The Only Gold (44 page)

The policeman at the door allowed them inside only after Horace Naughton came over and greeted them with dazed exclamations. “Jonah! Reid—thank God! We’ve been frantic. Are you all right?”

“Tired,” Reid said, “but doing a little better than Mr. Barton, I think.”

“Barton! You were able to run him to ground?”

“I’ll make a full report,” Reid said. “Is Mr. Grandborough downstairs?”

“He’s still meeting with your Mr. Cressett.”

“Good. Liam Abbott?”

“They’ve sent him to the hospital.” Naughton raised an eyebrow. “Alice’s story was quite remarkable. I must ask you—”

A clatter on the stairs cut him off. Bennet Grandborough stormed down, in the agitated company of clerks, directors, and policemen. Alice was with them, shielded by her father’s protective arm. A flurry of questions came almost at once, and in the midst of the heated chatter, Jonah was introduced to Jim Cressett and others whose names were lost somewhere in the conversation he could no longer follow. He wanted rest, but there was one piece of business unfinished. He took the satchel from Reid, who was in the midst of fielding questions, and carried it to the wide-open door of the vault. The policeman posted there eyed him dubiously, but Jonah proceeded unhindered and returned the satchel’s contents to the shelves. Pleased to see the remaining securities and gold in the second satchel had been put back, he carried the damp satchel out and tossed it to the floor. Leaning a shoulder against the heavy door, he pushed it to.

The deposit was safe. The bank would meet its obligations.

Too tired to move, he stood, still leaning, and wondered at the relative quiet that had fallen in the room. His knees wanting to give, he held on to the door and turned, resting his back against its reassuring bulk. That he appeared to have garnered the attention of everyone in the lobby might have surprised him, if he’d had the strength to feel surprise. He could not see the expressions of those standing further back, but Mr. Grandborough looked astonished; Reid, beside him, smiled. Jonah saw the pride in his eyes—and a further, most indiscreet emotion—and he could object to neither. He could, in fact, do little except yield to his body’s refusal to keep him upright any longer. He slid gently to the floor, leaned his heavy head against the cold metal, and closed his eyes. Reid’s voice, unexpectedly emotional, carried to him. “Mr. Grandborough, if we may….”

“The sleigh is at your disposal.”

Jonah had no chance to protest as Reid, with the assistance of two able policemen, spirited him out of the bank and back on the road, where gusting winds whirled new-falling snow. Buried in blankets and half-awake, Jonah didn’t mind it. Less pleasant was being roused and unearthed in order to make the trek into the hotel.

The Astor House had the air of a war encampment about it. The stranded souls who had sought shelter were gone, but cots still lined the halls, discarded blankets littering the floor. Reid’s rooms had apparently been given over to that purpose as well. The staff in the process of setting it to rights remained, under Reid’s direction, just long enough to build up the dying hearth fire and set blankets over a screen to warm.

While they worked, Jonah wandered to the nearest chair and surrendered to sleep. Reid woke him to deprive him of damp but warm clothes—only to rescue him from that misery with a fire-warmed blanket that banished the cold from his very bones. He had little awareness of being put to bed, but when Reid’s arms came around him beneath the coverlet, Jonah woke long enough to catch a glimpse of his face—as drawn as Jonah had ever seen it, but content.

Waking
with Wednesday’s first light, Jonah took in the quiet and wondered how deep in snow the world lay yet. Hoping Reid was awake, he rolled over—to find Reid already up and apparently gone. He had, Jonah surmised, felt duty-bound to attend to the explanations his agency required. It seemed impossible that Reid was not who Jonah had, for two long months, believed he was. If it left things rather more uncertain between them, he had to adjust to it. But returning to work without Reid took some of the flavor out of the prospect.

Returning to work at all presented something of a problem, as he realized he had nothing to wear. He could not recall if Reid had hung his clothes to dry. Pulling a blanket around his shoulders, Jonah sat up and his gaze fell to the foot of the bed, where his suit, apparently dry and pressed, lay. That Reid had been up and about for quite a while became clear when Jonah further discovered a pair of glasses on the washstand.

Thankful for that comfort restored, he bathed and shaved. When he was nearly dressed, he stood for a long minute at the mirror, his black silk tie in hand. It seemed a tired and too somber shade, when the world outside was ready to shake off winter and reach for spring. Searching through Reid’s wardrobe, Jonah found the dusky blue tie with the thin gold stripes and he put it on. The overcoat Reid had left him wasn’t his, but a new coat in the same style. Without a scarf, Jonah resorted to the wardrobe again and was relieved to find not all of Reid’s scarves were a blaze of color; no need to run mad with innovation all at once.

Settling for a green plaid, he borrowed a hat and went downstairs in search of breakfast. With no replenishment of supplies coming through, it was a meager one, but he was too hungry to care. Finding transportation to the bank proved a larger difficulty. The hotel clerk, a weary-eyed man in a wrinkled shirt and damp coat, recited as if by rote regarding the lack of cab service and the likely delay of an hour or more.

Jonah looked at him in disbelief. “An hour?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can I hire a carriage?”

“No, sir.”

“The horsecars—”

“Not running, sir.”

“The train, then—”

“Slow-going till the tracks are cleared.”

“I’ll have to walk?”

“Yes, sir. The Astor offers its sincerest regrets.”

“They are doubtless equal to my own.” Limbs still aching from his dunking and the miserable trek of the day before, Jonah squared his shoulders and headed down Broadway—rather, what was left of it. The street was a shambles of shattered windows and street lamps, wrecked carts and trucks, and—most worrisome—telegraph poles hanging at hazardous angles, ice-heavy wires dipping into the road. The crunch underfoot was as often glass and wood as snow. Shopkeepers had dug burrows through to their doors, but the snow, still banked high against windows, showed no signs of melting. Shovelers worked in droves to merely clear the sidewalks, and the wagons they had piled with snow lumbered in slow procession riverward.

His own progress hampered, Jonah reached the bank steps well after nine—and there he stood, reluctant to go in. The walk from the Astor House had given him too much time to think. Though the position of cashier was once again vacant, he was distinctly certain he’d felt worthier of it two months ago. Reid might not think him responsible for the mistakes he’d made in dealing with Liam Abbott, nor take him to task for getting in the way of a plan he’d known nothing about. But in gauging how near disaster had struck the bank, the directors might question his part in it, and whether he was still of value to them.

He could have done better. But if he had failed in some respects, he had learned too. If he had to start fresh, the lessons would not be left behind. He could not complain, not when he’d found more pleasure and interest in life in the past two months than he had in fourteen years. Even the darkest parts of it shone more brightly in his mind than any mundane event of earlier days.

Ascending the steps, he went into the lobby. The sight of clerks and tellers hard at work preparing the exchanges brought back an old sense of satisfaction. For an instant, it felt as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened and that he might at any moment see Reid appear around the counter to chastise him for his tardiness.

Reid did not appear, but Margaret, at her desk, glanced up at Jonah and gave a startled little cry. It swiftly drew all eyes to him, and business was forgotten as the clerks and tellers swarmed around the counter. Taken aback by their excitement, Jonah wondered how much they knew and whether he was free to tell them more. They seemed at once to gather their wits, halting at a respectful distance—only to burst, to his amazement, into exultant applause. Reid must have told them everything, surely giving him more credit than was due.

The commotion brought the directors downstairs, Grandborough at their lead. As they gathered, Jonah observed the handshaking and bright chatter, and took it as a sign the bank had come through the danger unscathed.

“Jonah.” Grandborough came through the crowd of clerks and offered his hand. “You’re looking much more like yourself this morning. I’m happy to see it.” Unusually hesitant, he held on to Jonah’s hand. When he let go, it was to warmly clap Jonah on the shoulder. “Damn it, I’m sorry. I know you’ve always cared about the success of this bank. Genuinely cared. I took it for granted—”

“We all did,” Naughton said, and several of the directors concurred with hasty nods. “But when we heard Mr. Hylliard’s report—”

“And the details Alice provided that Mr. Hylliard could not….” Grandborough cleared his throat gruffly and dropped his hand to his side. “Grandborough Bank needs a chief cashier. The board has voted unanimously and I agree there’s only one man for the job. If you’d consider it, Jonah, we would be grateful.” His voice lost some of its usual bluster, and he grasped Jonah’s hand again. “
I am grateful
—for all you did to keep Alice safe. I won’t forget it. What do you say?”

Jonah
took in the expectant faces, smiling upon him as if he’d already consented, and though it was a moment he had dreamed of, he could not seem to feel anything besides disbelief. Chief cashier, at long last. It wouldn’t sink in. He tried to gather his own wits and smile. “Of course I would be honored—”

The cheer that went up and the congratulations that followed overwhelmed him. When Margaret got hold of him, she drew him away from the rest, and to his surprise, pulled him into a hug. “Jonah…” She sounded as dazed as he felt. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure I can tell you. It’s all coming along so fast, I haven’t had a chance to comprehend any of it.”

“I imagine so. Those bruises….” She touched his cheek gently. “Heavens. While the rest of us were warm in our beds. Well, most of us.”

“You must admit Reid looks worse.”

“I’ve not seen him this morning. I heard he met with the directors late yesterday—”

“Did he?” Jonah had no memory of Reid leaving or returning. It bothered him to know he, too, was warm in his bed while Reid, as exhausted, braved the weather to provide everyone the expected report. “Do you know—”

“Mr. Naughton mentioned he would be back later today.” She studied him all the more intently. “A shock, to hear the truth about Mr. Hylliard. I thought you might—”

“Be angry?” Jonah couldn’t hold back a smile. “How can I be? His job was to keep us safe, and he did. Truthfully, I will rather miss him.” He had to say it, even if Margaret could not appreciate the full measure of the loss he felt. There was some comfort to be found in commiseration.