“Absolutely.” Joshua cleared his throat. “Since I’ve already had the pleasure of two dances with Miss Murphy, you gentlemen may remove my name from further dances on her card. That should give most of you an opportunity to become acquainted with her.”
Beatrice appeared to wilt when Joshua offered to relinquish his dances, but she soon regained her confidence. “All but the last dance. I refuse to have any of you write over his name for that one. My first dance was with Mr. Harkness, and I would like to end the evening with him, as well.” Her lips curved in a demure smile as she turned toward Rose. “You don’t mind, do you, Rose?”
“No, of course not.” Her heart thudded in her chest with such force, she was certain anyone nearby could hear the hammering beat. She clenched her hands into tight fists. Her heart cried out against Beatrice’s request, but with a group of onlookers surrounding Beatrice, there was no choice. Besides, a proper hostess would never deny such an appeal.
When the music began, Joshua extended his hand. “I do hope you aren’t displeased that I signed for several of Beatrice’s dances. When I looked at her card and saw all those empty lines, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pity for her.”
“Thank you for your kindness to her.” Rose forced a smile. “I was surprised that you’d signed for the last dance with her.”
He loosened his hold a modicum and looked down at her. “I do apologize. This is your graduation party, and I should have asked to be your partner for the last dance, but I assumed you had already given that dance to another.” The lights in the room glistened as he attempted to soothe her. “Beatrice worried she wouldn’t have a partner when the evening ended, so I signed her card.”
Rose wanted to tell him she’d expected to enjoy the last dance with him, but she was being foolish. She hadn’t seen Joshua for several years, and they’d never been well acquainted. Just because he was attentive at supper didn’t mean he wanted to share every moment with her.
Besides, her future would be at the pottery in Grafton, not with Joshua Harkness in Fairmont.
Chapter 8
Grafton, West Virginia
Rylan’s breath caught as he sorted through the mail at the post office. The return address on the envelope revealed the letter was from Ewan McKay. Clutching the letter in his hand, he sprinted toward the pottery with his mind racing faster than his feet. What if Mr. McKay had decided to purchase the brickyard rather than the pottery? What would Mr. Bancock do? What would the employees do? He squeezed the mail a little tighter as his thoughts skittered like grease in a hot skillet. Mr. Bancock must sell the business, but a new owner would likely mean changes.
There had been no other offers before or after Mr. McKay’s visit, and Mr. Bancock’s newspaper advertisements hadn’t yielded any further prospective buyers. Rylan offered a silent prayer that this letter would bear good news for all of them. He wanted the best for Mr. Bancock, but he longed to have things stay the same. A few minutes later, he crossed the steel railroad tracks that divided the pottery from the main section of town.
Waving the letter overhead as he entered the office, he stepped alongside Mr. Bancock’s desk and came to a halt. “The letter arrived.” He dropped the mail on the owner’s desk and inhaled several gulps of air. Still fighting to catch his breath, he tapped his finger on the envelope. “From Mr. McKay.”
Mr. Bancock nodded but made no move to retrieve the letter from atop his desk. “I can see it is from Mr. McKay.”
The suspense of the moment was almost more than Rylan could withstand. He pranced from foot to foot, like a child awaiting a peppermint stick. “Would ya like me to open it?”
The old man’s weathered features folded into a frown. “I am not so frail I cannot rip open an envelope.”
Just when Rylan thought he could bear it no longer, Mr. Bancock slid the envelope toward the edge of the desk and traced his fingers across his name. With slowness that set Rylan further on edge, Mr. Bancock turned over the envelope and ran his finger beneath the seal. With the same unhurried movement, the owner withdrew and unfolded the letter.
“What does it say? Is he going to be the new owner?” Rylan grasped the spindles of a nearby straight-backed chair and pulled it close to the desk. He dropped into the chair and fixed his gaze on the pottery owner. “Well?”
Mr. Bancock removed his wire-rimmed glasses and placed them on the desk. “Mr. McKay has made an offer to purchase my business but for less than I had asked.”
Rylan watched his employer for some sign of either elation or displeasure. Mr. Bancock wouldn’t be pleased to sell for less than his asking price, but with his diminishing health, surely he would view any respectable offer as a godsend.
“Is it a price you are willing to accept?”
If Mr. Bancock didn’t do something soon, all of their skilled workers were going to quit and find work elsewhere, which would make the business even more difficult to sell.
Mr. McKay’s visit had troubled any number of employees, and Rylan had heard rumors that some of them had been discussing a move to East Liverpool. Rylan had approached the workers and attempted to ease their concerns, but to no avail.
“First I must pray. I believe Mr. McKay is an honest man, but that doesn’t mean he’s offered me the value of my business.”
Rylan tipped his head to the side. “I do not want to offend you, but the price you placed on the business may not be the proper value. Over the years you’ve cared for this pottery as if it was yar own wee child. Have you thought that the price you set for the place might be includin’ some of that love you hold in yar heart?” Rylan arched his brows. “Much as ya love this place, ya know what the doctor has said.”
Mr. Bancock folded the piece of paper and returned it to the envelope before tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. “I know there’s not much choice but to accept his offer, but I’ll not be doing anything until I spend some time in prayer. Best you not say anything to anyone else. When the business is sold, I want to be the one to tell the workers. And if it’s to Mr. McKay, I’ll ask him to be present when I do.” Though it was only two o’clock, Mr. Bancock pushed to his feet. “I’m going home for the remainder of the day. Please see to closing up, Rylan.”
Rylan wasn’t surprised to hear that Mr. Bancock would pray about his decision, nor was he surprised to hear the owner wanted to be the one to tell his workers when the business sold. However, he had expected Mr. Bancock to be more forthcoming about the amount Mr. McKay had offered. Though the owner had no obligation to tell Rylan, he had been included in all of the business conducted in the office for more than two years. Truth be told, he knew as much about the assets and liabilities of the business as Mr. Bancock, for it was Rylan who balanced the ledgers, completed the payroll sheets, and placed the weekly wages in each employee’s pay envelope.
Rylan stepped to the door and stared at Mr. Bancock’s departing figure. Shoulders slumped, the old man trudged across the railroad tracks, a picture of defeat. Rylan longed to do something that would help save the business. Both for Mr. Bancock’s sake, as well as his own. For years, the pottery owner had provided Rylan more than a place to work. He’d been a teacher, a friend, and a substitute father. Mr. Bancock had helped Rylan turn loose of long-held resentments toward his father and stepmother. “You’re hurting yourself more than you’ll ever hurt them. With that root of bitterness growing in your heart, you’ll soon become mean and unlovable, a man others will avoid.” Rylan had listened to the older man’s counsel, and after many weeks of Mr. Bancock’s patient Bible teaching, Rylan had accepted the undeserved gift of God’s forgiveness. Eventually he’d forgiven his parents: his stepmother for the harsh changes she’d forced upon him, and his father for giving her the freedom to create a house filled with misery. Rylan had continued to forge his future and forget his wretched childhood, but now his nightmares had returned.
During working hours he’d set aside his own worries and encouraged his fellow employees, but when he went home at night
, the past haunted him. Would the new employer be like his stepmother? Would he be degraded and humiliated? Would a new owner come into the pottery and force changes Rylan couldn’t accept?
During the week that followed, it took every ounce of strength Rylan could muster to avoid asking Mr. Bancock if he’d made a decision. Rylan had promised himself he would not inquire. Mr. Bancock would talk when he was ready. But Rylan didn’t know if he could stay his questions much longer.
He glanced at the clock and then looked out the front window, worried that his employer hadn’t yet appeared. When he’d finished posting the invoices and payments to the ledger, the clock chimed nine times. Mr. Bancock was late only on mornings when he had an appointment or when he was ill. He hadn’t mentioned an appointment when they departed last night. Fear prickled Rylan’s skin. What if Mr. Bancock’s condition had worsened and he needed help? In the past a neighbor boy would deliver a note to Rylan if the man needed him. But there had been no sign of the youngster today. Maybe Mr. Bancock was too ill to get out of bed and send a message.
Rylan grabbed his hat, then quickly closed and locked the office door. Before heading off, he stopped in the decorator shop and told Mr. Wheeler he’d be back shortly. As he spoke to the decorator, the rumble of an oncoming train sounded, and he chided himself for waiting so long. At least five minutes would pass before he could cross the tracks. If the train had extra cars, it could be even longer.
Rylan fixed his attention on the tracks, hoping to see the caboose come into sight. With each passing coach and boxcar, his fear mounted. His thoughts raced from one horrible event to another, each one worse than the last, until he finally glanced heavenward and realized he needed to pray, not worry. For what seemed an eternity, he asked God to protect Mr. Bancock until he could get to him. He asked God to hurry the train, and he asked God to make him fleet of foot once the train passed by.
When he opened his eyes, the caboose had flown by, and Rylan found himself staring across the tracks at Mr. Bancock and Mr. McKay. Filled with a surge of gratitude, Rylan uttered a quick prayer of thanks as he waved to the two men and waited for them to cross.
Mr. Bancock’s bushy brows knit together above his deep-set eyes. He was only halfway across the tracks when he shouted to Rylan, “Where are you going? Did you leave the office unlocked?”
His voice was tinged with a harshness that surprised Rylan. “You are never late, and I thought you might need help. I was going to your house to see if you’d suffered some unexpected sickness during the night.”
As the two men came alongside Rylan, Mr. McKay nodded. “How kind of you to worry about your employer, Rylan.” His lips curved in a bright smile. “Good it is to see you again.”
“Good to see you, as well, Mr. McKay.” Rylan turned toward Mr. Bancock. “I didn’t know Mr. McKay was paying a visit today, or I wouldn’t have worried about you.”
Mr. Bancock ducked his head and avoided Rylan’s eyes. “I thought it might be best to keep the news to myself. Never know when the train will be late or something might happen to change circumstances. I didn’t want things getting all stirred up among the workers.”
When they arrived at the office, Rylan withdrew his key and unlocked the door. He hesitated as the two men stepped inside. “Do you want me to go and pick up the time sheets, Mr. Bancock?”
The owner’s face tightened with confusion. “Of course not. I want you here in the office so you can learn about the future of the pottery.” He waved toward the exit. “Close the door. I don’t want anyone able to listen in on our discussion.”
Rylan closed the door and sat down in the remaining chair, pleased Mr. Bancock chose to include him.
“I asked Mr. McKay to return because I want the workers to meet him and know he will be the new owner of the pottery. Today we will sign the papers to make everything official.” Mr. Bancock looked at Mr. McKay. “I know this trip was inconvenient for you, so I thank you for making this extra effort. To tell the workers together will be much better for both of us, I think.”
“Aye. For sure, I want your workers to stay on after I take over. Making pottery is a new business for me, so their experience will be needed. I told my family Mr. Trent’s brickworks would be a safer choice for me, but they were thinking it was time to try something new.” Ewan glanced around the office as though he still wasn’t at ease with the decision. “I will be pleased to join you when you tell the workers I’ve bought the business. You should be clear when you tell them their jobs are secure.”
Mr. Bancock gave a slight shake of his head. “I think you should tell them that part, Mr. McKay. They’ll have no doubt if they hear those words from your lips.”
Ewan nodded. “You’re right. I want to be certain there’s no doubt in their minds.”
Rylan inched forward on his chair. “Sounds like you’re not planning on changing things here at the pottery, Mr. McKay.”
Ewan leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. “I’m thinking there will be some changes, Rylan, but we won’t know what will be working best for us until we’ve been here a wee bit. Once I study things for a time, I’ll know more about what might need changing. Even so, I plan to make certain those who worked for Mr. Bancock will have a job with me if they want one.” He reached out and patted Rylan on the shoulder. “Truth is, I think we’ll need even more workers. My hope is that we can expand and become competitors with some of the larger potteries in the area. I’ll likely need some help from you when we begin the bidding process.”
Mr. Bancock had talked of expanding some time ago, but that had never happened. He’d possessed neither the money nor the desire to go into debt. Eventually, the business had diminished in size. For now, Rylan hoped the only thing Mr. McKay wanted to change was the decorating shop. The pottery needed to offer a greater variety of hand-painted and gilded pieces, but they would need more artists if they were to accomplish that goal.
Most of the artists who’d previously worked for Mr. Bancock had located work over the past few months. Still, a few might be convinced to return for a higher wage. And there had been talk of Miss McKay’s talents in design during their visit. Maybe she was planning to pick up a brush and ask Mr. Wheeler for instruction. With her skills, she’d likely master the craft in no time.
“I’ll be pleased to help you prepare bidding proposals or help anywhere else you need my assistance, but I think you’re wise to move slowly with any changes.”
Rylan had hoped the comment would elicit more information about any possible changes, but Ewan merely nodded and thanked him.
This likely was not the time to pursue the matter, but Rylan needed more reassurance Mr. McKay wasn’t going to turn his world upside down. “So you’d be waiting quite some time before you do anything to change the place?”
Ewan smiled and shook his head. “I wouldn’t say quite a while. If I’m going to turn this operation into a successful business, I need to gain contracts for large orders, and securing large orders means we’ll need more workers. Since the business has diminished and there are fewer workers than in years past, there isn’t a need to add more kilns or increase work areas right now.” His smile broadened. “But if things go as I plan, that day will arrive sooner rather than later.”
Rylan’s anxiety heightened as he digested the new owner’s words. He told himself he should remain silent, but he couldn’t hold back. He didn’t want Mr. McKay to walk in and create major changes in this place that he considered his home.
“There’s much to be said for not biting off more than you can chew. Big contracts mean more money, but if we can’t meet the demand on schedule, it will hurt the pottery’s reputation.”
“Rylan!” Mr. Bancock glared at him. “Mr. McKay does not need you telling him how to conduct business. He operated a large brickyard for many years. I think he knows how to make sound decisions.”
Rylan bobbed his head. “Aye. I’m sure he does, Mr. Bancock. I was just trying to point out—”
“’T
is quite all right. No need to worry about Rylan adding his ideas, Mr. Bancock. I’m a man who likes to hear from his workers. Nothing Rylan says is going to displease me. I may not always take the advice of those who work for me, but I’m always willing to listen. Having three sisters caused me to become a good listener early in life.” Ewan chuckled. “You have any sisters, Rylan?”
“Nay.”
“Then I’m guessin’ your mother taught you that listening is important in life, aye?”
Rylan shrugged slightly. “Mam died when I was ten, but the woman my da married made sure I listened.” His thoughts raced back to the many times his stepmother had cuffed him for not giving her the attention she demanded.
Mr. McKay winked. “I’ve learned it takes soft reminders from our womenfolk to turn us into proper gentlemen.”
Rylan didn’t reply. The reminders Rylan received from his stepmother had never been kind or soft. And she’d cared not at all about making him into a proper gentleman. Instead, she’d expected him to bring home a full pay envelope each week and complete his daily chores.
After a fleeting grin, Ewan turned to Mr. Bancock and tapped the papers atop the owner’s desk. “Time is wasting, and I’m eager to make this pottery my own, Mr. Bancock. Once we’ve signed the contract, let’s speak with the workers.”
Pen in hand, Mr. Bancock hunched over the desk and placed his signature on the last page of the contract. Moments later, Mr. McKay did the same. Rylan didn’t notice an exchange of money but guessed the men had gone to the bank before coming to the pottery.
Mr. Bancock looked up from the desk and gestured to Rylan. “Why don’t you go and gather the men who can leave their work areas for a short time. Tell them I have important news and want to speak to them near the packing house.”
Rylan nodded and pushed up from his chair. He walked outside and turned toward the clay pit. One by one, he carried the message to the various divisions of the pottery. Questions flew in his direction, but he answered each one the same. “Mr. Bancock says he has important news. You need to come to the meeting and find out for yourself.”
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