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Barrett justified stopping inside the doorway of City Hall with the excuse that it gave his eyes time to adjust to the dim interior. In reality, he needed a moment to vanquish the bad memories. To defeat the sudden remembrance of the night of Wynn’s arrest.
As soon as he’d heard the news, Barrett rushed to this building, his heart a battering ram against his chest. He burst through the door of the police department and found his brother slumped in a hard chair, handcuffs clasped around his wrists. Barrett could smell the alcohol from five feet away. The officers explained that they’d found Wynn sleeping in the back alley adjacent to the drugstore. Dried blood spotted his hands, but despite having no money in his possession, no one believed Wynn’s denial that he’d robbed the place.
Barrett shrugged off the memory and strode down the hallway. The sooner he got this over with the better. He didn’t need the sign on the wall to tell him where to find the portion of the building he sought. Even with the growth of the town, the police department hadn’t moved in twelve years. Expanded, perhaps, but it remained in the same place.
An officer stood behind the counter at the front of the room. He looked up when Barrett shut the door. “Help you, sir?”
“My name is Barrett Seaton. I’d like to speak with Officer Brennan.”
“Wait here.” The officer left his station and disappeared down a short hallway.
The name Edy had given him hadn’t sounded familiar, so he supposed Brennan had been employed after Barrett left town. Good. There would be no prejudice on the man’s part, no remembrance of Wynn’s case to cloud their conversation.
A few minutes later, the first officer returned, accompanied by a man, fresh-faced but with the leery stare of a veteran on the force. His uniform, crisp and black with buttons of shiny brass, fit his slim frame as though tailor-made.
After introductions and a few pleasantries, Barrett got down to business. “I’d like to speak with you about the incident on the Stark property.”
Officer Brennan’s eyes glinted in a way that said he would not be swayed by Barrett’s argument, whichever side it came down on. “Are you here on behalf of Judge Danby or his grandson?”
“His mother asked that I look into the situation.”
“Then you can tell her we’re still investigating the circumstances.”
“You have no plans to charge him?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Ah, that was how this would play out—each piece of information pulled from the man’s mouth like a rotted tooth. “I’d like to hear from you why he is a suspect.”
“For one thing, he was hiding in the bushes not far from where Mr. Stark was sprawled unconscious on the ground.”
As Wynn had been found near the scene of the robbery he’d been accused of committing.
“Then young Mr. Westin gave us a go-round when we found him. He tried to run off several times.”
“It’s my understanding that Andy came upon the fire and saw the man on the ground. He was frightened and unsure what to do.” Barrett moderated his voice to keep from sounding as though he argued with the officer. Antagonism would get him nowhere and might hurt Andy’s case. “Seeing someone unconscious, perhaps dead, would frighten a man, to say nothing of its impact on a young boy.”
“I’d agree that most would take a fright at witnessing such a scene. However, Andrew has quite the reputation, Mr. Seaton, so it’s no wonder he’s brought suspicion upon himself.”
Barrett kept his expression neutral, but inside he feared for Andy’s future. “I understand your reasoning for questioning him, Officer Brennan, but a reputation for childish antics doesn’t prove he injured Mr. Stark or set the man’s building on fire.”
“No, sir. Those childish antics you speak of include things like knocking over outhouses and trampling a flower garden. We’ve dealt with that kind of behavior by him in the past.” Officer Brennan frowned. “Not so childish was his stealing a boat and rowing up and down the river. Eventually, he left the boat beached on one of the little islands and swam to the riverbank.”
“A prank?”
“Vengeance. He was angry with the owner for making fun of his little brother. He poked a hole in the bottom of the boat. By the time the owner found it, it had almost sunk.”
That was childish, too, but more serious. “What happened to him in that incident?”
The officer’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Judge Danby smoothed it over with the boat’s owner. I heard the boy didn’t sit for a week.”
Barrett couldn’t imagine Edythe spanking any of her children, so the judge must have administered his own sentence and subsequent punishment. “When did this happen?”
“Last summer.”
Ten years old and already infamous. “What do you think his motive was for last night? Had he had a run-in with Mr. Stark?”
“Not that we’re aware of, but as I said, we’re still investigating.”
There was no denying Edy’s son had a temper, but damaging a boat in defense of his brother and injuring a man for seemingly no reason weren’t synonymous...unless the police investigation found a reason.
“If I were you, Mr. Seaton, I wouldn’t waste my time on Andrew Westin. It’s my guess he’ll soon be headed for the reformatory.”
“We’ll see. Thank you for the information.”
Barrett burst into the sunshine, his mood not nearly as bright as the day. With all he’d heard and what he’d seen that day outside the barbershop, why should he believe in the boy’s innocence? Andy was a thief and a troublemaker.
He was also Edythe Westin’s son. To see him placed in a reform school would break her heart. How was he to tell her to prepare herself?
***
EDYTHE REMOVED THE top of the phonograph’s case and laid it on the table alongside the machine. She slipped in a wax cylinder and turned the crank. The ballad she had chosen played for such a short time that it made no sense to sit down when she’d walk back to the machine soon to crank it again.
Standing alongside the table, she closed her eyes, letting the strains of the sentimental song act as a balm on her nerves.
It took only seconds for her mind to wander to Barrett. He’d been livid when he’d left Riverport. Why should she have been stunned to receive no letter, no visit, no evidence of any desire to see her again? All those years ago, she’d mistaken the depth of his love for her. It consisted of roots too shallow to withstand the winds of the storm they had faced. Clearly, by his attitude toward her since his return, those winds still roared.
“Demanding day, my dear?”
Even though her father sounded appropriately concerned, Edythe’s mood dropped lower. “Not demanding, Father, but I won’t rest easy until this situation with Andrew is resolved and the police find the person who really injured Mr. Stark.”
“Even if Andrew is as innocent as he claims, he’ll find something else to satisfy that troublesome spirit inside.”
If only she could tell him that Andrew wasn’t troubled until they moved into this house. But it would be a waste of breath. Her father only heard what he wanted to hear.
“As I said last night, Edythe, I believe the reform school will be good for the boy. He’ll learn discipline and a trade.”
Is that why you convinced the other attorneys in town not to help him?
“There are easier ways for a boy to learn a trade.” The music stopped, but she didn’t start the phonograph again.
“Only if they are willing to learn.” He settled on the sofa and lit a cigar, fouling the air in the room with tobacco smoke.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if Mrs. Cameron needs help with supper.”
On her way to the kitchen, she was tempted to keep going, straight out the back door and to Barrett’s office to find out what he’d learned after speaking with the police. Would she receive another visit this evening, this time to haul her son away?
What was Andrew hiding? Barrett had recognized his hesitation. Honestly, she’d seen it too. Rather than exoneration, Andrew’s silence increased the chance of conviction.
***
AFTER ANOTHER DISTURBED night of slumber, Edythe awoke, this time blaming Barrett for her tossing and turning. Under the circumstances, she hadn’t expected him to call at the house, but he hadn’t seen fit to send word of his visit to the police yesterday. He hadn’t sent a message to allay her fears, which left her to imagine the worst.
She threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed. She’d left his office yesterday without reclaiming her mother’s ring, and even though he’d said he hadn’t wanted to take it, leaving it in his possession obligated him to work on Andrew’s behalf.
Her reflection in the standing mirror revealed that wild dark strands had escaped her braid and equally wild dark eyes stared back at her.
After seeking more details from her son last night and not receiving the answers he expected, the judge had confined Andrew to his room until the situation was resolved.
Edythe shuffled through the contents of her wardrobe and chose a lovely mauve day dress. She laid it on the bed, crossed her arms, and eyed its ruffles and fancy beadwork. Releasing a huff, she carried it back to the wardrobe and grabbed a simple linen skirt with blue-gray stripes, matching jacket, and white shirtwaist. Her planned visit to see Barrett was business, not an attempt to impress him with her appearance. As he’d stated, there was nothing personal between them.
Once she had seen to her children’s breakfasts and spoken to Mrs. Cameron about their care, Edythe slipped out of the house. Her father, as usual, was already gone. For someone who no longer practiced his profession, he spent many hours away from home. What he did during the day, she had no idea, nor did she care to ask.
A short time later, Edythe rapped on Barrett’s door. A pretty young woman answered her knock and smiled up at Edythe while wiping her hands on her apron. “May I help you?”
“I...”
Because this woman hadn’t been here on Edythe’s previous two visits, she had assumed Barrett remained unmarried.
Assumptions were dangerous things...and often wrong.
In not mentioning his marriage, Barrett might as well have thrust a knife in Edythe’s chest. The pain from it came swift and strong, leaving her standing speechless at his door.
Why should he have mentioned it? He left Riverport—left Edythe—of his own accord. There was no sound reason to believe he hadn’t found someone else to love.
Were there children? She peeked around the woman but saw no little ones, nor did she hear a child in the background.
“Are you here to see Mr. Seaton about a legal matter?”
Edythe tried to smile, but suspected it looked more like the reaction to an abdominal cramp. “Yes, ma’am.” She couldn’t bring herself to refer to the woman as Mrs. Seaton. “Is he here?”
Barrett walked out of the parlor and stopped alongside the woman. Like Edythe, he towered over her. “I’ll take care of this, Mrs. Quincy.”
Mrs. Quincy? Not Mrs. Seaton? A closer inspection revealed a smudge of dust on the woman’s cheek. A housekeeper, perhaps? Edythe had the odd urge to laugh out loud.
Mrs. Quincy glanced at Barrett, evidently sensing the tension in her employer and absurdity in Edythe. She backed down the hall. “You’ll find me out back hanging the wash if you need me, Mr. Seaton.”
Barrett’s gaze remained on Edythe. “Thank you, Mrs. Quincy.”
The woman spun around and disappeared through a doorway at the end of the hall.
When he backed away from the front door, she stepped inside and caught a whiff of a delicious aroma wafting from a nearby room. “Did I disturb your breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Quincy must be a wonderful cook. It smells delicious.”
“She does a fair job, but I made my own meal this morning.”
“You cook?” That was a new side to him.
“It’s Eggs à la Benedict.” He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. “Would you like to join me?”
Did he invite her out of a sense of gallantry? “Thank you. I’ve already eaten.” She’d nibbled on a piece of toast, unable to get anything else past her nervous stomach. But it smelled so good.
“I made extra for Mrs. Quincy, but she declined for the same reason.”
Edythe breathed in the aroma again and licked her lips. “Well, maybe, you might let me taste a tiny portion of yours...just to satisfy my curiosity.”
“I’ll bring you a plate of your own, but I don’t share from mine.” Humor flashed in his eyes.
Temptation overcame her. “In that case, I’ll force it down.”
He laughed. The pleasant sound wiped away years of her life, once more placing her on the riverbank at seventeen.
“I’m not sure whether I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”
She let him ponder it as he led her through the parlor and into the dining room. The roiling stomach of earlier had vanished, and she looked forward to the breakfast.
He pulled out a chair for her. “I’ll be back.”
While he was gone, Edythe glanced around the room at the rich mahogany wainscoting and the wallpaper in a bold yellow print that brought to mind the egg yolks used to prepare the Hollandaise sauce.
On her first visit, she’d been surprised by the size of Barrett’s house. Certainly not as large or ornate as her father’s, but larger than necessary for a single man—a house that spoke of success, but one that could use a woman’s touch when it came to the furnishings. In fact, she would change the wallpaper to something softer and...
Edythe closed her eyes and gathered her senses. What was she doing?
Barrett walked back into the room, carrying a tray with her breakfast, along with a cup and saucer. Once he’d set everything before her, including the coffee with its steam rising above it, he laid the tray aside. He didn’t offer cream or sugar. In her already emotional state, his recollection that she drank her coffee black and strong draped her with warmth that had nothing to do with the sunshine streaming into the room from the bay window.
She blinked the sentiment away while studying the dinnerware’s raised scroll work and scalloped edges. They were simple yet elegant, a perfect canvas on which to display an appetizing meal. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”
“Then eat.” He took his seat across the table and shook out his napkin, placing it on his lap.
Edythe cut a tiny portion of the muffin topped by bacon and egg. She swiped it in a generous dollop of the sauce before tasting it. The flavor burst in her mouth. “This is excellent. Where did you learn to cook so well?”
“It’s a recent interest, one I found I enjoyed after growing tired of putting together an evening meal simply for nourishment.”
“Then you’re not married.” Her cheeks warmed, and she focused on her food.
“No.”
His short answer put a period to the subject. Just as well. She shouldn’t welcome encouraging words that drove her to do something ludicrous, like pine for him a second time.
Unfortunately for her, it appeared he’d retained many of the traits she once loved about him—intelligence, confidence, self-discipline. Yet he’d lost the easy-going manner and affability he’d once shown toward her.
She eyed him. What was he thinking? That he wished he’d never seen her or her family again? More likely, that he’d never met them at all.
Regardless of how things ended between them, she couldn’t say the same about him. He had always held a place in her heart and always would. Which probably qualified her as one of the most foolish women alive.
The ensuing silence between them intensified until she broke it. “How is Wynn?”
“Settling in.”
“Oakcrest is a fine institution. The people there will provide him with the best care.”
“It wouldn’t be necessary if...” Barrett closed his mouth.
If her father hadn’t sentenced him to a convict’s life? Their end began with that fact. Surely, as a member of the legal profession, he understood that a jury found his brother guilty based on evidence.
Barrett glanced at her. “You never mentioned why you were at the sanitarium that day.”
You never gave me an opportunity. “I sought Dr. Ellis’ permission to deliver books for the patients and provide them with a library of sorts. It’s a mission taken on by Widow’s Might.”
“Widow’s Might?”
She explained the group’s purpose of support, encouragement, and charitable deeds. “Two of our members are remarrying in the next couple of months. Phoebe Crain is engaged to Spence Newland.”
“Of the department store Newlands?”
“Yes. Claire Kingsley will marry Mark Gregory. He’s an architect, as is she.”
“A woman architect?”
“A talented one from what I hear.” Edythe yearned to discover her own talent, preferably if it provided a wage. “I wanted to talk about what you learned at the police station yesterday.” Edythe kept any censure from her voice. Easy after a lifetime of conversing with her father.
“Not much more than what you were told. They’re still looking into the incident.” He paused in the midst of slicing through an egg-topped muffin and set his knife and fork on his plate.
Edythe was astute enough to realize that whatever he was about to say next wasn’t good news.