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25: Unanticipated Encounters
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2020-12-20 13:16:40Justin Mitchell?
Evelyn stared at the younger financer—Lily’s financer—who she’d seen only a few days before when she’d attempted to collect his monthly reconciliations for Andrew. Out of the Trust’s context, he appeared completely oblivious of her identity, though Evelyn knew exactly how it could be so.
If these two needed to talk, why come all the way to Chicago to do it? she wondered.
“Justin.” Andrew smiled politely, extending his hand to shake the younger man’s. “I trust your journey was pleasant?”
Gesturing to padded barstools at the bar with him, Justin resumed his seat, tucking Evelyn between both men. “Most pleasant,” he assured them. “What young man could complain of being invited to such a gem as Tip Top Tap? Why, I see even the stoic and unflappable Mr. James finds himself seduced by the glorious venue.”
Though he spoke about
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“She’s resting, sir.” The hired maid, Glenna, closed Evelyn’s bedroom door behind her quietly. “Mostly not aware, even when she wakes.”Pivoting, Andrew propped a hand on his hip, peering into the darkness through the drawing room windows, and raised his brandy to his lips. “Thank you, Glenna.” He could hear the girl move closer before he caught her leaning hesitantly into his periphery to catch his eye. “Is there something else?”“Some ginger ale and dry crackers might help with the sickness when she wakes. Shall I bring some, sir?”Facing Glenna, Andrew nodded. “Yes, thank you.”“Very good, sir.” Glenna’s gaze dropped, avoiding the intensity of his. “I can remain the night to care for her if you’d like.”Andrew shook his h
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Evelyn had thought the sweeping panorama of breathtaking mountain and ocean scenery visible through the huge sky-view picture windows of the train was astounding as they’d crossed the state towards Los Angeles.Having made the trip many times in his life, Andrew had grown accustomed to—even numb and occasionally bored by— the incredible beauty of the transcontinental crossing in general, and California in particular. After the years’ long, expensive fight to get the joint venture between the Southern Pacific, Union Pacific and Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe railroads off the ground, then six even longer years of mediating disputes and out-negotiating negotiators whenever one of the investors got themselves in a snit over some minute detail, the journey tended to leave him anxious more than awestruck.It was refreshing to see Evelyn’s childlike wonder. And rewarding in an entirely new way to see her simple gratefulness for the bright sun toiling to warm them the day long in an expansive
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At a rap at the bedroom door, both Evelyn and the evening maid Andrew had hired paused and glanced up in the dressing table mirror. “It’s open, you can come in.” The gleaming brass lever handle dipped, the latch giving, and the door swung open, admitting Andrew. Partially dressed in his tuxedo, he stopped behind Evelyn, using the mirror to tie his bowtie as he spoke. “I’d like you to wear the red dress this evening, please,” he requested, nodding polite acknowledgement to the maid who stood patiently waiting out of the way. “There will be gala balls each night we’re here, but tonight’s will be the heaviest attended. I need to attract some attention, and that dress on you does precisely that.” “Yes, of course.” Finishing with his tie, Andrew studied her in the mirror. Evelyn had been strangely subdued since this afternoon at the train terminal. She’d still shown her typical fascination with all things mechanical and technological, but to a noticeably lesser degree than usual for her
Last Updated : 2020-12-22World of Tomorrow 29: Confusion
Leaving his Alameda Street office by lunch time, Andrew was walking on air. He’d hand-selected the financers he’d interviewed today, much as he had Justin Mitchell for the New York branch of the Trust— men he’d worked with over the years with proven track records in finance and business and the brightest up and coming—with an expectation that he might entice fifty percent of them to work for him on the west coast within the confines the Los Angeles branch of the Trust had allowed him.He’d scheduled those appointments deliberately, with his most desirable candidates early in the day and those he’d settle for later, but he hadn’t needed the afternoon appointments at all. Which was a mercy for at least one of his interviewees. After eavesdropping with Evelyn on Mr. and Mrs. Pierson talking about his family and his private life, Andrew had planned to dangle his offer before Mr. Pierson, then yank it away after subtly mentioning the backstabbing gossip—now, he’d let the man wonder what opp
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Surrounded by the heady woody scent of him coming off Andrew’s jacket about her shoulders, Evelyn could scarcely bring herself to consider what the stranger seeking Charlotte had said. There was no way Andrew would hurt her—at least not purposefully. He took more precautions for her safety than she did, though perhaps that was more the strong possessiveness he had than a concern for her well-being. Regardless, he was vigilant looking after her and that didn’t indicate any malign intent to do harm. His warm hand wrapped hers as he led her along the walkway towards their bungalow, watchful eyes scanning their darkened surroundings.Then there was the other matter.Evelyn had known Russell James for years—there was no way the man was holding his wife prisoner. The simple fact that Charlotte had appeared and gone at the Trust—unscheduled and often to Mr. James’ surprise—confirme
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“Good morning, Mr. James.”Removing his hat as he entered the outer office on the thirty-eighth floor, Andrew stared, letting his eyes soak in every inch of her. Transferring his hat from hand to hand, he shrugged out of his overcoat, still damp from the icy misting rain outside.Miserable place, he grumbled internally, missing the bright sun-kissed days of Los Angeles for more reasons than the delightful weather.The weekend alone after their return to New York had been an agony, one that more than once he’d sought to alleviate, only barely forcing himself back into his apartment to pace from room to room, his nose chasing the sweet scent of her skin and hair, his ears longing for the lilting sound of his name in her voice. “Good morning. Miss Moore.”He hated this already.Evelyn gave him a gentle smile. “I’ve prioritized your messages. The critical ones are on your desk already. With a cup of fresh coffee.”Andrew glanced through the open door into his office. “Thank you, Miss Moore
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As late in the spring as it was, the weather that evening was ghastly. The sole benefit of it being that it further dropped attendance at the World’s Fair. It had been a simple matter of a phone call to arrange their reservation in a private corner of the Turf Trylon Cafe, one with a spectacular view of the rain-drenched Perisphere glittering in the fairground’s illumination, the Trylon’s spire towering just beyond it. Their trip to Los Angeles apparently had broken Evelyn of the annoying tendency to first search the menu by price, then by foods that appealed to her. Pleased with that development, Andrew studied her as she skimmed the dinner options while they waited for their cocktails to arrive. “Did you see something that appealed to you?” Her misty blue eyes lifted to his and Evelyn replied mildly, “Whatever you like will be fine.” Leaning forward on his elbo
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“Good morning, Mr. James.” Alerted by the lift’s chime, Evelyn had expected Andrew within seconds. Detecting movement in her periphery, she looked up to find him leaning halfway into the office, peering at her oddly, instead of striding in boldly as he usually did. The dark waves of his hair, normally smoothed back carefully with pomade, were tousled and she was positive he hadn’t shaved this morning. Dark circles ringed his vaguely haunted looking eyes as he stared at her. Alarmed, Evelyn rose. “Is everything alright?” Andrew blinked once, mechanically. “Evelyn, would you kindly collect your things and join me, please?” “Of course.” In an outright terror, she opened her personal armoire. Rushing, she pulled on her suit jacket, then snatched her lunch and purse, and hurried around her desk to
Last Updated : 2020-12-26
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“You folks just planning on waiting?” their cabbie asked, his dark eyes studying Andrew and Will in the rearview mirror, despite that Evelyn was seated between them. “Meter’s running. Makes no never mind to me if you do, but I’ll have to circle the block or the flatfoots will cite me.” “How long do we have to decide?” Andrew asked, reluctant to have the cab move on the off chance that they might miss Miranda's departure for work during the process. “’Nother minute or two at most.” “Thank you.” He shifted slightly on the cab’s rear seat so he could better see his companions. “I know we’re early, but if she’s keeping business hours, I’d have expected she’d have to allow time to travel to a workplace. You’re certain this is the building, Will?” “It’s the place,” he replied definitively. “I can go in and wait. Tail her to wherever she’s going, then come get you.” “Is it possible she recognized you yesterday?” Evelyn asked, peering through the murk
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The dancing had worked like a charm. For a couple of hours. Andrew had managed to get just shy of another couple hours on top of that, burning time off the afternoon by alternating between listening to the orchestra rehearse, dancing, and finally, by slipping a bribe to the broadcasting staff to show Evelyn their equipment set-up and to take their sweet time about it. After that, she’d become too fretful to do much beyond distractedly, which had quickly spoiled the ballroom option for both of them. They’d retired to their drawing room, taken afternoon tea, then Evelyn’s pacing had begun again in earnest. He had to admit, watching her as she combed through her drying hair at the dressing table, it might be time to worry about Will a little. It was going on eight o’clock. Late by any business standard, but certainly well past the time when most diners catering to the kind of clients they’d seen at the DeBaliviere Diner and Waffle House would be visiting
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Wednesday morning in St. Louis dawned dark and gloomy and only marginally better than it had been upon their arrival early afternoon on Monday. When Evelyn emerged from the bedroom into the drawing room where he and the constantly-moving Will waited, Andrew flicked the newspaper he’d been reading down and smiled. They’d all slept poorly—again. They’d all woken late—again—and after their enjoyable brunch yesterday, both men were eager to see what other offerings were available in the East Lounge’s dining area. “Well?” she asked, her red-tinged and particle-irritated eyes roving the drawing room’s lush furnishings, immediately spotting the unmistakable coating of fine black powder and ash. “Are we trapped inside again today? It seems faintly better.” Will snorted. “By comparison to yesterday, being buried in black sand would seem better.” Andrew chuckled, setting aside the St. Louis Star-Times he’d been reading. He rifled through a stack of newspapers o
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The hotel’s ballroom was a gently baroque style. Its elegant space was replete with all manner of luxuries one would expect of a high-profile hotel, no matter where one might visit in the world—custom paneled with artfully etched-mirror and plaster walls, gold-leafed accents and intricate crown moldings. Above the near-magical dancefloor, which was lit from below, hung in the decorative ceiling, a ponderous crystal chandelier lit the warm wooden dancefloor beneath it. Along the periphery, undulating balconies supported by Corinthian pilasters gave an air of classicism to the space, but one not overly staid. These generous galleries provided seating for those who had only come for a meal, to watch the dancing or to listen to the orchestra. They’d dressed for a late dinner, but though the orchestra played, their music broadcast exactly as Evelyn had always dreamed of experiencing, she and Andrew hadn’t danced. In fact, they hadn’t stayed much longer than
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“The Coronado was built, and I believe is now run, by Preston Bradshaw,” Andrew advised more than an hour later as their cab pulled away from the curb at the train depot. “He graduated from Columbia with my brother, Russell. The two were quite good friends as I recall. My father introduced him to Stanford White in New York City where he worked before returning to St. Louis. He’s responsible for the monumental hotels on Lindell Boulevard. The Melbourne and the Coronado at midtown and the theatre district. And opposite, near the Central West end, the Chase and the Forest Park hotels were also his commissions.” “Did you know him?” Evelyn asked, closing her burning eyes and resting her head against his shoulder. “Is that why we’re staying at the Coronado?” She left unspoken the reminder that the Coronado Hotel, in particular the hotel’s famed Caprice Club, was where they’d found Charlotte to serve Andrew’s divorce paperwork after their tip-off from the Princes in Los Angeles.
World of Tomorrow 131: Arrival
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