The Marriage Mishap

“Bernard? Did you get Kip his birthday present?”

“It will be delivered today, madam, the thirteenth.”

“What did you get him?”

“A poetry collection bound in Moroccan leather. Quite valuable.”

Just what every thirteen-year-old boy wanted. Haley forced a smile. “Thank you, Bernard.”

“Yes, madam.”

The butler was halfway across the foyer before she realized he was gone. “Bernard? When Edward returns with the carriage, have him wait out front for me, please.”

The instructions seemed to throw him. “But, madam—”

“It’s all right, Bernard. I’m not part of Mr. Harrington’s schedule.”

“Yes, madam.” He slipped silently from the foyer.

An hour later, Haley made sure to notice the driver when he jumped down from the carriage in front of the house. Chrissy seemed quite taken with the young man, and had even asked to come along today, just to see him again. Not particularly tall, but very muscular, Edward handed Haley up into the carriage with a confident air and a pleasant smile.

The house needed a woman’s touch, Adam had said, and Haley agreed. She jotted down a few notes as the carriage made its way into the city—places she wanted to shop, things she intended to purchase. The pieces Adam had furnished the house with were all good, but it needed some things to warm it up. Haley couldn’t bear the thought of her home looking as stark and cold as her father-in-law’s house.

She made Edward wait in the carriage, refusing his offer to follow along and handle the packages for her. It was just as well, since she found little that pleased her in the shops. Shortly after noon, she had him drive her to I Street and told him to have his own lunch and come back in an hour or so. Reluctantly, he drove away, leaving her alone on the busy street.

Haley craned her neck and looked up at a building that had seen better times. Holding her parasol securely in her hand, she went inside and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Faded gold lettering on the plate-glass door read Sacramento Building Company. She let herself in.

Vague recollections came to her, memories of being here as a child. Her father and uncle staring at charts and diagrams, her and Jay playing in the stairwell and in the alley out back.

The reception area needed a good cleaning now, and decent furniture; books, papers, folders, were littered everywhere.

“Hello? Jay? Are you here?”

A chair scraped the floor in one of the adjoining offices, and her cousin stuck his head out the door. His collar was open and his shirtsleeves were turned back.

“Haley? What on earth—” He waved a half-eaten chicken leg at her.

“I was going to invite you out to lunch, but I see I’m too late.”