Laura walked quietly through the halls in hopes of reaching her home’s well-stocked library without having to explain herself to her father. There were times when their paths crossed and he almost seemed like the man she knew in her childhood—still ambitious, but with kinder eyes. Those moments were fleeting and rare, and over the last few months his focus had been narrow, rarely straying from devising how to best Campbell or inquiring about her relationship with Abel.
As she neared the heart of the home, her favorite room, with its floor-to-ceiling bookcases and seemingly endless volumes, her worries dimmed. Her mother had been a great lover of books, bringing home new treasures nearly every time she went out. Stepping into the magical room was like stepping into her arms. In the library, when the sunlight filtered through the curtains and spilled across the floor, she was often able to remember more than her mother’s death. She could recall what life had felt like when her mother was alive.
“The contents of this room alone are worth a small fortune.” A man’s voice drifted into the hallway, warning Laura that the room she so dearly loved was not empty. “It could take me a couple weeks to find the right buyer, but within the month I could get you the cash you need.”
Laura pressed herself against the wall in the hall, every muscle tense. With her breath trapped deep in her chest, she listened.
“Yes, well, it’s not as though I have time to read all these old books anyway.” She couldn’t see her father, but she knew him well enough to know he was looking down, away from the walls as he betrayed his late wife. The tone, though strong, was also reluctant. “Do what you must. And as quickly as possible.”
“I’ll get right to work on it.”
“Remember to keep this matter between us. I don’t want anyone thinking Bradshaw shoes is struggling. We’re not. My funds are simply tied up in equipment and stockpiles of materials. This deal won’t wait for me to liquidate business assets.”
“I understand. I never make assumptions about my clients’ finances. If that is all, then I’ll be going.”
Laura wanted to linger and hear more so she could make sense of the conversation, but there was no time. Footsteps were already approaching the library door. She started to retreat, then, afraid she would be caught running away, turned back.
“Oh, Father,” she said when her path and his nearly collided. “I did not expect to find you in the library.”
Novels had never held his interest, or perhaps he shied away from the memories the books evoked. He preferred his study or the parlor, where he holed up with his crystal glasses and forbidden gin.
“I was showing Mr. Stevens our home. No tour would be complete without a perusal of the library.”
Laura and Mr. Stevens acknowledged each other. “Mother was a fine collector of books.”
“It’s an impressive assembly.” Mr. Stevens pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I have work waiting for me. It was a pleasure seeing the inside of the Bradshaw mansion. I’ll get back to you soon.”
After his brief goodbye, Laura was left alone in the dim hallway with her father. So much for avoiding him and burying her nose in a book.
“I don’t believe I’ve met Mr. Stevens,” she said.
“We were meeting about business. Nothing to concern yourself over.”
She made a sweeping appraisal of her father. His brow glistened with perspiration, and his hands were fidgety. Most would overlook these small tells, but Laura knew they were sure signs that his exchange with Mr. Stevens had been upsetting.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, not expecting him to divulge much but wishing for a way to bring back the father of her childhood, the one who used to hold her hand when they walked in the park and smile when she threw bread at the ducks in the pond. The one who had grinned at his wife when she brought home a new book for the library.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Business is trying. That’s all. You’re going out with Abel tonight. That’s all you need to worry about. Try to hurry things up between the two of you. A formal agreement with Abel would be helpful.”
Any hope of meaningful conversation vanished. Alarms sounded in her head. It was time to flee or else subject herself to hearing his demands. “We’re watching someone sit on a flagpole. I don’t think it’ll be a romantic outing.”
She looked past her father to the library, her original destination. An adventure, a romance, a book on animals—she was itching to lose herself in the written word, but instead she took a step away from the library and from her father.
“I know you have business to conduct,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’d better find Mrs. Guskin and get ready for tonight.” With that she escaped, empty-handed but filled with questions she hoped her housekeeper might be able to answer.
“Mrs. Guskin,” she said as soon as she spotted her. “Do you know who Mr. Stevens is?”
Mrs. Guskin looked up from the grocery list she was compiling. “I saw his name on your father’s schedule, but I don’t know what they were meeting about.”
“They were in the library, talking about finding buyers for . . . I think for the books.” Her chest hurt just saying the words. “Why would he sell them now?”
Mrs. Guskin tapped the pencil she held to her lip. “He never goes in there. I’m surprised he even remembers they exist.”
Laura threw her hands to her sides, free to show her true feelings. “He can’t do that. The library is the one thing that has felt like mine. I love the books.” Her normal forced composure left in an instant, replaced by a fiery indignation that had long boiled just below the surface. “He knows I love them. He knows that. How could he—how could he be so awful? I’ve done everything he’s asked, and still he’d do this? He’s hateful.” Her hands shook. “I can’t lose them. I’ve already lost the letters.”
Mrs. Guskin pushed back from the desk and went to Laura, wrapping motherly arms around her. Laura crumpled into the embrace.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Guskin whispered as she patted Laura’s back and swayed slightly from side to side as though she held a restless infant. “We’ll find a way to make things better.”
Mrs. Guskin soothed her, mumbling reassuring words about a bright future and freedom. If her beloved library, and solace, was to be sold off, a piece of her limited happiness would be gone. Laura needed to break away. Staying here to watch this treasure fall apart piece by piece was too much.
“Help me,” she said when the anger burned out. “I need to look beautiful tonight.”
* * *
“I don’t know anything about flagpole sitting,” Laura said as she walked beside Abel, bound for the square. The late afternoon sun was bright in the sky, and her white chemise dress swayed with each step she took. The bustle of the crowd gave the world a dash of energy.
“I’m told it’s happening all over the country.” Abel looked at his watch. “In less than an hour’s time, Silas McCoy will have set a new record. A band is going to be playing, and there will be dancing.” He put his arm around her and eased her closer to his side as they walked.
They’d never talked about the terms of their relationship. Were they a couple or something less than that? But here they were in public, his arm around her and a million prospects ahead. “I don’t care what we will be watching. I’m just glad for the excuse to be with you.”
She leaned into him, trying to enjoy his closeness. He was strong and handsome. His tales of travel and flattering words tickled her senses, yet she still found it hard to be at ease in his presence. Not that she wasn’t grateful. She was. With him beside her, she was free to leave the house, liberated like she’d long dreamed of being. In every logical way, Abel was exactly what she needed in her life. But years of solitude had left her unsure and tempted to cower under his touch and retreat to the isolation she knew so intimately. She fought off her insecurity, reminding herself that things at home were deteriorating. With Abel, her life could have new opportunities.
“Do you suppose there will be a large crowd?” she asked as she looked ahead through the buildings, trying to catch a glimpse of the square.
“Could be. It’s Isaac and Ruth we’ve got to look for. They said they would meet us near the café on Clinton Street.” He slowed his pace. “I did tell you we were meeting another couple, didn’t I?”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t realize . . .”
“Don’t worry. It’s just a business connection and his date. I’ve got a big deal in the works. It could make all the difference for me.” An older man walking toward them waved a hand in the air. Abel grabbed Laura’s hand and pulled her into an alley. Everything happened so quickly, she wasn’t sure what was going on.
“Abel, what are you doing?”
“I saw someone . . . just someone I knew when I lived in Baltimore.” He spoke in a hushed tone as they stood in the shadows. “He was a friend of my father’s. I don’t want to spend all evening catching up with someone I don’t care about. I want to spend it with you.”
“I’m flattered. But I wouldn’t have minded saying hello. I want to know more about your past.” She took a step back toward the main street, but Abel stopped her. He pulled her near him and put a hand on her shoulder. It seemed an intimate gesture, but she couldn’t help thinking it was merely a means of keeping her in the alley. “Don’t you want to go to the flagpole sitting?”
“I do,” he whispered. “Let’s wait a minute, and then we’ll go. We are not alone enough, and when we get in the crowd, everyone will be vying for your attention.”
“I doubt that.”
“I’ve seen how all the men stare at you. You’re stunning.” He looked at her with his pale blue eyes.
She swallowed, but her throat was tight. Here they were, in the shadows together. If she crept closer and ran her hand up his arm to his neck, she could lure him in and kiss him. Her father would be pleased.
A man with a cart rattled into the alley. She pulled away and forced a smile. “Let’s go and watch the spectacle.”
Abel nodded and followed her out of the dark alley back into the light. Twice he looked over his shoulder, and Laura tried to follow his gaze. Was it his father’s friend he looked for? She couldn’t make sense of the change in his countenance. Thankfully, the jovial Abel returned after he’d looked in front of and behind himself.
“How are your business deals coming along?” she asked as they made their way toward the square.
“Too many men are tight with their pocketbooks, but in time I’ll earn their trust, and it’ll prove profitable.”
“My father can be cautious. You can’t blame a man for being careful with his livelihood.”
“Your father is not a problem. He is willing to invest. And he’s eager to work with our raw-goods company.”
“He must believe it’ll give him an advantage over Campbell.” She didn’t understand all her father’s dealings, but on this account she was confident. “I’m sure others will follow his lead. He knows most every businessman in the city.”
“I’m glad of it.” Abel pointed through the buildings. “Look carefully. I can see the man on the pole.”
She followed his finger. Sure enough, a man sat high atop a pole on a small platform that swayed slightly in the breeze.
“I wonder,” she said, her eyes never leaving the man on the pole, “how he meets his needs up there.”
“I’m told he has coffee and cigarettes sent up by a pulley. And as for his other needs, he simply asks the crowd to turn away and relieves himself through a tube.”
“Oh my.” That was more than she wanted to imagine. “It seems awful. Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”
“Everyone needs a dream. Fools like him give the rest of us something to talk about.” They stepped around an aged man with a stand full of vibrant flowers. Two steps past it, Abel stopped. “Wait here.”
He dashed away from her, back to the man and his stand. A warm tingle of anticipation raced through her. Novels and fairy tales all featured men performing romantic gestures. Now it was her turn, only this wasn’t a story. It was her life. Abel came back, a yellow rose in hand.
“For you,” he said, holding out the perfect bloom to her. “Yellow, like the summer sun.”
“It’s beautiful.” She brought it close and breathed deeply. “I’m told yellow flowers are a sign of friendship.”
“Not this one.” Abel stepped closer. His hand went to her waist. It was coming, a moment she’d dreamed of, daydreamed over, and prayed for. Not in a back alley but in the open, with nothing to be ashamed of. Her eyes wandered from the yellow flower to his lips. She stepped further into his arms, not caring that they stood under the G. Elias & Bro., Inc. sign or that automobiles roared down the street beside them. A handsome, important man was looking at her, moving closer. A petty worry crept in. He doesn’t know the real you, it said, but she gave it no heed. Instead, she tried to remember how the women were pictured in her fairy-tale books. She did her best to gaze up invitingly.
“What does this yellow flower mean?” she asked. Their faces were so near each other, she needed only to press herself up on her toes and their lips would meet. She swallowed, nervous and eager at the same time. A kiss from Abel meant one step closer to freedom.
He moved a fraction of an inch closer and then another. She closed her eyes in anticipation of her first kiss and the turning of the key that would change everything. Like a fool she waited, feeling his breath on her face and his hand on her waist.
“Abel!”
His body straightened at the sound of his name, and his hands moved from her waist. Her eyes popped open as she tried to make sense of what had happened—and what had not happened. Taking a step backward, away from him, she fought her racing heart, grasping for calm in a sea of confusion. He’d nearly kissed her. Why hadn’t their lips met? She looked around. Where had the voice come from?
“It’s Isaac and Ruth. They’re coming.” Abel waved at a couple headed in their direction. “I don’t know why he had to yell from so far away. He seems a peculiar fellow, but it’s a good business connection for me, and it saves us from having to track them down. Let’s just pretend to all be friends tonight.”
“Oh,” she managed to say, still trying to appear unaffected by her near kiss. “I’m happy to meet them. I don’t have to pretend.”
Her vision now clear, she focused on the approaching couple instead of dwelling on what might have been and how foolish she must have looked, ready to melt in his arms only to have nothing happen. The woman, Ruth, wore a red afternoon dress with a matching headband and high-buckled Campbell shoes that, for some, would have been hard to walk in. But she was all grace as she glided closer. A natural beauty, she was the type of woman who reminded Laura how out of place she was, trying to play the part of a carefree flapper. Laura looked at the man. He wore a pin-striped suit and stylish gray derby hat. His face, at first darkened by shadows, came into the light. Oh dear. She knew those dark brows and that handsome face.
“Abel, is that Isaac Campbell?”
“Yes,” he said, waving at the incoming couple again. “I’m not going to give his family as good a deal as I’m giving your father, but I still need the connection. It’s important for business that I stay out of your family’s little feud.”
“It’s not a little feud.” She drew back, nearly stumbling on the sidewalk. Her heart beat faster, wildly thumping inside her chest. She could not be seen with Isaac Campbell. If she were in the park, where there was open space and room to run, she might have fled. But here between the thick brick buildings with autos filling the streets, there was nowhere to hide. “Abel, I can’t spend the evening with him. My father would never stand for it. He’s fired employees for dating employees of the other factory. My being seen with Isaac could . . . it could be awful. There have been riots at the factories over less than this. You don’t understand. Our parents hate each other. They go to great lengths to try to destroy the other. I can’t just pretend none of that exists.”
“You’re not dating the man.” He put a possessive arm around her. “You’re dating me. And Campbell is good for my business.”
There was no time to dwell on the implication of his words. Isaac and Ruth were drawing closer. She touched her hair and smoothed her dress. She’d not seen Isaac Campbell in years. It didn’t matter what he thought of her—of course it didn’t. And yet . . .
“Stop fretting. Your father needn’t worry. I won’t let Isaac Campbell sour our night.” His arm around her waist tightened ever so slightly. “Your father wouldn’t want to lose my business. Trust me, I can convince him that this doesn’t matter.”
How quickly the mood shifted. She’d been ready to believe herself in love and had nearly kissed Abel when he wooed her with a flower. Now she felt weak in the knees and nauseous with nowhere to turn. The enemy, Isaac Campbell, approached. The boy she’d stared at over the tops of her books, who had disappeared and joined ranks with the adversary, never looking back. He’d fled like everyone else, and she’d despised him for it. And now there he was, grown and handsome, with a beautiful woman beside him. He hadn’t needed her, probably hadn’t even missed her.
The sting of loss returned, and with it, her pride bristled. She stood taller, determined to face Isaac Campbell head-on and show him that she was leading an interesting and full life. She did, after all, own an exotic bird and Abel had just . . . almost kissed her. Her life wasn’t entirely dull.
“Isaac Campbell,” she said the moment his eyes locked on hers. “It’s been a long time.”