“She what?” James Ashton Sr. paced the room as he listened to his private attorney explain his encounter with Judith Ashton.
“She said she wasn’t at all interested in your money and she wouldn’t come,” Norbert Black repeated. “I suppose because she has her own money.”
“Everyone wants more money, and while I’ve seen the records of her various investments and business dealings, she has nothing compared to what I can give.”
The old man finally stopped pacing and went to his desk. He plopped down in the leather chair and pressed his hand to his heart. “Ring for Mrs. Deeters to bring my tonic, Bert.”
“She has the evening off,” Black replied. “Let me fetch it for you.”
“No, call for Winchell. He knows where everything is.”
Black rang the bell and explained things to the maid who responded. Despite Winchell being at least sixty-five years old, the man was there in moments. He had always been reliable.
“Yes, sir?” He came to stand beside Ashton.
“I need my heart tonic. Bring it and a cup of hot tea.” Ashton didn’t bother to ask if Black wanted anything. The man was his employee. Let him get something on his own time.
“Now where were we?” Ashton could feel his heart pounding rapidly and wanted to focus on anything else.
“I liked your granddaughter,” the lawyer continued. “She has a sterling reputation for a widowed woman. She has managed to oversee her father’s investments and interests without being compromised. Her reputation speaks for itself. She is highly esteemed in the community for her charitable works.”
“But she says she doesn’t care about my money?”
“Yes, sir.”
James found this ironic. How like her father she must be. He, too, had turned up his nose at wealth beyond his understanding. And all because he didn’t want to yield his will to James. And for what? The love of a woman, nay ... a girl. She had been barely sixteen and the daughter of a riverboat owner. James Ashton Jr. might have had any number of wealthy socialites, but instead he fell in love with a working man’s daughter.
“She’s also known for her Christianity. She attends church regularly and tithes.”
“Do-gooders often do.” James could hardly see the attraction to such things. Still, the idea of anyone turning away from the possibility of inheriting millions was something unfathomableto him. Money was the most important thing in the world. One could not better himself in any way without it.
“And she flat out refused to even consider coming to Minneapolis?”
“Yes, sir. She wouldn’t allow me to go into detail or even share information about you. I’m sorry, but I did try.”
James nodded and rubbed his chin. “She intrigues me. Tell me, what does she look like?”
“She looks a great deal like the painting of your wife, sir. She has thick, wavy brown hair and brown eyes with lovely arched brows. Her features are delightful.”
“So were her grandmother’s.”
“Yes, sir. Your sitting room painting of her is stunning.”
“That was painted the year after we married.” James remembered the outrageous cost of it as well. The portrait man had insisted on fifty dollars. Had the painting been anything less than perfection, James would have thrown the man out on his ear. But he had superior references and was highly regarded with paintings that hung in the better homes of society, so what else was there to be done?
“So she’s beautiful and kind of heart. What else can you tell me about her?”
“She married in 1862, and her husband died in the war. There were no children. She’s not remarried, nor does it appear she’s sought to do so. She is educated and knowledgeable. She seems to be well-read and attends a great many lectures. I would venture to say she enjoys learning new information.”
“She must come to me. She must!” He pounded his hand down on the desk just as Winchell returned with his medicine and a steaming cup of tea on a silver tray.
“Ah, Winchell, thank you.” James waited as his valet placed the cup and saucer in front of him. Winchell took up the bottle of tonic next and looked to his employer.
“Should I put it in the tea?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Winchell nodded and uncorked the bottle. Using a silver spoon, he measured out two spoonfuls of the medicine and stirred them into the tea before recorking the bottle.
