The Only Gold (19 page)

“You make it sound as if there’s some sin in following traditional practices. You’re quite sure it’s not your own stamp you wish me to adopt?”

Reid did smile at that. “Mine may be a little taxing, to start. I’d just like you to pull your nose out of Crowe’s rulebook and take into account the wider world, before you’re left too far behind to catch up.”

Jonah had never in his life met a creature more presuming. “If you’re finished—”

Reid’s quiet voice stayed him at the door. “You’re no hard character, Woolner. Even if you think you have to be.”

If there was more, Jonah did not remain to hear it. He thought he had become accustomed to Reid’s tactics, but the man could still frustrate and vex him at every turn. The nerve of Reid to assert he hadn’t the experience to appreciate anyone else’s difficulties; that rankled the most.

Back in the perfect quiet of his own office, he turned the key in the lock and dove determinedly into the pile of correspondence. It did little to douse his bristling indignation, and he tackled the books next, so painstakingly that more than one clerk fled his office, no doubt to complain to the others that their work was not nearly as slipshod as Mr. Woolner made it out to be.

He emerged at three o’clock to supervise the closing and found Reid had it well begun. Before Jonah reached the counter, Reid came around from behind it, pushed through the gate, and laying an arm across Jonah’s shoulders, turned him back toward the offices. “A word with you, please,” he said, only loud enough for Jonah’s ears.

In the corridor, Jonah twisted away and turned on him. “Just what was the meaning of that?”

“When I said you should pay more attention to the staff, scaring the life out of them was not precisely what I had in mind.”

“Scaring the….” Jonah stared at him. “Who said such a thing?”

“I did, after watching you scour the books all day and take everyone to task for the smallest and most irrelevant discrepancies.”

“There is no discrepancy irrelevant in banking.”

“Was anyone short?”

“That’s not the point….” Jonah fell silent as Horace Naughton came into the corridor, Director Gavet with him. In conversation, they headed for the stairs. Jonah started after them, only to be caught by Reid’s hand on his arm.

“Jonah….” It was more reproachful than beseeching.

Jonah firmly extricated himself. “If you don’t mind.”

Mr. Gavet hailed him. “Good afternoon, Mr. Woolner. Splendid to see the staff so hard at work.”

Mr. Naughton’s usual anxious disposition seemed to have taken a turn for the worse. He shook Jonah’s hand distractedly. “You look well. I trust matters are coming along to your satisfaction.”

Jonah hesitated. The advent of the government deposit had set everyone on pins and needles regarding security. If he brought up Abbott’s drinking, the man would be discharged immediately and replaced with someone more reliable before the deposit was made. Perhaps it was not yet the moment to bring the issue to light with the directors. If he gave Reid a chance to talk to Abbott, it might well affect the desired change and spare Abbott his job.

Certainly it was worth a try. Reid, it appeared, could talk anyone into anything.

Unfortunately, sparing Abbott required deceiving the directors. With great reluctance, Jonah nodded. “Yes, sir. I just wanted to… well, I’ve been thinking we might do well to hire on an additional watchman. After all, most banks in our position often employ two or even three—”

“An idea worthy of consideration. If you would be so kind as to suggest it next Wednesday, I think it will go over very well with the directors.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jonah stepped aside to let them proceed up the stairs. As footsteps faded above, Reid leaned, arms folded, against the walnut wainscoting and smiled at Jonah as if he’d known all along Jonah would give in. “Supper tonight?”

“If that’s your way of thanking me, Mr. Hylliard….” Jonah hesitated at Reid’s plaintive look.

“I thought we’d made some progress.”

“You might think so. I’ve never lied to the directors before.”

“That’s not what I—”

“I know what you meant. But I would like to maintain a certain propriety, if you don’t mind.”

Reid’s smile faded and his gaze locked irresistibly with Jonah’s. “I will not let Abbott harm the bank. Or its reputation.”

His quiet conviction caught Jonah off guard. Reid might pretend to take little seriously, but he would protect the bank. Jonah couldn’t deny it. Nor could he deny that Reid’s opinion had come to matter to him—and he was already starting to wish it hadn’t. Reid stood small chance of reforming Liam Abbott. Stronger men had fallen to ruin from drink, and Jonah had seen no indication Abbott was prepared to give it up.

Still, Reid was already putting forth his best effort, Jonah knew, when Abbott arrived early—perhaps invited to supper, too. Reid emerged from his office, and the two men lingered in the lobby, talking, while Jonah, at the teller’s window, tried to pay them no mind as he finished a check of the totals. He could not overhear the conversation, but Reid was cheerful, and Abbott seemed less wary than usual, no doubt secure in the certainty Reid would not discharge him short of his blowing open the vault and absconding with the money. When the two of them suddenly looked his way, Jonah bowed his head hastily over the ledger. He did not suppose Reid would extend the supper invitation a second time, but when he peered through the scrollwork again, he found both men approaching.

“Mr. Woolner….” Reid’s sardonic inflection was not lost on Jonah nor, apparently, upon the grinning Abbott. “We’re going for supper. I assume it’s all right, since you’ll likely still be here when we get back.” The comment, unexpectedly condescending, provoked a quiet laugh from Abbott.

Stung, Jonah concealed it behind his own polite smile. “Assuredly. I hope that does not inconvenience you, Mr. Hylliard.”

“You can trust I’d let you know if it did.”

Conscious he wasn’t concealing his surprise quite as well anymore, Jonah closed the ledger and cradled it. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He took the nearest empty desk and fixed determinedly on his work until the lobby door fell closed. He could still see the contemptuous shine in Reid’s eyes, an expression he was more accustomed to seeing in Abbott’s. If the two men found each other genial company, it was no business of his. He just hadn’t thought Reid the sort of man who would resort to pettishly playing one colleague against another to make a point—if a point he meant to make.

The totals gotten, Jonah went back to his office to clean up. Atop the pile of trade papers on his desk lay a chocolate taffy, with no note nor anything to indicate its purpose. It wasn’t meant to make amends, unless Reid had slipped inside the bank at some point before his supper with Abbott.

Jonah scooped up the candy to toss it into the wastebasket—then hesitated. Unwrapping it, he gave it an experimental squeeze. It was hard from too many months in the tin, but in his mouth, it softened and sweetened. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had taffy, surely years ago. It had the flavor of summer, with all the freedom and ease he remembered from boyhood.

Not until the taffy melted away did he realize he had yet to tidy the office and put up the books. Mr. Satterfield, under the weather, had already gone home, so Jonah gathered the ledgers and carted them to the vault. He was in the midst of shelving them when a voice startled him.

“‘How doth the little busy bee.’” Reid, in coat and hat, lounged against the door jamb. His manner was absent the condescension of before, but Jonah proceeded warily, nonetheless.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon. Where is Mr. Abbott?”

“Upstairs.” Reid’s gaze stayed on him rather too inquisitively. “That rumor you spend your nights here—that is just a rumor, isn’t it?”

Jonah turned to the shelves. “Perhaps I only mean to appear industrious, should the cashier return from supper unexpectedly.”

“I’d suspect that of almost anyone else.” Reid took a ledger from the cart and passed it to him. “Why don’t you go home? I’ll finish up.”

“I’m nearly done.”

Reid took the ledger from his hands. “Go. Miss Muncy’s probably waiting supper. I don’t think you want your fellow boarders sending the police in search of you.”

“They’re used to my hours.”

“So am I. Late into the evening every day of the week, well into the afternoon Saturdays, and the occasional Sunday.” Reid pushed the ledger onto the shelf. “Ever go to the theater? The Windsor puts on a lively show—”

“In the Bowery?” Jonah grimaced.

“You braved the Fourth Ward. The Bowery’s a tea party in comparison. How about Coney? Go to the racetrack?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“The beach? Say, have you ridden the incline?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The coaster train.” Reid raised a hand, palm down. “It starts high, then swoops down the track—”

As he snaked a hand through the air, Jonah shuddered. “Good God. Do all your amusements verge on the suicidal?”

“Just another way to remind yourself you’re alive,” Reid said, smiling. “I suppose we could go and watch the steamers pull up to the pier.”

“In February?”

“It’s been warm for February.” Reid sat on one of the two safes jutting from under the shelves and bounced his hat on his knee. “I want you to know something. What I said earlier, it was for Abbott’s benefit. I thought he’d more likely take me into his confidence if he believed you and I were still at odds. But that wasn’t fair to you.”

Reid was apologizing.
Jonah let the realization sink in as he pushed the last ledger into place. “Still at odds. I see. And what makes you think we aren’t?”

The troubled knit to Reid’s brow grew more pronounced. Jonah favored him with a benign smile. “Goodnight, Mr. Hylliard.”

It struck him they weren’t at odds, not as much as they once were. He was becoming too comfortable around Reid, and he resolved to stay on the lookout, to be sure Reid did not take advantage of it.

The
Saturday ball invited the opportunity for Reid to ingratiate himself all the more with Mr. Grandborough—and Alice. Jonah found himself only worried about the former. That Alice might fancy Reid was more of a relief than anything. But she wasn’t the only danger awaiting him Saturday evening. He would be surrounded by marriage-minded women, a situation calling for circumspection beyond reproach, or he would find himself reliving that dreadful summer—still fresh in his memory, despite the passage of fourteen years.

He lingered at the bank Saturday afternoon, checking the balances until he could no longer deem them an excuse to arrive late. Everyone else had long since gone home to dress. With a sense of impending disaster, Jonah finally locked up and headed home. The house was customarily quiet with Edith and Winnie away, and he was, disappointingly, not waylaid on the stairs. His heart quelled at the sight of the dress suit still hanging where he’d left it. He might well be a Christmas goose, dressed, stuffed, and displayed only for devouring. As he washed up, he pondered every possible means of escape. There seemed none that did not involve a change of employment—and perhaps residence.

He was hunting for his gloves amid the undergarments in the bureau when Liliane peeked in the door and, to his embarrassment, exclaimed in delight, “
Mon bel ange
! You must carry salts tonight. The ladies, they will not bear up.”

“Liliane, for heaven’s sake.” He shut the drawer hastily. “You shouldn’t be here while I’m dressing.”