by Joanna Shupe
Feeling lighter, she grabbed the satchel at her feet. “Shall we take a look at the designs?”
Ellen nodded. “Indeed, I’d like that. But please, do not give up on my son, Eva. The hotel needs you. He needs you.”
Eva’s tongue thickened with emotion, her brain not entirely certain how to respond. So she merely nodded and picked up her drawings.
Phillip struck the heavy bag with a series of blows, alternating his fists, his arm muscles burning with the effort. Sweat rolled down his torso and face, his chest heaving.
Unable to focus on work, he’d come to the ballroom in the middle of the day and wrapped his hands in boxing gloves. The physical release of boxing had saved his sanity the past three days. Work on the hotel site had been shut down completely, the laborers still on strike. He hadn’t hired the women again, a seemingly impossible task without her assistance.
And he absolutely would not think about her.
He hadn’t decided what to do about the dilemma she’d caused. Should he fire Milliken and the entire crew? They’d turned against him, now in league with the Tammany-backed union. How long would it take to find a new crew to replace them all?
Thus far, the news of her father’s illness had not been made public. The union was likely sitting on the information, ready to use it as leverage over Phillip should they not get what they wanted. Perhaps he should release that tidbit himself, to wrest back a bit of control in this calamity.
Jesus, what a mess. He never should have let her stay on.
And the worst part? He missed her. Like a lovesick schoolboy.
It was disgusting.
“Ho! Ease up on that poor bag.”
Phillip dropped his arms and found Frank Tripp sauntering across the ballroom. “Please tell me you’ve brought some good news.”
Tripp frowned and the knot in Phillip’s stomach tightened. “There’s not much good news to be had, I’m afraid,” Tripp said.
Phillip bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees, taking a minute to catch his breath. “Let’s have it, then. What have you leaned?”
“First, the contract. That’s a bit of a gray area. She was careful not to use her father’s signet ring, seal, or make any reference whatsoever to Lord Cassell in the correspondence or contract. Everything is as ‘E. M. Hyde,’ which legally could refer to herself.”
Clever of her. “So in your opinion?”
Tripp lifted a shoulder. “The city has no basis to revoke the permits. As far as I can tell, everything is binding and legal. This also means you’ll have a hard time winning a breach of contract case in court.”
Phillip exhaled harshly. Part of him was relieved. He hadn’t wanted to pursue legal action against her for a variety of reasons. “You’re saying I am able to do nothing?”
“You could withhold the payments. Let her try to take you to court, if she so chooses. Doubtful the Hydes could afford a protracted trial. She wasn’t lying when she said they were in dire straits. The estate barely has two farthings to rub together.”
That was astounding. Her father should be horsewhipped for squandering so much money and leaving Eva in financial peril. “What of the union? Have you spoken with them?”
“I have. They are willing to return to work, with full compensation for days missed, as long as Lady Eva is not allowed on the construction site. Ever.”
While Phillip had barred her temporarily from returning, allowing the union to make this permanent rankled. The decision should be his, not anyone else’s.
“I don’t like giving in,” he told Tripp. “They’ll be emboldened by the victory. Who knows what may cause them to strike next? It could be any damn thing.”
“I agree.”
“You do?” He had expected his attorney to push for a quick resolution. Plus, every day without construction on the site meant the entire schedule had to be adjusted. The project wouldn’t move into the black until the hotel opened to paying guests.
“Yes, I do. This sets a dangerous precedent.” Tripp thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. “Also, I am not certain it will do your romantic life any good.”
A choked noise erupted from Phillip’s throat. “My romantic life?”
“Yes. It’s obvious there is something between you and Lady Eva. Doubtful she’d ever forgive you for not taking a stand on her behalf.”
“First of all, there’s nothing between us.” The lie scraped over his throat. “Second, I’ve been taking a stand on her behalf for weeks now. Dashed lot of good that’s done me.”
Tripp shook his head. “You may lie to your mistress, your priest, and your mother . . . but never lie to your attorney. If you think it isn’t obvious when you are both in the same room, let me be the one to disabuse you of that. Besides, you forget who reviewed the deed for Twenty-Fourth Street.”
“Which could’ve just been sitting empty for all you know.”
“But it wasn’t.” Tripp winked.
Annoyed and frustrated, Phillip punched the heavy bag again, desperate for something to do. “Have you spoken with her?”
“No, I had no reason to do so. Plus, I assumed you would speak with her.”
He should have. Ignoring her had been cowardly, a result of his stinging pride. But he was still too angry, too hurt by her deception. He’d thought to give it a few more days, until he was calm. “I haven’t decided what to do. I don’t know what to say.”
Tripp sighed and Phillip heard him walk away. He kept at the bag, moving his fists, waiting for clarity to strike him like a thunderbolt. That, or exhaust himself into a stupor.
His attorney leaned against the wall. “Are you unhappy with the designs for the hotel?”
Phillip answered honestly. “No.”
“So why does anything change now that you’ve learned she is the architect? I realize she lied, but you know why. Not only is she the wrong gender, she has that nickname to contend with. It cannot be easy having everyone disregard you when you clearly possess the talent.”
“I don’t want to feel sorry for her,” he snapped. “She deceived me.” More than once, in fact.
“Yes, I realize that. But are you ready to have another architect take over in her stead? Are you ready to never see her again?”
Both notions sat heavily in his chest, making it even harder to breathe. He stopped boxing and stood there, panting. “You say that as if the choice is simple.”
“Because it is. Either you are willing to forgive her or you aren’t. And in case you’re making the comparison, this isn’t anything like what happened with Caroline.”
“Really? And how exactly are you so certain?”
“Your former fiancée planned on taking everything from you to cover her misdeeds. Your name, your home, your money. Lady Eva may have deceived you but she was giving you exactly what you wanted. Your hotel, your legacy. You would have been better off in the end.”
Interesting way of looking at the problem. He hadn’t considered that before. “Only an attorney could spin the facts so handily.”
Tripp lifted his hands, a small smile twisting his lips. “It’s what I do best. But you should think about it because the longer you let this go on, the harder it will be to win her back.”
He nearly snorted. “Who said anything about winning her back?”
“You didn’t have to. The sorry state in which I found you did. By the way, I did learn who was behind this strike, if you care to know.”
Phillip’s head snapped up. “What do you mean? I assumed Keene and Tammany were behind it.”
“To an extent,” Tripp said. “Keene’s been talking to the union and making promises. But there’s someone giving large payoffs to ensure the hotel project does not move forward.”
Goddamn it. “Who?”
“Mr. Mortimer Hall.”
Becca’s father. Jesus. Phillip’s shoulders sank. He never would have guessed. He smacked the bag with a devastating right hook.
“Yes,” Tripp said grimly. “I thought you mig
ht enjoy that news, which is why I gave it to you last. We’ll be in touch, Mansfield. I have a meeting to attend.”
Tripp strolled out of the ballroom, his arm raised in a half-hearted wave.
Furious, Phillip stood leaning on the punching bag. He would find a way to deal with Mortimer Hall. No one tried to sabotage his project and got away with it.
Chapter Eighteen
Three men entered the Cortlands’ receiving room. Eva stood as the butler announced them. “Misters Debs, Gray, and Milliken, my lady.”
She waited until they crossed the room, and then struck out her hand. “Thank you, gentlemen, for coming. I am most grateful. I realize this was a last-minute request.” The meeting had come together quickly once she had returned from Newport. “You recall Mr. Tripp, I’m sure.” She gestured toward Phillip’s solicitor, who stood beside her.
“Of course,” Debs said as he shook hands with Mr. Tripp. “Where is Mansfield?”
Eva motioned to the footman, who came forward to offer glasses of sherry from a silver tray. All three men accepted the spirits. “He was unable to join us, so Mr. Tripp is here as his representative.”
Not quite the truth. She hadn’t invited Phillip. This meeting was a gamble and better to have fewer witnesses if it failed. Most important to her was getting the project up and running again. Every other concern was secondary.
Still, she hated to add one more secret between them, even if he likely never planned to speak to her again.
“I suppose that’ll be all right,” Mr. Gray said as everyone settled into chairs. “It’s not as if we’re ready to arrive at a resolution.”
Oh, she wouldn’t be too certain about that, if today went as planned.
“First,” she said. “I wanted to discuss in greater detail the issues you have with me. Let’s address them one by one, shall we?”
The two union reps shifted in their chairs, clearly uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “Well, now, Lady Eva,” Debs finally said. “We wouldn’t care to hurt your tender feelings.”
“My feelings are far from tender, Mr. Debs. Please, let us hear these concerns.”
“You must be aware that you are a woman,” Mr. Gray said, as if that was all the explanation required.
“I am quite aware of that. I am curious as to what that has to do with my abilities to perform the job.”
“Please, my lady. This is a waste of everyone’s—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Debs, but this is hardly a waste of time. I’d like to go through your grievances regarding me and address them. It’s only fair.”
“Mr. Tripp,” Gray appealed. “Certainly you can see this is a most unconventional conversation.”
The solicitor lifted one dark brow. “I see nothing of the sort. In a labor dispute, the two sides must come together to discuss their grievances. Unless, of course, Mr. Milliken would like to pack up and return to Chicago. I should tell you that we have three construction crews waiting, one from Boston and two from Philadelphia. All are ready to travel to New York City at a moment’s notice.” He brushed the sleeve of his jacket. “And an interesting fact? None belong to your union, Mr. Debs.”
Debs’s mouth flattened into an unhappy line. “That won’t stop us from picketing.”
“We’ll see,” Tripp said with a small, mysterious smile. Eva had informed him of her plan beforehand, and he’d pronounced her “brilliant.”
She hoped he didn’t come to regret that praise.
I never should have allowed a woman to take charge of this project. After everything, Phillip still saw her as a mistake. How she longed to prove him wrong today.
Gesturing at the union reps, she said, “So back to the issue at hand. Let us hear your complaints, gentlemen.”
Debs and Gray exchanged a smug look, as if to say, Well, she asked for it.
It was Gray who spoke first. “You must admit you are hardly qualified. Your experience is lacking, my lady, and that raises concerns about the soundness of your structure.”
She’d expected this. “Would you accept an independent review of the plans from an architectural firm?”
Debs cleared his throat. “I suppose we might, if it were independent and the firm itself was a reputable one.”
“Excellent. Because I have authorized statements from not one, but three, architectural firms. Mr. Tripp?”
The solicitor withdrew three documents full of legal jargon and began slapping them on the low table. “These are sworn statements from Mr. McKim of McKim, Mead and White; Mr. Charles Coolidge of Boston’s Shepley, Rutan and Coolidge; and Mr. Richard Morris Hunt, who I believe needs no introduction whatsoever.”
Eva tried not to gloat. She’d gone to see Hunt, an old friend of her father’s, in Newport herself, a visit she’d never forget. Hunt had called her work “inspired.”
The two union reps wore shocked expressions before they carefully masked them. Then Mr. Gray waved his hand at the papers. “This may speak to the design but it does not solve the issue of her presence at the site.”
“Ah, yes. My presence at the site.” Eva resisted the urge to rub her hands together in anticipation. “Let’s discuss why that is a problem.”
Everyone looked to Milliken, who had yet to speak. The edge of his lip curled as he said, “The men are distracted by you. They should be watching what they’re doing instead of following you around with their eyes.”
“And how many injuries have I caused in these first few weeks of construction?”
“I couldn’t say,” Milliken said with a frown.
“But you can,” Tripp said. “Each accident must be recorded and reported to the owner, as stipulated in your contract with Mr. Mansfield. So how many injuries have been sustained because of Lady Eva?”
“We’ve had thirteen injuries.” Milliken lifted his chin.
Tripp pulled a stack of papers out of his satchel. “I counted fourteen in total, but who’s to quibble?” He flipped the pages. “And all of these are normal injuries that occur at any construction site in the height of summer. Nine overexposures to heat, two abdominal pains, two ringing in the ears, and one migraine. Do any of those sound like they were related to Lady Eva’s presence?”
“Not directly, but indirectly . . .” The general contractor let his voice drift off, as if that were all the explanation required.
“Indirectly, how?” Tripp asked. “Because not one of these occurred when Lady Eva was actually on the premises.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped, pointing a finger at Eva. “They call her Lady Unlucky, and that’s what our site has become.”
“Really?” Tripp located a few more papers in his bag. “Because not only is the project ahead of schedule, it is under budget. Well, before the strike, of course. How is that unlucky?”
“Women should not work!” Milliken snarled.
Now they were getting to the meat of it. Eva asked the union reps, “And do you agree, sirs? That women should not find gainful employment?”
“I’m afraid I do,” Debs said. “At least not around men. You should work in a factory with other women. Where it’s safe.” Mr. Gray nodded at this, adding his approval.
Eva rose. “You already know I disagree and the numbers Mr. Tripp has produced prove otherwise. However, sometimes proof is not enough. A personal touch is required.”
She strode to the door that led into the dining room. Sliding it open, she beckoned her guests. “Ladies, if you’ll join us now.”
Three women walked into the receiving room—and all three men shot to their feet.
“Good God,” Gray breathed.
“What is the meaning of this?” Debs choked out. “What is my mother doing here?”
“I have a very good reason for bringing these women here today. Allow me to perform the introductions.” She gestured to the woman on her far left. “This is Mr. Debs’s mother, who works in the family grocery in Brooklyn. Next is Mr. Gray’s mother, who owns a saloon with her husband in the Lower East Side. Last
ly, this is Mr. Milliken’s sister, who came in from Ohio. She is employed at a bank. Ladies, thank you for coming here this afternoon.”
“What are you hoping to prove?” Gray asked.
Eva ignored him. “Ladies, do all of you work in an environment where men are also present?”
They all nodded.
“And have any of the men suffered injuries in your presence, because you are too distracting?”
Two rounds of “no” were heard, while Mrs. Gray said, “Hell, no. My lady.”
Somehow Eva kept from smiling at that. “And do any of you believe that a woman’s mere presence in the workplace causes it to be unsafe?”
Each issued an emphatic no, and then Mrs. Debs added, “Son, I should hope you don’t believe that. If you do, then you must think I shouldn’t work, either.”
“I don’t believe that about you, Mother,” Mr. Debs said. “But a construction site—”
“Construction site, nothing.” His mother snorted. “All men want is to tell women what they can and cannot do. Smart, pretty thing like Lady Eva . . .” She shook her head. “You should all be lining up to let her work there.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Debs,” Eva said.
“George,” Mrs. Gray said, “I worked my fingers to the bone in that saloon to send you to a fancy college. What if someone had prevented me from providing for you? What then?”
Mr. Gray had the grace to turn red. He didn’t even attempt to argue with her.
Milliken’s sister stepped forward. “John, I know we aren’t as close as we used to be, but I’m certain Mother would be disappointed were she still alive. Our parents believed everyone deserved a fair chance, no matter their background.”
Milliken crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the wall, his jaw tight. Eva had suspected he would be the hardest to reach.
If she couldn’t change his mind, so be it.
“So, gentlemen.” She clapped her hands together. “Have we addressed all of your concerns? Are we able to end the strike and get the men back to work?”
Debs and Gray glanced at each other, then at their respective mothers. “Allow us a few moments to discuss this privately,” Debs said. “I’m certain we can come to some sort of an agreement.”