He bowed his head and prayed that she would come through for him, for he was going to need Natalia desperately in the months ahead.
11
Natalia sat in the bank’s conference room for the monthly review of their investments. A mahogany table with space for eighteen people dominated the center of the room, her father on one end and her grandfather on the other. Bank executives sat on the sides according to rank, and the remaining chairs were filled by managers reporting on the state of their projects.
Natalia was the only woman in the room. Even the stenographers and secretaries taking notes were men, but Natalia had been invited to these meetings since the day she turned sixteen. At that point, her father had become resigned to never having a male heir and began grooming her for a significant role at the bank. At first she sat with the stenographers in the chairs that hugged the wall. After earning her college degree, she was entrusted with her first account, a modest plan for road-paving, and she was invited to sit at the table. Over the years, her seat at the table moved to increasingly more prominent positions, and now she sat next to her father.
The topic of this morning’s review was an investment to deepen the harbor in Seattle so it could accommodate the new freighter-class ships the navy was building. The bank had loaned the Hammond Construction firm a fortune to perform the task, but this was the third month in a row they’d missedtheir target. Silas Conner was the bank’s executive handling the account.
“The Hammonds have a new excuse each month about why the project is lagging,” Silas reported. “They claim that persistent fog is interfering with the dredging operations.”
Her grandfather was skeptical. “The Hammonds just built a warehouse for the Union Pacific, who will be introducing refrigerated railroad cars next month. I think the Hammonds are using our money to expand their railroad investment instead of the port.”
Trust was the most important commodity in any banking relationship, and it was hard to monitor how the Hammonds spent the bank’s money from the opposite side of the country. It was one of the reasons Natalia valued her relationship with Count Sokolov. Not that she had any reason to doubt his replacement, but trust could take years to build. The Hammonds dutifully reported how they’d been investing funds in the harbor, but how could the bank be certain it was truthful?
“Let’s set this aside for now,” her grandfather said. “We’ll take a break, then move on to the discussion of bonds for the Boston subway.” He looked pointedly at Silas Conner. “I will expect a more definitive report from you next month.”
The break gave Natalia an opportunity to move her stiff muscles as she headed into the lobby and helped herself to tea from the elaborate service set up outside the conference room. Silas stood before a bank of windows overlooking Wall Street, his face stormy as he glared at the street below.
She empathized, since it wasn’t easy bringing bad news before her grandfather. She joined him at the window.
“Have you thought of going to Seattle to see the harbor for yourself?” she asked.
He looked surprised. “What for?”
“It’s harder to pull off a shell game with our money if the Hammonds know a bank executive might suddenly appear for an inspection.”
His brows lowered. “Forgive me, Natalia, but I don’t recall you going out to inspect the Trans-Siberian Railway in person.”
“That’s different,” she defended.
“How so?”
“The Russian project is ahead of schedule, and the port of Seattle is lagging.” Plus, for three years she had an agent in Russia she implicitly trusted, while Silas relied on accountants in Seattle he’d never met. She was about to point that out when an office clerk handed her a folded card.
“Excuse me, ma’am, a telegram has arrived for you.”
“Thank you.” She tucked the card into her leather portfolio before turning back to Silas, but he had a raft of excuses.
“I’m not a port engineer,” he said. “How would I know if the Hammonds were even telling me the truth?”
She tamped down her frustration. A skilled investment banker ought to be fluent in all manner of ventures, whether it was a steel mill, a railroad, or a construction project. If a topic was beyond her experience, she knew where to go for help.
“We have consultants here in New York,” she said. “Take one with you. I guarantee if you arrive in Seattle to inspect that project, their behavior will improve.”
His eyes narrowed. “You may be the most smug, egotistical woman in the entire state of New York.”
Her jaw dropped at the unprovoked attack. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me. I have a college degree and had to claw my way through low-level clerkships while you bounced on daddy’s knee and waltzed into a corner office.”
She itched to point out that she had also gone to college and served in entry-level clerkships, but she wouldn’t let him put her on the defensive. “I’m sorry you find my presence here so intimidating.”
Tension crackled between them as they headed back into the conference room. Resentment still pulsed in her veins as she took a seat at the table, but she swallowed it back as their analyst handling the Boston subway began speaking.
“Good news,” he said as he flipped open a file. “The geologists report that the ground composition beneath Boston is going to allow the drilling of the subway tunnels to proceed faster than anticipated.”
The discussion was actually quite interesting, but the rim of the telegram peeking from beneath her stack of papers distracted her. She slid it out and flipped it open.
