Evelyn buried her tear-streaked face against his chest, listening to his emotion-roughed apologies.“I’m so sorry, Evelyn. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m a fool for imagining anything so stupid and a bigger fool for saying it out loud.” His words rasped with the barely-checked passion behind them.Through his fine clothes, she felt the heat of his body, the strength of his arms around her, but she couldn’t stop shaking. Unintentionally, he’d hurt her before, but that pain was nothing compared to what she felt now.“I let my temper get away from me. I got carried away, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you and I can’t do without you. Please,” he begged humbly, brought to his knees by his own folly, “forgive me.”In her wildest imaginings, Evelyn had never guessed how mercilessly he could batter a tender soul, how horribly he could shatter a loving heart. She’d heard the rumors, of course. She’d known the ruthless brutality he was capable of with his acerbic words
“Good morning, Evelyn.” Andrew strode through the door, pausing only long enough to bend and press a quick peck on her full lips. Though she kissed him back, he could still feel the distance between them since their argument last week, and he was growing desperate searching for a way beyond it.He’d drastically underestimated the amount of work associated with getting the baseball game broadcast off the ground and the monster of a project it had become had devoured nearly every minute of his time since. Agonizingly, it had left him little to make full amends.“Good morning,” she replied with a sweet smile, but behind her eyes, silvery-blue today, there was no mistaking the cautious way she regarded him. “I’ve left your messages on your desk with a fresh cup of coffee and Mr. Whalen has called already this morning and asked that you return his call as soon as possible.”“Wonderful. Is there still a hole in my schedule at three this afternoon?” He bent at the waist, hovering over her as
Even after the soothing strains of the music died and only the faint scratchy hiss of the gramophone’s turntable filled Andrew’s office, he and Evelyn swayed together. The ring he’d purchased still rested between their clasped hands, but there was no rush for either of them to change a single thing. Her head rested against his broad chest, and he nuzzled kisses into her hair. “You’ve been distant because you thought I wasn’t going to do what I said,” Andrew said softly. “Or is there something else still bothering you?” Lifting her head reluctantly, Evelyn met his eyes. “I’m sorry I doubted you,” she replied remorsefully. “It’s just—things had gotten so out of hand last week. I could understand if you had doubts.” He gave a tight shake of his head. “No doubts. A rather unfortunate bit of bad timing. With all the extra work, there’s been little chance to make amends. If I’m good for a singl
Evelyn had no idea how long it took for the insistent persistent banging on her apartment door to wake her. She had no idea what time it was, only that bright sunlight beat against the drawn curtains, illuminating her bedroom in a soft warm glow.Exhausted still, she became aware of the irritation’s source with an annoyed and pained groan. It was echoed in a low grumbled curse from the solid warm body of Andrew wrapped around her.“Oh, go away.” Her voice was sleep-rough and barely recognizable as her own.Beside her, Andrew’s response was less cordial. “It’s too damn early for this kind of nonsense.” With a frustrated groan, he rolled away from her, thrashed about to disentangle from the blankets, then sat up on the edge of the mattress with another rough groan.“Where are you going?”Rustling through their discarded clothes, Andrew retrieved his tuxedo pants from the floor, yanking them over his long legs before standing to secure them at the waist. He cursed again as the banging con
Biting the tip of her thumb, Evelyn studied the contents of her suitcase. “Three day suits, plus what I’m wearing. Evening gowns. Stockings and undergarments. Robe and slippers. Toiletries and make-up. What am I forgetting?” Before she could think on it more, the apartment door opened and Lily strolled in, waved and smiled. “You do know you only have an hour before the train leaves, don’t you?” “You do know you just waltzed right into my apartment without so much as a knock, don’t you?” Lily flashed her an impish smile and shrugged. “What else am I supposed to do? You constantly complain when I do knock, and now you’ve got Andrew doing it too.” “Lily, you don’t knock,” Evelyn laughed. “You make a nuisance of yourself, but never mind. I need your help. I just know I’m forgetting something.” Closing the door behind her, Lily came to stand at her side. “Day and evening clothes?” “Have them.” “Underwear and stockings?” “Have them.” “Sleepwear? Oh, don’t bother answering. I’ve alre
The train had long since reached speed and the cityscape faded into rolling landscape. Evelyn leaned against Andrew with her feet tucked under her watching the greenery through the wide window as he read through the Times she’d bought to sneak onto the train.“What’s happening in the world?” she asked to re-engage him.“Some not so good things I’m afraid,” he replied with a sigh, but nuzzled a kiss into her hair. “A journalist in Europe reported Germany is aligning along the Polish border with a significant number of armed troops supported by hundreds of tanks, armored vehicles and field guns. And in Philadelphia, an amateur golfer is being held for involuntary manslaughter. Apparently, after he hit his ball into a sand trap, he swung his niblick wide in a fit of temper and it slipped his grip, striking a nearby caddie in the temple. The caddie died a couple hours later in the hospital of deep cerebral lacerations.”“Oh my word. Maybe I don’t want to know after all.”“I’m happy to tell
Andrew knew. He knew the instant she’d asked him about Justin’s motivations for marrying her best friend what Evelyn had been thinking. Not that he blamed her—in her position, he’d have thought the same thing. Long before now, in fact. With their meal finished and the dining car growing crowded and noisy, they took their leave, drifted silently through a quiet, nearly empty lounge car, then through the corridor of the first sleeper car before crossing into their own. There was no sense denying—either to himself, or to her assuming she’d press, which she wouldn’t—that he’d thought it. In fact, he’d thought she might be carrying his child two months ago, after that ridiculous row with his mother when he’d almost lost her. When she’d fainted and spent the night in the hospital. The mere notion had made him giddy, had made him feel like more of a man than he’d ever b
“Who are we looking for tonight?” Evelyn asked, lounging in the luxurious bath as Andrew stood at the sink, shaving in the mirror. They’d arrived at the Ambassador earlier that afternoon after successfully avoiding society journalists by assuming casual disguises as they departed the train. His had included the entirely uncharacteristic facial hair he was presently in the process of removing, a light cashmere jersey, blue jeans and pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses they’d picked up Chicago. In her humble opinion, it had done little to make him less noticeable—by her estimation, that and his dark hair left to dry without pomade gave him a certain rugged attraction that upped his masculine appeal. By the same token, he’d scarcely been able to keep his eyes or hands off her, wearing her own blue jeans, a dusky blue shirt with a navy chiffon scarf wrapped over her hair and tucked into the neck of her blouse, and her own chunky sunglasses that completely overpowered her face. While he agreed it
“Stop, Peter!” Sarah exclaimed, whirling to face behind her. She shot her brother an angry glare. “Peter, for pity’s sake, don’t throw dirt clods at your sister,” Andrew called over his shoulder, shifting his swaddled, sleeping son from his right shoulder to his left as they walked the long, tree-lined drive that led to the James’ estate, perched with its back on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Gulls rode the ocean updrafts in the afternoon sun above the glistening water, occasionally diving when something of interest caught their eye. On the opposite side of the tree-lined drive, his wife’s tiny orchard of glossy-leaved oranges in full bloom left a sweet scent drifting over the drive on the warm, salty breeze off the sea. Not far away, Evelyn's gated garden was growing lush with upright stalks of corn, twined in the loving arms of pole beans with the wide leaves of squash spreading in a carpet at their feet along the ground in one row. In another, her tomatoes were already d
“M-ma-ma.” The stuttering word was an alarming half-sob and half-gurgle from the wounded Becky. “M-ma-m-ma.” Dear God! Whoever it was had shot her! That poor, helpless girl! Why!? She wasn’t a threat! And there was absolutely nothing here of any value! Evelyn’s heart leapt to her throat and hammered painfully. But she stayed close to the wall, inching forward on tiptoe to clutch at Andrew’s jacket. She pointed to the floor where their shadows fell long across it from the single overhead lamp in the middle of the room. If they drew too close to the door, their shadows would be visible to the intruder in the darkened hall leading to the bedrooms. She pointed to the window, and Andrew jerked his chin towards it in acknowledgement. Escape. They had to escape. Outside, on the sidewalk, they could summon the patrolling police officer. They could summon help. Men trained for this. Men with other guns. They had to move fast. Miranda’s daughter needed them. Even above the scuffling noises fr
Andrew rose slowly to his feet, an antagonized muscle twitching along his clean-shaven jaw. His expression looked like a bomb about to explode. Evelyn drew a sudden breath, one hand clapping over her mouth. She stared, in turns, first at Will, then at Miranda, and her mind whirled. What was it Alexander Lowell had said the day that Detective Kelly had attempted to arrest her? The same day he’d later resigned from the police department. Something about the detective being fed what he needed to lay an accusation upon Evelyn. The question of ‘why’ anyone cared about a lowly former secretary enough to attempt to kill her, let alone invest the effort in framing her was growing more convoluted by the minute. But it was clear it was centered here, with the account belonging to Glorietta Moreno and her rights as an heir to it. “It’s a stretch,” Andrew said softly, nodding towards Miranda, “but I can see why your mother might have had Russell’s name on that account. N
“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
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
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
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
“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.
The following morning Evelyn woke alone. She could tell by the way his belongings were packed that Andrew had already risen. If she was any guess, he was taking advantage of the train’s onboard barber, which meant she had time to bathe and dress without his typical morning enthusiasm for both processes. Selecting a warm dress from her traveling case, she draped her clothing over the empty towel rack in the bathroom and rooted through her toiletries for her toothbrush and toothpowder. When she was done, she hung a fresh towel on the rack nearest the shower beside the still-damp one Andrew had used and stepped under the spray. The warm shower felt delightful and soothed the telltale soreness from her bedroom exertions with her husband the night before. Once she’d washed, she stood with the warm spray draining off of her and for the first time since they’d come, wondered what they were going to do in St. Louis. They had only the name of a diner and a hotel off t