Emily appreciated her thoughtfulness, even though the arrangements were much more upscale than anything she was used to. The last time she had seen a table that large was in the dining hall of the orphan asylum, with children seated elbow to elbow down either side. She shook the vision from her mind and took her seat on Uncle Charles’s right. Stephen’s father sat on her other side, with his aunt Martha on his right. Stephen’s mother sat straight across the table from her, with Stephen on her left.

  So much for the hope that Stephen would be seated next to her, where she could draw courage from him throughout the meal. She threw him a desperate glance, and he gave her an encouraging nod.

  How she managed to survive the evening, she never knew. All four of the older Bridgers were friendly enough. More than friendly—almost effusive in their efforts to put her at ease and make her feel welcome. But Emily’s ability to come up with polite responses was paralyzed by her fear of picking up the wrong fork or spoon. Once the meal ended, she still wasn’t sure she had gotten it entirely right.

  At the end of the evening, Stephen’s parents and his aunt and uncle escorted them to the door, where Grace stood waiting with their hats and wraps. Stephen’s father slipped Emily’s cape over her shoulders.

  Both Stephen’s mother and Aunt Martha came over to give her a parting hug. Aunt Martha brushed her cheek with a kiss. “I truly enjoyed meeting you, dear. Do come again.” Emily smiled and nodded, still at a loss for words.

  Stephen’s mother put her hands lightly on Emily’s shoulders and gazed into her face. “I hope you’ll visit us in Springfield whenever Stephen can bring you there. Let’s plan an extended visit so we can really get to know one another. You still haven’t met our other son and our daughter.”

  Emily swallowed hard and managed to get out the words, “Thank you. I’d like that.” She cast a quick glance at Stephen, hoping she hadn’t overstepped any bounds. He had brought her to meet his family, but she couldn’t allow herself to read too much into that.

  His family may have seemed to accept as fact the notion that she and Stephen were a couple who had intentions of building a future together, but the two of them had never discussed such a thing. She didn’t want to build her hopes on something that might not have any more foundation than the sand castles built by optimistic children on the shore of Lake Michigan, ephemeral structures that washed away with the lap of the first big wave.

  Again, Stephen said little on the drive home. Emily sensed he was deep in thought, and she didn’t want to do anything to disturb the hopeful mood that enveloped her ever since his mother’s parting words.

  What was his purpose in bringing her to meet his family? Was it to see how well she would fit in or merely a social gathering? And if it were the former, had she passed muster? His family appeared to accept her readily enough, but Stephen was the one whose opinion mattered most. Emily still wasn’t sure what effect the evening would have on his decision.

  When the carriage rumbled up to the front of Mrs. Purvis’s home, Stephen helped her out and escorted her up the walk, then up the steps to the front porch. Casting a quick glance back over his shoulder at the waiting carriage and driver, he opened the front door, and they both slipped inside the entry hall. Emily noted that he closed it behind them carefully, making no noise.

  Stephen took both of her hands in his. “It has been a very special evening.”

  Emily smiled, her breath coming a bit more quickly. “You have a lovely family. I enjoyed meeting them.” Despite the chill in the evening air, his smile warmed her through and through.

  “They loved you from the moment they met you, I could tell. Just like—”

  Emily waited, heart hammering, for him to finish the statement. His grip on her fingers tightened, and he bent toward her. His warm breath stirred the strands of hair at her temple as his lips grazed her left cheek.

  Emily leaned her head to the side and pressed her cheek against his for a fleeting instant, aghast at her own boldness.

  It didn’t seem to put Stephen off in the least. He brushed his lips against her cheek once more before he straightened. “May I see you again tomorrow evening?”

  Emily returned the pressure on his fingers before she slid her hands from his grasp and clasped them in front of her waist. “I’ll be here,” she said simply.

  When the door closed behind him, she slid the bolt into place and floated toward the stairway, feeling as though her feet never touched the ground. At the foot of the stairs, she hesitated, seeing a faint glow of light emanating from the kitchen.

  Emily made her way through the darkened parlor. As she suspected, Mrs. Purvis and Lucy were gathered around the kitchen table.

  Lucy gave a little squeal when Emily stepped into the room. “How did it go?” Still caught up in her happy daze, Emily only smiled.

  Mrs. Purvis patted the chair next to hers. “Did you have a good time, dear? Let me get you a nice cup of tea, and you can tell us all about it.” She picked up the flowered teapot and filled a cup that sat in front of Emily’s place.

  Lucy folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, her eyes aglow. “Did he kiss you?”

  Emily felt her face color. She drew herself up with as much dignity as she could muster. “I’ll have you know he was a perfect gentleman.”

  Lucy’s shoulders slumped. “He didn’t, then.”

  Mrs. Purvis made a tsking noise. “All in good time, my dears. All in good time. These things can’t be hurried. Why, when my Randolph was courting me…”

  Her voice trailed off, and her eyes misted. “You’ve had a busy evening. What makes me think you’ll want to listen to an old woman’s ramblings?”

  “No, go ahead,” Emily urged.

  Mrs. Purvis needed little prompting. Her eyes lit up, and she scooted onto the edge of her chair. “We had both been married before and had each lost our spouse. Some people would have said that by the time we turned thirty, we should have been old enough not to worry about playing any silly, romantic games.”

  A tinge of pink colored her pale cheeks. “Thankfully Randolph never felt that way. He was the most devoted suitor a woman could ask for. It made me feel like a girl all over again, it did. Even today, I get giddy remembering the way he would woo me, bringing me flowers and little gifts just as if he were a young buck pursuing his first love.”

  Emily and Lucy exchanged glances and smiled. Seeing the light in Mrs. Purvis’s eyes, Emily could almost picture the appealing young woman she had been.

  “We had nearly two months of stepping out, attending parties and church functions together, before he even dared to bestow a kiss upon me.” She sighed. “But that’s what a gentleman does.”

  Emily shot a look of triumph at Lucy, who had the grace to look somewhat abashed.

  “And he loved his little games, Randolph did. He would hide special gifts—treasures, he called them—here and there and leave little clues that would lead me to them. One time he left an acorn on my entry table. That was a clue to go look in the fork of the old oak tree. I found a lovely fan he’d hidden there.” She leaned her chin on her hand and sighed. “It was so romantic. He knew exactly the way to win my heart.”

  Emily’s throat tightened. Listening to the stories and hearing the tenderness in Mrs. Purvis’s voice, it was easy to imagine the love she and her husband had shared. How sad she didn’t have that any more.

  The landlady’s voice took on a dreamy tone. “He continued our little treasure hunts even after we were married. Some men grow stodgy and a little distant once they’ve said their vows, but not my Randolph. He kept hiding treasures and leaving me clues for as long as we were married.

  Lucy sighed. “It sounds like you had a wonderful life together.”

  “Oh, it wasn’t without its share of troubles,” Mrs. Purvis said with a gentle smile. “No life ever is. We weathered a number of hard times together. We survived the Great Fire of ’71 and another a few years after that. When we built this house, Randolph told me we would never again lose everything in a fire.

  “We had just finished moving into this house, and he was as excited as a boy. He said he was planning one more treasure hunt, that he had something to show me that would put my mind at ease for the rest of our days.”

  Her normally cheery expression faded, and the light in her eyes dimmed. “Not long after that, he took sick, and it wasn’t any time at all until he was gone”

  Emotion clogged Emily’s throat. Looking at Lucy, she knew her friend was fighting tears, as well. How she admired this dear lady for the way she managed to keep up such a sunny view of life after all she had endured!

  Mrs. Purvis dabbed at her eyes and took a sip of tea. “I must have been in a daze for quite some time after that. It was all so totally unexpected. When I finally came to myself again and started sorting through Randolph’s things, I looked for several things I wanted to keep as mementos. And would you believe it? I couldn’t find a one of them!” She shook her head. “I must have put them somewhere without realizing, maybe even packed them up with the clothes I gave away. And so there I was, without my little treasures… or Randolph.

  “But sometimes it seems like a part of him is still with me. I’ve never forgotten his promise that he had found a way to be sure I would always be provided for.”

  What an inspiring story! Emily lifted her cup of tea to her lips and sipped.

  Mrs. Purvis tilted her head to one side. “You girls may have noticed I do a bit of tapping on the walls from time to time.”

  Emily choked and sent a fine mist of tea spraying across the table. Lucy handed her a napkin without meeting her eyes. Emily took it, grateful for her friend’s restraint. She knew if their gazes met, they would both break into peals of laughter.

  Not seeming to notice, Mrs. Purvis went on. “Randolph told me he and the architect had worked an unusual feature into the plan for this house, and I never knew him to go back on his word. I have no idea what he meant, though, and the architect left town before Randolph passed away, so there’s no one who can tell me what it might have been. I’ve been searching for it every way I could think of all these years.”

  Emily reached across the table and took one of Mrs. Purvis’s hands in her own. “I’m sure you’ll find it some day.”

  Mrs. Purvis beamed at them both. “Thank you, my dears. It’s kind of you to say so. I don’t intend to give up. Somehow it helps me feel that the connection between us hasn’t been severed entirely.”

  Lucy stood and bent to kiss the landlady on the cheek. “I’ll just clear away my cup and saucer, and then I should be off to bed.” She set her dishes in the sink, said her good nights, and headed for the stairs.

  Emily finished her tea and prepared to clear her own cup away. Mrs. Purvis seemed in no hurry to end their conversation. She laced her fingers together and leaned forward. “I didn’t give you much chance to talk about your evening. Did you like Stephen’s parents?”

  “Very much.” Emily’s lips curved in a dreamy smile. “I met his uncle and aunt, too. They’re all lovely people. It’s just that…”

  “What is it, dear?”

  “I knew Stephen was a recent college graduate, but I didn’t know anything at all about his background.”

  A tiny frown creased Mrs. Purvis’s forehead. “Was something wrong with his family?”

  “Far from it! They’re some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They made me feel so welcome.”

  “Then what could possibly be wrong? I sense you’re distressed about something.”

  “It’s just that I never expected them to be so well off. Stephen doesn’t strike me at all as the type of person who comes from a wealthy family. He’s so down-to-earth and easy to talk to. His uncle owns the architectural firm where Stephen plans to work as soon as the fair is over.”

  Mrs. Purvis perked up. “That sounds very promising.”

  “But I’m not sure…”

  “You aren’t sure of your feelings for Stephen?”

  Heat washed over Emily’s face. “No, that isn’t it. It’s me. I don’t know that I can live up to that kind of standard. Lucy and I not only grew up at the Collier Home—we stayed on to work there as helpers long after the others our age went on to make their way in the world.”

  She gave an embarrassed laugh. “We didn’t get more than room and board, but at least we were able to stay in the only home we’d ever known. Until recently, that is. The benefactor who supported the home lost his money in the silver crash, and they had to close its doors.”

  “Oh my.” Mrs. Purvis reached out to smooth a strand of hair off Emily’s forehead. The gesture reminded Emily of the way she brushed Adam’s hair back when he was fretting about something.

  “Lucy and I are out on our own for the first time in our lives. I have no background, no family. What would make anyone think I’m good enough for people like the Bridgers?”

  The landlady gave Emily a glance that seemed to look into her soul. “You’re a believer, aren’t you?”

  The question brought Emily up short. “Why, of course. Ever since I was a young girl.”

  “And did you have to worry about being good enough for God, or did He accept you just the way you were?”

  Memories of that wondrous discovery of God’s unconditional love washed over Emily. She shook her head.

  “Then you must know that God loved you enough to send His Son to die for you. If He could love you that much and accept you as you are, don’t you think Stephen can love you enough to do the same? From what I’ve seen of that young man, he has a heart big enough to overlook the differences in your backgrounds and see the person beneath the surface.”

  Her gentle smile broadened. “And what I believe he sees in you, Emily, dear, is a priceless treasure. The man would be a fool not to notice that, and I don’t believe your young Mr. Bridger is any kind of fool.”

  13

  “Were you able to find out anything for me?” Stephen glanced at the pedestrians wending their way along the street outside the precinct house and kept his voice low, trying to look like a passerby asking directions from the uniformed policeman beside him.

  Patrolman Elliott Ferguson nodded. “Somebody recognized her when they brought the body in. Her first name is Rosalee. We don’t have a last name at the moment.”

  Stephen drew his brows together. “Recognized her? You mean she’s been in trouble with the law before?” He thought about the fallen women who plied their trade in the Levee. Had she been one of their number? Surely not. Everything about Adam indicated a much more refined upbringing than he could possibly get in such a setting.

  “Not in the way you’re probably thinking. But some of the boys in the precinct know the man she kept company with.”

  A prickle of foreboding ran up Stephen’s back. He braced himself, certain his friend was about to impart some highly unpleasant news. “Tell me more.”

  Ferguson strode a few steps farther from the precinct house and pointed down the street, as if guiding Stephen to some fictitious destination. He spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever heard of a man named Ian McGinty?”

  Stephen’s head whipped around. “McGinty?” At Ferguson’s stern look, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Everyone in Chicago knows that name. He has his finger in every pie, from politics from prostitution. How the man maintains his social connections and keeps from being brought up on charges is something I’ve never understood.”

  Ferguson grimaced. “You just answered your own question. If you have connections in high enough places”—he lowered his voice further—“including some in this department, you can pretty well consider yourself protected from prosecution. Grease enough palms, and you’ll find people are willing to overlook almost anything.”

  “So this Rosalee was his—”

  Ferguson shrugged. “‘Kept woman’ is probably the kindest term I can think of. He maintained her in her own home for the past five years. Didn’t live there himself, but she was available as an ornament on his arm whenever he attended a social function. From what I’ve heard, she seemed surprisingly refined for someone in her position. But you can imagine how the hostesses in the social register felt about having to invite her to any of their soirees or about having their husbands anywhere near her.

  Stephen searched for a question that wouldn’t tip his hand. “Did she have any family that you know of?”

  Ferguson shook his head. “No one to come claim the body, if that’s what you’re asking. And apparently McGinty is keeping a distance. There are rumors of a child, but I couldn’t press for more without arousing suspicions.”

  “Is there any way to tie McGinty to her death?”

  Ferguson let out a short bark of laughter. “You know better than that. He never dirties his hands himself. If he ever did, maybe then we’d have the wherewithal to nab him and bring charges against him. No, if he was connected with this in any way, he had one of his underlings carry it out. But we’ll never be able to prove it.”

  Stephen pondered the information for a moment. “No, I suppose not. Thanks for the help. I don’t want to take up any more of your time. I’m just a poor lost visitor to this fair city, remember?” He strode along quickly, mindful of the time. He didn’t want to be late this evening, not after he had spent the day looking forward to seeing Emily.

  Keeping up the rapid pace for a couple of blocks, he turned the next corner and let his steps slow. Would Emily be glad to see him after he shared what he had just learned? He’d hoped to have good news for her, news that would help them find out who Adam was and reconnect him with his family.

  Now they knew who he was, but it only made the situation worse.

  This woman, this Rosalee—Adam’s mother—was the mistress of one of the worst figures in Chicago’s underworld, a man who ordered his henchmen to snuff out human life without a second thought. Did that mean…

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25