”
Smiling and nodding, she said, “You are very welcome.”
Chapter Ten
Karl chose a dark blue dress, the same blue as Bridget’s eyes, with cream-colored lace, and purchased everything else the salesperson suggested, including a hat and matching evening cape. With his back seat full of boxes and ribbon-tied packages, he drove toward home.
The sun was out, and the sky bright blue. The birds were tweeting in the budding trees, and people walked along the sidewalks and hurried across the cobblestoned streets. It was all normal, yet he seemed to be looking at it through a new set of eyes. At everything. He felt good inside. Good about the opera’s fundraiser, knowing he was finally doing something that had the potential to actually help the people who had been affected.
A grin formed as he thought about taking Bridget to the opera. Or, perhaps, about convincing her to go with him to the opera.
She was sure to say no at first, and it was up to him to convince her otherwise. They would go to dinner afterward, downtown, make a full evening out of it.
He wasn’t sure how she’d done it, but it almost felt as if she’d picked him up like an old rug last night, hauled him outside and shook out all the dirt, the debris, that had been weighing him down for years.
“Well, Lordy be, but look at that smile,” she said as he entered the house via the front door a short time later.
He laughed because he couldn’t grasp her waist and pull her close, kiss her, which is what he really wanted to do. “It’s been a good morning.”
“I’m happy for you,” she said. “We didn’t expect you home for lunch, so it will just be a moment while Catherine sets the table. Elsie just ran down the hall to wash her hands.” Her smile grew even wider. “For the second time.”
He lifted a brow. “Didn’t pass inspection the first time?”
“No, she and Copper found a puddle in the corner of the backyard and made mud pies. He’s on the back porch until his paws dry.”
Her eyes were sparkling and he held out his hands. “Let me see your hands.”
She held them out to him. “Why?”
He took ahold of both hands, flipped them over and back again before giving her a nod. “Because I’m sure you’re the one who showed her how to make mud pies.”
Slapping his chest with one hand, she laughed. “Guilty.”
He curled his fingers around her hand that was still on his chest.
“Mud pies are a true sign of spring, just like daffodils.” She glanced up the steps. “Look who is home for lunch, Poppet.”
“Uncle Karl! I made mud pies!”
“I heard that.” He released Bridget’s hand and caught Elsie as soon as she was within reach. “Are we eating them for lunch?”
“No, silly, they are full of mud!”
“Oh, so how did you make them?”
She told him with great detail as he carried her into the dining room. He’d loved her since the day she’d been born, bought her gifts, hugged her, teased her, but the bond he felt growing with her since her arrival back home was far stronger than before, and that, too, was because of Bridget.
After they’d eaten, he was dragged out into the backyard to see the mud pies and the puddle, which was well on the way to being dried up by the sun. Copper was with them, and as Elsie took chase after the puppy, Karl pointed to an area in the yard where five split pieces of wood were laid out. “What’s that?” he asked.
Bridget took ahold of his hand and pulled him toward the wood. “I told Sean you were interested in him building a playhouse and he staked out the dimensions.”
Her eyes were sparkling, and he couldn’t stop staring at her. He liked her eyes. He liked a lot of things about her. Admired how she didn’t waste time when it came to anything. Her honesty. Her zest for life. More than that, he admired how she was an inspiration. She certainly inspired him. In a way no one ever had.
“I hope you don’t mind. He’s also drawn up a plan.”
“I don’t mind,” he answered. “I look forward to seeing the plan.”
“Good.” She glanced left and right before whispering, “It will be two houses. One for Elsie and one for Copper.”
Once again, his mind became fully preoccupied with kissing her. Tasting those soft warm lips again.
“I haven’t mentioned it to Elsie,” she said, still whispering. “I’ll let you do that.”
He leaned closer, whispered, “Or maybe we’ll just let her guess what he’s building.”
She bit on her bottom lip until her smile was too big to contain. “She’ll be so surprised!”
He couldn’t put his finger on just one thing that she’d done to change him, but she had, because this, all of this, was what he’d missed while being in Washington. Every day with her was fresh and new.
She twisted, and he caught the side of her waist before she could take a step. “Where are you going?”
“I need to put Elsie down for her nap. You said the lawyer will be here soon.”
Regrettably, he nodded, but then tightened his hold on her side. “I’ll help you.”
She giggled again. “All right, you can catch Copper.”
“Catch Copper?”
Eyes full of mirth, she nodded.
That would be simple enough. The dog, now boasting a bright blue collar, followed Elsie everywhere. “All right.” He gave her side a gentle squeeze and then released her to kneel down. “Elsie. Come here.”
Just as he predicted, the puppy raced beside Elsie as she ran toward him, but the moment he reached out to scoop up the pup, he turned and shot around Bridget.
She giggled.
He whispered to Elsie, “Help me catch Copper.”
She shook her head. “Only Bridget can do that.”
“Oh, no, we can, too,” he assured her.
She shrugged and then took off after the dog. He did, too. For every turn he made, the pup made one in the opposite direction, and with ever near miss, Bridget’s laughter rang in the air. Enjoying the sound, and the game, he continued to chase the dog, making both Bridget and Elsie laugh.
After about the tenth miss, Karl decided in this endeavor, he’d claim defeat. He sat down near Bridget, huffed out an exaggerated breath and looked up at her. “I give up. What’s the secret?”
Still laughing she knelt down beside him. “The trick is for him to think you don’t want to catch him.” She winked at him. “Like a leprechaun.”
“A leprechaun?”
She nodded, stood and walked away. “Come along, Poppet, time for your nap.”
Elsie ran over and took ahold of Bridget’s hand. The image of the two of them, walking hand in hand was so precious, he stared at it for several moments.
Near the door, Bridget knelt down in front of Elsie and said something, too quietly for him to hear. Too quietly for Copper to hear, too, yet the dog slowly sneaked closer, as if wanting to know what was being said. The pup walked all the way next to her knee.
Karl found himself mentally telling her to snatch up the pup before he ran away, but she just kept talking to Elsie.
As he watched, she reached down and petted Copper’s head until the puppy sat on his bottom. She then turned her attention away from Elsie and spoke to the pup, before reaching down and scooping him up with both hands.
The grin she flashed his way as she stood, pup in hand, made Karl laugh out loud. He leaped to his feet and clapped. “That’s quite the trick.”
She gave him a graceful curtsy.
He walked forward and scooped up Elsie. “I’ll carry her upstairs. You carry the dog.”
“You’re the one who brought him home,” she reminded him quietly as they stepped onto the porch.
“With your permission,” he replied just as softly, while opening the door.
“I must concede to that.” She kissed the dog’s head.
Who would have thought he’d ever be envious of a dog? Not him. But he was.
“He will learn to come when called,” she said as they entered the house. “He’s just too young right now. All he wants to do is play tag.”
“You mean catch me if you can.”
He liked her expressions, how animated she was, and how lovely. She was also so natural. There was nothing fake or deceiving about her. He’d never known anyone quite like her.
In Elsie’s bedroom he watched Bridget tuck his niece into bed along with her puppy and her doll, and then she sat down on the bed with a book in hand.
“Close your eyes, Poppet,” she said quietly. “So you can see the pictures.”
Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall, intrigued how that would work. Her lyrical voice was soothing and animated as she read the storybook. By the time she closed the book, Elsie, along with the pup, was sound asleep. He also felt an interesting sense of peace inside him.
She stood, kissed Elsie on the head and then, setting the book on the shelf, crossed the room.
Once in the hallway, with the door closed behind them, he said, “You are just full of little tricks, aren’t you? Having her close her eyes while you read, so she falls to sleep faster.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “I had her close her eyes so she’d learn to use her imagination in creating the images I was reading about.”
He was reminded of what she’d told Elsie in the car, about closing her eyes so she could see Benjamin and Annette, and how Elsie said she did that. “You are a very wise woman.”
She giggled. “I know.” Flashing him a sparkling-eyed grin, she added, “Because it does make her fall to sleep faster.”
Laughing, he draped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer for a quick sideways hug. “I knew it.”
Their shared laughter floated in the air as they started down the stairway. She was giving him a new normal, and he liked it.
“I’ll find Sean and have him bring you the drawings of the playhouse and doghouse.”
Giving her shoulders another soft squeeze, he said, “Join us.”
“All right.” At the bottom of the steps, she added, “We’ll see you shortly.”
He nodded and removed his arm from around her shoulders. As she went down the hall, he crossed the foyer and entered his office while contemplating how this new normal held a contentment he’d never really experienced.
She returned mere moments later, with Sean in tow.
Karl had only seen Sean once, in the hospital. Probably not twenty yet, he was a strapping young man, who had indeed sketched out a plan of a playhouse and doghouse.
“Are you a carpenter by trade?” Karl asked, viewing the very detailed drawing.
“I haven’t mastered any one trade,” Sean said. “But I’ve been doing most of them my entire life. I was always big for my age, so everything from picking rocks to swinging a hammer, I’ve done it.”
“These drawings are very good.” Karl ran a finger over the drawing, along the scalloped eaves of the little house. “Very detailed.”
“I didn’t do them,” Sean said. “I can build it, but I knew I couldn’t draw it. Catherine did. She’s got a knack for that.”
“She does.” Karl appreciated the man’s honesty; he also appreciated the way Bridget was beaming. “Do you know how to drive?” he asked Sean.
Sean admitted he didn’t, and Karl told him he’d have Willard drive him to the lumberyard after their meeting with Charles. He also asked how Sean was feeling, knowing from the hospital visit that both his and Catherine’s feet had been frozen by the icy waters.
“Good, sir.” Sean shifted his stance. “Willard loaned me a pair of his boots. They feel a lot better than my old ones.”
He hadn’t thought about that. How Sean and Catherine had also lost everything and needed everything. “Good. Glad to hear that.” Karl made a mental note to tell Willard to take them to other stores besides the lumberyard to purchase clothes and other essentials that they needed.
They were still discussing the project when Willard knocked on the door, announcing Charles had arrived for their meeting.
Catherine joined them in the office, and Karl listened as the lawyer explained the processes honestly and openly. He made no outlandish promises, but did offer hope.
* * *
After the meeting ended and Willard, Sean and Catherine—who had asked to go along to pick out the paint—had left, Bridget followed him
back into his office.
“You seem awfully thoughtful,” she said. “As if you didn’t like what Charles had to say.”
“I don’t,” he admitted.
“You don’t think it was a good idea for us to sign his papers?”
“No, I think that was the right thing to do,” he answered. “I just don’t like the idea that you have to go about things this way.”
“Because it will take so long?”
He nodded. Charles had said it could be nine months to a year before resolution. People who had saved, sold everything to come to America were now plunged deeper into poverty than before. Loss like that had never personally affected him in the past, but it was different now. It wouldn’t have been if not for Bridget. If Mrs. Conrad hadn’t broken her foot and had arrived home with Elsie, he knew, deep inside, that his life wouldn’t have changed—he wouldn’t have changed—not like he had the past two weeks.
She laid a hand on his arm. “I do wish there was a way for you to understand it was an accident and it’s not up to you to try and make anything right about it.”
“But it is. I’ve been very fortunate in my life. I have the financial ability to go anywhere, do anything, buy anything, but that doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.” He wasn’t exactly sure where his thoughts were going. They were just... Going. “Look at you. You arrived in this country with nothing, yet you have given Elsie so much. It has nothing to do with money.”
“There are many things that money can’t buy,” she said.
The frustration that had filled him while in Washington had returned. “Exactly. And it shouldn’t dictate worth. Every life is worthy. Every person is worthy.”
“You’re right, Karl, but that’s not the way of the world. I know you are thinking that every third-class passenger should be compensated to the same level as the first-class ones, I saw it on your face while Charles was talking.” Looking up at him, she shook her head. “But those first-class passengers paid a lot more for their tickets. They paid to be served mutton and beef and salmon. Paid to be served at fancy tables and chairs. In all honesty, the food served to the third-class passengers was better and more plentiful than some people had ever had.”
A Family for the Titanic Survivor Page 14