Steam hissed and gears squealed as the train slowed outside the Camp Mills stop. He would disembark here while she rode the train the rest of the way to the Astoria Ferry, which would carry her back to Manhattan. He didn’t want to let go of her.
“What time are we meeting tomorrow?” he asked. Delia always knew their schedule without having to consult her notes.
“No fundraisers tomorrow except for a meeting with the board of the CRB. We’ll meet at Bertie’s house at six o’clock.”
“Sounds good,” he said, but inside he braced himself. The board of the CRB included Wesley Chandler, and Finn suspected that Delia still harbored a lingering affection for Wesley, a man who was Finn’s complete opposite.
She unwound his scarf from around her neck and moved to give it back to him. “Keep it,” he said. “It looks better on you than on me.”
He intended to start staking his claim for Delia’s heart, and wanting her to wear his cherished scarf was a visible sign of his intentions.
21
Delia arrived with Finn at Bertie’s town house a few minutes before the CRB meeting. She couldn’t wait to present Bertie and the board of directors with the healthy balance sheet. Over the past two months, she and Finn had raised millions of dollars while also securing valuable donations of cargo space and fuel. Nothing in Delia’s life made her prouder than the freshly inked balance sheet she would present tonight.
“Wesley is going to be here tonight,” she quietly warned Finn.
Without a word, Finn extended his elbow and she gladly took it. This wasn’t to make Wesley jealous; it was because she and Finn were a team now, and she wanted the world to see it. Together they mounted the front steps of the town house.
Inside, all nine members of the board were crowded into the formal living room. The scent of pine from the crackling fireplace mingled with the pungent smell of cigar smoke. The sofa and upholstered chairs were already occupied, and dining room chairs had been squeezed into the room, forming a circle. They were rapidly filling too.
“Let’s take the window seat,” Finn whispered in her ear, and she nodded. The window seat had only enough space for them to sitpressed close together. Holding her briefcase on her lap, she looked forward to presenting the all-important financial report to Bertie.
Wesley chatted with Congressman Donnelly near the fireplace. This was the first time she’d seen him since the night she quit in this very room. As ever, he looked the epitome of refinement in a perfectly tailored suit, but there were more strands of gray threaded through his dark hair. Had it changed that much in two months? Or maybe it had always been there, and she simply hadn’t wanted to see it.
Bertie called the meeting to order, and conversations trickled to an end as the men settled back in their seats. Wesley chose a seat opposite her, and his eyes widened when he spotted her.
She gave a polite nod, and to her surprise he rose and closed the distance between them. “Delia...” he stammered, “it’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”
This was hardly the time to mend fences, but she couldn’t resist a tiny dig. “I’m fine, thank you. How is Mrs. Beekman?”
Congressman Donelly chortled and turned. “You haven’t heard?”
Delia wasn’t privy to the rarefied gossip in this social circle, but Wesley looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Heard what?” she asked the congressman.
“Mrs. Beeckman got herself engaged to a physician from Upstate New York. She surprised everyone,” Congressman Donelly said.
If Delia hadn’t been sitting down, she would have fallen over in shock. Mrs. Beekman cast Wesley aside? It was difficult to believe, and yet the austere expression on Wesley’s face said it was probably true.
Wesley hadn’t taken his gaze off her face. “Delia, I just want to be sure you’ve landed on your feet. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Bertie had been paying Delia a modest salary for her work on behalf of the CRB, but she sensed that wasn’t what Wesley was getting at. She slipped her hand inside Finn’s. “We’re fine.”
Wesley glanced down at their clasped hands. His face paled, and for once in his life he was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Though this should have felt good, it didn’t. She squeezed Finn’s hand tighter so she wouldn’t do something stupid like try to comfort Wesley.
Bertie tapped a glass with a spoon to again call the meeting to order, and Wesley retreated to a chair in the front of the room. Bertie remained standing near the entrance of the parlor, his expression grave. “I’m afraid we need to cancel our normal business meeting, as things have taken a turn for the worse overseas. Germany has announced they will no longer permit our ships to use the Port of Rotterdam.”
Delia felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. Bertie sent her and Finn a sympathetic glance. “Although President Taft used his connections to keep the port open to us for several additional weeks, the Germans have since become suspicious of anything coming from the United States. Our ships are now prohibited from docking at Rotterdam. And we all know the Germans’ reputation for employing their U-boats to stop a ship from entering a port.”
It was a significant blow. The energy drained from her body as she set her briefcase on the floor with a thud. The financial report she was so proud of no longer mattered.
“What are we going to do?” Wesley asked.
“We’ll have to start shipping the food to a neutral nation like Spain. The cargo will be off-loaded, inspected for contraband, and then loaded onto a Spanish ship to take it the rest of the way to Rotterdam. In addition to the extra time and manpower, we are going to lose the concessions we have won from men like Alfred Pollard. We don’t have any arrangements with Spanish shipping, so it’s going to cost a fortune.”
While Bertie’s tone was grim, Wesley sounded even more despondent. “We barely have enough fuel to keep the ships afloat, and each month we scramble for the last few dimes to stock the cargo space. How can we possibly find more money?”
Silence reigned in the room, until Finn suddenly chimed in. “I’ve found there are two types of people in the world. Those who say they can’t succeed, and those who say they can. Both are usually right, so which one do we want to be?”
