13: Championing

"I apologize for keeping you up late last evening then dragging you out early this morning, Mickey," Andrew stated from the back seat of the Rolls Royce as they made their way through New York's early morning traffic. 

"It's alright, Mr. James. I'm happy to help you where Miss Evelyn or Miss Lily are concerned."

"How do you know they're concerned?" Andrew locked his eyes on Mickey in the rearview mirror.

With an almost confused glance, Mickey met his eyes. "Well, I saw you last night caring for Miss Evelyn. And— we're on our way to their apartment again this morning, which I doubt you'd be doing unless it was for one of them."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Andrew leaned back against the seat, staring moodily out the car's window at the activity on the streets. He'd been tired already from working so much lately, but to learn from Evelyn that her landlady had raised the young woman's rent had triggered a dubious curiosity. 

It had taken no time at all early this morning to track down the financer in charge of that apartment's ownership. With his authority as the VP, he'd had building security open the office of Mr. Jenner, and retrieving the records, had reviewed them thoroughly.

Much to his annoyance, Andrew found that his suspicions were true. 

Mrs. Lancaster was required to get approval from the Trust for any rent increases, and to pay that portion to the account's financer towards the debt on the building. It was a simple matter of reading to learn the woman had been in the landlady role for nearly five years and not once during that time had she requested a rent increase approval from Mr. Jenner.

Which made Andrew furious.

Leaving a note for Mr. Jenner, he'd taken the records and locked the office, and now he was on his way to right a wrong. It needled him that even Mickey could see it was on behalf of Evelyn. Certainly, it would have been far simpler to increase her wages against the rising rent— probably cheaper and easier too— but it chapped him to have the Trust's contract obligations breached by the slovenly weaselly likes of Mrs. Lancaster, and it infuriated him that the woman would do it to take advantage of other young women in far worse straits that she.

But there was absolutely no denying he could have completely ignored the entire circumstance had he heard it from anyone else besides Evelyn. The mere fact that she mentioned even in passing an inconvenience of any magnitude set him on fire— it simply wasn't to be born. 

Which made absolutely no sense. 

Yet he couldn't deny it. 

In her quiet tolerant reliable way, Evelyn Moore, with her fragile birdlike grace and her mystical eyes, had slipped around his personal fortifications, cracked through them as a growing tree's taproot might patiently crack a stone. She'd embedded herself into his consciousness like a cactus spine.

Andrew now knew he took everything she said to heart, felt her hurts as if they were his own. And he liked how it felt to champion her.

Especially since he'd witnessed firsthand the reward.

'I love you, Lily.' 

The way she'd said it made his chest feel tight, and Andrew had never envied anyone more than he had Lily in that moment. Yes, he was married and the guardian of his brother's children, but his so-called wife would never return and he was free to give Evelyn everything else she could possibly desire if she would only love him like that in return.

Andrew didn't bother waiting for Mickey to finish parking the car, to open the door for him. He leapt out at the curb, parting the sidewalk crowds like Moses and striding up the stairs into the four-story brownstone with firm intent.

Rapping hard with the flat of his palm on the stairway ballustrade, Andrew shouted up the stairwell, hearing his voice ring. "Ladies! Hello up there! I need all tenants' attention for a brief meeting, please!" On the ballustrade cap, he banged again. 

From somewhere above, he heard feminine voices and doors opening. In response, he banged again. "Ladies, if you please, I need to speak with you briefly. Please let any of your neighbors who are not near the railing know."

"Sir."

Andrew barely had time to process Mickey's warning and turn before the door to the first floor apartment was flung open and the repulsive Mrs. Lancaster, still in her curlers and dressed in a ratty food-spattered robe, erupted like a plague into the apartment building's lobby.

Propping her hands on her hips, she sneered. “Back to try it again?” She crossed her thick arms over her ample breasts. “Ain’t goin’ to work better this time. I checked with the bank. It’s a Mr. Jenner over this account. You got no business here.”

Andrew chuckled wickedly, eyeing her pointedly. “Quite the contrary, Mrs. Lancaster. Mr. Jenner reports to me. However, as of this morning, I’ve taken the liberty of managing this account personally as it’s my understanding from my assistant that you have raised the rents.”

“She’s lying."

Andrew recognized an automatic thoughtless response when he saw one. Glancing up, he could see faces along the rails. "Good morning, ladies," he addressed them, receiving several cooing smiles and little waves in response. "I need your assistance resolving a conflict, if you will. I'm told by one of your fellow tenants that Mrs. Lancaster has raised the rents. Was that in fact the case for every one of you? Or should I expect to find this is special treatment she's established for Miss Moore?"

He met the infuriated landlady's huffing indignation with a leveling stare and a vicious curling grin hearing replies from the stairwell. 

"She's raised rents for all of us, sir!"

"Twice in the last six months!"

"It appears, Mrs. Lancaster, that my assistant was not lying."

Above him, Andrew could hear the sounds of feet on the stairs, but having what he needed, he pressed on. "Are you familiar with the term rent profiteering?" He opened the account record for the apartment building he'd carried with him from the Trust.

"My Trust has a strict policy against rent profiteering, Mrs. Lancaster. When you accepted the appointment as landlady over this establishment, you agreed to those terms, including getting approval with the account financer prior to raising rents, providing the exact amount of any increase and determining in writing what, if any, portion would be allocated to you." Andrew glanced down at the opened folder. "Last approved increase was seven years ago. Requested by a Mrs. Henderson— your predecessor."

Storming over to the stairs, Mrs. Lancaster looked up. "I see you, you ungrateful brats! How dare you!" she shouted at the young women along the rails. "They’re lying," she insisted again to Andrew.

He stared down his nose at her. "Is that so? Mrs. Lancaster, considering my experiences with you, I’m more inclined to believe these young ladies. You understand of course."

At movement in his periphery, Andrew looked up to find Evelyn and Lily descending the stairs. "Good morning, Miss Moore. Miss Henderson."

"Good morning, Mr. James." Lily smiled brightly, continuing down the stairs to him after Evelyn stopped, then with a pointed glance as Mrs. Lancaster, handed him a notice. "This will help you resolve the issue, sir."

Laying the notice on top of the folder's documentation, Andrew skimmed the contents, then compared the signature in the account record with the one on the letter Lily had given him. "Well, Miss Henderson. It appears you're correct. This does clarify everything. Thank you."

Andrew held the notice up so the filthy landlady could see it. "This looks remarkably like your signature on an unauthorized rent increase, Mrs. Lancaster. As such, I’ll expect you to remove yourself completely by noon. Consider this your termination. Am I clear?"

Mrs. Lancaster's bottom lip began to quiver, then she burst into tears and pivoted, bustling back into her apartment and slamming the door.

At the second floor, Evelyn gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. 

With a wide grin, Andrew met her eyes, but addressed all the young women gathered around the stair railing. "Ladies, on behalf of the Trust, I offer my apologies for the mismanagement of this establishment."

Obviously, something would need to be done and quickly to ensure the place continued to run smoothly, and for a moment, Andrew debated putting Evelyn in charge on an interim basis. Then he changed his mind. 

He couldn't very well make her responsible for the apartment building and expect her to agree to travel with him as his assistant. No, he needed another alternative. Glancing down at the record again, he looked at the previous landlady's signature.

Lillian Henderson. It couldn't be coincidence.

"I can quite assure you this will not happen again as I will be appointing someone more responsible to the landlady role." Closing the folder, Andrew extended his right hand to shake Lily's. "I believe you will find Miss Henderson will manage the building better for you. However, if you encounter any difficulties, please do come find me at the trust. I am Andrew James, Vice President of Accounts."

With a bright smile, Lily Henderson shook his hand excitedly with both of hers and along the railings above, Andrew could hear the young women's approval. "Miss Henderson, I'll expect to see you later this morning in my office to sign the necessary paperwork. If you and Miss Moore will collect your things, you can ride to the office with me if you'd like."

**

It wasn't until Evelyn reached the thirty-eighth floor, following along behind Mr. James as he unlocked their office that she screwed up her courage to address him. 

"Mr. James?" When he turned, towering over her and with his intense gaze, Evelyn suddenly lost her nerve. "I— I'll bring you some coffee."

His eyes narrowed, and under his scrutiny, Evelyn cringed. "Something's on your mind, Miss Moore. Tell me what it is."

"It's— I—."

How ungrateful would she seem to even say it? To ask what would happen to Mrs. Lancaster now. Why was she even considering it? It wasn't as though the woman had cared when she'd evicted other young women from their apartments, forced them to the streets in far worse conditions and for far less. In fact, the more she thought of it, the more foolish it seemed, even to her. 

"Never mind, sir. I'll be right there as soon as the coffee's ready." Evelyn froze mid-turn, feeling his large warm hand close about her wrist.

Under typical circumstances, Mr. James presented as a pillar of perfection— a stalwart defender of the Trust and its interests, exacting, uncompromising and undeniably cold. But that wasn't the man Evelyn saw gazing back at her, whose sure hand slid from her wrist to envelope hers, whose body drew incrementally closer to her. 

His voice low and soothing but not to be denied, Mr. James insisted, "It's important to me, Miss Moore. I want to know what's bothering you."

Evelyn flushed, overwhelmed and warm and held as much by the intensity of his eyes as the strong hand encompassing hers. Swallowing hard, she reached for her voice. "Mrs. Lancaster. What will happen to her now she's turned out and with no job?"

"Had she valued either her home or her employment, she wouldn't have been taking advantage, not only of the Trust, but of her tenants. Do you disagree?"

Shaking her head quickly, Evelyn replied softly, "I don't. I don't question your judgment at all, sir. It's— only that— it's so abrupt and such a difficult situation. Were it me, I'd be lost as to what to do."

"I assure you, Miss Moore, while I have anything to say about it, that will never be you." Releasing her hand, he reached up, caressing her cheek with the backs of his fingers before cupping her jaw and lifting her chin. His thumb traced the margin of her bottom lip and his eyes, deep blue with something she didn't recognize, followed its path. Evelyn's heart leapt into her throat then began to pound, and she flushed again.

"Such a tender heart you have, Evelyn," he said softly, her name rolling off his warm full lips like the brush of a forbidden kiss. "What would you have me do?"

"I don't know, sir," Evelyn admitted. "I only wonder, would you have done something different if it was me?"

**

That question gave him pause. 

Would he have done something different if it was Evelyn? One brow flicked up in wry humor.

Of course he would have.

Hadn't he already admitted as much? That about her, he'd become a moveable feast. Couldn't she see? Constantly, he was revising his decisions, abruptly altering his perspective to better suit her lens with little more than a twitch of her fine mouth or a gracefully arched brow.

Just like in this circumstance. 

"I cannot very well reverse my decision— it was abundantly clear Mrs. Lancaster has severely abused her privilege among all your building's tenants."

Andrew could see her protest forming in the worried frown creasing her lips, the sharp intake of breath through the mesmerizing part between them and he smiled. With a sudden inspiration and before she could speak, he inquired, "Are there empty apartments in your building?"

"Yes," Evelyn replied without hesitation, her expresion confused. "There's a single unit— like Lily's— available on the second floor, and the double unit like mine on the third floor is open."

"Would it appease your kind heart if I allow her to move into the single unit and require her to pay rent like any other tenant?"

A warm light glowed in her blue-gray eyes and a bright smile curled her irresistibly kissable lips in response. Andrew's head dipped towards hers, his mouth so close he could feel the whisper-touch of her hurried breaths stirring against his lips.

"I shall send word immed—."

"Knock, knock," a female voice chimed at the outer office door. "Oh!"

Jerking his hand away from Evelyn, Andrew took an abrupt step back, separating them and cursing himself for his careless indiscretion, even knowing how desperately he'd wanted the kiss he'd initiated. Lily Henderson stood at the door, her sky blue eyes fixed on him keenly.

With his face schooled in a polite social mask, Andrew gave her a brief smile. "Miss Henderson. Your timing is impeccable. Miss Moore and I were just discussing the situation at your apartment."

"Is that what you call that?" One side of Lily's mouth curled in a cockeyed knowing smile. "Having second thoughts, Mr. James? I assure you I can handle the job."

"None at all, Miss Henderson." Andrew gestured her into his office. "Miss Moore, if you would, the coffee, please? For myself and Miss Hender—son."

Something dark and desirous stirred in Evelyn, churning the gray mists in her preternatural eyes. Like a ship adrift on waters blown by changing winds or the tides that follow Earth's luminous satellite, another piece of Andrew aligned along the trembling current, willingly, eagerly, raising the vibration between them. 

"Yes sir."

Her long lashes fell like a feathered veil, shielding her eyes from him and crushing the intensity between them. As Miss Henderson passed him, entering his office as he'd directed, Andrew's eyes followed Evelyn's retreating figure until she was out of sight.

**

"Are you even listening to me?" Lily demanded, trailing along in Evelyn's wake as she circled the produce displays at the grocery. 

"Of course I am," Evelyn replied, rooting through the the layers of potatoes, searching for the ones she wanted. "Lily, I don't understand what your concern is. He's a good man."

"A good man doesn't try to take advantage of his assistant. No matter how many favors he does for you, it doesn't change the fact that he's married," Lily hissed in response.

Turning to face her friend, Evelyn fixed her with a patient stare. "He's had ample opportunity to take advantage of me, Lily, and he didn't. I can't pretend I understand what motivates him, but what other financer would have bothered to rehire me? What other financer would have made a woman his assistant? What other financer would have brought me home—safely— when he found me sleeping in his office? He could have kicked me out— let me walk home in the dark or—or— struggle with my rent by taking a cab, but he didn't. He could have put me on discipline or even fired me, but he didn’t. And he didn't have to take a single action with Mrs. Lancaster based solely on my word. Mr. James has his faults, yes. But he also has a number of virtues.”

Lily flashed her a crooked grin. “Virtues? Yes,” she drawled, chuckling. “I’ve seen him. Noticed his ‘virtues’ too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s high society. He'd never stoop to a penurious level such as mine." Evelyn went back to selecting potatoes. "And I’m a little old for schoolgirl fancies.”

Which was literally true in terms of biologic years, but an utter lie as far as her body was concerned. Andrew James was like a frozen fire, a fascinating tangle of beautiful and dangerous that she had desperately— foolishly— wanted to kiss. Wanted to touch. Wanted to bask in his imperious presence just to breath in his intoxicating masculine scent.

"Oh please," Lily whispered harshly. "You really expect me to believe you're above schoolgirl fancies when I saw you with my own eyes melting against him in his office this morning? Not that I can blame you, but I shouldn't need to advise you to find someone with good virtues,” she accented the word, “who’s more available.”

At her elbow, Lily looped her arm with Evelyn's, then tugged her attention to Henry Mercer across the store. Groaning softly, Evelyn dragged them towards the register, replying softly, "I can scarcely fathom how you find his constant leering at me a virtue."

Across the store, Henry smiled brightly when Evelyn noticed him.

“Good evening, Miss Lily. Miss Evelyn.” He spoke her name like a sacred word, and Evelyn dropped her eyes, shielding herself against his adoration.

“Hello Henry,” Evelyn replied, disinterested and entirely confused. 

Lily was right of course. An entanglement with Mr. James could only lead to heartbreak, assuming he had a remote interest in one at all. In that regard, Evelyn didn't share her best friend's confidence— Andrew James had in fact had ample opportunity, and he hadn't taken it. Actions that perhaps were more telling than even Lily's admonishments. 

“I know you don’t usually buy them, but the tomatoes are fresh today.”

Then there was Henry Mercer. 

Sweet and well-made, with an earnest smile and the gentlest of gray eyes that followed her adoringly. Sturdy and reliable Henry, who even this close to one, didn't have the foggiest notion of how a woman might function, react to the world or even feel. 

He had no idea what made her happy. Or upset. Nor did he care to learn. So there was nothing between them. He adored a non-existant fantasy he'd created in her image and while Evelyn could certainly acknowledge his looks and future with the grocery as valuable, even desirable to some, he lacked any inkling of how to connect to her, to appreciate her interests. 

Why was love all so infuriatingly complicated and confusing? 

Glancing that way, Evelyn nodded. “I saw that. They look lovely. I’m certain you’ll sell out soon.” Searching through the basket of individual celery stalks, Evelyn selected three, fuming, then grumbled to Lily, “Why did you do that?”

“Is there something I can help you find?” Henry approached from across the store.

Stepping back to keep the space between them, Evelyn shook her head, dropping the celery in her shopping basket. “No, thank you. I have everything we need. Have a good evening, Henry.”

Flashing daggers at Lily, Evelyn left her best friend standing with the grocer as she headed to the register.

Catching up, Lily asked again, “Why won’t you give him a chance?”

Paying for her purchases, Evelyn hissed back. "What? Like the one with the lemonade on the roof? Because it was agonizingly painful, Lily. I could barely get ten words out of him and most of them were 'no' when I asked about anything we might have as a common interest."

With her grocery bag gathered into her arms, Evelyn beat a hasty path back to their apartment building. "Relationships are two-way streets. He has to make an effort. And I don’t think fawning around after me counts.”

“All right,” Lily soothed. “Does that mean you’d agree if he did?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Lily. I don’t know.” Evelyn glanced at her best friend in frustration as they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. “Can’t we just fix dinner and listen to the radio.”

Lily hugged her around the shoulders. “Of course. I’m trying to understand what gets you so upset, that’s all.”

“I don’t know.” Opening her apartment door and dumping the grocery bag on kitchen table, Evelyn snatched a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. Storming into the bathroom, she retrieved two aspirin from the vial and popping them in her mouth, swallowed them with some water. “If I so much as say ‘hello’ he falls at my feet.”

“He’s devoted. What’s wrong with that?”

Washing the potatoes, Evelyn set them on the cutting board to chop for soup. She’d struggled with that question herself, but was not significantly further along in her calculations. “I don’t want a puppy, Lily. Henry doesn’t seem like he can be any other kind of man.”

“He can’t be anything if you don’t give him a chance.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

Viciously chopping the potatoes and celery, Evelyn scraped them off the cutting board and into the pot, adding water and putting it on the burner. From her shelf pantry, she removed and opened a can of clams, draining the packing liquid down the sink. Dumping them into her soup, she added seasonings, then covered it and set the burner to a low boil.

“What happened to you at work today?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Nothing good, I’m afraid. Mr. Frederickson is retiring.”

Where she stood at the stove, Evelyn faced her friend, stunned.

“Oh don’t look so surprised. He’s older than Methuselah.” Unflappable as always, Lily shrugged. “Apparently he gave his notice a few weeks ago. He intends to retire at the summer, so I guess it’s a good thing Mr. James gave me the position as landlady.”

“That’s only a few more weeks. And that only pays for your rent.”

“Do you think I don’t know?” Agitated, Lily kicked off her shoes. “At least I’ll have a roof over my head. I suppose now you know why I’ve been asking about Henry. If something were to happen at the Trust, he could take care of you.”

“We take care of each other. We’ll get through this too.” Reaching for her, Evelyn gave her best friend a hug, then startled at a rapping on the kitchen window.

"Mickey Smith!" Evelyn huffed, eyeing the chauffer perched on the fire escape outside the kitchen window. Opening it, she chastized, "You’ll be the death of me with all that sneaking around. We’ll be lucky if you don’t get us thrown out.”

“I never mean to startle you, Miss Evelyn," he apologized. "Besides," he replied, beaming at Lily, "I’m certain the new landlady would never throw you out.”

Scrambling, Lily stuffed her feet into her shoes and darted for the door. Turning quickly, she pecked Evelyn on the cheek with a bright grin. 

"I'll be back in a little while. Save some chowder for me!"