The Only Gold (14 page)

That hope dwindled with the passing of January, as Reid, like the hardiest sapling, sank deeper roots into the welcoming soil. He’d dined with everyone at the bank, including Mr. Hook, and had arranged another Saturday supper, once the detested task of writing up the passbooks was done. His revised procedure may have lessened the work, but even so, a good number of books required attention before the first of the month.

By Tuesday afternoon, it was clear no one would be going home at the accustomed hour. At closing, Jonah joined the staff in the lobby, taking a seat at the counter to check off the balances. He could hear Helen and a few of the others fortifying themselves with gossip while they labored over the passbooks. About to redirect their attention to their work, Jonah hesitated as Reid’s name came up.

“Mr. Hylliard doesn’t board,” Helen said, when Simon had finished relating the details of an illicit affair between two residents in his own boarding house.

“How do you know?” Margaret asked.

“Because I was telling him about my brother’s uppity landlady—won’t allow a game of cards in the parlor—and Simon mentioned old Miss Blount and how she’ll stretch a single joint into twenty suppers, and Mr. Hylliard asked why he simply didn’t move to another house.”

Matthew and Simon laughed, and Jonah couldn’t keep from smiling at that himself, if ruefully. Margaret seemed as stymied as Reid. “Why don’t you? Better to bear those ills you know?”

“Decidedly,” Matthew said.

“Still,” Helen went on, “I’m surprised he doesn’t board, what with the sort of traveling about he does.”

“Perhaps he hasn’t found a house that suits him,” Margaret said.

“Well,” Helen said, “he won’t find a decent one on James Street—”

“Helen,” Simon hissed.

“And what’s this about?” Margaret sounded amused.

Helen went into it readily enough. “Simon was out to the cab to bring Mr. Hylliard some letters and heard him tell the cabbie to go to James Street.” She shifted on her stool, taffeta rustling. “And I don’t see what’s the matter with me telling Margaret, when you told me. Mr. Hylliard can look for lodgings any place he likes.”

“I don’t think it’s lodgings he’s looking for in that part of town,” Simon muttered, and Matthew choked back a laugh.

“What does that mean?” Helen asked.

“It doesn’t mean a thing,” Margaret said, all amusement gone. “We’re falling behind, so let’s see what we may get done in silence for a while.”

She felt guilty, Jonah realized, for allowing the gossip, or perhaps for coming to the same conclusion Simon had. Jonah found it startling, himself. He could imagine a number of things about Reid Hylliard, but prowling that wretched neighborhood for companionship was not one of them.

Footsteps on the stairs signaled the end of the board meeting. The directors came into the lobby and continued out of the bank, all but Mr. Grandborough, who walked around the counter with apparent purpose. Reid, with him, looked altogether too pleased about something.
Perhaps he’d talked the board into naming the bank after him.

Mr. Grandborough stopped at Margaret’s desk and looked over the neatly stacked row of passbooks. “Ah. There’s a bit of fun.”

“A very small bit,” Simon groused, and Helen tried to stifle a giggle behind her hand.

Mr. Grandborough smiled. “Yes, I do recall. Well, I hope to brighten everyone’s evening. Reid, would you care to make the announcement?”

“I’d be delighted.” Though he addressed the entire staff, Reid captured Jonah’s eye with a sly triumph, as if securing Mr. Grandborough’s favor had become a competition between them. “Ladies and gentlemen, the board has taken into consideration the responsibilities upcoming with our new designation and has decided that compensation to staff should be commensurate with that change. You will all receive salary increases, accordingly, beginning in February.”

Two dozen glum countenances transformed at the news, and as Reid finished, the staff gathered around to thank him. Jonah took that moment to slip to Mr. Grandborough’s side. “Sir, if I may have a minute to talk to you—”

“Now, Jonah, you don’t suppose I’ve forgotten you were the one, back in December, to suggest that pay raises were in order after our transition to national.”

“It isn’t in regard to that, sir, but rather certain concerns I have over Mr. Hylliard’s… innovations.”

“Ah, yes. Mr. Hylliard mentioned that you were worried.”

“He did?”

“Indeed yes. If I might trouble you to document your concerns, create something of a list, perhaps, and give it to me at your convenience, I would be grateful.” Mr. Grandborough withdrew his watch, checked it against the clock on the wall, and sighed. “I must go….”

“I will have that list for you tomorrow morning,” Jonah said, walking with him as Mr. Grandborough started past the staff, shaking hands on the way.

“Leave it on my desk, if you will, and I will attend it at my first opportunity.”

“Yes, sir.” He had to wonder if making such a list was worth the time; Mr. Grandborough liked Reid and would probably give it no more than a polite glance before tossing it away. The innovations were acceptable to him. Against that, the misgivings of an assistant cashier—one fallen far out of favor—would weigh little.

Since Mr. Grandborough had requested it, he would draw up the list. If he accomplished nothing else, it would ease his mind to bring Reid’s haphazard methods to Mr. Grandborough’s attention.

He returned to the ledger he’d left at the counter and the pile of passbooks still requiring his approval. The staff, back at work, tackled the last books with a dispatch that had more to do, Jonah surmised, with the approach of the supper hour than the prospect of a fatter check on Wednesday. As he sat, Reid passed behind him, but the gloating Jonah expected did not come. Reid merely handed him a notepad and a pencil before leaving him to his work.

Irritated, Jonah tossed the pad and pencil to the counter. The assistant cashiers at Reid’s other banks might have stayed silent and obedient, but Jonah’s loyalty was to the bank, not Reid—not until the man had proved himself worthy.

With no anticipation that would come to pass, Jonah began the list after supper, only to find the task more difficult than he’d expected. Written out, Reid’s trespasses appeared rather more innocuous than they had at their inception. The changes in passbook procedure were an undeniable improvement, and customers had remarked favorably on the new deposit tickets. Jonah was still unsure about the day locks, but couldn’t deny their efficiency.

He finally abandoned the list in favor of a letter expressing his concerns, and on arriving at the bank the next morning, went directly to Grandborough’s office to deliver it. The second-floor chamber stood in shuttered silence, and he lingered some minutes with the letter in his hand before placing it on the desk. On the broad bare surface, the letter was an inconsequential scrap—and perhaps to Mr. Grandborough and the board, that was all it would be. What respect they had once had for his opinion seemed to be fading to nothing. He still didn’t understand it. Mr. Crowe had approved of his work and extended his responsibilities, as had the board. Somewhere between Mr. Crowe’s passing and Reid’s hiring, they’d lost faith in him. And he couldn’t escape the worry that complaining to Mr. Grandborough and the board would only make matters worse.

Reaching for the letter, he hesitated as the door opened. It was Reid, who approached and bid him good morning with his customary cheer; only at the desk did he glance down at the letter. “Don’t suppose you’ll let me read it before you give it to him?”

“I think you are already well aware of the contents.”

“Yes.” Reid studied him. “Still don’t approve of me?”

“I think you’re aware of the answer to that too.”

“I’ve been here a month—”

“Just a month, yes.”

“Maybe you can tell me what I’ve done in just a month that requires this?” He nodded at the letter.

The question churned up more doubt. “You may have done no damage—yet. But I’ve every reason to anticipate it, if we continue so recklessly.”

“Because I’m not doing the job according to your rules?”

“By the rules that govern banking. You’re careless, impulsive, and as steady as a weathervane. You should be mindful, prudent—”

“Those sound like your rules.”

“They are every banker’s rules, and better than no rules at all.”

Reid laid palms flat on the desk and leaned toward him. “The changes I’ve made have been proven at other banks. The board finds them sensible. The staff loves them. You are the only one who foresees disaster. I thought I knew why, but now I’m wondering if it’s more than losing a promotion you thought you deserved. You won’t court change because it involves risk. The untried, the unknown. The unsafe.” Reid’s smile was slight, but unexpectedly sympathetic. “Mr. Grandborough was right. You don’t do anything in haste. Or maybe….” He leaned closer. “You’re just waiting for a push.”

Jonah let a cold smile come. “I’m quite aware of the direction you’d like to push me.”

Reid had the brass to grin. “Mr. Woolner, you don’t have the first idea.”

His conviction—and the implication that enlightenment might be forthcoming—left Jonah uneasy. “Not all of us care to fly from place to place, turning in all directions and biding in none long enough to leave our stamp.”

“That’s all you want?” Reid asked. “To leave a stamp indistinguishable from a million others?”

“I want….” The uneasiness persisted, and he forced the conversation back to the more relevant matter. “I’ve spent fourteen years helping to build Grandborough into a successful bank—and yes, I would like to continue in just that direction.”

Reid’s ruthless appraisal yielded all at once to another flash of humor. He straightened up and, unbuttoning his coat, stuck his hands in his pockets. “Maybe we can strike a bargain.”

“A bargain? You’re not obliged—”

“Consider it a gesture of goodwill. Or desperation,” he amended with a laugh. “I won’t institute another change without consulting you. If you’re not satisfied, we’ll take it before the board.”

Jonah stared at him. “You… really?”

“Really. And I won’t mention a word to the staff until we have a decision from the board.”

Jonah wanted to believe him. “Will you give some thought to our successful practices before you decide to change everything about? We have been working rather well for a long time, you know. I could show you—”

“Yes, that’s just what I have in mind. I haven’t made the best use of your assistance. I’d like to correct that.”

Jonah hesitated. Reid’s apparent change of heart might be only a momentary thing, precipitated by the appeal to Grandborough. Even so, it was a start in the right direction. “You said bargain. What do you expect in return?”

“An assistant cashier.”

Guilt stung him. “I know I haven’t been entirely cooperative.”

“No need to apologize.” Reid held out a hand, smiling as if Jonah had conceded everything to him, instead of the other way around.

Still wary, Jonah shook his hand, then tore the letter in two. “Does that suit you?”

Mischief lit the hazel eyes. “There is one more thing. Supper, Saturday night. I want you to join us.”

“Mr. Hylliard, it isn’t a good idea to encourage this sort of familiarity between staff and officers. It will lead to resentment when they must come back to work and resume their subordinate roles.” When Reid only regarded him with patient expectance, Jonah frowned. “Some may even be inclined to take advantage of the situation. They’ll assume the privilege of friendship will allow them greater freedom in the performance of their work. They will beg more time away to take care of personal matters. You cannot….” Jonah trailed off. It was evident Reid would not be budged. And Jonah had already accepted his terms. “Very well. Where is it to be?”