Liam’s shoulders were hunched, his arms clutched across his chest. “I don’t know what to think. Is there any way to lock down that profit-sharing deal? Make it so they can’t go back on their word?”
“That’s the best part,” Patrick said. “That document is the operating contract that will tie all ten companies together. It can’t be overturned. Now, I want you to listen to me,” he ordered. “Stop thinking like a union man and start acting like a strategist. Fight for what you want from inside the company. Strike a deal with Oscar Blackstone to demand a seat on the board of directors of U.S. Steel. You could help run the new company. You’ll be more powerful than any labor leader ever dreamed.”
The truth of that dawned on Liam, who looked dumbfounded by the prospect. He wandered to the window, gaping at the glittering skyline of New York City as the implications sank in.
“My grandfather is leery of the deal,” Liam said. “So is Natalia. Making a deal with Mrs. Carnegie would be double-crossing them.”
It might seem that way, but they were playing a high-stakes game, and the fate of the college hung in the balance.
“You never vowed automatic loyalty to Frederick. Your motives aren’t selfish. You will be using your God-given intelligence to vote on behalf of what you believe is right. Let me haggle with Oscar to get you a seat on the board of U.S. Steel. Oscar doesn’t want you out on the streets, adding your name to the rabble-rousers picketing the new company, because he knows you can stoke up their anger more than anyone else in the world. He needs your cooperation. If we can pull this off, you will be helping direct the largest steel company ever created.”
Liam still looked a little overwhelmed, but he straightened his shoulders. “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m willing to shake on the deal with Mrs. Carnegie.”
34
They caught the ferry back to Cormorant Island the following day, and Gwen’s spirits were over the moon. Mrs. Carnegie had agreed to permanent funding for the college, meaning that her father’s dream was going to endure.
Today was the lobster bake, a time when everyone relaxed and enjoyed the beachside simplicity of the annual event, and hopefully Patrick could finally see her family at their best. Frederick hadn’t been on the terrace when Patrick and Liam were accused of theft, but his support of them would silence Poppy’s wagging tongue.
“The lobster bake is my favorite event of the year,” she told Patrick and Liam as they stood at the railing of the ferry. “In the morning, the men dig a trench on the beach, and I take the children to gather seaweed and driftwood for the firepit. We shuck corn, and Bertie brings down a big galvanized washtub that he carries over his head while he marches up and down the beach singing patriotic songs. The children think it’s hysterical.”
Liam remained sullen. He had wanted to stay in Manhattan rather than face Frederick’s wrath over his shocking about-face on the steel vote, and his anxiety spiraled higher as the ferry drew nearer to the boathouse.
“Please don’t bite your fingernails,” she said.
Liam jerked his hand away from his mouth. “I don’t know how to confess what I plan to do,” he said in a worried voice.
“Don’t say anything,” Patrick said. “The vote is still weeks away, and voting on behalf of the workers isn’t a sin.”
For once, Patrick’s counsel didn’t ease Liam’s qualms, but they’d arrived and had no more time to discuss it. The entire clan was already on the beach by the time they disembarked. The breeze carried the aroma of seafood and laughter as children played in the surf. Red-checkered cloths covered the tables, which were filled with baskets of corn bread, tubs of butter, and plenty of iced tea. Most of the adults were at the picnic tables, but Oscar and Poppy sat on padded wicker chairs placed a few yards away because Poppy didn’t like the scent of seafood.
Her grandfather lifted his straw hat in greeting. His face was flushed with good cheer, and a half-empty bottle of white wine graced the table. “There’s still some lobster,” he called out. “Come quickly, before Bertie finishes it off.”
“I’ve only had three,” Bertie defended. He met Gwen’s gaze as they approached the table. “We didn’t expect you back for a few more days. Did Mrs. Carnegie send you packing?”
Gwen glanced at Aunt Martha, whose sheepish look made it clear she’d spilled the beans about where they went and why.
Liam nodded. “She knows how to make her intentions clear.”
“Ha!” Bertie chortled. “That’s why I let Oscar do the talking for us. No wonder you look so glum.”
Her cousin Joshua gave Liam a condescending smile. “Serve an apprenticeship in San Francisco like Grandfather recommends. It’s better to fail in a small pond than in the big city.”
Uncle Oscar’s gaze had the cautious laziness of a panther watching from afar. “Well?” he asked.
“Mrs. Carnegie proved firm in her position about the steel merger,” Gwen said in a deliberately casual tone. “We couldn’t budge her off it.”
Oscar nodded graciously. He raised a wineglass and sent a polite nod to Liam. “That was as expected, but you are to be commended for trying. As my father suggests, a few years in San Francisco might be a better starting place for you.”
Liam didn’t need to hide in San Francisco to learn the ropes. The plan was to get him on the board of directors for U.S. Steel, and Gwen couldn’t be prouder of him. Happiness as pure as the blue sky above them made her almost giddy with joy.
“Although Mrs. Carnegie won’t budge on the steel merger, she has authorized the college’s continued financial support,” she said. “In conjunction with Grandfather and Count Sokolov, we have enough votes to continue funding the college in perpetuity.”
Uncle Oscar set down his wineglass, all traces of humor gone. “No,” he in disbelief.
“Yes,” Patrick countered.
Oscar silently fumed, but all Gwen cared about was Frederick. Her grandfather stood to his full height and doffed his hat, his eyes beaming in pride.
