Which meant Evelyn would be sitting directly across from him if she didn’t move. “Why don’t we put him between Max and Robert?”
“We could move them both next to you and Mr. Kingsman, if you’d like.”
“I suppose.” She wouldn’t argue lest Momma read too much into her wanting to distance herself from the man. Besides, if Momma sat at the other end of the table, maybe Mr. Kingsman wouldn’t catch that Momma was always on the lookout for a man to sweep her daughter off her feet.
Especially since Evelyn was determined to keep her feet firmly adhered to the ground.
8
David smiled and exchanged pleasantries with his factory workers as he fought against the departing crowd on his way to the shipping section. This afternoon, Robert and Max had met him at the mansion’s door so eager to start their first day that he wondered if they’d slept the night before or paid any attention in school.
The orphanage’s driver could have driven them, but David had wanted to personally escort them on their first day, tour the factory, and introduce them to their foreman. He’d also hoped to have seen Miss Wisely, to say good afternoon and reassure her the boys would be taken care of. He usually got along well with everyone but his father, so this strange wall she seemed to put up whenever he came near flustered him.
Though if he’d never won his father’s respect in twenty-five years, why did he allow a stranger’s lack of approval to niggle at him so?
Was she just upset he hadn’t offered her the help she wanted? Surely not. She had been standoffish before then, and she didn’t strike him as petty or manipulative. He’d been around enough of those kind of women that he could almost feel them coming before he saw them.
Maybe it was because their first meeting had been awkward. He hated not being liked. Hopefully she would realize he wasn’t so bad and smile at him once or twice.
Robert and Max were hanging up their aprons as he approached, but Max was doing it one-handed. A large bandage swathed his hand and wrist.
David hurried forward. “What happened?”
Max held up his hand and shrugged. “I accidently knocked a few jars onto the floor. When I was cleaning up, someone bumped me and I fell. A few pieces scraped my knee too, but I’m fine. I’m really sorry about the five I broke though. I told the foreman I’d pay for them, but he said I didn’t have to. I hope you won’t fire me. But if you do, please don’t fire Robert.”
David clasped the young man’s shoulder, already proud of him. “Thanks for taking responsibility, but the foreman’s right, you’re not obligated to pay me back. I calculate breakage and mishap into my business plans. If it becomes a habit though, that’s when I deal with an individual worker in regard to him continuing work here.”
“Oh, I won’t make it a habit. I promise.”
He looked over at the foreman, who was tallying the day’s undertakings. The older man gave him a nod.
“Would you two like to return tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes,” they both said in chorus.
“Good. We’ll ask Miss Wisely if that’s all right.” Hopefully the big bandage wouldn’t dissuade her. Her parents had seemed happy about the brothers working, but Evelyn had been quiet throughout dinner. “Keep in mind, though, I won’t keep you on unless you’re doing well in school. Good workers are good students.”
Robert cringed. “What grades do we have to have? I’ve never gotten high marks, not like Max. He’s smarter than me.”
“It’s not the marks themselves. It’s whether the Wiselys and your teacher think you’re working as well as you can.”
Robert relaxed, and David motioned them to follow. “Let’s get you home. You’ve got chores, I hear.”
They walked out to the factory’s small buggy used for miscellaneous deliveries and squished onto the bench seat meant for two.
The brothers informed him of all they’d done that day as the buggy rattled over the brick streets. Hopefully their enthusiastic descriptions of their mundane tasks would calm any fears the Wiselys might have in regard to Max’s accident and they would allow them to return.
“Do you know what I’m going to do with my money?” Robert leaned forward to look at him around his brother, who was squished in the middle.
“What?”
“I’m going to get me a Stevens rifle.”
David smiled—he’d wanted a rifle at around Robert’s age. Not that his father would have ever let him have one. “What are you going to do with your money, Max?”
The young man shrugged. “I told Robert we should save everything we make. I mean, we have no parents and we can’t stay at the orphanage much longer. What if we can’t get good jobs? I don’t ever want to be hungry again.”
“Very wise, Max.”
Robert sighed. “I can save money after I get a rifle.”
“You could,” David said. “You’ve got time to think about it.”
“I could always sell the rifle if we got hungry.”
David crossed the railroad tracks, and that kept him from responding for a bit. “Or you could keep the rifle to get squirrels and rabbits with.”
“Right!” Robert jabbed Max in his side with an elbow. “We wouldn’t even need money for food if I had a rifle.”
“You would need bullets, but both approaches are good.” David directed the bay to head up the mansion’s winding driveway and couldn’t help but shake his head at the thought of using such a magnificent structure as an orphanage. His own house was almost as large, though not as impressive, but definitely grander than the other houses he’d seen in Teaville. What would his father say if he turned his Kansas City estate into an orphanage? How many people would think him crazy?
But his house was only a status symbol. The boardinghouse he was in right now was comfortable enough—though the owner was no cook. Considering Mrs. Vannoster was half beside herself running a boardinghouse while caring for twin infants, he didn’t understand why she’d refused to let him cook his own meals, especially after he’d volunteered to cook for everyone. Perhaps she figured a man wouldn’t know his way around a kitchen.
Perhaps it was best he not cook for the boardinghouse residents though. After they’d tasted something cooked right, the often unidentifiable glop of stew she served every other day would be even harder for the boarders to choke down.
The sound of children’s laughter was followed by the sight of a group of children playing tag, weaving in and out of the wraparound porch’s massive columns as they tried to catch one another. Robert jumped off the buggy before David stopped and darted across the lawn, chasing after a boy who’d stuck his tongue out at him.
When the buggy came to a stop, Max held out his good hand. “Thank you so much, sir.”
David smiled as he shook it. “You’re going to go far, Max. I just know it.”
The young man beamed. “Maybe one day I’ll be your foreman.”
“You never know.” Though Max struck him as being more of the quiet, intellectual type than a laborer, he wasn’t about to stomp on whatever dream the young man had at the moment. He knew how demotivating it was to have one’s dreams belittled. It would have been so much easier if Father had believed in him and let him discover his weaknesses and strengths with guidance rather than telling him what he was good for and chastising him any time he talked of trying something new.
He would do nothing to squash anyone’s dreams if he could help it. “If I need another foreman next year, I’ll see if you’re still interested. Got to work hard though.”
“Yes, sir.” Max jumped down and walked with a swagger toward the mansion’s front door.
What if he’d felt that confident at his age? Believing he had the freedom to do whatever he set his heart on?
He’d certainly not be working in a glass factory. But to step away from Kingsman & Son would be like stabbing his father in the heart. His father surely had one, even if it was tied more to status and power than his son.
What if he just adm
itted making a big profit with the glass factory wasn’t going to be as easy as he first thought and did as his father bid?
But if David admitted to one miscalculation, it would only make Father more certain he’d cave to his other demand. And though he agreed with Father that strengthening their bond with the Lister family would benefit their business, the stakes were far too personal.
David scratched his horse’s neck and left him to head inside. He probably didn’t need to go in, but he wanted to explain about Max’s hand and make sure they knew he wanted the brothers to return.
And partially because he wanted a connection. It looked as if he was going to be in Teaville for a while, so he needed to get out of his office and gather a few friends.
And Miss Wisely certainly intrigued him. If he had her vision, drive, and determination, he’d not be waffling on what he wanted to do with his life, simply coasting through what was expected of him.
She was certainly not doing what was expected of her—settling down and having children—and was pursuing something without any monetary promise whatsoever, and yet she didn’t seem to be second-guessing herself.
The butler showed David inside, where he waited for one of the Wiselys to meet him. He could smell something like chicken and dumplings or potpies nearly ready to be served. He sniffed the air, trying to parcel out the herbs and spices he was smelling. His stomach growled, and he tried not to think about the less-than-appetizing stuff his boardinghouse matron would serve.
Mrs. Wisely came around the corner. Her white hair was flattened and skewed to one side, but her smile was contagious. Did her daughter have her smile?
He hadn’t so much as gotten Evelyn to crack a grin. And why did that bother him so much?
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kingsman. How did the boys do?”
“They did well.” He looked past her, hoping for a glimpse of her daughter. “I wanted to let you know Max cut himself, but I think it was an accident that has little chance of being repeated. I do hope you’ll allow him to return.”
“If we barred the children from everything that might result in minor injuries, they’d be doing nothing but sitting in chairs all day—and even then I bet we’d have a few bumps and bruises.” She smiled again. “As long as it wasn’t due to negligence, I don’t see us worrying too much if they wish to return.”
“I believe they do, at least they’ve said so to me. If they don’t, send me a message. Otherwise I’d love for your driver to bring them after school whenever they’re able.”
“Sounds good.”
He licked his lips and swallowed, trying not to think about the food here versus the food awaiting him.
Robert ran in from the hall to the right and jumped over the three steps that descended into the entryway’s foyer, right toward Mrs. Wisely.
David lunged in front of Mrs. Wisely to save her from being toppled, but Robert slammed into her first.
Though she gasped and shook her head at the boy as she teetered, she seemed to take getting the wind knocked out of her in stride. “I take it you had a good day?”
Robert nodded. “Where’s Miss Wisely? I want to tell her all about it.”
“I’d hoped she’d met up with you in town.” Mrs. Wisely’s face tensed and she closed her eyes for a split second. “Hopefully she’ll return in time for dinner. You can tell her then.”
Robert frowned, then ran off.
Mrs. Wisely’s shoulders deflated as she stared off into space.
What had made her smile disappear so quickly? “Is there something amiss with Miss Wisely?”
Her mother looked westward, as if she could see through the mansion’s walls. “After lunch, Caroline wanted to make sure one of the women she’d been tending had taken her medication. Evelyn went along to check on a child they hadn’t seen Saturday. They weren’t supposed to be gone this long.”
If Evelyn had found trouble in the red-light district, how long would they have to rescue her before she was completely ruined, or worse?
He ran a hand through his hair, anchoring his fingers in the longer hair at the nape of his neck in an attempt to keep from pacing. He shouldn’t do anything to heighten Mrs. Wisely’s fears. She could surely imagine as many terrible scenarios as he. “Do you know where the child she was checking on lives?”
The front door swung open behind him, and Mrs. Wisely’s shoulders raised and lowered with an exaggerated relief.
Except when he turned around, it was Miss O’Conner and no one else.
The housekeeper held her hands clasped in front of her stark white apron. “Is Evelyn here?”
Mrs. Wisely strode past him and grabbed Miss O’Conner’s hands. “Were you not supposed to come back together?”
“I waited for an hour at the wagon. I went looking for her but couldn’t find her.” The sharp green eyes that had watched him so carefully at Saturday’s picnic were limper than dying grass. “I’d hoped she’d come home with Robert and Max.”
Mrs. Wisely shook her head vehemently. “She would have told you that’s what she was doing.”
Miss O’Conner’s throat swelled with an exaggerated swallow. “I know.”
“I’ll get Walter this instant.” Mrs. Wisely rushed past David. “Is Mr. Parker available to drive?” she called back over her shoulder at the housekeeper.
“I didn’t see him out there.”
“Mrs. Wisely,” David called after her, overtaking her before she scuttled up the stairs. “Isn’t your husband’s leg giving him difficulty?”
She met his gaze with reddening eyes. “He’ll look for her regardless.”
“Allow me.” He turned to see that Caroline hadn’t budged an inch. “Miss O’Conner and I will search for her, and if we don’t find her within the hour, we’ll send word.”
“I’m not sure Walter won’t head out the second I tell him, anyhow.”
“Maybe he could send your driver to Mr. Lowe’s and let him know what’s happened. I bet he could search more easily.”
“That won’t stop her father from moving heaven and earth to find her.”
“If he can’t, remind him he can do so on his knees.”
Mrs. Wisely’s mouth moved as if she wanted to speak, but she thought better of it and scurried away.
“Come, Miss O’Conner.” He took the housekeeper by the elbow. “Tell me where you’ve been, what she said, and anything else that might help us find her.”
9
Struggling with the weight of a limp twelve-year-old, Evelyn hobbled toward a tree stump in an overgrown lot, lowered the boy onto the makeshift seat, and sat beside him. The heat from Scott’s body swathed in the blanket Queenie had given her was nearly unbearable. The early-autumn warmth, the layers of her own clothing, and the long blocks she’d trekked with the boy had made her sweat more than a lady ought.
Scott moaned.
“Are you all right, Scott?” She pushed the light blanket off his head to see his swollen eyes, crowded by the telltale sores of smallpox. “I’m so sorry I started dragging you around. I should’ve realized Queenie might not have been able to take us in.”
But the boy only made garbled sounds, his head jerking as if he was having a bad dream.
“You have to be all right . . .” Her voice died off, and she gritted her teeth to keep herself from blubbering on the street. If only she’d visited Scott and Amy sooner. But how could she have known of the misery that had visited their house?
Tears of frustration lined her eyelids. No one would dare offer them a ride, not with how Scott looked. The raised bumps on his exposed skin had already made one person who’d ventured close speed away.
She should have stayed with Scott at his little house until the doctor returned, but with Amy still lying where she’d breathed her last . . . Well, she hadn’t been able to stay any longer. Oh, if only Queenie had had room for him.
But Queenie had been tending an unconscious woman, who obviously couldn’t tell them if she was immune to the smallpox or not.
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Where could they go? Dragging Scott around for three blocks had pushed her limits.
Tears dripped off her cheeks and onto Scott. She dug her handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed the dampness off his bumpy face. The poor lad was hard to look at, and though he was skinny, his long frame was just too much of a burden for her to continue wandering about town. The doctor would likely scold her up one side and down the other for taking him out of isolation.
But if she was going to nurse this boy back to life, she couldn’t do so in the red-light district, the orphanage, or any place with children.
Did anyone live nearby who wouldn’t be put at risk, who would allow sickness into their house?
The quick clip-clop of hooves sounded down the street.
She tucked the blanket back around Scott’s face and neck to hide him from view. Maybe she should take him back to his place—surely the doctor would return to take Amy away—but how could she stay overnight in the bad part of town? The townsfolk might begrudgingly give a pastor’s daughter the benefit of the doubt in regard to her trips into the district, but rumors were bound to circulate if she stayed for several nights, no matter if she was tending a sick boy or not.
“There!”
She looked up at the man’s shout, and almost melted at the sight of Caroline sitting beside Mr. Kingsman in an unfamiliar beaten-up buggy.
He nearly stood to stop the horse, and Caroline swung her leg over the little buggy’s edge.
“Stop!”
They both froze.
“Have you had the smallpox?”
Mr. Kingsman straightened with a wince, and Caroline shook her head. She slid back onto the buggy’s seat reluctantly. “I haven’t. I’ve not been inoculated either.”
She’d been afraid of that. “I couldn’t leave him alone in his home, but I don’t know where I can take him. Queenie has someone with her, and even if she didn’t, taking in Scott would prevent her from helping anyone else for two weeks.”
“But you’re immune, right?” Mr. Kingsman was holding on to the buggy’s reins as if they might slip away.
“I had a mild case when I was three—don’t even remember it.” She put a hand against her face. “Scars are my only memory.” Had he not seen them? The ones on her right cheek were the most visible, even after all these years. She sometimes caught herself making sure that side of her face was turned away when she talked to someone. Had she been doing that subconsciously with Mr. Kingsman?
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