by Renee Ryan
Unfortunately, none of the titles caught her interest this morning. She opened a book, read the first two pages, then immediately lost interest. After repeating the process two more times, she gave up on the idea of reading.
Her mind wanted to wander. She let it. Memories from her time aboard ship mingled with images from her first days with Mary on Orchard Street. Much had changed since those days. Caroline had changed. Her heart had changed.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair and let her thoughts tangle over one another. She’d come to avenge her mother’s death and had yet to do so. Her grandfather hadn’t ignored her mother’s letters, as she’d thought, but someone had intentionally kept Libby from reuniting with her family. Possibly her uncle. Maybe her aunt, despite their pleasant interaction the other day. Or someone else in the household? A servant, perhaps?
No, that didn’t make sense at all. What would a servant hope to gain?
She was more confused than ever.
At least Jackson had agreed to help her uncover the identity of the traitor. They would begin their quest in earnest today. She would insist on some time with her uncle.
“You look peaceful.”
Accustomed to Sally’s light steps, Caroline opened her eyes slowly and smiled. “All part of the illusion.”
Eyes concerned, Sally belted her robe with a hard yank. “You want to talk about him?”
Caroline didn’t insult either of them by pretending to misunderstand who Sally meant. “There’s nothing to discuss. Jackson Montgomery will soon be courting another. It’s really that simple.”
It had to be. For her cousin’s sake.
“Simple?” Sally picked up the poker and moved around the dying embers until flames burst forth once again. Her long, golden hair fell in waves down her back. “Hardly. You’re going to be working alongside him every day.”
Yes, that was true. “It changes nothing.”
Gaze averted, Sally moved to the window and looked out. “Rain’s stopped. Dawn will be here soon.”
“I suppose I should begin dressing for the day.”
Picking up a hairbrush off the vanity, Sally directed Caroline to the chair in front of the mirror and pressed her into the seat. “Let me help you with your hair.”
Caroline captured the girl’s hand. “I’m perfectly capable of brushing my own hair.”
“I know.” Sally smiled at her in the mirror, her light blue eyes shining in the glass. “But I want to do this for you. And you should let me. It’s what you pay me to do.”
“No, it’s not.” She squeezed Sally’s hand. “You are here because you’re my friend.”
Something came and went in Sally’s eyes. “Humor me, Miss—”
“Caroline.”
“Humor me, Caroline.”
Their eyes met a moment longer. Caroline released Sally’s hand. “Thank you, Sally. I would like nothing more than to have you brush my hair.”
With a hard swallow, Sally nodded and promptly got to work.
Two hours later, dressed in a dark green skirt and high-necked, cream-colored lace blouse with a cameo pinned at her throat, Caroline stepped into the elevators of her grandfather’s building.
“Good morning again, miss.” The attendant seemed to recognize her from her previous visit. He’d been running the elevator that day, too.
“Good morning.” She smiled at the older gentleman. He struck up a conversation about the weather, which gave her an opportunity to study him more closely. He had a full shock of white hair, matching handlebar mustache, and the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. There was wisdom in their depths. She doubted much got past him. “Is Mr. St. James in his office yet?”
“Yes, ma’am, he arrived at seven o’clock as usual.”
A full hour ahead of her. She made a mental note to arrive earlier tomorrow morning. If her grandfather could get himself to the office at the crack of dawn, then so could she.
“And Mr. Marcus St. James? Is he here as well?”
The attendant’s lips pulled together in a tight smile. “No, miss, he doesn’t usually arrive for several more hours.” He focused on the elevator door. “But Mr. Montgomery is here.”
The comment confirmed what Caroline had already suspected. Jackson and her grandfather ran the company, not father and son. How would she ever get to know her uncle, and thus find out whether he was behind the intercepted letters, if he wasn’t in the office on a regular basis? Perhaps she should have taken her grandfather up on the offer to live in his home after all.
No, that would have been the very worst beginning. If she was to build a lasting relationship with her family, she needed to do so carefully, slowly, deepening the connections over time.
The thought pulled her up short, and she twisted her hands together at her waist. Did she want a lasting relationship with her grandfather, with any of her family?
Yes, yes she did. Desperately.
Somewhere between her entry through Ellis Island and the discovery that Richard St. James had not abandoned his daughter, Caroline had discovered a desire to open her heart, just a little. To find a place where she belonged.
Home. Family.
Permanence.
What did she know about any of that? She knew she wanted all three.
You do not receive because you do not ask. Was Mary right? Was the secret to Caroline’s happiness as basic as a prayer? No. God hadn’t answered her prayers before. She dared not hope He would do so now.
The elevator bounced to a halt.
“We’re here, miss. The fifteenth floor.” The attendant reached across her to pull back the metal gate.
“Oh, yes, I . . .” Caroline shook her head. “I realize I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Harold, miss.”
“Thank you, Harold.”
“Go on, now.” He nudged her out of the elevator. “The boss is waiting.”
Refusing to give in to the sudden bout of nerves, she brightened her smile, adjusted her attitude, and stepped onto the landing.
Jackson stood waiting for her. Of course. The man always seemed to arrive just when she needed an ally. Solid. Handsome. Present. When had the fragile line between enemy and adversary transformed into something more like comrade and friend?
Here we go again. As was becoming their habit, they spent the next few heartbeats staring at one another. The memory of their remarkable kisses—not kiss, kisses—had her releasing a shaky sigh.
Her heart picked up speed. Her mouth went dry. Her thoughts collided together into one big knot of confusing, unrelated words.
Smiling, Jackson reached out his hand to her. She took it, felt something akin to pins and needles shoot through her.
“You’re early,” he said, tucking her hand around his arm, a hint of respect in his voice.
A pang of guarded tenderness spread through her lungs. “You’re earlier.”
“So I am.” From beneath his dusky lashes his gaze moved across her face. The contemplative pull of his eyebrows made her wonder if he even realized he was studying her so closely.
“Since we have the same destination”—he turned her in the direction of her grandfather’s office—“we might as well proceed together.”
Proceed together, as if they were a single unit heading toward a common goal. They were, of course, if only on a temporary basis.
A sense of belonging swept through Caroline, making her feel as though this was exactly where she was supposed to be at this very moment in time.
Home. Family. Permanence.
Dare she hope all three were within her reach?
Oh, Lord, please, I so want . . .
She had no idea how to finish the prayer. What did she want? And from whom? Jackson?
Alarm tripped along her spine, stealing her breath. She wasn’t supposed to be this connected to a man who was so completely out of her reach.
Even without her cousin in the picture, they weren’t well suited. Yet, for now, at this brief
moment, their steps were in sync, each of them moving in silent accord with the other, as if they’d walked this path before. And would do so again.
Caroline cast a quick glance in his direction, not at all surprised to find that he was equally lost in thought.
Jackson pulled them to a halt outside her grandfather’s office. “Ready for this?”
With his solid presence by her side, she was ready for anything. “I am.”
He smiled, a tender sweet lift of his lips. “I believe that you are.”
After a cursory knock, Jackson twisted the knob, and they stepped inside the office together.
Despite her earlier calm, her feet turned to lead and her thoughts were riddled with doubts. Her life changed today. Her entire future hung in the balance. The only thing that helped her take a step deeper into the room was the knowledge that she wasn’t alone. She had her grandfather on her side. And Jackson.
She had Jackson on her side, too.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson watched Caroline closely. Sensing her nerves, he kept his arm linked with hers. A silent show of support. She’d grown uncharacteristically quiet since they’d entered Richard’s office.
Richard set down his pen and stood. “I see you two have found one another.”
An odd choice of words. “I ran into Caroline by the elevators.” Jackson didn’t add that he’d been awaiting her arrival, thinking she might need, perhaps even want, his support this morning.
He hadn’t been wrong. She was still holding on to him, and he wasn’t about to let her go, either.
Richard smiled at his granddaughter. “I’m pleased by your punctuality.”
She didn’t try to brush aside the compliment but accepted it with a nod of her head. “What can I say? I’m eager to begin.”
“Then it’s fortuitous you ran into Jackson.” Richard leaned back against his desk and waved the two into the matching chairs facing his desk. They extricated themselves from one another and took their seats.
“He’ll be in charge of your orientation today,” Richard continued, “assuming that’s satisfactory with you both?”
They each nodded their agreement.
“Does this mean I won’t see you at all today?” Caroline’s shoulders slumped slightly forward, the only sign of her disappointment. “I had hoped to spend at least a portion of the day with you.”
“As had I, but something has come up, an issue with a client that needs my personal attention.” He straightened to his full height. “I will make it up to you tomorrow.”
“That will be fine.” She sounded disappointed.
“Do you have any particular thoughts as to where I should begin Caroline’s education?” Jackson asked.
Richard lobbed the question back at him. “What would you suggest?”
He’d been thinking on the matter for some time and had decided on several plans of attack. He quickly sorted through them in his head and then made his decision. “An overview of all our holdings would be a wise place to start, then perhaps a tour of—”
“The tenement houses on the Lower East Side,” Caroline finished for him.
He wasn’t surprised she’d want to start there. Of course, now that John Reilly was making unannounced visits on Jackson’s behalf, it wasn’t necessary they go there today. But if Caroline wanted to start her tour of their properties on Orchard Street, then that was where they would start. Jackson looked at Richard and lifted a questioning brow.
The older man glanced out the window. “I see the rain has let up. You might as well start with the tour first, before the streets become too crowded. You can review the holdings after lunch.” He turned to Caroline. “Do those plans meet with your approval?”
“Yes, perfectly.”
“Then you two better be on your way.” Richard all but physically pushed them into the empty hallway. The door slammed neatly behind them.
“Well,” Caroline said with a laugh. “That was certainly succinct.”
Yes, Richard had made himself perfectly clear. But Jackson wasn’t sure he was ready to listen to what the man had to say, least of all the words that hadn’t been spoken. “We should head out. We have a long day ahead of us.”
She pivoted to her left and paced toward the elevators once again. Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her in the opposite direction. “We have to stop by my office first.”
“Oh.”
“It’s that way.” He gestured to the left.
Without further objection, she set out. He felt his mouth kick up in a grin as his gaze landed on the back of her head. She’d twisted her hair in one of those complicated styles that made a man want to spend hours unraveling each and every knot. These were not the thoughts he should be having about this particular woman.
Treat her like any other ordinary employee.
Right. Good, solid advice. Except he didn’t have that much imagination. Caroline St. James was the least ordinary person of his acquaintance.
“Wait here,” he told her outside his office.
Now that he thought about it, Jackson decided that touring their properties first was the wisest course of action. The last thing he needed was time alone with this woman in his office, or any other confined space.
Even if Elizabeth wasn’t the woman for him—and he was fast accepting that foregone conclusion—that didn’t mean he was meant to be with Caroline, either. With her continued devotion to her mother, and her easy acceptance of her grandfather, she demonstrated a strength of character that left Jackson in awe.
Caroline St. James knew more about mercy and grace than Jackson ever would.
Somewhere, in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind, he accepted that she deserved a far better man than him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It wasn’t until they were a few blocks from Orchard Street that Caroline requested a change in their itinerary. Since Mary and her family would have already left for work, there didn’t seem much point in starting the day there.
“You know, Jackson, I’ve been thinking. I already have an intimate knowledge of the tenement houses.” She’d lived in one for two weeks, after all. “Perhaps we could tour the garment factory first.”
Jackson’s well-cut lips curved, his molten, sky-at-midday eyes lighting with interest at her request. “Any particular reason for the change?”
His presence filled the tiny confines of the motorcar. His scent, his voice, his intensity, and those eyes. Full of genuine curiosity, as if he truly cared to hear her answer.
Deciding honesty was the best route, Caroline lifted a shoulder. “Mary is employed as a seamstress at a competitor’s factory.” Remembering her friend’s sickly pallor, she tried to put a cool, carefree note in her voice but failed miserably. “I wish to see the sort of environment in which she works.”
More to the point, if Caroline discovered her grandfather ran a business like the one where Mary worked, then she would see to it that better conditions were put into place at once.
“You might be surprised by what you see.”
“I hope so.” She certainly didn’t want to discover that her grandfather took advantage of his employees, most of them immigrants like Mary and her family.
Seemingly satisfied with her answer, Jackson gave a brief nod. “Very well, then, as you wish.”
Hand on the partition, he leaned forward and redirected the chauffeur to take them to the garment factory he and Richard owned. Caroline kept her head lowered so neither man would see the flash of worry in her eyes, worry over what she would find.
Prepared to confront unhealthy working conditions, she was pleasantly surprised to discover quite the opposite inside the four-story building complex on Walker Street. Bypassing the store on the first floor, Jackson led Caroline into the factory.
“Due to the unbearable heat inside this building, we have our employees work on rotating shifts. The idea is for them to take alternating breaks every two hours.” He escorted her to the edge of the wo
rk floor. “We allow our workers to come and go, and we never lock the doors.”
Caroline looked around. Men and women worked in tandem, some sewing, some ironing, some pinning paper patterns atop fabric. A host of different languages filled the air. For the most part, everyone seemed rather . . . cheerful. “I was expecting—”
“Abysmal conditions?”
She lifted a shoulder.
“In other factories that might be true. But your grandfather and I have discovered that a lenient, comfortable work environment results in overall higher output.”
“I’m pleased.” Mary had told such a harrowing tale. That was it, then. Caroline would put Mary and her family to work in this factory as soon as humanly possible. She would make it her life’s mission to learn every facet of the garment industry and find ways to improve this factory.
With Jackson making the introductions, Caroline spoke to several workers, moving through the building at a slow yet systematic pace. At the end of the tour, she felt herself relax. The factory did, indeed, provide a clean, safe environment for the workers.
Back outside, Jackson took her hand as he directed her toward the motorcar. He held on casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Her heart took a quick extra thump.
“Where to next?” she asked, her voice a bit shakier than usual.
“The Duchess Illustrated Magazine of Fashion.”
“My grandfather owns a women’s fashion magazine?”
Jackson nodded. “It is one of the many joint ventures our families own together.”
How absolutely fascinating. Caroline hadn’t come across that piece of information in her research. She knew the periodical well. Sally had bullied her into poring over several issues, as well as a few McCall’s.
“Around 1876 our individual grandmothers founded the magazine together,” Jackson explained. “They saw it as a way to promote their fledgling dress-pattern business.”
“My grandmother was friends with Granny?”
Jackson helped her into the car. “The best.”
Why hadn’t Granny told Caroline this? She would have to ask her when she returned home that evening.