Foster had been with her family for as long as she could remember, and though the man did her father’s bidding without so much as a blink, he was still kind beneath his starched shirt and straight suit.
“I wouldn’t worry overmuch,” he added. “He’s in a good mood.”
She pressed her lips together. Hopefully he was right about her father’s mood. And hopefully he would still be in a good mood after their conversation.
Still, the dull ache in her wrist increased into a sharper pain as she headed toward the door. Foster followed her down the stairs to the study with the heavy oak door at the end of the hall.
At one time she could have told Foster that she would be right down, then taken a few minutes to compose herself before going to see her father. But those days were so long ago, they seemed like another lifetime, and she didn’t even try to buy a few extra minutes for herself.
Foster knocked for her, and her father’s voice called out. “Enter.”
Foster turned the knob, and she took a steadying breath, then lifted her chin and stepped inside.
The study was warm, the fire in the hearth casting flickering light across the dark-paneled walls lined with bookshelves. The scent of tobacco lingered, mixing with the faint aroma of brandy from the glass her father held as he stood near the window, one hand in his pocket, staring out over the town below.
Rosalind kept her back straight as she waited.
He didn’t turn but rather kept his gaze riveted on something outside. “As I’m sure you’re aware, our family name has taken a bit of disparaging since Thanksgiving.”
She frowned. It had? How so? Her uncle was the governor, and the Alaska Commercial Company was running smoothly and making a profit—it always did with her father at the helm.
“I’m talking about the harassment lawsuits the Amos family filed.” He turned to face her then, his eyes dark and sharp.
She swallowed. Was this what Foster had meant by saying her father was in a good mood? Surely the butler had misread him.
“People are starting to talk. Your uncle came down too hard with the forced searches of the Amoses’ ships last fall, and now they’re wary.”
They had every right to be wary. Her uncle had made no secret of using his new position as governor to serve himself first and foremost. “I see.”
“I don’t think you do.” Father took a slow sip from the glass. “That woman lawyer—Evelina Amos Redding—has just filed three more harassment cases against our family.”
Were they really against their family? Or against the governor’s office? The first two had been aimed at her uncle, one for ordering the Revenue Cutter Service to search all Amos ships entering Sitka and hold them as long as possible, forcing them to miss deadlines and lose profits. The other had been of a similar nature but was filed by a blacksmith whose business license her uncle had refused to renew after the blacksmith refused to renegotiate prices for his government jobs.
The entire town had been taken aback when the Amoses filed that first lawsuit against her uncle for searching their ships just before Thanksgiving, but Rosalind had thought it a clever move. It had forced him to scale back, at least in public.
She didn’t know anything about these new lawsuits, though. “Is there something I can do to help?”
Her father walked to his desk. “Yes. Your uncle and I have decided we need to do something that will foster the townsfolk’s goodwill.”
She blinked. “You have?”
“We received word just last week that Andrew Carnegie has awarded a grant to establish a library in Sitka.”
“A library?” The words left her before she could temper her tone. “That’s wonderful.”
“While your uncle and I certainly appreciate Carnegie’s generosity, his grant alone is insufficient.” He set down his brandy glass with a thunk. “We need additional funds to ensure the library meets the standards befitting a town of Sitka’s stature. So we’ve decided to make a rather large donation ourselves.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“Then you understand why it’s important you hold a position on the newly formed library committee.”
“A library committee?” Once again, the words slipped out in a rush, her smile rising before she could stop it. “You want me to serve on a library committee?”
“This isn’t fun and games, Rosalind.” Her father pinched between his eyebrows and drew a slow breath through his nose. “The entire town will be watching, and I need someone on the board to demonstrate that our family is committed to Sitka’s advancement and ensure our name is properly associated with the library’s success.”
“Yes, sir.” The picture was becoming clearer now. She wasn’t going to have a seat on the committee because she loved books or might be good at helping to organize and structure Sitka’s first library. She was going to serve on the committee to make sure her family looked good.
Still, she couldn’t help but be excited. A library. Right here in Sitka. She only hoped this wasn’t the type of project that wouldtake years to complete, that the inhabitants of Sitka would be able to start lending books in short order.
