“I did. I just thought if you helped with the hiring you might remember someone he’d forgotten.”
“Sorry, but no.”
“What about Miss Wisely?”
Mr. Black blinked several times. “I know there are some who want to see women get a fairer shake in life, but to hire one on as manager of a glass plant when she’s done nothing but—”
David interrupted him with a laugh. “Pardon me, but my brain had jumped to another topic entirely, and I expected you to read my mind. I meant, what do you know of Miss Wisely?”
Mr. Black widened his eyes, but then smiled. “Oh, well, she’s the only child of Freewill Church’s former pastor. The family works at Mr. Lowe’s orphanage now.”
“Anything more . . . personal about her?”
Mr. Black closed his eyes as if trying to locate information within a mental filing cabinet. “She’s generally thought of as a sweet girl. Some question her involvement with the red-light district’s children and her solitary trips into the area, but those tend to be people who have things to hide.” Mr. Black shrugged. “Other than that, she seems a touch icy.”
“Icy? I would’ve said . . . wary.”
“Oh? The men I know who’ve attempted to court her have come away describing her as quite cool.” He crossed his ankles. “So you’re wanting to pursue her yourself?”
“Uh . . . no.” He’d only met her three times. Of course, an intriguing woman was always a potential helpmate, but not just any woman could join the Kingsman family.
So why had he asked Mr. Black about her anyway? He pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck. “I met her under unusual circumstances and was curious. So she’s only icy to men who show interest?”
The secretary paused for a second, looking off into space yet again. “That’s likely a fair assessment. I only know of two men who’ve tried to court her, though they never had a chance. They were turned down flat.”
“Only two?” How could a woman as captivating as Miss Wisely only garner the interest of a couple men?
“Yes. A woman that tall can be intimidating, I suppose.”
“She might be taller than most women, but she doesn’t tower over everybody.”
“Truthfully, I don’t know much about her beyond what I hear. But if you’re looking to pursue her, perhaps the hearsay will help you figure out how to approach her.”
He doubted any approach would work. She was likely older than he was and had obviously not succumbed to his charm. Not that he was seriously thinking about it. “Would you mind not mentioning this conversation to anyone? I don’t want to make things awkward for anybody. I mean, it’s unlikely I’ll be around long enough to court a woman anyway.”
“All right.” Mr. Black shrugged, then pointed to the contract on the desk. “Did you want me to wait until you’ve read that before I leave?”
Oh yes, the contract.
After a quick glance through the first page, it looked as if the terms were exactly as discussed. If they were, he might be tempted to holler Hallelujah. Saving five percent might not seem like a fantastic deal, but when a plant crated and shipped thousands of glass bottles every month, five percent off lumber would raise his profits quite nicely. “I won’t keep you. If everything’s as we discussed, I’ll sign and return it through a courier tomorrow. If not, I’ll come by to schedule a meeting to renegotiate.”
“Very well, sir.” Mr. Black dismissed himself with a nod.
David sank into the chair and stared blindly at the paper, a little worried he’d find a problem within one of the contract’s terms that would keep him from signing the bottom line, possibly creating an impasse with Mr. Lowe. He needed this factory running within budget quickly, and then he needed a promise of profit on the horizon. Hopefully this contract would be the beginning of an avalanche of breakthroughs. His father would soon hear how he’d not sold the factory as instructed, and the only way to keep the man from traipsing down here in a lather would be to have this factory well on its way to selling for a whole lot more than his father expected.
“May I see Mr. Kingsman?”
Had that been the voice of a tall angel?
He’d been stewing over how he’d mucked up the Saturday lunch thing with Miss Wisely but hadn’t figured out what to do to make up for disappointing her. He’d thought he would have plenty of time to figure out something since he’d considered it unlikely their paths would cross often. But then paperwork had stolen all of his brain power—as it should have. He was here to make the best business deal he’d ever made, not interrogate pretty ladies.
What did he really need to know about her anyway?
At least she hadn’t acted as if she hated him at Lowe’s yesterday.
“Is he expecting you?” The man who took care of the factory’s invoices sounded unreasonably irritated. He might become even more irritated when his boss gave him a lecture on how to treat people who dropped in. She could’ve been a customer.
“No, but I was hoping to see him if he’s available. If not, I’d like to schedule a meeting.”
“I’m not his personal secretary.”
“Well then, could you point me to the man I should ask?”
“He doesn’t work here anymore.”
“I see . . .”
David got up and opened the door wide. “Miss Wisely, I believe I’m the right man to ask, and I have time. Please come in.”
She picked up a fancy little basket from Mr. Jarvis’s desk and came toward him, giving him a look that was almost . . . admiring? What had he done to deserve that?
She entered his office, and he quickly glanced at his reflection in the office door’s window. He looked about normal. He shut the door and gestured for her to sit. “What might I do for you today?”
She sat and then set the basket beside her before artfully arranging her skirt about her legs. The dresses he’d seen her in previously had reminded him of his late aunt’s gardening clothes. But this yellow dress with black dots and wide black trim, though simple, accentuated her dark hair topped with a fashionable straw hat. She looked like summer. It was indeed very warm for the end of September.
“You told me the other day that you and your father are in business together?”
He frowned. He’d rather discuss anything except business with her. He was fed up to his ears with business. “Yes, we’re Kingsman & Son. We own a few factories and . . .” It was best to not let her know exactly how wealthy he was. That information always seemed to turn a woman’s smile artificially sweet, and he’d sort of enjoyed the flash of suspicion in Miss Wisely’s eyes the last three times they’d met.
When was the last time an eligible woman hadn’t fawned over him? “Let’s just say, we have enough work to keep ourselves busy.”
She fiddled with how her skirt lay across her knees. “I know you heard my proposal to Mr. Lowe yesterday, so I’d like you to be the first businessman in the area given the opportunity to help Teaville get a women’s home. I saw your genuine interest in the children this past Saturday. Few men would have been so at ease in such a group. It seems you have a heart for the downtrodden—and therefore, I can’t think of anyone better to be my first supporter.” She flashed him a big gooey sort of smile.
He rubbed his eye. “In Kingsman & Son, the emphasis is more on Kingsman than Son. I might be a businessman, but it’s my father’s dreams and ambitions that run the show, and I’m afraid he would not support a women’s home.”
And that gooey smile disappeared. “So you have no say whatsoever?” She looked around. “I thought you were running this factory on your own. Or is your father here?”
“He’s not. I didn’t say I have no say. I’m just explaining that my father is the one who steers the company. He’s not happy when the rudder decides to make independent moves.” Not happy was an understatement, actually. “When I do decide to go against him, I have to think through whether it’s worth pushing against the man.” Like this factory. Right now he was only half sur
e improving the business before selling it was worth the trouble.
Though the time away from Father had plenty of other advantages. Hopefully when he returned home, the other arrangement his father wanted to force upon him would no longer be in play.
Evelyn’s smile came back in full force. “There’s nothing more worthy than helping women and children out of the red-light district. What better way to store treasures in heaven? A return you won’t see until you leave this earth, certainly, but a significant one, nonetheless. And with the district only two blocks from your factory, it would benefit your workers to have less vice within a stone’s throw when you hand them their paychecks. Those who succumb to the temptations of the area are much more likely to have trouble at home, addictions, and other vices that will affect their job performance.”
He had to grin. She’d come prepared. “I agree with you. But I told you I’m not intending to stay long in the area.”
“That’s fine. We can still use any aid we can gather, plus your joining in will help me gain more supporters. Just one yes can give me the momentum to get more.”
“I think Mr. Lowe was talking about more than just monetary donations. He wanted actual help. I could give you something from my personal savings, but I won’t be around long enough for anything more.”
“But your factory will be.”
He looked away from her. He wasn’t certain he wanted anyone to know his intentions for the place right now. What chance did he have at snagging a new manager and keeping his less-than-happy foremen if people learned he intended to sell? And if he promised her aid beyond money, what would stop the new owner from simply upending what he set up? “I’m afraid getting involved with a women’s home is not compatible with my business goals at the moment. And I doubt my personal support is the kind Mr. Lowe wants.”
“As I said, you’d be just the beginning.”
To get out from under a clingy female’s attention, he would normally flash the grin that turned women into putty, say something flattering, then offer an empty promise of taking his time in considering the proposal. But he couldn’t do that to Miss Wisely. Her heart was in this. Her eyes already registered the worry that if she couldn’t gain his support, she wouldn’t gain anyone else’s.
Which unfortunately might be true. He was already amazed Lowe had worked against the red-light district and hadn’t been ruined by the businessmen and government officials who would be opposed to such maneuverings. “I’m very sorry, Miss Wisely, but I could give you ten dollars tomorrow if you’d like to return for it.”
She closed her eyes and didn’t move.
He wished he could offer more, but he wasn’t about to do so without thinking things through. Maybe he could figure out a way to get her a few sponsors while he stayed in Teaville.
The silence continued until he began to worry she was going to sit there in protest. But she finally stood. “All right, I’ll come back tomorrow.” Her reply was filled with a sad sort of pretend cheerfulness. She then picked up her basket and held it out to him. “This is for you.”
He put up his hands to refuse. “Since I couldn’t help you, I don’t deserve whatever this is.”
“It’s a welcome-to-town basket.” She held it out until he took it. “The moral society usually hands them out to our church’s visitors, but I figured since I was coming, I’d put one together for you.” She pointed to an envelope. “You’ll find a one-day pass to the new natatorium in there. I don’t know what Kansas City has in the way of bathhouses, but this one has a gymnasium, swimming pool, mineral water baths, and whatever sports amusements you might desire. Along with several consulting physicians, if you’ve a need. There’s also a list of churches and a map. I marked the sections you should probably stay out of and drew stars around the places you can find the best ice cream, cinnamon rolls, steaks, and anything else I thought you might be in need of. This is Sadie’s divinity candy you enjoyed so much at the Lowes’ home, and here’s a wool scarf.”
“A scarf?” In Kansas City, autumn sometimes had unexpected cold spells, but since he was farther south, he assumed the climate would be either similar or warmer. Winter wouldn’t arrive any time soon.
“Well, one of our orphans has learned to knit, and she insisted on giving you one since she wanted you to know she’d be grateful for any help you could give us. Her mother’s still in the area and hasn’t cared enough to come see her, but Suzie holds out hope that she will one day.”
Miss Wisely’s smile was so brittle, he was afraid if she turned her lips up any higher they’d break. “I trust you’ll enjoy the divinity at least.”
He swallowed hard and clenched the basket as he watched her walk away. If he’d never had occasion to feel like a heel before, he definitely knew how it was to feel like one now.
If only his father wasn’t an actual heel, he wouldn’t have sent her off with a frown.
He stared at the monstrous amount of divinity she’d wrapped for him and the tightly rolled gray scarf in his basket. Sleeping tonight had just gone out the window. Would supporting her ministry really be worth risking more of his father’s ire?
Though Father had never actually threatened to disown him, David wasn’t certain which his father would choose if he had to decide between his son and his business reputation.
7
“All right, ladies. I think we’ve got everything covered.” Mrs. Naples, the moral-society president, consulted her list. “Once Miss Wisely finishes her corner, Mrs. Gray will deliver this quilt along with our canned goods to the Higginbothams. Miss McClain is only purchasing the dictionaries for the elementary classrooms until we raise more money, and Miss Sorenson will write a draft of our petition against the new dance hall. Are there any other matters of business we need to address before we leave?”
Evelyn glanced up from her last line of stitching and across the quilting frame toward Mrs. Firebrook. It was rare for the older woman to show up to meetings since she lived out of town.
Evelyn cleared her throat. “Before we adjourn, I was hoping to bring up a ministry need.” If she didn’t mention it now, she’d have to travel nearly thirty minutes to talk to Mrs. Firebrook’s husband about supporting the shelter. Maybe the older woman could convince her husband for her—especially since her own persuasive skills were terrible as of late.
Mrs. Naples gave a prim and proper nod, as if she were the head of state giving permission for her to proceed. Though Mrs. Naples was a touch too serious, she was shades better than their former president, who’d been difficult to please and hypocritical.
Evelyn took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I was thinking that it’s time to resurrect Mr. Lowe’s ministry to the soiled doves of this town.”
Stella Sorenson, the newest member of their group, gave her the most bewildered look, and Evelyn almost laughed. The pretty young blonde seemed to be even more uptight than their president—down to every strand of her Gibson girl hairstyle being perfectly arranged and every inch of her dress starched.
How much had Stella heard about the orphanage? At one time the mansion’s use had been the talk of the town, but thankfully, rumors and speculations had settled down. “Before the mansion was turned into an orphanage, Mr. Lowe had tried to use the home to help women who wanted to leave the red-light district and find respectable work.”
Mercy McClain leaned forward from her seat near Mrs. Firebrook. “That sounds . . . quite daring. Why did he quit?”
Evelyn smiled at the other new member of the group, whose own beautiful blond hair framed curious green eyes. Mercy was a wonderful addition to their moral society, always willing to help, even though it took her longer to do the projects assigned since a birth defect had left her with a missing right hand. But Mercy never let her handicap keep her from volunteering for anything and everything. The exact opposite of prim and proper Stella. Though Stella surely had her good points . . . it would just take more time to discover them, evidently.
“Well, the town wasn’t
too fond of the idea. So the Lowes compromised with an orphanage for the district children instead. However, I think it would be better if there was no need for it at all. What better way to turn the mansion back over to the Lowes than to help the mothers of these children leave the district and keep their families together?”
Mrs. Naples huffed. “I think that’s a lot of time spent on something that likely won’t happen.”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”
Mrs. Naples raised her eyebrows and sniffed.
Evelyn kept right on going. After what happened with their last president, she wasn’t about to sit quietly in the corner anymore. Mrs. Little had almost destroyed their group with her conniving ways, her harsh judgment toward others, and her suppression of the group members’ good ideas. Though her son and husband were now in prison, she’d somehow evaded jail time, despite the evidence against her, leaving the group to limp along for a while in a humiliated gloom.
“I’d like to build a women’s home in the district where the soiled doves can be educated or learn a trade so they can start a new life elsewhere, but Mr. Lowe wants at least two local businessmen to support this endeavor before he’ll consider backing it. Can you ladies pray that I can find those supporters?” She looked across at Mrs. Firebrook. “Or if any of you know someone who can help, I’d love for you to persuade him to meet with Mr. Lowe for more information.”
Mrs. Firebrook kept clipping loose threads as if she weren’t even listening.
Evelyn sighed. “Or if anyone has an idea about where the women might go once they’re ready to live on their own, that would help too.”
“How do you think they’d feel about pigs?”
Now it was Evelyn’s turn to scrunch up her face in confusion like Stella had earlier. She turned to Charlotte “Charlie” Gray and frowned at the woman who wore a cowboy hat most of the time. “Come again?”
“Pigs.” Charlie yanked at her thread, making the tangled mess she’d created even tighter. “Harrison and I’ve got ten acres we aren’t doing much with, so I wondered if those girls might want to help me raise pigs. I’d been thinking about getting more.”
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