“I shall brace myself,” she said. “I’ll be the Duke of Wellington at Waterloo, facing down immeasurable odds.”
“Did he win?”
“He did.”
Mr. Drake grinned. “Then I’m good! Since my chosen meal is little better than a plate of infectious disease, what does a typical breakfast at Dr. R. L. Werner’s home look like?” He scooped yolk onto his bacon and ate with relish.
“I live with my brother and his wife. We usually have a bowl of fruit and some muesli.”
“What’s muesli?”
“It’s a combination of rolled oats, nuts, and seeds. I first ate it when I went to live with my German relatives in Bavaria. It’s a very healthy food. It’s hard to find in America, so I asked my brother to learn how to make it. It’s almost as good as what my relatives in Germany make.”
“So you’ve got your brother making muesli, Sal fixing your eggs, and the court of New Jersey in a tizzy over this blasted lawsuit. Anyone ever call you bossy?”
She cleared her throat. “I just have passionate beliefs about—”
He cut her off. “Don’t get me wrong. I like bossy women. Especially if you put those spectacles back on. Something about a beautiful woman wearing spectacles makes her look really smart.”
“Not to put too fine a point on it, Mr. Drake, but I am really smart.”
He grinned, and a hint of challenge lit his face. “Smart enough to have been admitted to the American Water Association?”
“Naturally. It’s the most important professional organization for the kind of work I do. Why?”
He took a long sip of coffee before setting the cup down, casually turning it in a circle with a single finger. “They’ve denied my membership.”
“Oh.” This was a little awkward. Membership in a community of scholars wasn’t something that could be purchased; it could only be earned by formal qualifications. “Why is it so important for you to belong? You seem to have acquired a good deal of influence without it.”
“There’s a vacancy for a commissioner on the State Water Board. I want it. The governor makes the appointment, but I need to prove my qualifications to get it. The board is ruled by three commissioners. One man in charge of finance, one in charge of engineering, and one for labor. That’s the opening I want. The last guy who had the job didn’t even last six months because of the pressure. I’m good at leading men, but I need the backing of scientists for a position like this. Getting accepted to the American Water Association would be a big step.”
“I’m not sure how I can help you.” Which was true. She was a member of the organization but had no role in setting the rules for membership. She was fortunate that they accepted women at all.
“Next time you go to one of their fancy meetings, chat up the president of the organization. Tell him I know what I’m talking about. That I’d be a good member. I’d even toss in a few thousand dollars if they need to fund something.”
She didn’t know how to phrase this delicately, but it seemed Mr. Drake was a man who valued plain speaking. “I have a confession to make,” she said, reaching for her mug to hide her discomfort.
“Something scandalous, I hope.”
She nearly choked on her coffee. “Actually, it’s about you. I have no idea who you are. All I know is that you used to be a plumber but managed to acquire extraordinary influence over the water systems throughout the entire state.”
“Except with the American Water Association,” he pointed out.
“Yes, except that . . . which I assure you is a rather dull group of stuffy academics. So who are you? And how did you come to be here?”
“I’m a plumber,” he said. “My father was a plumber, and my grandfather too. Except my grandfather was also an inventor.”
The harried waitress swung by their table again and returned Rosalind’s plate. The steaming eggs had been scrambled and cooked so long that they were like little pieces of rubber, but she could hardly complain.
“Yes, go on,” she said after the waitress left.
“You know all those tall buildings filling the skyline of Manhattan?” Mr. Drake said. “None of them could get running water pumped up past the fourth floor until my grandfather invented a valve that regulated water pressure. It earned a fortune. He never saw any of the money because his brother swindled him out of it, and the valve was the center of a court case for forty years. Five years ago it was settled, and the money came to me.”
He said it so simply, but Rosalind was stunned. “That sort of invention must be worth a lot. Maybe even a couple of million.”
He scoffed. “Try sixty million. It was split between me and some of the other heirs, but I got the mother lode. Why do you think Martha was so eager to scramble up your eggs? It’s not because of my charm, Dr. Werner.” Humor glinted in his eyes.
Oh my, he was attractive. And it wasn’t because of his money or his looks, it was the bottomless well of humor and self-deprecating charm that made him so appealing. She started smiling like a besotted idiot again, and he continued talking.
“I took a class in chemistry at Columbia so I could make sense of the reports and charts people like you write up, but for the most part, my insight comes from real-world experience of how the water supply system works.”
“Just one class?” she asked. Maybe that was why he was so intransigent when it came to new developments in water treatment. “It’s hard to appreciate chemistry after a single class. With a little more work, you’ll delve into the far more interesting aspects of chemical reactions and structure-activity relationships.”
He shuddered. “All I need is to read the reports and make sense of them, not conduct the experiments. I guess that’s your job. Better you than me!”
“Oh, but I love it. I’ve always considered it a privilege to do this sort of work.”
He seemed to like her comment, because he was gaping at her with that beaming look of approval again. What an excellent idea this had been. Dr. Leal was right. By meeting Mr. Drake outside of his office or a courtroom, they were able to rub along quite well.
She looked at him with new respect. “Mr. Drake, it occurs to me that we are both outsiders. Me because I am a woman in a man’s field, while you vaulted from the working classes into the highest echelons of society. We both have a constant weakness to overcome.”
His smile was filled with roguish delight. “Ah, but I don’t see it as a weakness. Everyone wants clean water, right? But getting it to them is a tricky business that mixes politics, money, and power. Everyone knows I’m filthy rich, so no one accuses me of doing this for the money. That gets me a lot of influence, and people listen to what I have to say. I just want to do what’s right.”
His voice nearly vibrated with passion. She always admired people passionate about a cause, and Nicholas Drake certainly fit the bill. Too bad he was wrong about the best way to keep the water clean. It was going to be a challenge to get him to reconsider the filtration plant, but it had to be done.
She pushed her plate to the side and slid her stack of research papers to the center of the table. “Did you have a chance to look through any of the work we sent you?”
For the first time, Mr. Drake looked unsettled. “I think both sides are pretty well entrenched in our positions. I don’t expect that to change.”
“Are you aware that the stockyards in Chicago have adopted chlorination for the animals’ drinking water? They turned to chlorine after the filtration method failed. Chemical purification has been working beautifully.”
“For cattle. I don’t care if you test chlorine on animals, but we’re talking about humans here.” Laughter lit his eyes again. “At least we’re human on this side of the river. I can’t vouch for you folks on the Jersey side.”
“I live directly across the river, and yes, we count as humans.”
She was grinning again. He probably thought she had a loose screw in her head, the way she couldn’t stop smiling, but at least he was smiling back. She’d be
en on this earth for twenty-eight years and never experienced this soaring feeling of bliss mingled with admiration for the man gawking at her across the breakfast table. They both gaped and smiled at each other like fools, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It ought to be embarrassing, but it wasn’t. It was wonderful.
But Dr. Leal had sent her here on a mission, and it was too important to set aside merely because a handsome man flattered her.
“I’ll leave these research papers with you,” she said. “You’ll see that our experiments confirm what other scientists all over Europe and America have reported on the efficacy of chlorine.”
“Really, you don’t need to bother—”
“Because I am convinced the future lies with chlorine. It can sanitize immense amounts of water quickly, safely, and cheaply.”
“It’s not a tested method,” he said flatly. “The judge ordered an additional filtration plant, and that’s that.”
This was just the sort of hardheaded ignorance he’d showed in court when he testified. He probably hadn’t even read her research papers. He probably knew nothing about cholera or how fast it could kill a healthy person. All it took was a sip of tainted water, and an entire family could be destroyed.
She held on to her temper and tried to speak calmly. “You cannot filter cholera out of the water supply. Chemical treatment has the ability to kill cholera, typhoid, and every other waterborne bacteria we tested it on.”
“It’s not a proven method. Filtration has been working for the past eighty years.”
“Except when rainstorms overwhelm the system with runoff from farms filled with animal waste. A few drops of chlorine can solve that. Most people are ignorant of its benefits, but it is an—”
He cut her off. “First of all, I’m not an ignorant person.”
“I never said you were, but we both know what happens when rain overloads the filtration plants. Filtration is slow and expensive, especially when all it takes is a miniscule amount of chlorine to solve the problem.”
He must have sensed the tension in her voice, for it seemed his patience was growing thin too. “I looked up chlorine in the dictionary. It’s poison,” he said flatly. “I won’t let it be added to the water supply.”
“That’s what many uninformed people think when they first hear about chlorine.”
Mr. Drake’s face iced over. He leaned forward until his nose was only inches from her, his eyes snapping mad. “Outside that window are four million people who depend on the water that gets sent through the pipelines and into their homes. I want our cities to grow and prosper, while your side bellyaches because filtration is too expensive. Who will people blame if the taps run dry? It won’t be you or Dr. Leal. I’m fighting for the future of American cities.”
“So am I!”
His hands clenched, and his lip curled. “You want to put a toxic chemical in the water supply. An untested, unproven, dangerous chemical. You aren’t going to test it on my daughter,” he said fiercely. “You say your plan worked on cattle. Cattle! I don’t care about cattle, I care about my daughter and Martha the waitress and every other hardworking person crowded into this city. And if building an expensive filtration plant is what it takes to protect them, I’m going to make it happen.”
He stood, tossed his napkin on the table, and stormed away without a backward glance. The meeting was over.
Chapter
Three
After her complete failure with Nicholas Drake, Rosalind turned to the one hobby that always soothed her. Assembling the tiny gears, screws, and springs of a music box was a challenge that usually demanded her complete attention, and a task she had been performing since that first summer she and Gus arrived at her uncle’s house in the remote Bavarian farmlands. Uncle Wilhelm had taught her the skill, and she seized upon it as a salvation after first losing her parents, then her grandfather less than a year later. After leaving America and her entire world behind, Uncle Wilhelm’s farm had been a blessing.
Gus handed her the pieces as she steadily assembled the cogwheel. Ever since returning from that morning’s disastrous breakfast meeting, Gus had been trying to calm her down and put things into perspective. She let him. All their lives, they had leaned on each other. Sometimes she was the leader, and other times she faltered and needed Gus to prop her up. Neither one of them were quitters.
There was no one she’d rather have at her side. Not only did she have complete trust in her brother, but Gus was a lawyer and could help strategize, now that she had failed with Nick Drake.
“Would it be illegal for me to approach the judge directly?” Rosalind asked. “After all, Judge McLaughlin lives just down the street, and I’ve met his wife.”
“It’s not illegal, but he would disclose the meeting to the plaintiffs,” Gus replied. “At least, I think so. I’ll need to look it up.” He pushed away from the kitchen table to write a note to himself.
Gus’s legal training all came from Germany. Since arriving in New Jersey earlier in the year, he had been studying to pass the necessary tests to begin practicing law in America. Until he passed those hurdles, he, Ingrid, and baby Jonah would share Rosalind’s too-small house, but she couldn’t complain. After all, it was her fault Gus and Ingrid had been forced out of Germany.
“Are you sure you aren’t making too big a deal out of this?” Gus said as he rejoined her at the table and handed her a tiny screwdriver to align the music cylinder into its casing. “You’re so tenderhearted that your feelings get hurt if you startle a bird into flying away.”
Maybe, but Gus hadn’t seen the anger smoldering in Mr. Drake’s eyes. It was especially hurtful since they had been getting along so well and she hadn’t expected him to turn on her like that. She still wasn’t quite sure what set him off.
“In any event, don’t take this so personally,” Gus continued. “If you lose this lawsuit, there will be other cities in need of better water purification.”
“But Jersey City could be the first. If we can make our case here, other cities will be clamoring to do the same. It just takes a single city to be brave enough to be first.”
“Rosalind, how often have you told me to be patient over the years? You and Dr. Leal are doing good work. You had a setback this morning. There will be more. Just stay the course.”
A smile curved her mouth as she continued working on the music box. These last few months crammed into a tiny house with a teething baby and resentful sister-in-law had been difficult, but she enjoyed these casual chats with Gus. It hadn’t been his choice to return to America, but he didn’t seem to hold it against her.
“Okay, let’s set the cylinder in,” she said. Gus handed her the song they had chosen, the Minuet in G Major by Bach. The brass cylinder was smaller than a spool of thread, and she lowered it into the casing and aligned it with the metal combs. Two minutes later, it was screwed into place, and she met Gus’s eyes in anticipation. “Ready?”
“Ready!”
She held her breath as she twisted the dial to set the cylinder in motion. Instantly the tines began picking out the delicate, metallic sounds of Bach’s minuet.
“Bravo!” Gus shouted, and she couldn’t help laughing.
The spindly metallic notes stirred wonderful memories of her years in Germany, where she and Gus had been so happy. Bach’s timeless melody illuminated her modest kitchen with a tiny glimpse into pure joy, and she laughed from sheer happiness. They were so lucky. Despite their struggles, despite the setbacks and disappointments, she and Gus were truly blessed. By the grace of God, her brother had survived a devastating battle with cholera. They had found a safe home on the other side of the world, where they fell into the arms of a large and loving family. Even though it hadn’t ended well, she had been blessed with a magnificent education and had the opportunity to use her knowledge to make the world a better place.
If she couldn’t succeed with Nick Drake, she would find another way.
Although building the music box wit
h Gus had helped cheer Rosalind, Dr. Leal was unusually upset by her failure with Mr. Drake when she told him the news at the laboratory the next morning.
Actually, upset was a mild word for Dr. Leal’s reaction. He curled over in his desk chair, covering his face with both hands, his shoulders sagging in defeat. She stood opposite him, nervously clenching her hands and waiting for him to say something.
“Is there any hope he’ll change his opinion?” Dr. Leal asked, his voice so faint she could barely hear it.
“I don’t think so,” she whispered. Never had she imagined Dr. Leal would be so bizarrely despondent over her failure, but he remained slumped at his desk, the sound of the ticking clock the only thing breaking the silence in the laboratory.
He finally drew a deep breath and dropped his hands from his face. “All right, then. We’ll have to try something else.”
It was only ten o’clock in the morning, but Dr. Leal left the laboratory without another word to her. She thought he might just be stepping out for a bit of fresh air, but the hours slipped past, and by the end of the workday, he had not returned. Rosalind worked alone to prepare a new round of tests to document chlorine’s effect on contaminated water.
The next day Dr. Leal was back, but he was still preoccupied, tense, and moody. She hoped he would snap out of his melancholy soon, for their ninety-day clock was ticking. Dr. Leal was the lead researcher and she was merely his assistant, but he seemed disinterested in the new round of experiments. Time and again, Rosalind looked up to catch him staring into space, a hint of fear clouding his features.
“Shall I proceed with the chloride of lime tests on typhoid?” she asked. Normally Dr. Leal handled anything involving chloride of lime, but it had been two days, and he hadn’t even begun to prepare the samples.
“No,” he said weakly. “I don’t see much point in it.”
Still bewildered by Dr. Leal’s mood when she returned home that evening, Rosalind was surprised to see a package among the afternoon mail. The parcel was wrapped in plain brown paper, and the return address was from Nicholas Drake. Her heart did an involuntary lurch at the sight of his name. She ripped through the wrapper, opened the lid of a fancy package, and lifted out mounds of tissue before she saw the tiny jeweled music box inside.
A Daring Venture Page 3