September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (17 page)

"What about you, young man?" Wyatt asked. "What brought you to Galveston?"

Justin didn't speak. He instead looked at Wyatt matter-of-factly and pointed at his father.

Wyatt smiled.

"I believe that."

Wyatt kept his eyes on the collegian.

"What do you do when you're not following your father on wild goose chases to Texas?"

Justin looked to his dad for direction. When Chuck gave him the nod that said he could speak freely, he offered an answer he had put in his hip pocket.

"I attend college in Los Angeles – or at least I used to," Justin said. "I dropped out a few weeks ago."

"I see," Wyatt said. "So I have two men of leisure at my table."

Chuck laughed.

"What you have are two men on a mission," Chuck said. "We're here not only to research a book but also to see another part of the country. We may not get another chance to take a trip like this for a very long time."

"Rose tells me you plan to leave in a few weeks. Is that true?"

"It's true that we have no plans to remain in Galveston beyond the end of the month, but plans sometimes change," Chuck said. "I'm growing attached to this town and don't want to leave anytime soon."

"Are you growing attached to this town or a librarian you visit every day?"

Chuck smiled.

"I see you've conducted some research of your own."

"I make it a point to know people who wish to know me," Wyatt said. "You needn't be alarmed. You come highly recommended not by one woman but by two. I would not be sitting at this table had they had a different opinion of you."

"So you came to Ivy's today not to investigate me but rather to meet me."

Wyatt sipped his drink.

"I came to do both."

"Have we lived up to your expectations, Mr. Fitzpatrick?"

"Indeed, you have," Wyatt said. "For that reason, I would like to see you both in my office Wednesday morning."

"Why Wednesday?" Chuck asked.

"I'm surprised you don't know, Mr. Townsend. You seem to know everything else."

"Please elaborate."

"One of the newest liners of the Gulf Star Line will pull into port at nine o'clock," Wyatt said. "If it is shipping you came to see, then you might as well see the ship."

CHAPTER 25: JUSTIN

Sunday, May 6, 1900

When Justin Townsend looked at the powerfully built patriarch and his three raven-haired beauties, he couldn't help but sigh. The expressions he saw were as diverse as the entrées, side dishes, and desserts arrayed on top of the cloth-covered table.

Maximilian Beck frowned like a man who had never known happiness. When he looked at Justin, he did so with skeptical, cynical eyes, the kind one might save for traveling salesmen or smooth-talking politicians but not wholesome young men just passing through town.

Isabella did just the opposite. She smiled warmly and gazed at Justin like she might gaze at a son. She had set up this unlikely and potentially awkward gathering and clearly wanted to put the visitor at ease.

Anna also smiled but in a shy and playful way. She had taken to Justin the moment he had walked through the door. When he answered her smile with one of his own, the eight-year-old beamed, blushed, and fidgeted in her chair.

Emily neither frowned nor smiled. She instead stared at the man who had dropped out of college with vacant, dispassionate eyes.

Whether she was bored, angry, or indifferent, Justin did not know. All he really knew at one thirty was that dinner with the Becks of Tenth and M would not be dull.

"Would you like to try the rutabagas, Justin?" Isabella asked. "I grew them in our garden."

Justin looked at the matron and smiled. He didn't know a rutabaga from a radish but figured he'd try one just to stay on her good side. The last thing he wanted to do was to offend the one adult in the room who wanted him there.

"I'd love to try them, Mrs. Beck."

Isabella passed a bowl of something that looked like diced, roasted potatoes.

"Take as much as you want. There's plenty more."

"I will," Justin said. "Thank you."

As he helped himself to the dish that no one else at the table seemed to want, Justin took a moment to glance at Emily. Though her eyes remained as dispassionate as ever, they no longer seemed as disinterested. She followed his movements carefully.

A moment later, Justin tried the potato things with the funny name and found them as tasty as any hash browns or French fries he had ever eaten. He decided then and there that his stomach, at least, could find a home in the South.

"These are delicious," Justin said.

"I thought you'd like them," Isabella said. "Do they grow rutabagas where you live?"

Justin shook his head.

"I don't think so. At least I can't remember seeing any in the stores."

"Tell us about California," Isabella said. "It must be an interesting place."

"It is," Justin said.

"How so?"

Justin paused before answering. It was one thing to describe California. It was another to describe the one that existed in 1900. He had seen it for just a few hours.

"Well, for one thing, it's pretty crazy, at least in Los Angeles, where I grew up. Thousands of people get up every day and race across town like rats to get to jobs, school, and appointments. It never lets up."

"Is it as beautiful as magazines make it out to be?" Isabella asked.

Justin nodded.

"I think so. There's a lot to do too. The thing I like about California is that you can swim in the ocean in the morning and climb mountains in the afternoon. There are deserts and forests and citrus farms everywhere. I see something different every day."

"It sounds wonderful," Isabella said.

"It is."

Justin warmed at the sight of Isabella's smile. If nothing else, he was holding serve with the missus. He started to make another comment about the Golden State but stopped when Emily joined the conversation.

"Do women have more freedom in California than they do in Texas?"

Justin turned to face Emily and noticed a change in her eyes. She seemed more interested than detached. Miss Dispassionate had suddenly found something to get excited about.

"What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean, Mr. Townsend, is this: Do women in California have the freedom to attend college and make important decisions? Or are they forever beholden to the dictates of men?"

"Emily!" Isabella said.

Justin glanced at the Becks and again saw a range of expressions. He saw annoyance in Max, mortification in Isabella, and defiance in Emily. Only Anna seemed unmoved by the exchange. She continued to look at Justin like he was a Christmas present.

"Please excuse my daughter," Max said. "She is something of a free thinker."

Emily glared at her father.

"We can't have that now. Can we, Papa?"

"Mind your manners, Emily," Isabella said. She smiled at Justin. "I'm sure our guest has better things to do than answer provocative questions."

Justin immediately saw an opportunity and seized it.

"It's all right, ma'am. I don't mind answering questions," Justin said. "As for Emily's, women in California
do
have more freedom. They pretty much do as they please. Many attend college and seek careers. Some start businesses. I think that's a good thing."

"Do you now?" Max asked.

"I do," Justin said.

The guest watched with interest when Emily looked at her father and lifted her nose. He watched with even greater interest when she turned his way and mouthed a thank you.

"Do you also think women should take the jobs of men?" Max asked. "Do you think they should run companies or hold public office? Do you think they should vote?"

"I think they should be allowed do all of those things," Justin said. He looked at Emily. "If they want to become doctors, they should be allowed to do that too."

Emily gave Justin a smile that could melt the polar ice cap. She was clearly enjoying the moment.

"I see I have two free thinkers at my table," Max said.

"I know my views are not popular with many, Mr. Beck, but I do believe women should have the same opportunities as men. It's only fair. It's smart too. Think of where we'd be today if Madame Curie hadn't had the opportunity to study science."

"Madame who?" Max asked.

Justin quickly recognized his error. Though Marie Curie had begun making waves in Europe as a chemist and a physicist, she had not yet won a Nobel Prize and become a household name.

"Marie Curie is a scientist in Europe who is doing some great things," Justin said. "My point is that there are a lot of smart women out there. They should be given the opportunity to reach their potential and contribute to society as much as men."

Justin again scanned the faces at the table and saw that he had made a mark. Max smoldered quietly, Isabella smiled nervously, and Emily grinned like a cat that had just consumed a sparrow. Anna simply basked in the moment. She rested her chin on her hands and sighed.

Justin wanted to press his advantage but did not. Instead, he moved quickly to mend fences with the old man. He didn't want to be on the bad side of the father of a girl he wanted to date.

"Mr. Beck?" Justin asked.

"Yes?" Max answered curtly.

"Emily tells me that you own a passenger shipping line that provides service to Mexico."

"That is correct."

"Tell me about it," Justin said. "It sounds interesting."

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with your boats. How many do you have? How big are they? Where do they go?"

Max put his fork on his plate.

"I have four 'boats,' as you call them. Each is more than three hundred feet long and outfitted with the finest amenities and furnishings. As for where they go, they go where I tell them to go. For the past ten years, I have told them to go to Tampico, Campeche, and Veracruz."

"Is your company based in Galveston?"

"Beck Atlantic is based here, yes."

Justin glanced at the raven-haired beauties and saw that they were still engaged, though visibly less so than when he had struck a blow for women's rights.

"Did you start out here – in Galveston, I mean?"

Max sat up in his chair.

"No. I did not. I started the company with my father in Bremerhaven in the fall of seventy-one with ships the Germans had seized from the French. My father was a friend of Bismarck."

"You're German?"

"We're all German, sir."

Emily leaned forward.

"Papa speaks only for himself, Justin. He is, indeed, a German. Mama, however, is an American," Emily said. She lifted her nose. "Anna and I are Texans."

Justin laughed.

"I can tell."

He returned to Max.

"When did you move your company?"

"I moved it in 1876 – to New Orleans, where I met and married Isabella," Max said. "Two years later, I moved the company again, this time to Galveston. Like others, Mr. Townsend, I recognized this city's potential long ago. I knew even then that this community would someday be the shining star of the South and perhaps the whole country."

"My dad shares your high opinion of the city," Justin said. "That's why he wants to make it the focal point of his book on shipping. He wants the rest of America to know what's going on here. He calls it an 'economic renaissance.'"

"I heard about your father's book. It sounds fascinating. Perhaps I could help with it."

"How so?"

"I could help by telling him what I know about shipping and this community," Max said. "I am, after all, as much a part of this 'economic renaissance' as any man in Galveston."

"I'll tell him that the first chance I get," Justin said. "In fact, I'll go one step further. I'll steer him your way as soon as he's done with the Gulf Star Line."

Justin felt the temperature in the room drop.

"What do you mean by 'done' with the line?" Max asked.

"I mean when he's done researching the company. That's what he's been doing for most of the past two weeks. He's even spoken to one of the owners. Wyatt Fitzpatrick is giving us a tour of the line's offices and one of its ships on Wednesday."

"Your father has spoken with that man?"

Justin nodded.

"He interviewed him just last night. He sees Wyatt as a promoter of progress."

Max tensed up.

"Wyatt Fitzpatrick is a promoter of
himself
!" Max said. "He has done nothing but thwart progress in this town."

Justin paused before speaking. He didn't want to inflame Max a second time.

"I don't understand, sir. From what I've read and heard, the Fitzpatrick brothers have done a lot to push the city's interests."

"Silas Fitzpatrick has done that," Max said. "Wyatt has done nothing."

Emily jumped in.

"What Papa means to say, Justin, is that Silas has agreed to sell the Gulf Star Line to Beck Atlantic and Wyatt has not."

"Is that true?" Justin asked Max.

"Of course it's true," Max said. "The merger of our companies would make the new line the largest in the region and create hundreds of new jobs."

"Has Wyatt given you a reason for opposing the merger?"

"As a matter of fact, he has. He does not want to betray his father's dream by selling the company he built. Your so-called 'promoter of progress' is nothing but a sentimental fool."

"I'm sure if you make him the right offer, he'll change his mind," Justin said.

Max glared at Justin.

"Minds like Wyatt's never change, young man. They
never
change."

Max leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"But circumstances do."

Justin sighed and sank in his chair. He didn't know what to make of the comment or the way it had been delivered, but he did know one thing. A guy named Max with serious anger issues hated Wyatt Fitzpatrick. And that was worth remembering.

CHAPTER 26: CHUCK

Wednesday, May 9, 1900

Ten minutes after following Wyatt out of the Gulf Star Line's second-largest ship, Chuck and Justin followed him into its second-largest office. The workspace of the line's chief financial officer, however, was anything but second-rate. Filled with lavish furnishings, maps, paintings, and books, it looked more like the wing of a museum than an executive office.