Above the Fold

by Rachel Scott McDaniel

Jeffrey observed the exchange with a bemused expression. Perhaps she should go home. Her strategy was failing, and the only way it could worsen would be if—

  “I worked for her father.” A waiter passed by, and Adam set his empty glass on the tray. “Before I got a job at the Dispatch.”

  Elissa’s jaw slackened. “What? Since when?”

  He straightened his suit jacket. “I leave for New York Monday. Care to join me?” The charming smile returned with the bonus of his dimples.

  “So you’re in the newspaper industry?” Jeffrey asked the question to both of them, but his penetrating glare sharpened on Elissa.

  Adam laughed. “Her father owns the Review. Elissa’s heart and soul is that paper.”

  Her gaze darted toward the exit. Now if only her legs weren’t frozen stiff.

  “The women’s club, huh? I applaud your efforts, love.” He lifted his glass in a toast.

  The iron fist which had clenched her heart reached up and grabbed her throat, choking her from replying.

  “Elissa, are you okay?” Adam looked between them. “What’s going on?”

  “This little scout is on the hunt for a story. Sorry your boyfriend had to ruin the ruse. We could’ve had fun.”

  A muscle ticked in Adam’s cheek. “That’s not the way you speak to a lady, Shelby.”

  “Lady? Maybe I should see how far she would go to get her scoop.” Jeffrey grabbed her wrist and planted a kiss full on her lips.

  She yanked back and slapped him, her measly glove lessening the impact.

  “Don’t touch her again.” Adam shrugged off his jacket. “Or you’ll have to answer to me.”

  A wicked smile crested Jeffrey’s lips, and he widened his stance.

  Elissa stepped between them. “Maybe I should just call Doris Green.”

  The spark of rage in Jeffrey’s eyes extinguished into surprise. “What?”

  “The popular Ziegfeld Follies’ actress.” Her smirk held an edge of glee. “Or should I address her as Mrs. Shelby?”

  His earlobes reddened. “How did you—”

  “I’m a good little scout.” She adjusted her glove, her fingers barely tingling from making contact with his arrogant face. “It’s been reported that Doris recently visited Pittsburgh. I’ve also spoken with a witness who saw you and your wife arguing in front of the very building your father would be murdered in hours later.”

  “That’s a lie!” His harsh tone garnered looks from other imbibers. “I was nowhere near the place.”

  “Just like that pipe is an old family heirloom.”

  His eyes darkened at her words.

  “When it happens to be the honeymoon perk at Maple Grove Lodge.” Her brows rose in a knowing arch. “The landlord confirmed your visit with Doris from the last weekend of December.”

  Jeffrey started toward Elissa, but Adam shifted in front of her and shoved him back. “I told you not to touch her.”

  “Woman, if you print that junk in your lousy paper, you’ll be sorry.” Spittle flew with his warning, his breaths heaving. He pointed a finger at her. “I’ll see to it. I have many friends. Many.”

  Her heart raced at his threats. The rage in his dark eyes strengthened her case against him. This man was impulsive, deceiving, and possibly murderous. She stepped behind Adam, and her gaze snagged on a man in the corner, watching her. The intruder who’d wielded a knife at Shelby’s office. Elissa’s gut twisted.

  Whistles pierced from the entrance, and uniformed men stormed in, billy clubs in hand. Federal agents.

  CHAPTER 23

  “How much did they offer?” Tillman’s throaty voice penetrated through his closed office door, stopping Cole from his intended knock. He inclined his ear, trying to tune in over the frenzied noise of the newsroom.

  “That’s a decent price. Would they keep my staff? That’s important to me if I were to sell.”

  Sell.

  Cole stepped back, his heart sinking with each breath, and trudged to his chair.

  Elissa would be devastated. But what could he do?

  He elbowed his desk, leaning his forehead on his fists. Cole still had connections, maybe not with the New York Dispatch, but with other prominent papers. Had the conversation with the Boston Globe’s editor a while back been genuine, or was the man only feeding Cole small talk about welcoming writing samples for a possible position? Cole didn’t desire the journalist job, but Elissa might. What other options would she have after the Review shut the press?

  Cole glanced at his watch. Five till eight.

  Most mornings, Elissa arrived before him. Not today. He frowned. What time was she coming in? He hadn’t talked to her since yesterday morning. After the chaos at the church, Cole’d swung by Elissa’s house only to be told she wasn’t home. Where could she have gone? Whatever the reason, it must have been a serious, principled one. He may have broken promises in the past, but Elissa never had.

  Cole eyed her desk. Only a minute or two would be enough.

  He moved swiftly to her station. Cole had the habit of stealing pencils and typewriter ribbon from Elissa so it wouldn’t appear odd to any onlooker. Instead of him opening the top drawer, he’d simply rummage through the bottom.

  The wooden joints creaked, but not loud enough to attract notice. He grabbed a stack of papers, sifting through until one caught his eye.

  “Women’s Suffrage Stretches Beyond the Right to Vote.”

  He skimmed it. An article about equality in the workplace. Complete with facts about women getting lesser wages than men for the same occupation. Elissa had crafted this with brilliance, evoking emotion with powerful, deliberate words. He folded the paper and shoved it in his pocket.

  Perhaps he should select a few more to provide a well-rounded take on her talent. Given the immense stack of paper, it’d take him a great deal of time to read them all.

  “What are you doing?” Elissa’s voice simmered with outrage.

  His eyes slid shut against his wince. He attempted composure and hazarded a look her way.

  “So it was you who’s been going through my articles.” Her tone, sharper than a razor blade, nicked his defenses.

  “What?” He glanced at his hand, still clutching her work, and then back at her. “It’s not what you think.”

  “You’re trying to find my story for the contest.” She grabbed the papers from him.

  He’d forgotten all about that. “This has nothing to do with it.” He stood from his crouched position.

  “Really?” A perfect brow arched. “Evidence says otherwise.” She flicked the corner of the stack of editorials and then put them back in the drawer, slamming it closed.

  A few Review employees glanced over, Frank waving his pointer finger as if to say shame-shame. No, the shame lay in the fact that Cole couldn’t relay the truth, not without exposing her father’s plans. Tillman should be the one to break the news. Cole owed him that.

  “Elissa, I can’t explain. Not yet.”

  She pushed past him and took her seat. “Then let me explain something. I do not want to be near you. Talk to you. Even look at you. I should’ve trusted reason rather than heart.” She motioned between them, a sheen filling her eyes. “This was all a hoax. Maybe acting is your true profession.”

  Cole placed a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, let’s go somewhere and talk. This isn’t the place—”

  She jerked from his touch. “I can write as well as any man, and you wanted to take that away from me. Stealing my article?” She slammed her palms on the desktop. “What were you going to do? Use it as your own?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” This was going south, fast. “I know you’re only a secretary here, but your qualif—”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re the star reporter. Well, you may have been at one time, but now you’re nothing but a destroyer. You destroyed your own career and now this relationship. Again.”

  Kendrew breezed in the door, clad in his driving duster, jogging toward Elissa. “I only have a seco
nd, but I wanted to be sure you recovered from last night. You were pretty shaken up when I took you home.”

  Elissa stiffened. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Her panic-stricken gaze cast all around, settling on Frank. He eased back in his chair, brows raised in delighted interest, as though he was watching a nickelodeon. She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Last night?” Cole straightened, barring his arms over his expanded chest. “You stood me up for Kendrew?”

  “Stood you …” She jerked her glare from Frank and gaped at Cole, her fingers flitting to her mouth. “The wedding! I—I forgot.”

  Heat scorched through him. “Looks like distrust can go both ways.” His sharp words seemed to bleed the color from her face. Cole hardened himself against the flicker of hurt in her eyes.

  “You know, Parker,”—Kendrew smiled, and Cole plunged his hands in his pockets to keep from pinning the man to the wall— “there are things about this girl that would surprise you to no end.”

  “Is that so?” The growl in his chest strove to break free.

  “Mmm-hmm.” He winked at Elissa, and Cole ground his jaw. “The offer still stands, darling. My train leaves from Union Station at ten, Monday morning. Love for you to be by my side.” He didn’t wait for her response but turned on his heel, stopping briefly to mention something to Frank before he strode out.

  Cole should’ve given him a black eye as a souvenir.

  “You went on a date with Kendrew?” Cole worked to control an even tone while fire sluiced through his veins.

  “I apologize for missing the wedding.” Her voice shook, and she avoided eye contact. “But anything else is none of your concern, Mr. Parker.” She scooted her chair closer to the desk and withdrew a ledger.

  “None of my concern?” He leaned over, grasping the sides of her desk. “Elissa, I’m not sure what game you’re playing with me, but I don’t like being two-timed.” Better to discover this now rather than wait and experience Sterling’s situation. His bride had skipped town. Cole had never witnessed Sterling so distraught. No, Cole would not be the next victim of female toying.

  Her chin jutted, her gaze stormy, raging waves of blue. “That’s quite the line coming from a man who just had his thieving hands in my desk.”

  He straightened. “I wasn’t stealing.”

  “Hey, young lady.” Frank scratched his belly, walking toward her. “Adam told me about The Steel Fountain. Didn’t know you had it in ya.” He gently smacked her shoulder. “Makes me proud.”

  “A speakeasy?” Cole’s blood turned to ice water. The exact place Cole had been writing about this morning. The governor had ordered the raid as a message to the local magistrates who’d received graft money. All the while, the woman he loved had been carousing there, slaking her thirst with the forbidden liquid that had caused Cole’s ruin. “You went with Kendrew?”

  Her eyes turned sheepish. “Not exactly, but I did go. Adam helped me escape when the agents came.”

  “I’ve heard enough.” Cole slapped his homburg on his head, yanked his article out of the typewriter carriage, and tossed it on the folder lying beside her. “Hope your every dream comes true, Miss Tillman.”

  The fragrance of vanilla normally brightened Elissa’s spirits, but not even helping her parents bake Sussex Pond Pudding could cure the sadness. Cooking this dish had been a family tradition, marking the day Elissa’s great-grandparents had sailed over from England.

  She tapped the tines of the fork against the napkin, this morning’s event weighing heavy in her gut.

  Cole hadn’t changed. She’d pegged him correctly from the beginning. Trample others if they hindered him from his goal. He’d burned Elissa once in pursuit of his career, and she’d been stupid enough to allow him to do it again.

  Yet as much as Cole was to blame for their ruined relationship, she bore a sliver of the fault. She’d forgotten about her date with him. Missed the wedding. Well, the almost-wedding. When she’d heard about Sophie abandoning Sterling at the altar, Elissa’s heart had splintered. Poor Sterling.

  She released a gusty sigh, disturbing a few specks of flour coating the table where the pastry would be rolled out.

  “Care to share, my love?” Mother stirred the eggs, the click of the spoon against the bowl scraping every one of Elissa’s nerves.

  She ran a finger along the counter, her silence pulling Father’s attention from measuring the brown sugar. What could she tell them? How much of the speakeasy gossip had already reached Father? It hadn’t been as if she and Cole had been quiet with their heated conversation in the newsroom.

  Distrust can go both ways.

  His words had serrated her heart. How could he have believed she would run around with Adam after what she and Cole had shared? Was his opinion of her that low? The pain glazing his eyes had seemed sincere. So had all those kisses. But his promise to prove himself? Ha! She clenched the dough, practically strangling the pastry.

  “Lissie?” Father’s voice broke through her anguished thoughts.

  Drat. She hadn’t answered them.

  Elissa pulled in a heavy breath. “I visited a speakeasy last night.”

  Mother lost her spoon in the bowl.

  Father’s eyes widened larger than the tablespoon in his hand.

  She reached for the dishtowel and wiped clean the splashes of egg on the counter. “Not for enjoyment. Believe me, I didn’t take a sip.” Might as well confess everything. “I also went to Bootlegger Alley chasing a story.”

  “Not again,” Father mumbled and tightened the lid on the sugar canister. “I specifically asked him to watch over you.”

  Elissa shifted forward, stomach butting against the counter. “What? Who?”

  “Never mind.” He rubbed his brows, almost pinching them together. “You shouldn’t be going to such places. I’m disappointed in you.”

  And it never ended. Her failures. Her faults.

  “It’s dangerous.” Mother wrung her hands on her apron. “What if something had happened to you?”

  Elissa couldn’t process her mother’s concern. Not when Father’s obvious blunder gripped her heart, shoving her curiosity to high levels. “Who did you ask to watch over me?” For some reason, she didn’t believe he’d referred to the patrolman she’d spotted near the house.

  “Cole.”

  The burn of something she couldn’t pinpoint seared the backs of her eyes. She blinked, but the fire remained. “Why?”

  “I know, Lissie. I know all about it.” He set the utensils in the sink and regarded her with that fatherly expression that told her she’d done something wrong. “I found your articles about the Cartelli case. You went to dingy bars and traipsed around in search of the scoop. You even interviewed a bootlegger.”

  Her jaw dropped. Mother gasped.

  “How do you know this?” Elissa tightened her grip on the edge of the counter. “Did you snoop in my desk drawer too?”

  His jowly chin dipped.

  Both Cole and her father? The very men who should have encouraged her had gone behind her back. Invaded her personal space. “I know why Cole did, but why you?” Understanding pierced her chest. “It was all pretense. The contest. The opportunity to get my article above the fold. Cole’s feelings for me. All a deception to keep little Elissa from harming herself.” She glanced at her incapable hands. Hands that were only to answer phones, cook dinners, and stay tucked in pockets away from life’s adventures.

  Mother gazed at her with innocent blues. “Elissa, I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Her attention bounced between them. “What’s wrong here?”

  The truth pressed against Elissa’s soul, forcing a hot tear down her cheek. “It’s simple, Mother. You should’ve had a son. That’s the qualification I lack.” The thick air pinched her lungs, her breathing sharp against her ribs. “Perhaps Cole could fill that position. He and Father are like-minded.”

  She ran from the room, from the house, from the world that set itself against her.

  The chill
of the stone pressed through her tweed skirt, but the numbing had started long before she reached her favorite thinking spot. Her refuge. On the edge of Shadyside, situated in front of the massive Howe estate, Howe Springs might have only been a refreshing area for some, but to her, it’d become a place where she solved life’s problems.

  The open-faced building, with its carved pillars supporting the thick roof, had always reminded her of a Greek temple. Only instead of housing ancient rulers, it lodged three natural fountains. Nooks with benches bookended the structure, high retaining barriers on one side and stone walls framing the springs on the other. The cove on the right Elissa had claimed as her own.

  In these waters, Cole had washed the soil and blood from his wounds. His torn cap had flopped over eyes too weary for his years. What if she hadn’t come here to read that day? Their paths wouldn’t have crossed. Their lives wouldn’t have entwined. Her heart would’ve never been broken.

  The clouds, a confining gray, blocked the sun, and the breeze rattled the bare limbs of maple trees behind her. Nature sighed its coldness, and her soul felt just as drafty.

  Now she understood her place in life. Cole had only paid attention to her because Father had insisted, and he sure had taken advantage of the opportunity.

  Not enough.

  The chant which had echoed within her years ago returned, pulsing through her entire being. She hadn’t been enough to make Cole love her for who she was. Not talented enough for Father. Not poised enough for Mother’s expectations. Not refined enough for society. Not. Enough.

  She fingered her yellow rose. Even her efforts for the women’s movement had amounted to nothing. What was she good for?

  Trapped beneath heavy pain, tears wouldn’t surface, but the water from the spring gurgled, invading her ears, her spirit.

  But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst, but the water that I shall give him will be in him a well of water springing up to everlasting life.

  The Scripture verse read by the minister the day she’d given her heart to Jesus whispered in her memory. But that same heart was now cracked and dry. Dehydrated from effort. She couldn’t live like a talking manners manual anymore. Couldn’t place her entire worth, her life’s value, on the success of her dream.