Chapter Six
“Boss, we’ve got a problem with the old couple over on Spring Street. They still haven’t paid their rent.”
Mitch placed the report he’d been reading on his desk and leveled a look at Tiny. He couldn’t help but notice his man appeared troubled and unhappy. He sighed.
“How late are they?” he asked.
“Two weeks.”
“And how many times have you been over there asking for the rent?”
Tiny shuffled the flat cap he held in his hands. “Three.”
“Then toss ’em out.”
“Right, Boss. But—”
“No buts, Tiny. We’ve been over this. It don’t do to be soft. You can’t make any money that way.”
“But, Boss, the old man says his wife’s been sick. It’s just the two of them, see. Usually he goes out and does a few odd jobs to pick up some coins. He’s had to stay in, though, and look after her.”
“Not our problem. Toss ’em out.”
“But, Boss, where will they go?”
“Family.”
“Haven’t got any.” Tiny looked even more uncomfortable. “I asked.”
Mitch hardened his expression. Though few would warrant it of the little monkey, he knew Tiny possessed a kind heart. Too bad for him.
He pushed the report away. “Tiny, I’ve told you and told you. You give people leeway, they take advantage. You wind up paying, in the end. There’s always a price. Isn’t that what they taught us at Carter’s?”
Tiny straightened. “They taught us lots of things.”
“That pity makes you weak.”
Tiny wrinkled up his face. “Not sure I agree with that, Boss.”
“More fool you. Now take care of it, or do I need to assign somebody else?”
“If I toss ’em out, the old lady might die.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Give ’em another two weeks. If she gets better, he’ll be able to work again.”
“And if she doesn’t get better?”
“She might.”
“Damn it all, Tiny, in two weeks they’ll owe another month’s rent. I’m not a charity.”
Tiny stepped up to the desk, dug in his pocket and slapped down some coins. “There you go.”
“What the hell’s that?”
Tiny’s chin jerked up. “Their rent.”
Mitch bared his teeth. “You fool. Why would you do that?”
“The old feller reminds me of my granddad. You remember I told you about him.”
Mitch nodded. Tiny—whose real name was Francis—had lived with his granddad before the old man died and Tiny got shuffled off to Carter’s. Tiny was one of the lucky ones—he knew his last name, Haskins, and remembered someone who’d loved him. A luxury Mitch didn’t have.
“It’s your money,” he said. “I won’t tell you how to spend it.”
“Thanks, Boss.”
“Don’t thank me.” Mitch turned his eyes to the report once again. He hated reading these things. The opportunities at Carter’s had been so poor, he still struggled to read or write. Further complicating matters, most of those he employed had come from Carter’s also, and could barely scribble two words together on a page.
A sudden thought made him jerk his gaze back up. “Any news on that other job I gave you?”
“You mean your wife?”
Mitch scowled. He didn’t like being so direct about it. Hadn’t Tiny ever heard of discretion?
He gave a hard nod. During the last week, Tessa had left the house three times. He very much wanted to know where she’d been.
Tiny raised his chin and recited, “Mrs. Carter went to her parents’ house on Bidwell Parkway once. Went shopping. Didn’t buy anything. An unusual woman, Boss, who can go shopping and not buy anything.”
Yeah, and it made Mitch suspicious. Maybe she hadn’t been shopping so much as expecting to encounter someone.
“She meet anybody while she was out?”
“Out shopping, you mean?”
“Out shopping,” Mitch confirmed, trying to hang on to his patience.
“No, Boss.”
“And the other day?”
“What, Boss?”
“She went out of this house three days.”
“Oh, right. She saw friends.”
Mitch’s spine stiffened. “What friends?”
“Well, I don’t know ’em, do I?”
Mitch growled, “Male or female?”
“Oh, I see what you mean, Boss. Female—two other girls. All real pretty. They went out for tea.”
Seemed innocent enough. “All right. Keep an eye on her when she goes out. Understand?”
“Right, Boss.”
“And if she even looks at another man, I want to know about it.”
“Got you, Boss.”
Tiny went out. Mitch scowled at the coins he’d left on the desk before putting them carefully into the drawer. If Tiny insisted on having sympathies, he’d need to pay for them.
****
Tessa exited the door of the house on Prospect Avenue and froze. She’d expected the car to be waiting for her, and it was. But instead of the chauffeur, Marty, poised to open the rear door for her, she saw her husband.
“Oh,” she said, refusing to go down the steps. “I’m sorry. I thought—”
She broke off, trying to sense his mood. She hadn’t seen her husband in days. She’d been busy attempting to reorganize her life as best she could, and taking advantage of his permission to go out.
Though it galled her to require his permission.
“Are you planning to use the car?” she faltered.
“I am. I have a meeting with an agent. But Marty tells me you requested it too. So I’ll drop you wherever you want to go, on my way.”
“That’s all right. I don’t really like the car anyway. I’ll call a cab.”
“Don’t be foolish. I have the time.”
He swung open the door of the car and made a slight bow, leaving Tessa no choice but to descend the steps and climb in.
He got in directly after her. The back of the car, large and luxurious, immediately felt far too small.
“Where to?” Mitch asked.
“I—uh—have a meeting also.”
“You do?” Curiosity looked at her from his eyes.
“Yes. I’ve decided that if we are to coexist, as you’ve requested, I need something to occupy me.”
“I see. And what have you chosen to occupy you?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Not specifically, that is. I’m going to speak with someone today about the possibilities. I thought”—she shot a look at him—“I’d concentrate on good works.”
“Good works?” he repeated, as if stunned.
“Yes, you know. Philanthropy.”
His expression turned blank.
“Charity.”
For an instant she thought he’d choke. He tapped on the glass that separated the back of the car from the front and told Marty, “Once around the park, please.”
The car pulled away from the curb.
Tessa pressed her hands together. “I take it you don’t approve.”
“Well, it’s your choice what you want to do with your time.”
“Is it?”
“Absolutely.”
“I don’t need your approval?”
He shook his head. “All I have to say is, be careful not to let these people take advantage of you.”
“ ‘These people’?”
“They’ll bleed you dry if you let them, time and money. They’ll know you have money, see, through me.”
“Will they?”
“No doubt. Me, I make it a point never to give to charity.”
“Why?”
He stared away through the window so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. At length he said, “I know what happens in them places. People give money and it never reaches the ones who need it. It ends up in the administrators’ pockets.”
“Not all the time, surely.”
“More often than not.” He gave her a bright look. “I grew up in one of them places. I’ve seen it first hand.”
“Carter’s Home for Boys, right? I’ve heard a lot about it, not much good.”
His fingers tightened on the edge of the seat till they turned white.
She said lightly, “I’m meeting with a Mrs. Wright, who oversees a number of foundations in the city. Others will be there from animal sanctuaries, orphanages…charity hospitals. I thought I could get an idea where my interest might best be placed.”
“I see.”
“Today’s meeting is at the Meadows Club.” She added on impulse, “Why don’t you come with me?”
He stared. “Me?”
“It could only be good for your reputation which, quite frankly, isn’t exactly sterling, around town.”
“I have other business, as I say.” He tipped his head, studying her. “But I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for it to be seen that my new wife is engaged in charitable causes.”
“Yes?”
“Just choose carefully, mind. I won’t have my money wasted.”
“Your money?” She raised a brow. “I intended all my contributions to come out of the allowance you so generously give me.” She couldn’t keep a sharp edge from her voice.
“Still…”
“What matter to you if I spend it on a new frock or a child’s dinner?”
“The difference is you’d have the frock. The child might never get the dinner.”
“You’re very cynical.”
“I’m very careful. Marty? To the Meadows Club, to drop off my wife.”
The car promptly changed direction. Within minutes they pulled up in front of the Meadows Club on Delaware Avenue.
“Thank you,” Tessa said. “I’ll get a cab home.”
“No, I’ll have Marty waiting here for you.”
He opened the door and exited the car in order to usher her out. When she would have pulled her fingers from his, he instead raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the soft flesh of her wrist, just above the short glove she wore.
Tessa’s pulse leaped. She snatched her hand away from him and fled.
****
Good works, of all damn things, Mitch thought as the car pulled away from the Meadows Club. Couldn’t his new wife find something better to occupy her?
He sat back against the seat, still relishing the sensation of his lips against her skin. He got to touch her so seldom. It felt like the hunger he’d known as a child.
What did women of a certain class use to occupy them? He wondered. He knew what poor women did—they labored from before sunup to after sundown, all the hours God sent and then some. The girls on the streets worked all night and slept most of the day.
But his wife, she had class. He had little experience of such women.
In his opinion, she should be concerning herself with him. Morning, noon, and night, stark naked.
But he hated bullies, even though in his professional life he often had to play that role. He’d sworn not to bully Tessa.
No matter how low his beginnings, he could do better than that.