She had learned plenty about plumbing during her research into water. She had helped install running water at the research station in Germany, and the first thing she did after purchasing her house was upgrade the kitchen plumbing with her own two hands.
At each step, Mr. Drake told the children what he was doing, and some of them even hunkered down to peer beneath the counter for a closer look. Although some of the children seemed bored, others hung on his every word. This might be the only attention they got from an adult male all week.
It was in that instant that Rosalind knew she could turn Mr. Drake into an ally. He cared. He believed in helping ordinary people. He was smart, and that meant he could be reasoned with. She would find common ground with him, hopefully in time to stop Dr. Leal from his reckless and daring venture. If she could convince Mr. Drake to come to her laboratory to see her research in action, she would return the favor by listening to whatever he had to say about filtration.
“Okay, now I’ve got the coupling nuts attached to the drain trap,” Mr. Drake said. “Who can tell me what the drain trap is for?”
There was a pause, and when none of the children spoke up, Rosalind decided to respond. “It holds water in the pipe to block sewer gases from coming up through the drain and into the room.”
Two hands grasped the underside of the counter, and Mr. Drake pulled himself out into the center of the washroom, still flat on his back and staring up at her from the floor. He looked as surprised as if the queen of England had appeared at the orphanage.
Then a smile split his face wide. “Well, well . . . Dr. R. L. Werner in person,” he said in a delightfully intrigued voice. He glanced over at the children gathered in the doorway. “How about that, kids? Did you know a woman could be a doctor?”
They hadn’t. One of the girls backed up until she bumped into the sink. “Are you here to give us shots?”
“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Rosalind said. She was about to explain, but as soon as the children learned they weren’t about to be vaccinated, they lost interest in her.
Mr. Drake rolled into a sitting position, resting his forearms on his bent knees as he peered up at her. “I suppose you’re here to carry on our tedious conversation from last week?” If he still carried a grudge, he gave no sign of it.
“The first thing I want to do is thank you for the music box.”
“You’re welcome. What’s the second thing you’ve come for?”
“To carry on our tedious conversation from last week.”
He scrutinized her with a half-curious, half-defensive gaze. “Do you think you have a prayer of changing my mind?”
“It’s a long shot, but I’m here to give it my best.”
“Well, then,” he said. His voice was both curious and cautious. “Just so we’re clear that we stand on opposite sides of this fence.”
“I wish we didn’t.”
“Me too, Dr. Werner,” he said slowly. “You can’t imagine how much.”
Her gaze locked with his, and she was trapped. The combination of heat and admiration on his face nearly drove the breath from her lungs. The others in the room faded into the background as she stared at the most attractive man she’d ever seen, sitting on a washroom floor and looking healthy, vibrant, and alive.
A bell rang, and a voice from downstairs summoned the children to lunch in three different languages. Never had she seen children scramble so quickly as they tore down the hallway toward the staircase.
She and Mr. Drake were now alone aside from the other man laying tile. She glanced around the square room, still midway through construction.
“Is this a brand-new washroom, or are you upgrading an existing one?” she asked.
“Last month it was a bedroom. We’re adding a washroom on every floor. By the end of the day, this one should be ready to see action.”
“What did the children use before?”
“City law says that as long as a building has a privy for every twenty people, it’s legal. The privies are in the alley behind the building. They aren’t anything I’d want a kid to use, but they’re better than nothing.”
She nodded. Privies were a public sanitation nightmare. Local regulations insisted they drain into the city sewer system, but illegal privies were often hastily thrown up and simply leaked into the groundwater, causing all manner of waterborne illnesses. It was probably what had killed her parents.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said. “It’s important work on so many levels.”
“It’s no bother,” he said with a shrug, but she could tell by his flush that her words pleased him, even though everything she said was obviously true. The sooner cities were fitted with modern plumbing, the safer everyone would be.
“Look, I’m about finished here, but I need to go to the boiler room and get these lines hooked up to the hot water. Want to come with me?”
She did. Hopefully there would be privacy in the boiler room, for she needed to broach the topic of the lawsuit, and it would be easier if they were alone.
She followed him to the basement, where a nickel-plated boiler gleamed in the dim light. A number of pipes and flues were rigged to the system, and she couldn’t begin to imagine how it all worked, but Mr. Drake walked confidently forward and began hooking up some tubing to the existing pipes. She took her glasses from her reticule for a better view.
Mr. Drake must have noticed, even though he never took his gaze off the boiler as he screwed a pipe into place. “Careful, Dr. Werner,” he murmured. “You know what I think of those spectacles.”
She hid a smile. “Would you please just hook up those sinks to the hot water? Dozens of orphaned children await the results with breathless anticipation.”
It was hard to concentrate with Dr. Werner less than a yard away, watching his every move.
“How did you know I like music boxes?” she asked.
“You do?” Pleasure filled him, even though it was dumb luck that he’d picked something she liked. His sister said he should apologize in person, but he’d never been good with words and took the easy route by going to a department store to pick out something delicate and fancy.
“I love music boxes,” she said. “I learned how to make them when I lived in Germany and still enjoy tinkering with them. It feels good to make something with my own two hands.”
“You actually make them? From the ground up?”
“Everything except the music cylinder. That I buy.”
His attraction to her tripled. Ladies of her class didn’t normally work with their hands, and his fascination with her started spiraling out of control. Again.
“I bought it because it reminded me of you,” he confessed. “When I first saw you, I thought you were as pretty as a moonbeam. The music box had a glowing moon in a night sky on it and I . . .” His voice stumbled to a clumsy halt as he remembered his first glimpse of her in the doorway of Sal’s crowded restaurant. He’d never seen such silvery blond hair, and it reminded him of moonlight. She looked delicate and dainty and pretty. Without stopping to think, he’d vaulted from his booth to steer her through the crowd.
Then acted like a dolt when his temper got the better of him.
“Anyway, I’m glad you like the box,” he said ineptly, wishing he knew how to talk to a college-educated woman. He didn’t want to talk about water filtration or court cases. He wanted to know how a woman like her got to be interested in machinery. Maybe they had something in common after all. “Do you want to see how to hook up a hot water tank?”
“Do you mind? I’ve never seen anything like this up close before.”
Mind? He was out of his head with delight when she adjusted those prim spectacles and moved in for a closer look. He wanted to laugh and hug her and kiss her all at the same time.
Instead he asked her to hand him the socket wrench. Rather than ask what a socket wrench was, she asked what size drive ratchet he needed to go with it. She wasn’t putting one over on him either. Ever since he’d gotte
n rich, a lot of women pretended to like him, simpering and giggling at the dumbest things he said. He didn’t trust any of them, but this lady was different. She knew what a drive ratchet was and how water got pumped in and out of a city.
He’d never had this sort of immediate attraction before, and he needed to know if she was a free woman.
“So, Dr. R. L. Werner, is there a Mr. Werner in your life?”
“I’ve got a brother who answers to that name, but no husband, if that is what you’re asking.”
He was grinning too widely to provide an immediate answer. “Yup. That was what I was asking. There’s no Mrs. Drake either. Just in case you were wondering.”
“I was, actually. You mentioned a daughter the last time we met.”
“Sadie,” he confirmed. “My wife died right after she was born.”
He married Bridget because he liked and trusted her. They grew up only a few blocks away from each other, and it was time for him to settle down and start a family. He’d just inherited a fortune and had an instinctive mistrust of the well-bred ladies who suddenly showed such interest in him. Those ladies wouldn’t have looked at him twice when he was a plumber, but he’d always gotten on well with Bridget O’Malley.
Marrying her might have been a mistake. He didn’t mind when people looked down their noses at him or sneered behind his back, but Bridget wilted beneath that sort of scorn. He remembered when they’d gone to a ballet in Carnegie Hall because Bridget wanted to see the dancers in their costumes. She hadn’t realized how formally people dressed, and wore a nice blue gown with lace at the collar. All the other ladies glittered in diamonds and shimmering silk. The next time they went, Bridget wore a brand-new silk dress she’d bought just for the occasion, and he thought she looked pretty as a peach. But during the intermission, Bridget overheard a couple of ladies from Gramercy Park giggling about making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. That was the last time Bridget had gone to the ballet. She died less than a year later, and to this day, it steamed him that Bridget only got to see two ballets in her entire life, and both times she felt out of place.
Hankering after a woman like Dr. Werner probably wasn’t the brightest move he’d ever made, but he couldn’t shake this feeling of delight that swamped him every time she came into his line of sight. Even knowing she was here for that court case and not for him. Even knowing she was out of his class. He still wanted her.
As he continued hooking up the valves, she asked intelligent questions every step of the way. Every now and then, some of the children crept down the narrow stairwell to spy on him, huddling on the stairs as he worked. They were hungry for attention, and usually he lavished it on them, but today he couldn’t tear his mind away from Dr. Werner.
“I suppose even fancy doctors like you need to eat,” he said. “Can I take you out to lunch when I’ve finished here?”
“Might we discuss the court case while we eat?”
He didn’t want to. If she started trying to push those awful research papers in his face, all it would do was make him feel stupid and aggravated. He was no expert in chemistry or bacteria, and any conversation about it would be pointless.
“Perhaps someday you’d like to come to my laboratory, and I can show you the experiments we’ve been working on,” she continued.
“If I agree to go, can I call you Rosalind instead of Dr. Werner?”
“If you’d like.”
He was being an idiot by not letting her talk about what she’d clearly come all the way across town to do. It took guts for a woman like her to venture into this part of town, and he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her until they cleared the air about this court case.
“What I’d really like, Rosalind, is to spend an hour with you when there are no little kids running around or court cases hanging between us. I’d like to grab you by the hand, run outside, and forget about installing washrooms or hot water heaters. I’d really just like to get to know you. Everything about you.”
She sent him a teasing glance. “The children are hoping for a working bathroom this evening. You wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
“Watch me. I’m a low, impulsive person when you get down to it, and right now I want nothing so much as to run away with you.” He’d been a widower for three years and hadn’t touched a woman in all that time. No one had set his heart or imagination on fire the way this woman did.
Rosalind’s face softened. “Don’t underestimate yourself. People like you make a huge difference in the world. Hardly anyone reads my research papers, but once these washrooms are in order, two hundred children will thank their lucky stars you came into their life. You’re making their world a better place.”
It was like the wind had suddenly filled his sails, and he was soaring. He had to look away so she wouldn’t notice how much she got to him, but he managed to find his voice.
“You know how to make a man feel . . . really great.” He wished he had better words, but she made him feel so terrific he didn’t care.
His eye met hers, and every ounce of his own longing and excitement was mirrored in her face. She felt it too. This wild, unwieldy attraction that lit them both up like fireworks. She was looking at him like she was dying of thirst and he was a glass of water. Even the children huddling on the stairs noticed it and started giggling.
He threw down the wrench. “Come on. We’re going outside.”
“Yes.” Even that single word sounded breathless.
He grabbed her hand and dashed up the stairwell, down the hall, and out into the alley beside the orphanage. He whirled her around so she was facing him. Never had he felt so electrified, but he had to clear the air first.
“You know I’m not going to change my mind about the court case.”
“I know. I have to try.”
“Fine, but try later. Okay?”
Her face looked radiant. “Okay.”
He hauled her into his arms and kissed her as though his life depended on it. She was so tiny, she fit against the frame of his body perfectly. And she smelled pretty. Soft. Wonderful.
She withdrew, but her expression was dazed and delighted as she gazed up at him. “This is crazy.”
“I know. Kiss me again.”
She did, reaching up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. Every nerve ending in his body was alive. Without breaking the kiss, he scooped her up in his arms, lifting her off the ground and above his head. She pulled back to gaze down at him, but he didn’t feel like setting her back on the ground just yet.
A pop and a flash came from down the alley, and he dropped Rosalind onto her feet, whirling around to spot a photographer holding a flash lamp, ready to take another photograph.
“Don’t try it,” he hollered, then turned to Rosalind, whose face had gone stark white. “Don’t worry about it,” he said gruffly. “They’re just a pair of reporters who like to write up stories about me working at the orphanage.”
“Reporters?” she asked weakly. She turned away and started heading down the alley.
He reached out to grab her elbow before she got very far. “Whoa . . . it’s dangerous back there,” he warned, but she looked a little sick, and he was worried about her. Standing close, he pulled her behind him and out of view of the photographer. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “They can’t see you, and I’ll smash that camera to pieces if he tries to get another picture of you.”
She didn’t answer him, and he gave her a little shake. “Okay? You okay down there, Dr. Werner?”
“I’m okay. I just don’t like reporters.”
He gave a snort of laughter. “You and me, both. They have their uses, though.”
Craning his head to look backward, he recognized Frank McLean from the New York World, one of the better reporters he’d dealt with.
“Hey, Frank,” he hollered. “How about you schedule an appointment with my secretary for next week, and I’ll tell you everything you want to know about the orphanage. Plus an exclusive on what building we
’re going to overhaul next.”
He felt the muscles in Rosalind’s arm relax as the reporter agreed and backed away, the photographer following in Frank’s wake. Maybe she was just shy. Bridget hadn’t liked being the focus of any kind of attention, and maybe Rosalind was the same. Maybe that was why she went by her initials when she wrote those highfalutin articles.
It didn’t matter why she was rattled. She was clearly upset, and it was his fault for putting her in this situation.
“Why don’t you and I head inside and finish up? The reporters aren’t allowed inside the orphanage, and they know that. You’ll be safe with me.”
Her only response was a heavy sigh.
“Come on, Rosalind,” he softly urged. “You were mighty impressed by the way I hooked in those hot water pipes. I can’t wait to see you light up when I solder the toilets into the main sewer line.”
That got a laugh out of her, and he grinned like an idiot. He loved that he could make this smart and pretty woman giggle like a five-year-old.
Ten minutes later they were back in the dimly lit basement, Rosalind sitting on an overturned bucket while he acted the hero and sealed the joints to the outside hose bib. He was almost relieved when she went back to nagging him about the court case.
“Have you ever been inside a research laboratory?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Would you like to?”
“Nope,” he said, not even breaking rhythm as he methodically twisted the wrench. He could practically hear her getting worked up over there, so he put her out of her misery. “Not unless you’ll be there, of course. In that case, I’ll show up with bells on.”
“Of course I’ll be there. I’ll have live samples of typhoid and cholera specimens to demonstrate our technique.”
He turned his head to see if she was joking.
She wasn’t, but her eyes danced with humor, and once again he was bowled over by her. Just like that. The last thing he wanted was to bicker with her over waterborne diseases, but if it weren’t for this court case, he never would have met her, so maybe this was the price he was going to have to pay.
A Daring Venture Page 5