The Only Gold (12 page)

“Good morning, Margaret.” Jonah spared a glance at Reid. “Mr. Hylliard.”

Reid looked ruefully at Margaret. “No early thaw after all.”

“Well, it is only January.” She was smiling as she rose to greet Mr. Satterfield, trundling by with the books.

Jonah sensed some shared joke that no doubt had its origin at Reid’s supper party. Curious, he wanted to ask, but knew it might necessitate further falsehoods about his own evening. He decided to focus instead on something that had been bothering him for days. “I hope you will not think me too forward—”

Reid stood, meeting him eye to eye, seemingly in all seriousness. “You may be as forward as you like.”

Taken aback, Jonah regarded him warily. “I may?”

“I’d prefer it.”

Well, then.
“A morning coat is not a frock coat.”

“A morning coat is a compromise.”

“Compromise?”

“Between dressing respectably for the bank and looking as though I’m old enough to have fought at Gettysburg.”

“Dressing respectably?” Jonah eyed Reid’s tie. “A successful banker—”

“A successful banker doesn’t have to look as though he spends his Saturday evenings with a book and a glass of port.”

“No, better to convey, I suppose, that he spends his evenings at the dance hall, consorting with women of uncertain virtue.”

“You might benefit from an evening like that.”

“I daresay you would think so.”

It had gotten quiet—terribly quiet—around them, Jonah noticed belatedly. He could not stop falling into argument with Reid, but yielding to it in front of the staff was unpardonable. Most of the clerks found it expedient to appear otherwise engaged, but a few were staring in fascination. Even Margaret seemed surprised, despite the twitch of a lip giving away her amusement.

Thankful for the distraction of work, Jonah immersed himself until dinnertime. The café across the road promised a respite in which to collect his thoughts, but he had only just settled at a table near the sunny window when a most unwelcome figure walked in the door and made straight for him.

“May I sit?” Reid asked, and then did so without waiting for permission.

Jonah mused for an instant over the happy possibility that Margaret had admonished him, and he had come to make amends. But judging by Reid’s unrepentant smile, that was not the case. “I thought we agreed we’d had our dinner engagement.”

“Did we?”

“You have a very selective memory,” Jonah said. “Anyway, this is not really your sort of place, is it? Napkins, silver, and the like.”

Reid only laughed. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“An innovation of the first water, that.”

“So you’re not entirely opposed to them?”

Since it appeared Reid did not intend to go away, Jonah determinedly picked up a menu, giving it his full attention. Reid leaned forward and peeked over it. “How’s the soup?”

“I recommend the lamb.” It was the most unpalatable dish on the menu.

Reid’s stare, when he wasn’t smiling, was—as ever—disquietingly direct. “We started off badly, Jonah. I don’t think it’s too late to begin again. We might find we can work together.” He sat back. “I assume that’s as important to you as it is to me.”

Jonah hesitated. “I’m not sure what is important to you. You behave rather… unpredictably… in a position that requires predictability. Reliable routine should not be falling victim to—”

“Unreliability?”

Jonah frowned. “Everything is an amusement to you. It smacks of carelessness, to make a joke of serious matters.”

“Is there any matter, to your mind, that isn’t serious?”

“Is there, to yours, one that may be taken in earnest?”

“A number of them.”

“I suspect we would disagree on which.”

“I have a feeling not in every circumstance.” Reid gazed with an absent air at the menu. “Lamb, you said?”

Jonah relented. “The chicken is good.”

Reid ordered the lamb, and with all the contrariness of his nature, proclaimed it excellent—not surprising for someone with eating-house tastes. What did surprise Jonah was the serious way in which Reid, during the meal, asked all manner of questions about the bank. It was an encouraging sign, one that gave Jonah hope they could stop working at cross purposes.

“You have meetings with depositors this afternoon,” Reid said as they walked back to the bank.

“Yes. Minor matters—”

“I’ll join you.”

“Really?” Jonah stopped on the bank steps. “I will direct them to your office.”

“No need. I’ll come to yours.”

Perhaps their disagreement in front of the staff had bothered Reid, after all. “Very well. Mr. Russell should be in at two thirty.”

At two fifteen, Jonah was working through Benjamin Russell’s passbook when Reid came in. Reid did not sit, but paced about so distractingly, Jonah gave up on the figures. “You are early.”

The serious countenance lightened to one with which Jonah was familiar, as Reid turned from the window. “You’d prefer I wasn’t.” He moved to the desk and glanced down at the pile of paper. “Mr. Russell’s paid checks?”

“Yes. If you would like to sit while I finish—”

“Is he in any financial difficulty?”

“Well… he has his highs and lows, as speculators tend to. But I believe he finds balancing his passbook a disagreeable chore, and he’s one of the worst about letting us know of errors in a timely fashion. And he will insist on making deposits even when he’s left his passbook at home. I’m obliged to check off his balances more frequently than any other depositor’s.”

“You don’t send reminders?” Reid plucked the counting frame from the top shelf above the desk and gave it a shake, rattling the beads.

“Mr. Hylliard—”

“Need any help?”

“I do not require an abacus. Just a measure of quiet.”

Jonah made another go at the passbook, with Reid hovering at his shoulder. Aware of what was in the offing, he redoubled his effort, but Reid beat him to it. “Nine thousand eight hundred and eighty-seven dollars. And sixteen cents.”

Irritated and impressed, Jonah turned to express the former, but a rueful apology already curled Reid’s lips. “Habit,” he said. “Sorry.”

Vexation fading, Jonah couldn’t seem to pull away from the embarrassed light in the hazel eyes. “A useful habit.”

Amber glints in the green brightened to gold, and the smile bloomed, cocksure. “Was that a word of approval?”

A tap
at the door spared Jonah from answering. It was Margaret, with Mr. Russell in tow. Jonah introduced Reid, then drew up the most comfortable chair. “Do sit down.”

Mr. Russell sat, resting his silk hat on one knee, and smoothed his crown of curly blond hair with a nervous hand. “The passbook again?” He smiled at Jonah in chagrin. “You know how expenditures pile up at Christmas. And there’s so little time….”

“I do understand.” Jonah sat at the desk. “However, we’ve come across some errors that have required another adjustment in your account.” Jonah glanced at Reid, who’d taken a pencil and paper from the desk and sat scribbling. He had expected Reid to take the lead and didn’t know what to make of his apparent disinterest.

“An adjustment?” Mr. Russell shifted in the chair. “I was afraid of that. By how much?”

“Well, I was just in the process—”

“You were off by thirty-five dollars,” Reid cut in, “and fourteen cents. In future we will send you this….” He held up a hastily drafted form. “And if you would be so kind as to fill it out and return it to us, I think we’ll be able to keep your account in better order. In the meantime….” He handed Mr. Russell the corrected passbook. “If you’ll take a seat at the desk, I’ll go over the adjustment with you.”

Gathering his wits, Jonah surrendered the chair to Mr. Russell. Reid sorted through the paid checks and went down the passbook list until Mr. Russell was satisfied. Turning the book over to him, Reid bid him good day and made swift work of replacing the checks in their box just as Margaret arrived to collect them. When she had gone, Jonah stood. “You are the most cross-grained—” He bit back the display of frustration. “You might have warned me you intended to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pull another of your creations out of the air. And you can’t tell me the board’s approved it.”

“No—”

“No, but you’re confident they will.” Jonah could not subdue a bitter note. “You know, I did think we might work together, but your interest in Grandborough seems limited to discovering the amount of tinkering it can withstand before the public trust is shaken beyond redemption.”

Reid, unruffled, regarded him with consideration. “Mr. Russell doesn’t appear to have lost faith in us.”

“He may yet find he prefers a bank that takes care of keeping track of his account—”

“Or he may find it easier—and more reassuring—to take care of it himself. I haven’t burdened him unduly. Just provided the means to keep a sharper eye on the highs and lows.” Reid returned the abacus to its shelf. “I did bring up the idea of a reminder before he came in.”

“I didn’t know you planned to carry it through.”

“Fair enough. I apologize. I’ll warn you next time.”

Ready to argue further, Jonah stopped short and tried to collect himself. “Mrs. Chickering’s nephew, Samuel Grayson, will be here in a few minutes. He means to open an account—”

“Pulling us back from the brink?” Reid’s tone was mild, but the words still stung. “I’ll leave Mr. Grayson to you. I’ve got some things to do.”

As the door closed after him, Jonah sank into a chair. He’d been foolish to imagine Reid might prove to be steadier than he’d first seemed. Reid would do those tasks that interested him, leaving the rest to Jonah. That was not how Mr. Crowe had managed the bank. But what bothered Jonah most was that the board knew as much and seemed to care not a whit.

When he had finished with Mr. Grayson, Jonah went to the lobby to assist with preparations for the next day’s clearing. On his way back to his office, he heard Margaret in conversation with Reid through the open transom, and he hesitated in the doorway, listening as she turned over the statement of totals.