Cinders to Satin

by Fern Michaels

  “But, Edward, I couldn’t work for a rival paper,” Callie exclaimed.

  “Of course, you can. A job is a job. Their money is every bit as good as the Clarion-Observer’s money. Those are the two best papers in the city. Horace Greeley and The New York Times! Good Lord, think of it!”

  The minute Jimmy left, Edward slumped down on his rocking chair. “I’m glad he’s gone. I couldn’t have kept that up too much longer.”

  “Do you think it’s a good idea, Edward? Truly, I mean? Byrch is going to explode when he returns.”

  “It’s called having an ace in the hole, Miss Callie. If Mr. Kenyon is adamant about you not working for his paper, then you have choices and options to draw from.”

  Callie pondered his words and nodded. “I do hope that the Clarion hires me. I really don’t want to go somewhere else to work. It’s what is going to be best for me in the end, though. You’re absolutely right, Edward.”

  “Well, now that that’s settled, why don’t we have a cup of tea with some brandy before we retire for the night?”

  “No thanks, Edward. I just want to go to my room and think about all this and read some of these letters. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Mind? Thank God that was what she wanted to do. Now he could take the brandy bottle into his room and slurp till his heart was content or till he forgot that he was the fine hand behind the two job offers. He was also going to have to do some praying that neither Callie nor Jimmy nor Mr. Kenyon ever found out he was the one who wrote the letters. Sometimes, like now, it didn’t pay to think too much.

  “Very astute of you, Miss Callie, to know when to call it a day. I think I might just do the same thing myself. Enjoy all your letters, you deserve them.”

  Callie threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “I’m so happy, Edward. Imagine, Horace Greeley himself taking notice of what I wrote! I think this is one of the greatest moments of my life.”

  One of the greatest moments of her life indeed. Good God, this could be one of the worst moments of his life if anyone found out that he had written those letters.

  Jimmy timed his arrival to coincide with breakfast. He sat down and fluffed out his napkin. “I did it. I convinced Mr. Darcy that you were going to be one of our best reporters. What he can’t get through his head is why you want to keep your anonymity. It is peculiar that you, presuming you were a man, wouldn’t be working at the paper. It was the two letters, though, that clinched the deal. Mr. Darcy said, and this is a direct quote, ’If he’s good enough for Greeley, he’s got to be good enough for us.’ You’re on the payroll as of today. Your salary is fifteen dollars a week. Are you happy?”

  “Fifteen dollars? Edward, what do you think? Thirty dollars sounds so much better.”

  “Take it, take it!” Edward stammered. “You can work your way up to thirty dollars. Keep doing good work and then ask for a raise. Don’t forget, those two letters will give you all the bargaining power you’ll need later. Stay with the paper that has been good to you.”

  “Edward’s right. I accept.”

  Edward thought he was going to faint with relief. Now all he had to do was get the letters back before Byrch Kenyon recognized his handwriting. In the meantime, a word of warning wouldn’t hurt. “Miss Callie, I don’t want to interfere in your business, but I wouldn’t show those letters to Mr. Kenyon. It’s enough that Jimmy and I saw them, not to mention the others at the paper. It would be like rubbing salt in an open wound.”

  “As usual, you’re absolutely right. It’s settled then. Tell me, Jimmy, what else did Byrch’s cousin have to say? Am I to do the kind of articles I’ve been doing?”

  “That’s what he wants. And I have a message for you from Petey Smith’s older brother. He said to tell you he is going to stop by and see you because he has something you might be interested in. I rather think it may have something to do with an idea for another article.”

  “That’s wonderful. Now all we have to worry about is Byrch’s return. It should be today or tomorrow at the latest.” Her announcement brought instant glumness to the table. Jimmy made his excuses, and Edward almost ran to his room. Callie stared after them. Men could certainly be peculiar. Well, she couldn’t worry about that now. Now she had other, more important things to think about. Like her article for tomorrow’s paper.

  Shortly after the noon hour Joey Smith arrived, his face a mixture of shyness and gratitude. Callie tried to put him at ease by offering him lemonade and cookies. She was going to have to speak to Edward; the cookie supply was dangerously low.

  “I want to thank you, ma’am, you and the gentleman for what your did for all of us, me brother Petey in particular. We all got our fingers crossed that the streets are a safe place for us to work now, ’specially for the little kids like me brother. Me Mum was that pleased with the shawl that Petey handed over to her. The kid told Mum it was from the both of us. Now ain’t that somethin’?” Joey shifted from one foot to the other and lowered his head shyly, refusing to meet Callie’s smiling gaze.

  “Hrumph,” Edward snorted inelegantly from his position in the kitchen. “Another conquest.”

  “It certainly is,” Callie agreed. “Is there something on your mind, Joey, something you want to talk to me about?”

  “Yes, ma’am, there is. Working the corners like we do, we hear bits and pieces of talk that comes our way. Jimmy Riley told us to keep our eyes and ears open, and if we heard something that could be wrote in the paper, we would get a tip. I got somethin’ you might be wantin’ to hear. Petey heard it first, and then I asked around, quiet like, if you know what I mean. I think we’re on to somethin’.”

  What was the lad saying about the b’hoys? Now what could be of interest about firemen? Edward continued to listen, knowing Callie was taking notes, and he could always ask her later. What made his ears perk up was her next, almost off-handed question. Now what was she up to? His round eyes got rounder as he listened in awe. Where did she get her ideas? Mr. Kenyon was going to be in rare form when he heard this one.

  “I think it would work. We could try it on a trial basis. I thought that after your first two-hour rush in the morning, you and the boys could try it out and see what kind of results you get. I would wager there might be some tips at the end of the week. Home delivery of the paper would be such a luxury. What do you think, Joey?” Callie asked anxiously.

  “It might work, ma’am. I’ll give it a try.”

  Edward marched into the parlor with a laden tray. This heavy discussion called for refreshments. Never let it be said that Miss Callie entertained without serving refreshments.

  “I couldn’t help overhearing the discussion. Might I make a suggestion, Miss Callie?” At her nod he rushed on. “I think you should alert the other boys to your plan so they can move right into the areas you want before the other papers get the. . . the jump on you.”

  “Edward, that’s good thinking. Will you talk it up, Joey? Of course, you will. The paper might be willing to add some money each week to your wages. If I were running the paper, I know I would give it serious thought. Eat your cookies, Joey, they’re delicious.”

  “Would you be minding if I took one for Petey? He’s partial to sweets.”

  “Good heavens, no. Edward, a sack please. By the way, I looked in the crock, and the cookies are down at the bottom. We best make arrangements to make some more.”

  “‘We best make arrangements to make some more,’” Edward mimicked Callie as he went in search of a sack. How generous she was. Now that he had time to think clearly, he could seriously say she was the most generous person he had ever met when it came to other people’s money and talents. In spite of himself, he laughed.

  Conversation was brisk when Edward returned with the cookies for Joey. He began to pour the lemonade just as Joey made his announcement. “Mr. Kenyon is back, and things are in an uproar down at the paper. I had to go pick up some extras to work Petey’s corner, and he said hello to me. He was carrying a satchel, and he d
idn’t look pleased with what was going on.”

  “Edward, the lemonade is going all over the floor. The glass is full,” Callie said sharply. “Why are you pouring the lemonade all over the floor?”

  “Because I’m watching you squash that raisin cookie, that’s why,” Edward said nervously.

  Callie looked down at her hands. “That’s. . . that’s interesting. Isn’t that interesting, Edward? That Mr. Kenyon is back? That’s what I mean, is interesting. Very interesting. Don’t you find that—”

  “If you say that one more time, I shall resign,” Edward snapped.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  After seeing Joey out, Edward fetched a wet rag and started to clean up the floor. “You have never seen Mr. Kenyon angry, have you?”

  Callie shook her head.

  Edward gave her a pitying look and retreated to the kitchen. Callie washed her hands in hot soapy water. “I think I’ll work in the garden for a while. If . . . if Byrch arrives, send him out.”

  “All right,” Edward muttered as he started banging pots and pans. He might as well get on with his job. Dinner had to be cooked, and cookies had to be baked. He also had to take the towels off the line and fold them. He felt like a middle-aged housewife who was angry at her circumstances. He straightened his shoulders. It was time to ask for a raise. That’s what he would do, just as soon as Mr. Kenyon stepped foot in the kitchen. A sizable raise. A healthy raise. One that would keep him comfortable. He certainly did deserve a raise. He was a slave to this kitchen and this house. He had to put a stop to this.

  It was four-thirty by the kitchen clock when the front door slammed loudly. Edward jumped a foot. His eyes rolled back in his head. He thought he could feel the floorboards shake beneath his feet. The storm entered the kitchen, wild and untamed. “Where the hell is she?”

  “I want a raise. I have to insist, Mr. Kenyon,” Edward said haughtily.

  “All right. Where is she, Edward, and don’t lie to me. I left you in charge, and this is what I come back to. Where the hell is she?”

  “I feel you should know I want a substantial raise. I’m worth every cent you pay me and then some. Retroactive to the first of the year,” Edward babbled.

  “Fine. Take the money out of my box. I’ll see to it at the end of the week. I’m not going to ask you again, where is she?”

  “Miss Callie? Why, I do believe she’s working in the garden. Shall I call her for you?”

  “I’ll damn well call her myself. I won’t put up with this . . . this. . .”

  “Insubordination?” Edward offered.

  “Exactly. Give a woman an inch, and she takes a yard. Well, she better have some damn good explanations.”

  Callie heard Byrch through the open window. Her back stiffened. Quickly she stuffed her gardening tools in the basket at her side and got to her feet. “Byrch.”

  “What’ve you got to say for yourself, C. James?” Byrch’s voice was so cold and harsh that Callie shivered in the bright sunshine. “I want an explanation, and I want it now.”

  “Why? What have I done that’s so terrible? Why are you shouting at me?”

  “Don’t try putting me on the defensive,” Byrch snapped.

  “I’m not sorry, Byrch. I don’t feel that I did anything wrong. I was a definite asset to your paper for the short time you were gone. I know you’re angry, but if you stop and think for a minute you’ll realize that only good came from it.”

  Byrch stared at Callie for a long time. Her gaze was direct and unblinking. She was going to take a stand on what she had just said. He could feel it in his bones. The hot rush of anger coursing through him couldn’t be held in check. “I won’t have it,” Byrch thundered.

  “I suppose you think I’m only good for one thing, is that it? If I’m such a waste and amount to nothing, why did Horace Greeley offer me a job? Why did another paper say I could name my own salary, and why did your paper hire me?”

  “That’s going to be remedied immediately. I’m firing you.”

  “You can’t fire me because you didn’t hire me. Who do you think you are to tell me you’re going to fire me? I did it for you, for the paper, and yes, I did it for myself too. I wanted to see if I could do it, and I did it. How can you find fault with it? I can’t just sit here and pretend to enjoy our . . . our arrangement. I can’t do that. I think you owe me an apology. No, I demand an apology.”

  The blue eyes were blazing. Byrch swallowed hard. It wasn’t supposed to be happening like this. She should have been pleading with him to understand, crying really. Telling him she was sorry. Falling into his arms. Instead she was angry, angry at him. And she wanted an apology in the bargain.

  “An apology!” Byrch roared so loud that Edward dropped his wooden spoon.

  “Yes, damn you, an apology. Until such time as you can tell me what it is that is really upsetting you, I have nothing further to discuss.”

  “We have plenty to discuss. Come here,” Byrch said, reaching for her arm to draw her to him. Callie nimbly sidesteped him and started up the garden path to the house. Byrch trailed behind her.

  Just before she stormed into the house, Callie turned to face Byrch, willing herself not to be intimidated by his glower. “If you want to fire me, go ahead. I’ll go to work for Mr. Greeley!”

  Byrch felt as though he had been kicked in the stomach by a mule, an angry, ill-tempered mule with sharp hoofs. Leave. She was talking about leaving again. He couldn’t let her see what this was doing to him.

  She looked so damn beautiful standing there with that strange, defiant yet exhilarated look on her face. He couldn’t permit her to call his bluff. At best he could keep her a few weeks while he tried to come up with some plan to keep her permanently at his side. “Oh, no you won’t. We have an agreement, and until it’s paid in full, you don’t step out of this house, is that understood? Payment in full. I don’t care if the paper is paying you fifty dollars a week! When I say your debt is paid is the day you leave here, not one minute before. Do we understand one another?”

  A miracle, that’s what she had been expecting. If not a miracle then perhaps a pat on the head. Some kind words. Was that too much to expect? How was it possible for him to hate her so much? No matter what he did, no matter what he said, she could never hate him. It was such an impossible situation. She was selling herself to him. Paying off her debt. He must despise her, but did he have to humiliate her in the bargain? Her back stiffened at his harsh, insulting tone. “Very well, Mr. Kenyon. Believe me when I tell you the three months can’t end soon enough for me. I’m warning you now, don’t interfere with my job.” Without another word, Callie ran into the house and up the stairs to her room. Byrch shuddered with the sound of the slamming door.

  . Edward was reminded of a thunderbolt when Byrch stormed through the kitchen. He’d never seen his face as black with rage as it was now. What had happened out there in the garden? As if he didn’t know. He rolled his dark eyes and stirred the pot that didn’t need stirring. He consoled himself with the fact that even in paradise it rained from time to time.

  Callie paced the floor in her room, wringing her hands and swiping at the tears that gathered in her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. She blew her nose lustily twice, and still she cried. Byrch wasn’t just cold, he was cruel. How could he be so selfish that he would keep her here a virtual prisoner and force her to give up her new job? That’s what she got for stepping out of her place. She was paying now, a price that was exorbitantly high. And in the bargain he was making a fool of her, or at least trying to make a fool of her. How could he belittle what she had done when the others had praised her? Horace Greeley himself had written her and offered a job. He was trying to rob her of everything. Three months. Three long months was what she had to deal with, and then she could leave. Just the thought of packing and leaving brought on a fresh wave of tears. Damn Byrch Kenyon. Damn Byrch Kenyon to hell.

  There was a war going on, and while Edward did his best to remain neutral, he found i
t hard going. He adored Miss Callie, probably would have laid down his life for the young woman, but he was torn with his feelings for Mr. Kenyon. He literally owed the man his life. The armed truce was getting on his nerves. He hated hostility of any kind, and this morning at breakfast the hostility had been thicker than ever. Not for the world would he attempt to offer advice to either Mr. Kenyon or Miss Callie. His tampering days were over and done with.

  It was mid-morning when the doorbell rang. Edward frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and he knew that if Miss Callie was expecting a visitor, she would have alerted him. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach when he opened the door. “Mrs. Darcy! Please, come in.”

  “I didn’t come here to see my cousin. Is Miss James in? Tell her I’m here, Edward, and please inform her that I don’t have much time.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Edward said, showing her into the front parlor. He didn’t like this. The look on the lady’s face boded ill, and since she asked for Callie, it was a wise assumption that Miss Callie was going to be the recipient.

  “Mrs. Darcy? Edward, are you sure she asked for me? What can she possibly want?” Seeing no answers in Edward’s face, she laid aside her paper and pencil and followed him down to the parlor. One look at Bridget’s face was all she needed to know something was wrong.

  “Miss James. You look well. Sit down,” she commanded. Callie sat hurriedly, her eyes full of questions.

  “I’m not going to mince words with you, young woman. I’m going to come straight to the point. Your living here in this house with my cousin without benefit of clergy is causing tongues to wag. Just in case you don’t understand what I’m talking about, let me clarify myself. People are talking. Your living here is causing a scandal, and it’s hurting Byrch. You’re ruining any chance he has to enter politics. Surely you can see that, can’t you?”

  Callie sat staring at Byrch’s cousin, a dumbfounded look on her face.