Mack elbowed him in the side, and the action reminded him of when they were gangly teenagers teasing each other mercilessly. “I just figured out how to win back Winnie.”
Emil clapped him on the back. “Best of luck. She’s way too good for the likes of you.”
“She’s not going to make it easy,” he agreed.
But no matter how hard it was, he would persist. If he had to grovel on his hands and knees, he’d do it. He’d messed up, but maybe, just maybe, he could fix it.
CHAPTER22
The following evening, Mack sipped his second brandy and studied his mother across the drawing room. Their weekly family dinner had been… normal. Too normal. His uncle pretended as though nothing had happened in the last few days, and his mother had followed suit. How could they act as though his future hadn’t been upended? At the very least, he had expected a few smug looks from Horace during their post-dinner cigar in the billiards room before joining his mother. But his uncle avoided any mention of the newspaper whatsoever, going so far as to offer banal remarks on the recent upgrades to the transit system.
Alma sipped her sherry and gave Mack a quizzical smile. “What has you so preoccupied, my son? You frown at me as though I lost your best cuff links.”
It wasn’t much of an opening, but it would do. The night was slipping away.
“I have been wondering why you have yet to comment on my lack of inheritance.”
The sherry glass froze halfway to her lips. “Lack?”
Horace harrumphed and lumbered to his feet. “More sherry, Alma?”
Alma frowned at Horace. “As you can see, my glass is full.” She returned her attention to Mack. “Explain yourself.”
“There’s only one meaning behind my words, Mother. I simply wondered whether you’ve considered how this will impact our future, considering the brunt of the family fortune will now be in Emil Anderson’s hands.”
Alma’s sherry glass shattered on the hardwood floor. She rose slowly to her feet, ignoring the liquor seeping into her prized carpet, and pinned her brother with her gaze. “What have you done?”
That was not the reaction he had expected. Curious.
Horace stopped fiddling with the drink cart and turned to face them. “I decided Emil will be the heir ofThe Post.My lawyer is already drawing up the paperwork.”
Mack’s blood simmered at the mere idea, but the knowledge Emil had never meant to accept helped him maintain his cool. He would do his best to reason with his uncle, but if Horace would not budge, he would be forced to reveal his hand.
“Absolutely not,” his mother said before he could begin, her voice cracking like a whip across the tense room.
“We already agreed, Alma,” Horace said with exaggerated patience. “Now the time has come.”
“We discussed the possibility, but I never signed a thing.”
Mack’s skin tingled at the revelation. “What do you mean? What about the amendment?”
“Wedraftedan amendment.”
Mack’s thoughts whirled as he tried to comprehend the ramifications. If both parties hadn’t signed the amendment, it would be tossed out in the courts. But why had she led him to believe she had? What could she hope to achieve by driving her only son away with threats and ultimatums?
“And you’ll sign it,” Horace argued. “After the stunt Mack pulled with the stenographer girl, I made my decision. What’s done is done.”
Alma’s brow furrowed. “What stenographer girl?”
“Some aspiring newspaperwoman.” Horace’s lips twisted.
“Winnifred Westisa newspaperwoman, and your blind dismissal has been a colossal mistake,” Mack cut in. “What was done to her sets a terrible precedent. There is already rumbling in the stenography department. If word gets out, our reputation will take a blow.”
“But what do you have to do with this woman?” Alma asked.
“Horace led her to believe he would print her reports on suffrage, and Emil and I were to collect her ideas and write anti pieces in the paper’s name. Horace threatened to give the newspaper to Emil if I did not comply. I must say, I’m taken aback by your surprise. Our last conversation indicated you supported his order.”
“As you know, I am not a suffragist,” Alma said slowly. “But nor am I comfortable with you abusing a woman in such manner. While I did wish for you to put aside your progressive tendencies, this was the last thing I would have imagined. Horace, how could you allow this?”
