Nuisance stuff again.”
Adam shrugged. “Probably just kids.”
“It better not be the trade unions. If I find out it is, they’ll sure as hell be sorry.” Martin clamped the cigar between his teeth. “How are the McKettrick plans coming?”
Adam blew out a heavy breath. “Fine.”
“I want to get there first. I don’t want McKettrick looking at anybody else’s ideas. I want this bid to—”
“I know. I know.” Adam sat straighter in the chair. “You know I don’t want to do this project.”
“It’s money in the bank. Big money. I want it.”
They’d discussed it a half-dozen times already; it wasn’t the first time Adam and his father had disagreed. “We’ll get it, Martin.”
He hadn’t called his father by anything but his first name for years, since he came to work at the firm. It suited them both.
“We’d better.” Martin rose and walked to the window, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. Folding his hands at his back, he stared down at the street below; the view from his private office on the second floor of the Harrington Building allowed him to look down at much of the city, the docks and the Sacramento River. A long moment dragged by. Finally he said, “Well, who is she?”
Adam tapped his cigar in the ashtray on his father’s desk, surprised he’d waited this long to bring up the subject. “Don’t you mean, what is she?”
He threw a look over his shoulder that offered no apology, and turned to stare out the window again.
“Her grandfather is Cyrus Hasting of San Francisco. I think you’re familiar with the family. Banking, real estate, shipping, railroads.”
He grunted—a sound Adam interrupted as favorable.
“Her mother’s a widow, prominent in social circles.”
Martin snorted distastefully.
“She’s here visiting her aunt on her mother’s side, Harriet Covington.”
“Damn. Too bad old Ben Covington died already. We could use another supporter in the legislature.”
Adam puffed on his cigar again. “All in all, an acceptable pedigree.”
“Oscar check her out?”
“He did.”
“No skeletons in her closet?”
Adam shifted in the chair. “None I’m concerned about.”
A long moment dragged by. “Well, it’s about damn time you got yourself a wife. I don’t know what the hell you were waiting for. Bring her to dinner tonight.”
Dinner at his father’s house was definitely not the evening he had planned.
Martin looked over his shoulder. “I want to meet her.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea. Gwen—”
“I’ll handle Gwen.” Martin turned. “Bring her over. I want to meet the woman who’ll give me my grandchildren.”
“Good evening, sir.”
Adam passed his valise to Bernard. Maybe it was his imagination, but the house seemed to smell sweeter tonight. He’d certainly been more anxious than usual to get home.
“Where is Haley?”
Bernard inclined his head toward the back of the house. “In the solarium, I believe, sir.”
“Is she ready to go?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know.”
He frowned. “You told her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Adam passed through the arched doorway and headed down the hall toward the solarium, but caught sight of Haley in his study. “What are you doing in here?”
She looked up from her seat behind his desk. “Good evening to you, too.”
Light from the gas jets bathed her in hues of pink. Adam rubbed his forehead and stopped in front of the desk. “What are you looking at?”
“Don’t you know?” She glanced down at the blueprints laid out before her. “You’re designing them, aren’t you?”
“I just didn’t expect to find you in here.”
She sat back. “Is this room off-limits?”
“No,” he said quickly. “This is your home now. As I said, you can do with it what you choose.”
“Good, because I’d like to—”
“Don’t tell me.” Adam held up his hand. He’d had his fill of settling servant squabbles, looking at household budgets and worrying over windowsills being dusted in the past few months. He hadn’t thought having a large house would be such a burden. “Just do whatever you want.”
Haley shrugged. “Well, if you’re certain.”
“I’m certain.”
“What are these things, anyway?”
Surprised at her interest, Adam stepped behind the desk. “Plans for some new houses.”
She tilted her head one way, then the other. “They are?”
Adam leaned forward and ran his finger down the lines on the paper. “See? These are walls. These represent windows and doors, bedrooms, parlors.”
“Oh.” She looked up at him. “Aren’t they rather small?”
Her breasts swelled the bodice of her gown, noticeable now because he was looking down on her. Adam’s breath caught. “No, they’re not small at all. They’re full and soft and—”
“The houses are full and sort?” Haley stared down at the blueprints again.
“The houses—oh yes, the houses.” God, what had he just said? “Actually, they are small, but that’s what McKettrick wants. He’s expanding, building a new factory and he wants to provide housing for his workers.”
“And they want to live in these tiny little houses?”
She looked up at him again, and Adam felt his knees weaken. He turned away quickly and grabbed a decanter from the table beneath the window. “It’s a lot of houses, all generally small. That’s what McKettrick wants.”
“Well…I suppose.” Haley folded her hands in her lap.
Adam poured himself a bourbon, and a little smile tugged at his lips. “Did you have a visitor today?”
“Yes, I did. Mr. Havermeyer stopped by this afternoon.”
Thoroughly pleased with himself, Adam sipped his drink and turned to her. “Well? What did you pick out?”
The neat little bearded man had shown up in her parlor with a case full of jewelry. Pick whatever she wanted, he’d said. All her husband had insisted upon was that she have a gold wedding band.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” Adam frowned. “You need a wedding band, Haley. It’s hardly proper for you to be seen in public without one. And I told Havermeyer to let you have whatever else you wanted. I expected you to be pleased.”
Haley sat back in the deep leather chair. “Had I been married to Mr. Havermeyer, I would have been very pleased to pick out a wedding band with him.”
What was wrong with this woman? He’d sent a jeweler displaying exquisite gems and she’d not wanted anything? What kind of nonsense was she talking, anyway?
Adam