Sixteen

Visiting her sister-in-law’s house was always a challenge for Marianne. Delia and Andrew lived only two doors down from her parents’ home in Baltimore’s wealthiest neighborhood. Andrew’s house was like a museum. Most of the furniture was antique, and the fabric for the draperies was imported from Europe. Delia’s pride was the mantelpiece surrounding the fireplace in the front hall, which had once been owned by the Earl of Rutledge before he had to sell his estate. Somehow Delia managed to make sure each guest to her home learned of the mantelpiece’s exalted lineage within moments of arrival.

Marianne’s task today was to help plan Andrew’s birthday party on Friday without letting a war break out. Vera and Delia had a massive dislike for each other, which Marianne thought was probably because the two women were so alike. Neither ever openly acknowledged their antipathy, but it simmered beneath the surface as each subtly vied for supremacy at every encounter. Marianne’s loyalty would always be to Vera, but Delia was Sam’s mother and doing a good job raising the boy, so she maintained cordial relations with her difficult sister-in-law.

“I’d like a cake sculpted to look like the America’s Cup trophy,” Delia said. With her tiny frame and carefully styled honey-blond hair, Delia had always been one of the prettiest people Marianne knew. “I heard that Mrs. Astor had one like it, so I think it will be perfect for Andrew.”

“I can’t see your cook being able to pull that off,” Vera said. “The Neapolitan cake she made for lunch today was on the lackluster side.”

Delia’s mouth thinned. “I plan to get the cake from the bakery on Carleton Street. They do exceptional work. I’ve also arranged for a magician to surprise everyone with a release of doves during the party. Won’t that be nice? Oh, and Marianne, you can take photographs of the guests. That job of yours ought to come in useful for something. After you develop the pictures, I shall send them to the guests along with a thank-you note.”

“I’d be happy to.” Marianne had heard the sideways swipe at her profession but didn’t bother defending it. In Delia’s eyes there was no higher calling than being a mother, and she often managed to craftily point out Marianne’s failure to marry and continue building the Magruder family dynasty.

Marianne wandered to a chair and sat, fiddling with the pendant at her throat and wishing she could be with Luke. He was always so fun. He never indulged in underhanded gamesmanship. When they disagreed, he came straight out and told her his issue.

“Marianne, please don’t sit on that chair,” Delia said. “It’s an antique, not really a piece of furniture.”

Marianne immediately stood, but Vera’s tone turned icy. “And which piece of furniture is acceptable for my daughter to sit on?”

“Mama, it’s all right,” Marianne said, eager to smooth her ruffled feathers.

“Of course it’s all right,” Delia rushed to say. “Please sit anywhere except the chairs that have the curved gilt legs. They’re from the Regency era and very fragile.”

Before Marianne could sit again, there was a disturbance in the front hall. It sounded like a child was crying, followed by Andrew’s voice as he stomped inside. It was a Wednesday, so Andrew was supposed to be at Magruder Food and Sam ought to be in school, but something must be wrong.

“Now, stop that sniveling and go apologize to your mother,” Andrew ordered, his tone furious.

Sam came down the front hall, shoulders cringing and his hands fisted in front of his chest as he sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m sorry, Mama,” he managed to stammer through his tears.

Delia looked horrified as she rushed to kneel before the boy, pulling him into her embrace. “My goodness, what’s happened?” she asked, looking to her husband for an explanation.

Andrew stood in the doorway of the parlor like a thundercloud, two bright spots of anger on his cheekbones. “Tell her, Sam.”

Sam flung himself deeper into Delia’s arms and shook his head against her neck, too distraught to speak.

“Andrew, what’s going on?” Delia demanded, her voice losing patience.

“Our son was caught cheating on a mathematics test. Isn’t that right, boy?”

Sam only cried harder. Marianne’s heart ached for him, but there was little she could say to heal the wound. He was obviously guilty or he wouldn’t be so distraught. Andrew continued to fulminate, recounting how he’d been notified at the office of Sam’s transgression and how he immediately went to the private school to yank the boy out of class for a good dressing down.

Marianne gestured to Vera. “Come, Mama. Maybe we should leave for a while.”

“No, no,” Andrew said. “This sort of humiliation is what happens to boys who get caught cheating. It is a stain on the family name and will require a public show of remorse.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said again, still not lifting his head from Delia’s neck. “I said I’m sorry, and I don’t know what else to do.”

From deep in the house came Bandit’s yelps. Delia insisted the dog be kept confined to the servants’ workroom, but he’d obviously heard Sam and was trying to get out. What a terrible mess! These visits to Andrew and Delia’s house were always difficult, but this was simply awful.

Andrew stomped down the hallway, slamming doors and yelling orders at the servants. Soon he came back to the parlor, leading Bandit by the leash.

“Say good-bye to your dog, boy. If you can’t be trusted to handle a school test, you can’t be responsible for a dog.”

“No!” Sam said as he sprang away from Delia. His crying stopped, replaced with a white look of fear. “Please don’t take Bandit away again.”

“You should have thought of that before you cheated. You won’t be seeing Bandit again.”

Andrew led the dog down the front hall, but Marianne couldn’t believe he truly meant to give the dog away. He was probably just taking him down to their parents’ house, which was fine. She wouldn’t mind looking after Bandit until Sam’s punishment was over.

“Calm down, calm down,” Delia shushed Sam. She used a lacy handkerchief to blot his tears, then held it to his nose. “Blow,” she coaxed. With Andrew gone, Delia proceeded to mother Sam the way she usually did when her husband wasn’t there. “Now, tell me what happened and why you had to cheat on that test.”

Marianne met Vera’s eyes. She fully expected Delia to find some way to blame Sam’s transgression on the teacher or perhaps even the school itself. Sam tearfully admitted he didn’t understand how to add fractions because the teacher didn’t teach it very well, and lots of students in his class cheated. By the time Andrew returned a few minutes later, Delia was fully armed to defend her son.

“Apparently the whole class was cheating, but Sam was the only one singled out for punishment,” she told Andrew, who was in no mood to hear it. He demanded Delia follow him to his study to discuss it in private, which was a good thing, because Sam shouldn’t hear his mother defend the indefensible.

It was hard to continue planning Andrew’s birthday party after the blowup, especially since Delia remained sequestered in the study while a muffled argument could be overheard. Marianne and Vera didn’t have enough insight to discuss the guest list, but they walked through the main floor of the house and considered ideas for decorating. Everything in the mansion was already so lavishly ornamented, it was hard to think of ways to make it look even more festive.

Dinner was a somber affair. They dined at Andrew’s house, and her father carried the bulk of the conversation because Andrew was still silently fuming. Sam wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes and barely touched his food. After dinner, the grown-ups went to the parlor to enjoy a late-night cordial, but Sam retreated upstairs.

Marianne gave in to temptation and followed, softly tapping on his closed bedroom door.

Sam tore it open a moment later, hope on his face, but it vanished when he saw her. “Oh,” he said, his shoulders drooping. “I thought Papa was back with Bandit.”

She followed him inside and sat on the edge of his bed. “I think Bandit will be staying at our house for a while.”

“Can you get him back?” he pleaded. “Please, Aunt Marianne. I promise I won’t ever cheat again. I won’t be a mailman. I’ll study hard and work in Papa’s office and be part of the family dynasty. Just please help me get Bandit back.”

She ruffled his hair and gave him a reassuring smile. She couldn’t make any promises, nor was she going to undermine Andrew’s decisions in this matter. She just wished she came from a normal family where harsh punishments and raging tantrums were not standard fare.

Maybe someday she would have such a family, but she was learning that constantly seeking appeasement carried its own set of problems.

Marianne was surprised not to see Bandit when she returned home that evening. Her father merely shrugged off her questions about the dog, and all Vera could do was complain about how Delia had mishandled the situation.

“No wonder that boy is growing up weak-willed,” she said. “I certainly hope Andrew puts his foot down.”

“No fear of that,” Clyde said as he continued smoking a cheroot, perusing the evening newspaper.

Her grandfather sat in the corner of the parlor, whittling a block of wood. At eighty years of age, Jedidiah had turned over management of the food company to his son and grandson. He now lived with Clyde in a mansion that was a far cry from the cabin with a dirt floor where he’d been born, but her grandfather had never lost the backwoods twang in his accent.

“Andrew’s too hard and Delia’s too soft,” Jedidiah said. “No wonder the boy is a little screwy.”

That triggered another round of discussion about Delia’s shortcomings, since no one was allowed to say a critical word about Andrew. Soon responsibility for Sam’s cheating had been entirely ascribed to Delia’s failings as a mother, and Marianne would rather do anything than continue this discussion.

“How was your day at Magruder Food?” she asked Clyde, eager to divert the topic.

Clyde folded up the newspaper and flashed her a delighted grin. “Fabulous! Andrew is learning quickly and rolling out a new process for pickling cucumbers. It should cut production time in half and earn a pretty penny once it’s implemented.”

It wouldn’t have happened without Clyde’s mentorship. Andrew followed in lockstep behind her father, and maybe that was for the best. There certainly hadn’t been any changes in their position on artificial fillers or chemical preservatives under Andrew’s leadership. What if Luke was right? Could Andrew ever develop the fortitude to change the direction of the company?

Her attention began to wander. If Luke had his way, her father’s political career would come to an end in November, and that would be terrible. She could never forgive Luke if he wantonly destroyed her father’s career, for she owed Clyde Magruder the world. What other man would take an illegitimate child into his home and lavish her with as much affection as Clyde had done?

Vera turned in early. Spending time with Delia always wore her out, but particularly so today, considering the uproar over Sam. Her father retreated into his study to deal with paperwork, and Marianne pounced on the opportunity to coax her grandfather into a late evening stroll.

The crickets chirped as they set out down the slate pathway toward the street. She loved this walk beneath the spreading oak trees. The homes on this street were so stately, with their manicured lawns and the lights glowing inside the windows. It made it look like happy families lived inside.

“Fine night for a stroll,” Jedidiah said. “Anything to escape the catawampus at Andrew’s house. And we ain’t heard the end of it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I done told you,” Jedidiah said. “Andrew is too hard with the boy, and Delia is too soft. It ain’t going to end well.”

Something about his ominous tone made her suspect he knew something. Jedidiah had been home all day and might have more insight into what went on this afternoon. Many of the homes had their windows open, so she waited until they passed Andrew and Delia’s house to broach her question.

“Where is Bandit?” she asked, watching her grandfather carefully.

Jedidiah scowled. “Bandit is gone.”

Obviously he wasn’t at their house, but how long did Andrew intend to keep the dog away as punishment this time? She’d be happy to take Bandit to Washington again. Dogs bonded with people, so he shouldn’t be left with strangers.

“Gone where?” she pressed.

Jedidiah sighed. “I’m sorry to say that he’s gone for good. Andrew had one of the boys down at the stable shoot him dead.”

“No!” She stopped walking, too light-headed to keep moving. “No, I can’t believe it. Even Andrew wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Believe it,” Jedidiah said. “Delia never liked that dog. Bandit sometimes brings fleas into the house, and you know how she is about that house. Andrew got to please his wife and punish his son, all with one bullet.”

Andrew had always been hard, but this went beyond the pale. Her gaze trailed down the street, where Andrew and Delia’s palatial house sat on a two-acre lot, the lights softly burning inside. How could someone who lived in such a picturesque home do something so foul?

“How did you learn this?” she asked.

“Andrew told me. He was proud of it.”

Marianne swallowed hard. Her grandfather’s memory was sometimes sketchy. Could he have misheard? Or misunderstood? In the past year, both Andrew and her father had grown increasingly insistent that Jedidiah no longer be allowed to play any role in the company. They mistrusted his judgment and accused him of forgetting details. Maybe this was more of the same.

Even as she stared at Andrew’s house, a few of the lights switched off. It was too late to call on her brother tonight to demand the truth, but she would find out in the morning.

Marianne decided to visit Andrew at his office to hear from his own mouth what happened to Bandit. She didn’t want to confront him at home where Delia could interfere, and Jedidiah insisted on accompanying her to the factory.

Magruder Food was located on the industrial side of town. A squat brick building housed the canning and bottling operations, while a separate warehouse stored their inventory. A small building for the business offices was built off to the side. The only ornamentation on the property was a pair of boxwood shrubs framing the door to the offices.

Andrew loathed the location of the business offices, but Jedidiah always insisted on thrift. It was significantly cheaper to keep the entire company located in this industrial area, even though it annoyed her father and brother to no end. They were eager to leave this gritty part of town, but since Jedidiah was still the majority shareholder in the company, there was nothing they could do. Andrew once told her that as soon as Jedidiah died, he planned to move business operations to the other side of town, where rents were sky-high but the location would add prestige to the family’s reputation.

Jedidiah held the door open for her to enter, his smile worried. “I don’t think confronting Andrew is a good idea. That boy has got a temper.”

“I need to look him in the eyes and demand the truth,” she replied, and Jedidiah gave a brief nod. He respected her decision even if he disapproved of it.

The hallway to Andrew’s office was shabby but clean, and the door to his office was open. He sat at a massive oak desk that had been Jedidiah’s first and only luxury once Magruder Food started earning a fortune decades earlier. Andrew had covered the floor with a fine oriental rug, but the rest of the office was filled with workaday filing cabinets, a few chairs, and a single window with the same moss-green draperies she remembered from visiting her father here as a child.

“This is a surprise,” Andrew said as he rose to his feet. “Come in. Have a seat.”

Jedidiah sat, but she felt too nervous to join him. Andrew’s congenial smile was so familiar. He’d played with her when they were little. He once stood up for her against some older boys who used to tug on her braids at school. She couldn’t believe he would order Bandit shot, and he deserved a chance to defend himself.

“I heard something bad about you,” she said. “I heard you had one of the stable boys shoot Bandit.”

Andrew’s face tightened, and his mouth turned into a hard line. “That’s right, I did.”

She flinched and looked away as the last hope in his innocence died away, but her gumption quickly came back. “How could you?” she demanded. “Bandit was a good and loyal dog. Eager to please . . .” Her voice trailed off because it hurt too much to think of him.

“Sam needs to know there are consequences for bad behavior.”

“Does Papa know?”

Andrew nodded. “He said it was harsh but fair. He doesn’t want the family name tarnished, and cheating can do that. He wants the problem nipped in the bud, and so do I.”

“It was badly done,” Jedidiah said. “I’d have stopped it if I’d known. That’s not how a man should handle things.”

“I’m Sam’s father, and you’ve got no say in how I raise him.”

Jedidiah wasn’t used to having anyone contradict him. He stood, anger darkening his face. “That may be, but this is still my company, and I’ve got say here. Look around you, boy! Everything you see here, I built. That factory. That warehouse.” He banged his fist on the desk, making the pencils in the cup rattle. “I bought this very desk with money I earned from the sweat off my brow, and I don’t like to see a man who would shoot an innocent dog sitting at my desk. I trained Clyde to take over the company, but now he’s got highfalutin ideas about Congress. I wish Marianne was a man. She’d be a worthy person to sit at that desk.”

Andrew stood. “Now, Grandpa,” he said in a placating tone that only ratcheted Jedidiah’s anger hotter.

“Or little Tommy, for that matter! I don’t care if the boy was born on the wrong side of the blanket. You let me down. That’s not how a man acts.” Jedidiah was shouting now, his face mottled with rage.

Bandit was gone, and there was no undoing it, but they were still a family, and she hoped Jedidiah didn’t say something he would regret.

She laid a hand on her grandfather’s arm and tried to speak calmly. “We’ve said our piece. There’s no point in belaboring the matter.”

Andrew looked grateful for her intervention. Jedidiah was so angry he might make good on his threat to throw Andrew out of the company.

Her grandfather’s eyes narrowed, but he was starting to calm down. “It’s all right for a man to have a little wildness inside,” he said. “That’s how the Lord made us.” He stood before Andrew and held up a clenched hand. “You see that fist? I’ve been fighting since I came out of the womb. I fight and claw and conquer because that’s how a man survives in this world, but don’t you ever turn that fist on a woman or a child or a helpless animal. Never again. Do you hear me, boy?”

“Yes, sir.” Andrew met Jedidiah’s eyes with his chin held high, but there was a hint of fear in his face. Jedidiah could fire Andrew, and there’d be nothing Andrew or Clyde could do.

“Then we’ll be on our way. Come along, Marianne.”

She obeyed, but Jedidiah still twitched with anger as he stormed out of the office. She glanced back to send a parting look of sympathy to Andrew.

Instead of contrition, she saw rage on her brother’s face.