“The first meeting is in two days. I expect you to attend.”
“Of course.” She could hardly wait. Not only would she get to pick out books for a library, but she’d also get time out of the house. She was tempted to ask how often the library committee was scheduled to meet—if they could meet every week, or even twice a week, rather than once a month.
After a building was procured and books were ordered, would the library expect committee members to catalog and shelve them? She could volunteer to do so. That might get her out of the house for days.
And then, once the library was open, maybe she could volunteer to serve as librarian. All in the name of being a good library committee member, of course. All for the sake of keeping the Caldwell family name in good standing with the townsfolk.
“I suggest you wipe that silly grin off your face.” Her father scowled at her, then picked his brandy back up and took a sip. “This is a serious endeavor, and the first thing I need you to do is make sure the library is named after our family.”
“Oh.” She tried to hide her grimace. “I’m not sure I’ll have complete say over the name. I assume everyone on the committee will have an equal vote.”
His eyes flashed. “Then it’s your job to convince them of the merits of naming the library after our family.”
Were there merits to it? Would the Caldwell Public Library somehow be able to serve the community better than the Sikta Public Library or the Alaska Public Library?
“Don’t hesitate to remind the other committee members that we’re donating a large sum of money. See that it gets done, Rosalind. At the first meeting.”
So that’s how things were going to be. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her skirt. “Yes, Father.”
He studied her a moment longer, then lifted one brow and angled his head ever so slightly toward the door. “That will be all.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. She headed toward the door with the careful, well-mannered steps her father expected to see. Only when she was out of sight did she let out a slow, shaking breath.
The library committee. She wanted to be excited, but nothing her father wanted from her was ever as simple as it seemed.
Just what would happen if she couldn’t manage to get the new library named after her family?
9
Sitka; One Day Later
“Eleven shipping contracts?” Alexei leaned back in his chair, his hands steepled as he studied Yuri.
He hadn’t expected his younger brother to return from San Francisco so soon. Yuri had been gone less than two weeks, and when he’d arrived earlier that afternoon on a ship that a different company owned, Alexei had worried the trip had gone poorly. But he’d let the rest of the family greet Yuri before pulling him aside and telling him they should speak in the office above the warehouse.
Sacha and Mikhail had decided to join them, so here they were, gathered in the large office space littered with desks and tables and bookshelves, with windows on two walls that overlooked both the sound and the shipyard.
But before Alexei could ask how the trip had gone, Yuri had reached into his satchel and pulled out a stack of papers, then proclaimed he hadn’t gotten just the three shipping contracts he’d been sent to procure; he’d gotten eleven.
Eleven.
“What did you do?” Sacha slapped Yuri on the back. “Hold those poor merchants at gunpoint and force them to sign?”
Yuri shrugged Sacha’s hand away. “Don’t be ridiculous. All I did was talk to them.”
“I go to San Francisco and talk to merchants at least three times a year, and I’ve never gotten eleven contracts.” Alexei was always quite pleased with himself if he came away with two or three, and sometimes that took several weeks of work.
“Do you really, though?” Yuri cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Do I really what?”
“Talk to them? Ask about the children hiding behind their desks or compliment their wives when they stop by the office to share lunch with their husbands? Do you ask them where they’re sourcing their goods? If they own the farms producing the wheat and barley and grapes you want to export for them?”
Alexei stiffened. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
Mikhail barked out a laugh. “Looks like it has more to do with things than you think. Because this contract here is completely legitimate, and it’s good for three years.” Mikhail set the contract he’d been reading down on the desk.
“Well done, little brother.” Sacha slapped Yuri on the back again. “Maybe next time, you and Alexei should go to San Francisco together, and you can teach him a thing or two about charming businessmen into signing shipping contracts.”
