From This Moment (2 page)

When the laughter settled, Mr. Whitney continued in a sober voice. “We could not have commenced this project without the support of the public.
Scientific World
has done more to ease fears about safety and stoke excitement for the coming subway than an army of politicians could have done. We are grateful, sir.”

This time the applause was mingled with foot-stamping and some good-natured cheers. Michael clapped him on the back, and Evelyn beamed.

He swallowed hard. Oh, this felt good. Was Laura still in
the ballroom to hear? Ah yes, there she was, standing by the ice sculpture and politely clapping.

He bowed his head in acceptance, when what he really wanted to do was shout from a mountaintop. For a man who had barely graduated college, floundered with finding a career, and whose glittering wardrobe disguised a lifelong sense of insecurity, this was nice. For a few seconds, he had the esteem of every person in this room.

But they didn’t really know him. Not like Laura did.

He pushed away the thought. These misgivings rarely plagued him anymore, for he had launched a magazine with scientific influence that reached all four corners of the globe. By the time he managed to draw a breath, Mr. Whitney had moved on to congratulate the team of geologists whose work charting the terrain beneath the Charles River was a vital step for the next leg of the subway.

He turned to Evelyn and kissed her on the cheek. Evelyn was an attractive woman, with glossy black hair and a willowy figure that belied the backbone of pure steel that had propelled her into a field normally closed to women.

“None of this would have happened without you,” he murmured, and Evelyn sent him a grateful smile. It wasn’t fair that he received all the acclaim for their magazine’s success, but he’d always been the public face of
Scientific World
, while Evelyn quietly labored behind the scenes to keep the operations humming like clockwork. The two of them had been inseparable since childhood, and what a miracle that they’d found a way to turn their unique talents into a profitable career for both of them. He only hoped the letter in his pocket would not throw a bomb into their sometimes contentious relationship.

“Enough with the boring speeches,” Mr. Whitney intoned with a nod to the orchestra. “Let the dancing begin!”

Romulus had no interest in dancing. He needed to win Evelyn’s consent regarding the letter in his pocket. It took some maneuvering, but he managed to lead her out to the enclosed patio overlooking the wide expanse of lawn. The March evening was chilly, and there were fewer people out here, but some had gathered amid the potted palms and flickering lanterns that cast circles of warm light into the evening. Soft laughter mingled with a violin sonata, and the air was perfumed by night-blooming jasmine. He guided Evelyn into a secluded corner, for he didn’t particularly care to be overheard.

“Stella West is in Boston,” he said. “She is the final missing piece we need to make
Scientific World
soar.”

It was hard to mask the excitement leaking into his voice, for Stella was an artist of extraordinary skill. He’d been trying to hire her for years. They had never met, but he could tell merely by looking at her illustrations that they were kindred spirits.

Scientific World
was the most prestigious science magazine in the country, but they’d never been able to produce full-color illustrations on the amazing topics they covered. Developments in lithography now made high-speed reproductions of color artwork possible, but it required an artist of both technical and artistic mastery. Stella could do it. Her illustrations could capture the translucent quality of a butterfly wing or the breathtaking colors of the Grand Canyon. No grainy photograph could capture the wonders they covered, and Stella’s artwork hinted at an exuberant love of the natural world that had captivated Romulus from the moment he’d seen her fantastic lithographs.

“I thought she lived in England,” Evelyn said. “And that she told us it would take a barbarian horde armed with pitchforks and a battering ram to pry her out of London.”

He held up a letter. “This was my latest offer begging her to work for us. I sent it to her London apartment, but her landlord wrote a forwarding address to Stella here in Boston.”

Evelyn’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “So how did
you
get it?”

Romulus grinned. “The post office made a mistake and returned it to me rather than Stella’s forwarding address. So now I know where she lives. I’ll need you to set aside eight thousand dollars to make her a tempting salary offer.”

Evelyn nearly choked. “No, no, no,” she sputtered. “
Noooo.
” Her voice was a swirling mass of disapproval, but Romulus had anticipated resistance and kept his face a pleasant mask.

“I’ve always admired how you can pack an entire kaleidoscope of disapproval into a single word. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s proceed with a salary offer for Miss West.”

“No. Absolutely not. We’ve got a perfectly adequate illustration team.”

“We need better than
adequate
; we need the best.”

Two spots of color appeared on her ivory skin. Ever since they’d been children, Evelyn’s porcelain complexion had betrayed her when she was upset, and there they were, the visible signs of agitation sneaking out from beneath Evelyn’s iron control.

“We can’t afford her, and she’s already rejected every offer you’ve ever made to her. Quite colorfully and persistently.”

It was true, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. After he’d seen Stella’s work on display at a gallery, he’d instantly known she must be recruited to work at his magazine. He sought out everything he could learn about her. She was an American, the daughter of a New York physician, and she had studied at Cornell University. She left before completing her degree when the London art world beckoned, and her reputation had been on the rise ever since.

He and Stella West had enjoyed a lively correspondence over the years. She was blunt and funny and wisecracking, but one thing was always the same—she refused to leave London.

Which made him exceedingly curious about what had lured her back to the United States. It didn’t matter, for the thrill of the hunt had seized him. Stella West had wandered into his city, and he’d go after her with the speed of a comet hurtling through space.

“All I need to do is figure out what she wants, then offer it to her,” he said. “Pearls from the bottom of the ocean, rubies from the Far East, whatever it takes. I want her onboard at the magazine.”

“How long have you been trying to lure her to
Scientific World
?” Evelyn asked.

“Three years. That means we have published thirty-six issues without the best illustrator gracing our pages. Don’t ask me to tolerate a thirty-seventh.” He snatched the envelope back from Evelyn.

“Stella West is a luxury we can’t afford.” She was about to launch into a classic Evelyn tirade but stopped when a group of ladies wandered onto the patio to admire the jasmine. Evelyn nodded politely to the ladies, then turned her attention back to him and spoke in a calmer voice. “We can’t afford it,” she said. “I’d rather finish paying for the office renovation first. We overspent shamelessly on the main office.”

Evelyn was still prickly over the parquet floors he’d installed in the editorial wing of the building. He’d designed the oak parquet floor himself, modeled on the geometric pattern found in quartz crystal structures. Hardly anyone noticed the similarity, but their magazine was founded on the principles of scientific wonder, and if he wanted to spend a fortune on a parquet floor that mimicked the six-sided prism of a quartz
crystal, he would do so. The same went for the artwork in the magazine.

“Art can move people in a way no written words can do,” he said. “I want to inform and inspire anyone who has ever dreamed outside the limits of their own daily life. Don’t you see it, Evelyn? Our magazine is reaching people in sod houses in Kansas, in frozen villages along the Yukon River. We just got our first subscriber in Mongolia. Those people will never see the Grand Canyon or the inside of a museum, but they see our magazine and it opens the entire world to them.”

He couldn’t afford to pay for a new artist unless Evelyn loosened the purse string, so he chose his words carefully. “Stella West is one of us,” he said, barely able to control the undercurrent of passion in his voice. “I can tell merely by looking at her artwork. She captures the radiance and the immensity of God’s creation. She can immortalize it in brilliant color. If we can get her on our team, our subscription rates will soar.”

Evelyn still looked skeptical. She rarely made a decision without triple-checking every conceivable angle, but on this move he knew he was right.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she said grudgingly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. The magazine was the most important thing in the world to him. On his deathbed he suspected he would still be strategizing ways to polish its content, recruit better writers, improve their circulation rates—

“Hello, Romulus,” a soft voice murmured.

He stiffened. Laura must be standing directly behind him, for he’d recognize that honeyed voice anywhere. In front of him, Evelyn winced in understanding and sent him a sympathetic smile. This wasn’t going to be too horrible, was it? In any event, it seemed there was no escaping it. He plastered an agreeable expression on his face and turned to greet Laura.

“Mrs. Rittenhouse,” he said with a slight bow. “You look as lovely as ever.”

She made a polite reply and introduced her husband. He’d met Dr. Rittenhouse many times before, of course. Romulus made it his business to attend the conferences of scientific organizations throughout New England to keep abreast of developments in the field. Dr. Rittenhouse owned a pharmaceutical company that produced a drug for immunity against tetanus. It was real work. Not like what Romulus did . . .

Laura proceeded to chat with Evelyn about her new house in Beacon Hill. Apparently people paid handsomely for the doctor’s tetanus drug, for no house in Beacon Hill could be purchased cheaply. She probably wouldn’t think much of the hotel room where he lived, but why did he need a house when all he did at home was sleep? The hotel suited him perfectly fine.

Evelyn elbowed him, and he realized Laura had asked him a direct question. “My apologies. Could you repeat that, please?”

“There is a gaggle of young ladies near the punch bowl who wondered where you disappeared to,” Laura said. “I gather they were hoping for a dance. Greta Fitch was particularly interested in securing a waltz with you.”

Was Laura trying to play matchmaker? It was totally unnecessary, as he tended to enjoy women’s company far too much as it was. And Greta Fitch was becoming a problem. They’d enjoyed a brief flirtation last summer, but she was reading far too much in to it, and he’d been trying to avoid her. She was a nice lady, probably too good for him, but her pursuit was becoming a little awkward.

“I’d prefer to remain out here and enjoy the night air,” he said.

“Why?” Evelyn asked. “Greta is remarkably intelligent and has a genuine interest in natural science. I think the two of you might make a go of it.”

“And you consider yourself an expert on matrimonial bliss?”

Evelyn raised her chin and shot him an icy glare. “Don’t be small,” she warned.

But on this particular issue he
was
small. And annoyed and disappointed in Evelyn.

Evelyn was his best friend in the world. They were only first cousins but had always been as close as any brother and sister. They’d been through difficult times together, they’d built a world-class magazine together, and their friendship was the bedrock that grounded his entire world.

With one notable exception. Ten years ago, Evelyn had married Clyde Brixton, the best friend Romulus had ever had, but the marriage had collapsed after only a few years. Evelyn had even reverted to using her maiden name on the masthead of the magazine, which Romulus thought was both petty and inaccurate, but he could hardly dictate to Evelyn on this point. Evelyn and Clyde had been separated for the past six years, and he doubted they’d ever mend the chasm between them.

Which was a problem, since rumor had it that Clyde was back in Boston. Whatever happened, Romulus intended to stay out of the line of fire should Clyde be preparing for another go at winning Evelyn back. There had been a time when Romulus had tried to be a coolheaded mediator between the two of them, but he had finally given up in despair. The collapse of Clyde and Evelyn’s marriage only confirmed every one of Romulus’s misgivings about romantic love. He wanted nothing to do with it.

“I enjoy women’s company far too much to settle down with just one,” he said. “Greta is perfectly charming and intelligent, but if I married her, she’d soon be a millstone around my neck. I’m simply not cut out for marriage—”

“Thank you, Romulus. You certainly have a way with words.”
Greta Fitch stood at the far end of the patio, hands on hips, fire in her eyes.

He froze, horrified at what she’d just overheard. “My apologies, Greta. I truly didn’t mean—”