CHAPTER SIX
We need an automobile,” Elizabeth told Gideon as the cab carried them to the Westerlys’ home on Friday evening.
“Are you trying to put me out of business, ma’am?” the cabdriver asked over his shoulder.
“Not at all,” Gideon replied for her, “because we are not getting an automobile.” They had had this conversation before.
“It would be much more convenient than always trying to find a cab to take us places,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“Motors are expensive and where would we keep it?” Gideon said.
“In the old stable. Heaven knows we don’t use it for horses.”
She was right, of course, and motors weren’t so expensive that they couldn’t afford one. In fact, he knew Elizabeth could easily buy one with her own money that she had brought with her into their marriage. Gideon didn’t like to think how she had earned that money, which was another reason he didn’t want to spend it on buying a motorcar. He didn’t say any of that to her, though. He never wanted her to think he judged her for her past because he didn’t.
“I suppose you’d want to drive it yourself, too,” Gideon said.
Her face lit up, making him want to kiss her, but he refrained. They’d already outraged the cabdriver enough for one evening. “I would always defer to you, darling. You know that.”
“I don’t know anything of the kind, but I would like to experience that just once in our marriage, so perhaps I will buy you a motorcar just so I can.”
She laughed at that. “Are you saying I’m not an obedient wife, darling?”
Gideon cleared his throat meaningfully. “We are attending a party at the Westerlys’ house in spite of my objections.”
“You didn’t really object, did you? I mean, you asked me whether I really thought it was a good idea and I did think it was a good idea, so that should have allayed your concerns.”
“She’s got you there, mister,” the cabdriver said.
“She’s always got me,” Gideon said with a sigh.
“You’ll enjoy yourself,” she assured him. “You’ll see.”
They had made a point to arrive right on time so they would be there to see everyone else come in.
“What are you going to say if the Westerlys ask you if you’ve heard from Percy?” Gideon whispered to her as they made their way to the parlor where Mr. and Mrs. Westerly were greeting their guests. Lord Percy had supposedly been an old friend of Elizabeth’s and had jilted the Westerlys’ daughter and cheated Mr. Westerly out of a small fortune.
“They won’t ask,” Elizabeth said with a confidence he didn’t think she had a right to feel. “They’ll want to pretend he never existed now that Rosemary is a baroness.”
Gideon frowned, certain she was wrong, but when they reached the Westerlys’, Mrs. Westerly greeted them with a smile that looked almost genuine. “Elizabeth and Gideon, I’m so glad you could come tonight.” As usual, she was wearing a gown that was decidedly too youthful for her, and while it fit to perfection, it did little to flatter a figure that had thickened with age.
“Thank you so much for inviting us,” Elizabeth said. “I was happy to see the announcement of Rosemary’s marriage. To a baron, I believe.” She made it sound like a question and Gideon somehow managed not to roll his eyes.
“Yes, a baron,” Mrs. Westerly said. Her smile had faded just a bit, but she was determined to put a good face on it. “There is no estate, just a small manor house, but Rosemary has great plans for it.”
“I’m sure she does,” Elizabeth said ingenuously. “It must be difficult for you, though, having her so far away in England.”
“We’re coping,” Mr. Westerly chimed in, and from his expression, Gideon would have bet real money that he didn’t miss Rosemary all that much.
“I’m looking forward to introducing you to our guest of honor,” Mrs. Westerly said, obviously eager to change the subject. “Senora Padilla y de la Fuente viuda de Chavez is anxious to make new friends in the city.”
They had decided not to tell the Westerlys that they were already acquainted with the Senora, so Gideon said, “We’re looking forward to that as well. We don’t often see visitors from Spain in the city.” There, he’d managed that without telling a single lie.
“I’m sure we will see more foreign visitors now that the war is over,” Mr. Westerly said. He was a portly man who obviously thought his opinions were important and always correct. “In fact, we’ll probably be overrun with people trying to escape Europe.”
Since Gideon knew perfectly well that the Senora hadn’t come from Europe at all, he simply smiled and nodded and moved on.
“You see,” Elizabeth reminded him when they were out of earshot, “they didn’t even ask about Percy.”
“Is a baron better than an earl?” Gideon asked. Rosemary had believed Percy to be an earl.
“Heavens no. A baron is the lowest one on the list of aristocratic titles. And you heard Mrs. Westerly, he doesn’t even have an estate. But at least Rosemary got a title, which was what she really wanted.” Elizabeth stopped and turned to Gideon in surprise. “Is that Logan and Noelle?”
“It certainly is.” They headed for the couple who were standing by themselves in the hallway.
After greetings had been exchanged, Elizabeth said, “I must say, I’m surprised to see you here.”
“You mean you’re surprised the Westerlys invited us,” Logan said. Logan and Rosemary had been engaged, and she had thrown him over for Percy.
“I think,” Noelle said in her delightful French accent, “they wish us to see their triumph to entertain this Spanish lady.” She had met Logan in France during the war and come over as a French war bride afterward.
“And probably to show they don’t care a fig that Logan married someone else now that Rosemary has her baron,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes,” Noelle agreed with a twinkle. “Not a fig.”
“It just occurred to me, do you know something about this Spanish lady?” Logan asked Gideon with a suspicious frown.
“I know very little about her,” Gideon said quite truthfully.
“But after this evening, I’m sure we’ll all know her very well,” Elizabeth said with her usual tact. “Did you hear that she’s an heiress?”
“She is wealthy, you mean,” Noelle said.
“So it would seem,” Elizabeth said with a straight face.
“Although it’s rude to discuss such things,” Gideon reminded Elizabeth.
“In some circles it is,” Elizabeth replied unrepentantly.
“Is the Spanish lady going to disappear like Percy did?” Logan asked with interest.
“My goodness,” Elizabeth chided him. “Lord Percy didn’t disappear. He’s not a ghost. He simply went to Europe to escape his creditors.”
“As one does,” Gideon added with a smirk.
Logan turned to Noelle. “I think we are going to be well entertained by this Spanish lady.”
“Noelle,” Gideon said quickly to distract them, “your English is improving every time I see you.”
Noelle smiled and blushed at the compliment, and they began to discuss subjects that did not involve the Spanish lady, to Gideon’s relief. Some other friends arrived and joined them, and they were deep in conversation when a hush seemed to fall over the assembly. They turned to see the maid had opened the door to the Senora, who had obviously taken great pains to look her part.
She was clad, head to toe, in black, and her gown was amazing. The fitted bodice was a series of sequined fish scales that tapered to below her waist. Her long sleeves were lace, and her skirt was a mass of sequins and lace that ended just above the toes of her satin slippers with their jeweled buckles. On her head she wore a magnificent mantilla—made of the same lace as her dress—that was mounted on a comb that stood a good six inches or more from the crown of her head. Around her neck was a thick lace choker and a large gold cross hung from it, drawing attention to the barest hint of cleavage that showed above her modest neckline.
A young woman had accompanied her, and she had obviously been dressed with deliberate care so as not to upstage her companion. Although she was younger and nearly as beautiful as the Senora, her gown was a pale yellow and of a simple design, meant to fade quickly from memory. The maid directed them into the parlor, where the Westerlys waited to welcome their special guest.
“Who is that girl with the Senora?” Gideon asked no one in particular.
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” Elizabeth said. From her expression, he knew she wasn’t nearly as surprised as he was. “Just try to enjoy yourself, darling.”
Mrs. Westerly had taken charge of the Senora and was leading her around to meet everyone. She began with those she considered the most important among her guests, which meant that Gideon and Elizabeth were among the last to be approached, along with Logan and Noelle. Mrs. Westerly obviously thought she was doing them a great favor by making the Senora known to them, if her smug smile was any indication.
“Oh, and may I present the Senora’s sister, Senorita Olinda Padilla,” Mrs. Westerly added as if it were an afterthought. Plainly, she found the girl to be unnecessary to her purposes.
Olinda smiled sweetly and murmured something unintelligible without making eye contact with any of them. Up close, Gideon realized she looked very familiar and was apparently painfully shy, although that might have been an excuse not to look people in the eye so they wouldn’t get a good look at her. He couldn’t imagine what purpose she would serve in the Senora’s plans, but he supposed he would find out soon enough.
“Mrs. Carstens is a French war bride,” Elizabeth informed the Senora.
“Then you are newly married,” the Senora said with a smile. “My best wishes to you both.”
“Were you fortunate to escape Spain before the war?” Noelle asked.
“Yes, I was. I love to travel, you see, and luckily, I was visiting America when it started. I, uh . . .” She looked around as if to see if anyone were eavesdropping, which, of course, many people were. “Well, I must avoid Spain for a while, until things are settled with my brother-in-law.”
“Family disputes can be difficult,” Mrs. Westerly said.
The Senora smiled apologetically. “Disputes involving an inheritance are always difficult, but enough talk about that. No one is interested in my troubles. This is a party, and I do so want Olinda to enjoy herself.”
Olinda’s pained smile indicated that might be impossible, but Elizabeth said, “We’ll be happy to take her in hand and make sure she does.”
Olinda had completely stopped smiling and even looked a bit panicked by the time Elizabeth took custody of her and spirited her away along with Noelle. Mrs. Westerly directed the Senora to the last group of guests remaining to be introduced, leaving Gideon and Logan to their own devices. They set off to find themselves a drink and some more friends to speak with. Sadly, Mr. Westerly found them before they were able to surround themselves with the protection of other guests.
“What do you think of the Senora?” he asked them.
“She’s a rather impressive woman,” Logan said. “What do you know about her?”
“She’s filthy rich,” Westerly said with confidence. He didn’t even bother to lower his voice.
Logan and Gideon had no reply to such rudeness so they both chose to take a sip of their respective drinks instead.
“There’s some problem with the inheritance, though,” Westerly said in response to their silence.
“What kind of problem?” Gideon heard himself asking, although he would have sworn he didn’t really want to know. Etiquette made terrible demands on a man.
“The kind that makes estate attorneys rich,” Westerly said smugly, “or at least that’s what I understand.”
Since Gideon was an estate attorney, he knew Westerly would expect him to inquire further, and Logan would certainly think it odd if he didn’t. “That’s . . . interesting.”
“She inherited her husband’s entire estate when he died. It was in his will, but his brother is contesting it. They’re an old family and don’t want the property going to an outsider. They’ve been fighting it in the courts for a couple years now, but I understand he has finally agreed to a settlement.” Westerly was awfully well-informed, considering he couldn’t have known the Senora for more than a few days.
“That’s good then,” Gideon said, knowing full well it couldn’t possibly be good.
“Yes. He’s going to be satisfied when his son marries the Senora’s sister, that little girl she brought along with her tonight. They’ve just been waiting until she turns eighteen.”
“I see,” Gideon said, although he didn’t see at all.
“Yes, the Senora hasn’t been able to touch any of the money since her husband died. Because of the court case, you know. The judge sealed everything. But it won’t be long now. Just a few more months until the girl is old enough. Then the Senora gets all the money, and the brother gets the estate in Spain. The boy and girl will be their heirs, so they’ll get it all in the end and it will remain in the family.”
“Seems a bit medieval, doesn’t it?” Logan asked.
“That’s the way they do things in Spain,” Westerly said with a confidence he shouldn’t have felt. “Things are very old-fashioned there.”
Gideon could think of a half a dozen things that could go wrong with an arrangement like that, but he didn’t bother to point them out since he knew none of this story was true. “I’m sure the Senora will be happy to have everything settled.”
Westerly chuckled. “The rest of us will be, too.”
“The rest of who?” Gideon asked in confusion.
Westerly glanced around to make sure no one was near enough to hear him and then he leaned in so only Logan and Gideon could. “Those of us who loaned her money. She’s a bit strapped from all the legal wrangling and she doesn’t have any sense at all about interest rates.”
Gideon managed not to wince. “Are you saying you lent her some money?”
Westerly shrugged. “At twenty percent, I’d be a fool not to. Everyone is doing it.”
Gideon didn’t bother to hide his astonishment, and Logan actually gasped. “Aren’t you taking advantage of her?” Logan asked.
“She’s a foreigner, and besides, she can afford it. You might offer to lend her something yourself. You don’t want to miss out on an opportunity like this.”
Westerly obviously thought his work was done because he took his leave, moving on to bestow his presence on some of his other guests.
“I can’t believe he’d take advantage of a woman like that,” Logan said. “Or anyone at all, for that matter.”
“It is despicable,” Gideon had to agree, although he didn’t bother to explain exactly what it was he found despicable.
“Does that sound right to you?” Logan asked. “Legally, I mean? If her husband left everything to her, shouldn’t that be the end of it?”
“I’m not familiar with Spanish law.” Which was completely true, although it didn’t begin to answer Logan’s real questions. Poor Logan didn’t even know what the real questions were.
“Yes, I guess other countries do things differently,” Logan said with a sigh. “Still, to cheat a poor widow like that . . .”
“Senora Chavez isn’t exactly poor,” Gideon said.
“She will be if she has to pay twenty percent interest on her loans.”
“Westerly may have been exaggerating.”
“Let’s hope. And that young girl. I wonder how she feels about being married off like that.”
Gideon couldn’t help smiling. “Probably the way you felt about marrying Rosemary Westerly.”
Logan groaned and Gideon slapped him on the back. “Let’s find someone to talk to who doesn’t know anything about the Senora and her problems.”
Did you learn anything new this evening, darling?” Elizabeth asked. They were snuggled up in the backseat of the cab as it carried them home from the Westerly house.
She couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but she could imagine it. “Westerly has loaned the Senora some money.”
“Already?” This was impressive, even for someone as accomplished as Paulina.
“At twenty percent interest.”
“He must be thrilled.”
“He seemed to be. He’s apparently not the only one, either.”
“Oh my, the Old Man did speak highly of Paulina’s skills.”
“What is the story about, uh, the girl she had with her?”
“Just that she’s the Senora’s sister.”
“But not Paulina’s sister.”
“Of course not. She doesn’t have the same . . . I don’t know what to call it. Presence?”
“Yes, ‘presence’ does describe Paulina,” Gideon said.
“Although the girl is playing her part rather well.”
“So far, at least. Westerly told us all about her. She’s going to marry the dead husband’s nephew and the two of them will inherit the estate and the money.”
“I can tell from your tone that you don’t think this is a good plan.”
“It wouldn’t be, if it were real. I keep wanting to advise the Senora to protect her interests.”
“Because you’re such an honorable man, my darling. You would do better to advise her not to accept loans at twenty percent interest.”
“I would if I thought she had any intention of repaying them.”
Elizabeth smiled in the dark and snuggled a little closer to Gideon.
“How is this supposed to help Irene and Cal, though?” he asked after a few moments.
“We need to arrange for Daniel Livingston to meet the Senora.”
“Then he’ll lend her money, too?” Plainly, Gideon didn’t like this idea one bit.
“Doesn’t he owe Cal for injuring him so severely?”
“Yes, but . . . I guess I can’t really defend Livingston. He deserves whatever he gets.”
“And so do Cal and Irene. How do you feel about visiting the racetrack again?”
“Is that the only place the Senora can encounter Livingston?”
“Your mother hasn’t found anyone she knows who is on intimate terms with him, so he isn’t likely to accept a social invitation.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to go to the track, although I can’t keep leaving the office in the middle of the week.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.
The following Monday, Elizabeth and Mother Bates made the trip out to the hospital in Queens to visit Cal Regan. They were not surprised to find Irene at his bedside, although she looked as if she were merely visiting now instead of sleeping in the chair beside him every night.
“How nice of you to come,” Irene said, jumping up to greet them.
As before, they had brought some fruit and sweets—a cake this time—that Cal could enjoy and share with his nurses.
“I never know whether to bring a man flowers when he’s in the hospital,” Mother Bates told Cal.
“You can’t eat flowers, Mrs. Bates,” he replied with a grin.
“So true,” Elizabeth agreed. “How are you doing?”
Cal simply groaned his frustration. Irene said, “The doctor predicts he’ll be in a cast for the rest of the summer, at least.”
“How tiresome,” Elizabeth said. “We brought you some newspapers, too. Sunday’s edition of the Times has a nice story about the Dempsey-Willard fight coming up on Friday.”
“I don’t know how you can have a nice story about a prizefight,” Mother Bates said, earning a chuckle from Cal. “I can think of a lot better ways to celebrate the Fourth of July.”
“So can I,” Cal agreed, “but since I can’t ride, I won’t be doing any of them.”
“Elizabeth, why don’t you take Irene for a little walk. I’m sure she could use some fresh air, and I’ll keep Mr. Regan company. I’ll be happy to listen to all your complaints about the hospital and commiserate with you.”
“I shouldn’t leave him,” Irene protested. “I have to be at the track this afternoon. Father is running Rainmaker in the fourth.”
“Mother Bates will entertain him,” Elizabeth assured her.
“Go on, Reenie,” Cal said, “and don’t worry, Mrs. Bates isn’t going to steal my heart while you’re gone.”
“Don’t be so sure, young man,” Mother Bates chided him as she shooed Irene out of the way so she could claim the bedside chair.
Elizabeth took Irene by the arm and, ignoring her feeble protests, guided her out of the room. When they were outside, Elizabeth said, “Do you go to the track every afternoon?”
“Most days, and I always go if we have a horse running. Father likes for me to check on the horses, too. Not that he doesn’t trust Mr. Quaid, but after the sponging incident, he wants my opinion in case they try it again. Mr. Quaid did miss it with Trench.”
“How is Trench doing?”
“He seems to be recovered, but we won’t know until he races again. Father is going to give him some more time, just to be sure.”
“I certainly hope he doesn’t have any lasting damage.”
They walked for a few moments in silence before Elizabeth said, “Do you often see Daniel Livingston?”
Irene frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean how much time does he spend at the track? Do you see him there very much?”
“He usually comes if he has a horse running, of course, and also if there’s a big race. I’m afraid I haven’t been paying much attention to whether he’s at the track or not since Cal got hurt.”
“But you said he usually comes when there’s a big race, like the Belmont with Sir Barton,” Elizabeth guessed.
“Yes.” Irene winced. “Or I guess if he’s interested in sabotaging one of our horses.”
“I’m sure you’re being very careful.”
“Yes, Mr. Quaid has been sleeping at the stable since we moved them from Belmont. We’ve hired some guards, too, but if someone is really determined, they can still find a way.”
“Let’s see if we can distract Mr. Livingston from wanting to harm your family at all.”
“How on earth can you do that?” Irene asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Elizabeth lied, “but I think if we can make sure Mr. Livingston is at the racetrack on a particular day, we can find a way. There must be some big stakes races coming up for the Fourth of July holiday.”
As Elizabeth had expected, Irene knew exactly which races were scheduled. “There’s the Clover Stakes on the Fourth, but the really big one is on Saturday, the Tremont Stakes. It has a six-thousand-dollar purse and that new colt who’s winning everything is running in it.”
“Which colt is that?”
“Man o’ War. He’s only a two-year-old but people are already comparing him to Sir Barton.”
“And it’s on Saturday, too. Gideon particularly asked me to schedule our racetrack outings on the weekend from now on.”
“Did he?” Irene asked with amusement.
“He did, indeed. Just between us, I think he enjoyed himself, even if he didn’t bet. I don’t suppose there’s any way you can make sure Livingston is at the track on Saturday.”
Irene gave the matter some thought. “I suppose I could ask around. Someone might know his plans.”
“Perhaps you could start a rumor that Mr. Livingston is afraid to face your father after what happened to Cal and Trench.”
“My goodness, that would be certain to bring him out,” Irene said with a smile.
“Be sure everyone knows you’ll be in a box on Saturday for the Tremont. If you’ll invite us to join you again, I think we can ensure Mr. Livingston encounters a major distraction.”
“What kind of distraction?” Irene asked with a worried frown.
“The less you know, the better, but it will definitely take his mind off you and your father.”
When will I be allowed to entertain the Senora?” Mother Bates asked Elizabeth as the cab carried them to the Senora’s hotel, a small and very exclusive establishment just off Fifth Avenue.
“You need to officially meet her first,” Elizabeth said. “But even then, I’m not sure you should be closely involved with her.”
“Why not? It seems like everyone on the social register wants to be her dearest friend.”
“Not everyone on the social register has a con artist for a daughter-in-law,” Elizabeth reminded her.
“That is hardly common knowledge, my dear.”
“And it won’t become common knowledge if we aren’t closely associated with cons.”
“But won’t many people be taken in by her? We will just be yet another family of victims.”
Elizabeth gave her mother-in-law a horrified look. “You don’t plan to lend the Senora any money, do you?”
“Certainly not, but we could claim to have done so. No one is likely to question that.”
Elizabeth almost laughed out loud. “I wonder what Gideon would think of such a plan.”
“Oh, I know he doesn’t approve of lying, but I wouldn’t actually lie. I could just indicate I am very disappointed when the Senora disappears and let people form their own conclusions.”
Elizabeth sighed. “Please don’t tell Gideon your idea.”
Mother Bates smiled serenely. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The doorman at the hotel greeted them warmly and showed them inside when they told him they were visiting the Senora. She had invited them for tea, and they were not her only guests that day.
The Senora’s suite was quite large, as it was the penthouse. The furnishings looked like something Marie Antoinette would have chosen for her palace, all curlicues and gold leaf, and an elaborate display of crustless sandwiches and tea cakes had been set up on the sideboard. The Senora must have realized that her Spanish attire would clash with the suite’s French decor, so today she wore an afternoon gown of pale green silk chiffon with a ruched waist. Her figure was too full for the prevailing fashions, but this particular gown was a lovely compromise.
Elizabeth introduced Mother Bates to the Senora for the benefit of the other guests, even though they had already met, and then they greeted the four other women who had arrived before them. Elizabeth was not surprised to see Mrs. Westerly was among them. Mrs. Westerly, however, seemed very surprised and not at all pleased to see them. Perhaps she didn’t consider them worthy of the Senora’s attentions.
Elizabeth also greeted Olinda, who was once again wearing a gown designed specifically to be unflattering. Although it was embroidered and embellished, it was a nondescript shade of brown that didn’t suit her at all, and her golden hair was scraped into an unbecoming chignon. Olinda managed a feeble smile for Elizabeth but otherwise gave the impression she would rather be anywhere else but here among the fashionable and older ladies of the Senora’s acquaintance.
The ladies chatted about the usual topics: the weather, the foibles of their friends, and what social events they were planning to attend, which included a lively discussion about the upcoming Fourth of July celebrations being held around the city. They drank copious amounts of tea and finished off nearly all of the edibles.
“Olinda, where will you live when you marry?” Mrs. Westerly asked just as Mother Bates got up to use the washroom, which was located adjacent to the Senora’s bedroom. Up until now, the bedroom door had remained closed.
Olinda’s lovely blue eyes widened with terror at being directly addressed, and her gaze darted to the Senora in a silent plea for help.
“Olinda and Hernando will officially live in Spain at the Chavez family estate,” the Senora answered for her, “although I expect they will visit many of the countries Olinda and I have toured these past few years.”
“Is the estate very large?” Mrs. Westerly asked. Even Elizabeth winced at the question. Honestly, is that all the Westerlys thought about?
“Large enough,” the Senora replied tactfully. “And how does your daughter like living in England, Mrs. Westerly?” she countered.
“She finds it . . . quaint,” Mrs. Westerly decided. “There are so many rules one must follow as a member of the aristocracy.” She said the word as if it were delicious on her tongue.
“Ah yes,” the Senora said, ignoring Mrs. Westerly’s reference to the aristocracy into which her daughter had married. “Europe does love its rules. That is why I so enjoy being in America. A woman has much more freedom here.”
“And even more now that we will soon have the vote,” Elizabeth added.
“Women have been able to vote in New York for a while now,” one of the other women pointed out.
“But when the amendment is ratified, all the women in the country will be able to vote.”
“Only if the amendment is ratified,” the woman said. “It has a long way to go.”
“Perhaps not so very long,” Elizabeth said. “Look how many states have ratified it already.”
“But many others won’t ratify it at all.”
Elizabeth had opened her mouth to continue the argument when Mother Bates emerged from the bedroom looking amazed. She had left the door wide open, too. “My goodness, Senora Chavez, that is an impressive safe.”
The Senora looked a little abashed. “Yes, it is, I’m afraid.”
“Do you have a safe in your room?” Mrs. Westerly asked in surprise. “How odd. Most hotels will keep your valuables in their safe if you have the need.”
“I do not keep my jewels in that safe, Mrs. Westerly,” the Senora explained patiently.
“And if she did, she’d hardly need a safe that large,” Mother Bates said. “It’s taller than I am, and it must weigh a thousand pounds.”
“More than a thousand, unfortunately,” the Senora admitted.
“Excuse me, I need to use the . . .” one of the other women said, with a vague wave of her hand. She jumped up and headed toward the bedroom, ostensibly to use the washroom but obviously to get a better look at the safe in question, which was just visible through the open door.
“I’m sure it’s none of our business why you have such a large safe in your hotel room,” Elizabeth said, certain there must be etiquette rules about discussing such things, even in America, and she wanted to be seen to be the first to obey them.
Fortunately, none of the other ladies cared about such things in the face of such a juicy bit of potential gossip. Mother Bates, who seemed to be enjoying the attention her discovery had brought her, said, “And what are all those seals for? It looks like it would be impossible to open the safe without breaking them.”
The Senora sighed. “That is the intention, you see. I . . . Well, it is embarrassing to discuss, but I know you ladies will respect my privacy.” She hesitated, as if waiting for someone to confirm this naïve belief, and Elizabeth was gratified to note that every woman still in the room falsely assured her they would. “My late husband left me his entire estate, but his brother has contested the will. He and his family have moved into the castle, and he is claiming it for his own. All I could do was retain the funds my husband had left. I removed them from the bank so my brother-in-law could not get possession of them through some nefarious means and put them in this safe. I thought the money would then be mine by law, but the judge decreed that I could not touch it until the case was settled, so he put those seals on the safe and it cannot be opened until he makes his decision.”
“And you brought that enormous safe with you from Spain?” Mother Bates asked in astonishment.
“I had no choice. If I left it behind, my brother-in-law could have hired someone to break into it and rob me. He would deny involvement and I would have nothing. So, I keep the safe with me, where I know it will remain untouched. But I must ask you not to share my secret. I would not want word to get back to my husband’s family about where the safe is kept.”
Elizabeth joined the other women in pledging their secrecy, but she was positive she was the only one who intended to keep that promise.