15
Olivia twirled a pencil in her hand as she watched Ruth pore over the ledger.
Seated behind the desk, her reading glasses perched on her nose, Ruth shook her head. “This doesn’t look good, does it?”
“I’m afraid not. And now with Mr. Cameron’s report saying we need major repairs to the roof, I don’t see how we’ll be able to come up with that large sum on top of all our other expenses.” Olivia gave Ruth a searching look, praying that maybe the widow had another bank account with a large balance, enough to tide them over until this bad spell had passed. She still couldn’t figure out how the problem with the roof had been missed on the first inspection, unless Mr. Cameron had been more thorough than the initial inspector.
Ruth removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I suppose I could go back to the bank, but I doubt that will help. When I got the funds to cover the renovations, the manager was already apprehensive about loaning me the money. I hate to have to approach him again so soon.”
Olivia’s lungs deflated. She hadn’t realized that Ruth had already borrowed money for the remodeling. What were they going to do now?
“This is all my fault.” Olivia got up to pace the room. “If I hadn’t dragged you into this, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” Not only was the home at risk of closing, which would put the residents out on the streets, but Ruth could potentially be forced to sell the house that had been in the Bennington family for years. Would Walcott succeed in gaining the property after all?
“Olivia, please don’t despair. As a famous American general once said, ‘I have only begun to fight.’” Ruth gave a tight smile. “We need to collect some of the money promised by our donors and perhaps target a few new ones.” She tapped a pencil to her lips. “Let me make some phone calls and see what I can come up with.”
Olivia nodded. “All right. I’ll work on more ways to reduce our expenses.” Thankfully they’d already purchased the supplies for the nursery, including several bassinets, baby clothing, and diapers. “Do you think we should tell the residents about this?”
“Not just yet. We don’t want them to worry unnecessarily.”
“What about the midwife? When will she need to be paid?”
Ruth had managed to secure a local woman named Mrs. Dinglemire, who had many years of experience. They had paid a retainer to engage her services, but she had yet to meet with the residents individually, and some were getting fairly close to their due dates.
“We have a few more weeks until then,” Ruth said. “And even so, we should be able to pay her salary. It’s the bigger outlay of cash for the roof that concerns me.”
The doorbell rang.
Please, no more bad news. Olivia didn’t think she could take one more setback. “I’ll get it.”
Still consumed by their financial woes, Olivia opened the door. Her mood deteriorated even more at the sight of the man on the doorstep.
“What do you want, Mr. Reed?” she said in her iciest tone.
He pulled off his hat and held it to his chest, a pleading expression in his eyes. “I want to apologize again, Miss Rosetti. Won’t you allow me to explain?”
She hesitated, hating that even after everything he’d done, she still had a hard time saying no to the man. “Very well. You have five minutes.”
“Thank you. You’re more than gracious.” He stepped inside and, without waiting for an invitation, moved straight into the parlor.
She ground her molars together and followed him. “I don’t see what more there is to discuss. You want this house, and we aren’t selling. No matter what manner of tricks you come up with.”
He had the grace to look ashamed. “I do feel terrible about what I did. And about how it must seem like I was deceiving you.”
“Seem like?” Olivia swept across the carpet. “You were spying on us, Mr. Reed, for your own selfish purposes, trying to find something to use against us.”
“I guess in the back of my mind I hoped I might discover something that would aid my cause. But I honestly did want to learn more about your facility, and the more I learned, the more I came to admire what you’re doing here.” He shook his head. “What you said yesterday made me see how horribly selfish I’ve been not even considering the women who live here. I assumed Mrs. Bennington would sell this house and buy another, not taking into account the huge disruption to everyone’s lives.”
“I’m glad you realize that now.” Olivia crossed her arms. “Margaret and Patricia are nearing their due dates. That kind of stress could bring on early labor.” Perhaps if the man knew the women’s names, he would think of them as real people. “And Nancy, Cherise, and Jenny are just getting used to us.”
Jenny, an extremely introverted girl, was the latest to arrive. Olivia suspected she may have been abused. She was only recently starting to let down her guard and join them for meals.
He hung his head. “I apologize again. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
The man seemed sincere, but she didn’t fully trust him.
“I don’t suppose you know a good roofer? One who accepts payment in installments?”
His dark brows shot together. “What happened to the roof?”
“The city inspector found a problem, and in order to pass the next inspection, we need some extensive repairs.”
He frowned. “I can ask around. Maybe one of my father’s clients might know an outfit.”
She inclined her chin. “That would be appreciated.”
“Is there anything else I can do?” He moved closer.
Close enough for her to see the silver flecks in his eyes. She’d be a fool to be taken in by him again. “No, thank you. I think you’ve done quite enough for the time being.”
Darius hated the mistrust evident in Olivia’s beautiful brown eyes. Hated that his impulsive action in bringing about the inspection had led to such dire consequences.
But wasn’t that what he’d hoped would happen?
He must seem like the biggest hypocrite imaginable—helping her with the leak one minute and complaining to the city about possible violations the next.
“Thank you for hearing me out,” he said as he put on his hat. “I really do regret any harm my actions have brought about.”
She pinned him with a hard stare. “If that’s true, you’ll convince your boss to leave us alone.”
“All I can do is speak to him again. Try to make him consider another alternative.” He wished he could promise more, but even doing that much was a risk.
The tightness around her mouth eased. “Thank you.”
“There’s no guarantee, though. Mr. Walcott isn’t exactly the compromising type.” He hesitated at the front entrance, hating the idea that he might never see her again. But with no further excuse to prolong his stay, he tipped his hat. “Good-bye, Oliv . . . Miss Rosetti. I wish you all the best.”
Shoving back a huge amount of regret, he let himself out the door and descended the stairs. He truly meant what he’d said. He did hope her home succeeded, yet he was at a loss to determine how he could reconcile that wish with Mr. Walcott’s demands.
Engulfed in his unwanted thoughts, Darius barely acknowledged a woman coming up the walkway.
Instead of passing him, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Is this Bennington Place?” Her voice sounded desperate, and she glanced nervously over her shoulder.
“It is.”
“Do you work here?” She wore a floral scarf over her head, covering the lower part of her face.
Something about the woman stirred his protective instincts. “No, I don’t. But Miss Rosetti is inside. She can help you.” When he went to move away, she tightened her grip on his arm.
“Please. I don’t think I can—” She crumpled into a heap at his feet.
Alarm raced through him as he bent over the woman. The scarf fell away and he gasped. Bruises marred her cheek, and her lip was swollen and bloody.
Hefting her into his arms, he rushed up the stairs and opened the door, not even bothering to knock. “We need help here!”
Olivia appeared almost instantly. She gasped when she saw the woman in his arms.
“Where should I put her?” he asked.
“In the parlor.”
Thankful he didn’t have to carry her up the stairs, Darius laid the woman on the sofa and placed a pillow beneath her head. He took out his handkerchief and gently blotted the blood from her mouth. Her cheek and eye seemed to swell right before his eyes. “She needs ice. And a doctor.”
“Right away.” Olivia disappeared from the room.
Darius removed the woman’s scarf and opened the buttons of her coat, unable to fathom why she would be wearing such a heavy garment in the summer. As he moved the fabric aside, understanding dawned. In all the uproar, he hadn’t noticed she was very pregnant.
He returned his attention to her injuries. What had happened to her? Had she fallen? No, it looked like someone had beaten her.
Disgust flooded his system at the thought of anyone harming a woman carrying a precious life within her. Who would be so despicable?
Olivia returned with a basin of water and an ice pack. “Here, hold this against her cheek. Ruth is calling Dr. Henshaw. I told her it was an emergency.”
While Darius did as she instructed, Olivia set the bowl down and wrung out a cloth. Gently she dabbed at the rest of the woman’s face, working to remove the dried-on blood and clean some of the scrapes.
When the unconscious woman moaned, Olivia pulled away, depositing the cloth back into the basin.
“Where did you find her?” she asked, turning her gaze to Darius at last.
“She came up the walkway as I was leaving. She asked if this was Bennington Place and then collapsed.”
Olivia walked around him to the end of the sofa. The woman’s large belly protruded so that her dress barely reached her knees. Olivia hesitated a moment before laying her palm on top of her stomach. She frowned, looking off into space for several seconds until the ridges in her forehead eased. “The baby’s moving. I hope that means it’s okay.” She removed the woman’s shoes, then gently pulled an afghan over her. “Who could have done this to her? Surely not her husband?”
Darius moved the ice to a different position. “It’s possible. Not all men value their wives as they should.”
“How incredibly sad.” Olivia brushed at her cheek, and he realized she was crying.
Tears for a complete stranger.
Darius couldn’t help but wonder how many other people would react to this woman with as much compassion.
When the doorbell rang, Olivia jumped to answer it, wiping the traces of moisture from her face. The poor injured woman didn’t need Olivia blubbering all over the place. Nor did Dr. Henshaw.
“Hello, Miss Rosetti.”
“Doctor, please come in. The patient is in the parlor.”
Dr. Henshaw removed his hat as he rushed into the room, barely pausing at the sight of Darius holding an ice pack to the woman’s cheek. “Mr. Reed? You’re here again.”
“Seems I’m always around in times of emergency.” Darius rose, taking the ice with him. As he moved out of the doctor’s way, he quickly explained how he’d come upon the woman.
Ruth entered the parlor in time to hear Darius’s story and stood beside Olivia while the doctor did an initial examination—listening to the woman’s heart, checking her pulse, and lifting her eyelids. Then he moved the stethoscope to her belly, frowning. When the lines around his eyes eased, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief. At least it seemed the baby was unharmed.
“Do you know her name?” Dr. Henshaw rose from his position beside the sofa.
“No. But perhaps you could check her pockets for some identification.”
Dr. Henshaw reached over and rifled through the coat but came away empty-handed. “I’ll need you all to step out now while I do a more thorough exam.”
“Certainly.” Olivia headed into the hallway, Darius and Ruth right behind her.
“I have to get ready for an appointment,” Ruth said as she closed the parlor doors. “Can I leave you two to handle the situation?”
“Of course,” Darius said. “I’ll stay as long as Olivia needs me.”
“Thank you, Mr. Reed.”
Once Ruth had gone upstairs, Olivia paced the hall floor, unsure what to do next. “I feel so helpless.”
Darius laid warm hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure Dr. Henshaw will know what to do.” He paused, his eyes intent on hers. “Would you like to pray for her?”
She looked up and nodded, the steadying effect of his fingers calming her. “I would.”
When he held out a hand, she took it, and the strength of his grip shored up her courage.
He bowed his head. “Lord, please bless this woman and her child and grant them your healing grace. Thank you for bringing her here to this safe place. Please guide Dr. Henshaw to make the right diagnosis and give her the best treatment possible. Amen.”
“Amen.” Olivia exhaled. “Thank you. That helped more than I imagined.”
Darius looked down at their joined hands, then cleared his throat and released her.
Instantly, she missed his warmth.
Dr. Henshaw emerged from the parlor, a grim look on his face. “There’s bruising on the woman’s torso as well as her neck and face. It appears someone not only beat her but likely kicked her in the abdomen too.”
Olivia fought back nausea at the thought. “What can we do for her, Doctor? Does she need a hospital?”
“Her vital signs are normal, other than a slight elevation due to her circumstances. And the baby appears to be fine.” He replaced his tools in his bag. “I’d like to wait until she regains consciousness to assess her further, if that’s not a problem. There’s no need to move her for now.”
“That’s fine,” Olivia said. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
“I wouldn’t turn down a cup of your coffee, Miss Rosetti.” The doctor smiled.
“Coming right up.”
She escaped down the hall, glad for a task to keep her occupied. Her relief evaporated, however, when Mr. Reed followed her into the kitchen.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked. “You’re quite pale.”
“I’m fine.” She tried to ignore him while she filled a pot with water and got out the tin of coffee.
“I can stay if you think I might be of any help.”
His sincere blue gaze did funny things to her pulse as she measured out the grounds. She tried hard to hold on to her anger, yet seeing him tend to the injured woman with such care made it that much harder.
“I’m sure with Dr. Henshaw here, we’ll be fine,” she said.
A flash of emotion, disappointment perhaps, flitted across his handsome features. “I hope she and the baby will be all right. Would you mind if I telephoned tomorrow to see how she is? I feel somewhat responsible since I was the one who brought her in.”
“That would fine.” She turned on the flame under the coffeepot, then turned to face him. “Thank you for everything you did for her, Mr. Reed.”
“It’s Darius, remember. And I only did what anyone else would do.”
She shook her head. “Not many people would help a stranger. In fact, some people would purposely go out of their way to avoid them.” She paused to study him. “Despite our differences, I do believe you’re a good person.” Deep down, she sensed this to be true. He’d protected her at the fundraiser, helped with the leaking sink, and hadn’t hesitated to come to a defenseless woman’s aid. She was certain now that his quest to buy Ruth’s house wasn’t an act of greed, but something he felt obligated to do for his job.
“Thank you. That means a great deal,” he said gruffly. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He gave a slight nod, then disappeared down the hall.
Olivia stared after him for a long moment, attempting to let her emotions settle before getting back to the task at hand.
“Despite our differences, I do believe you’re a good person.”
Olivia’s words filled him with warmth all the way back to his office. Why such a small compliment meant so much to him he couldn’t say. But at least it seemed like she might have started to forgive him for calling the inspector.
He shook his head. Somehow he needed to find a way out of this mess. Convince Walcott that going after the Bennington property wasn’t worth the effort. Hopefully the pending reinspection would buy Darius the time he needed to come up with a viable alternative.
When he reached his office, Mr. Walcott was talking to Kevin in the outer area. “There you are, Reed. I need a word with you.”
He held back a sigh. So much for time to prepare. Kevin moved off toward his office while Walcott waited for Darius to open his door.
“What can I do for you, sir?” He set his hat on the coat stand.
Walcott closed the door behind him. “I gather the Bennington Place inspection hasn’t yielded the desired results.”
Darius sucked in a breath. “Actually, it has. The house needs some substantial repairs to the roof, and unless they can come up with the capital to cover it, they won’t pass another inspection.” He struggled to keep the guilt from his face.
“That’s going to take too long. I’ve got a better idea.” Walcott smirked. “I sent Caldwell to canvass the neighbors in the area to see if he could dig up some dirt on Mrs. Bennington or her operation.”
A slow burn of anger flared in Darius’s chest. “That’s a bit low, don’t you think? These women are trying to do something good for the community. They don’t deserve this type of treatment.”
Walcott stared at him. “Careful. You’re breaking one of the cardinal rules of business, Reed. You’re making it personal. This is just another property we’re trying to acquire.”
“You make it sound like they are an anonymous corporation when it’s nothing like that.” Darius stalked across the room, too agitated to sit.
“Hear me out,” Walcott said. “Caldwell came up with some good stuff. One neighbor in particular is very vocal about his dislike of the home and its residents.” He leaned across the desk. “Claims that prostitutes are living there.”
Darius stiffened. “That’s not—”
“If we can get the word out, the public will put up such a stink that the widow will have to leave town. This Simmons character has even got a petition started. He’s going around to all the area businesses and residents to get signatures. Says he plans to bring his complaint to the city council in the hopes that they’ll shut the home down.” He gave a loud laugh. “This guy might do all our work for us.”
Unable to muster a response, Darius dragged a hand over his jaw. He knew this would get ugly if his boss had free rein.
“I thought you were going to give me time to do this my way,” he said at last.
“I did. In fact, I even offered the inspector an added bonus to make sure he found something wrong. But the whole episode is taking too long and there’s still a chance they’ll pass the next inspection. Then we’d be back to square one.”
Darius sucked in a breath. Did his boss really just admit to bribing a city official?
Walcott pursed his lips as he began to pace. “This is what I want you to do. Interview Simmons and take his statement. Then write up an article and get it into The Daily Star. Once this hits the papers and the neighbors learn about the type of people inhabiting that place, there will be a huge outcry.”
“That’s crazy.” Darius flung out his hands. “We don’t even know if his claim is true. I’ve been inside, and I didn’t see anyone resembling a prostitute.” Tension seized his shoulders. All he could think about was the betrayal Olivia would feel if she found out Darius was still trying to shut her facility down.
“Who cares as long as our ploy works?”
The blatant corruption in that statement snapped something inside Darius. He came around the desk, no longer willing to hide his distaste, and stood eye to eye with his boss. “I care. I’m not going to spread false rumors about someone just for your company’s financial gain.”
Walcott’s nostrils flared. “If you value your job, you will.” He lowered his voice to a deadly serious level. “I hear you’re marrying Meredith Cheeseman in a few weeks. Do you think your bride will be eager to wed an unemployed nobody? Do you imagine Horace Cheeseman would allow it?”
Darius went still, the fight draining from him as the truth of his boss’s statement hit home. Mr. Cheeseman would never allow his daughter to marry Darius if he had no job. His position at Walcott Industries was one of the main reasons Mr. Cheeseman was agreeing to this match. “No, I don’t suppose he would.”
“Then if you want to keep your job and your bride, you know what you have to do.” Walcott yanked the door open. “And I suggest you do it soon.”