“He always forgets,” Mrs. Morris said, shaking her head. “Oh, lovely, this must be my new tea gown?”
Vivian’s mind stumbled to keep up as Mrs. Morris chatted throughher fitting. There was one spot on the back that needed to be taken in, though it didn’t require more than a few stitches. She hurried through the rest of the appointment, shifting her weight impatiently from side to side while Mrs. Morris tried on the dress once more. At last she pronounced it perfect, and Vivian could throw her things into her bag and say a polite good-bye. She hurried down the stairs, afraid that she would be too late.
She almost was. The black car was parked out front, the woman from Mr. Morris’s office just about to climb in.
Vivian took a deep breath. “Mrs. Wilson!”
Hattie Wilson paused, her only sign of surprise, then turned very slowly, a pleasant smile on her face. “Miss Kelly. What a happy coincidence. It seems you’re not in jail.”
“I’m not,” Vivian agreed, breathing heavily as she stopped next to the car, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake. But she had to know if she was right. “You’re blackmailing him.”
Hattie tilted her head toward the car. “In you go.”
Vivian only hesitated a moment before obeying. The driver—not one she recognized this time—slammed the door closed behind them. A moment later, the car pulled smoothly away from the curb.
Mrs. Wilson watched her, giving nothing away. “Well?” she asked.
“Imports are a useful line of business these days,” Vivian said pointedly. “What did he sign over to you?”
Hattie raised her brows. “His share in the company. He’ll still hold the seat on the board nominally, of course, but he’ll vote as I say. I can be very persuasive, even when I don’t have blackmail material. When I do have it…” She lifted her shoulder in a pretty little shrug. “I’d have liked to fold the business completely into Wilson Enterprises. Unfortunately, that puts me at a square fifty percent. Which is exactly equal to Mr. Whitcomb and Mr. Rokesby.”
“Can’t find anything on them?” Vivian asked, her heart pounding as she thought of Corny Rokesby’s drinks with his stepfather.
“Mr. Whitcomb is distressingly upstanding, or at least as upstanding as anyone is these days, and Corny refuses to sell me his shares. Sadly, you can’t blackmail a young man like him. What am I going to threaten him with, exposing that he drinks? Everyone does.”
“He also gambles.”
“A relatively common vice, all things considered,” Hattie said, shaking her head. “Still, I’m fairly satisfied with how things have progressed and what I do have control of. And who knows what I might discover in the future? Now.” Her voice grew a little harder, though her smile didn’t disappear. “Did you need something other than the chance to tell me you finally put two and two together?”
“I owe you, right?” Vivian said, thinking quickly. “What if I can tell you something you don’t already know? About Mr. Morris?”
Hattie’s brows rose. “Depends on what it is.”
“You wanted to know who Evangeline Buchanan was having an affair with.” Vivian took a deep breath. “She’s theEin that letter you had me steal from Mr. Morris.”
Hattie Wilson’s lips parted, then slowly curved into a smile. “Hmm. That is interesting,” she said, sounding amused. “Where did you come across such a curious tidbit, Miss Kelly?”
“Like you’ve said, I’m a resourceful girl.” Vivian watched her carefully. “So are we square?”
That made Mrs. Wilson smile again. “For the moment, Miss Kelly, I believe we are. Now, did you need anything else? Or should I have Peter drop you off at your squalid little home?”
“The squalid home, please,” Vivian said, carefully keeping a smile on her own face. “Thanks so much for the chat.”
“I can’t believe you’re working tonight,” Bea said, standing aside so Vivian could borrow her dressing table mirror to fix her lipstick. “After everything that happened.”
“Where else would I be?” Vivian asked, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair to smooth it down. The back of her bob tickled her neck. She’d need to get it trimmed soon. “All my favorite people are here. Except Florence, but she’s probably already asleep. Apparently, it’s tiring to grow a baby.”
Bea snorted. “You’re not nearly as calm as you’re pretending, so quit trying to fool me.”
“I can never fool you,” Vivian said, setting down her lipstick and meeting her friend’s eyes in the mirror. “I’d never even try.”
Bea rolled her eyes. She had never been the type of girl who got sentimental. From her, an eye roll was as good as a hug. “All your favorite people, one that you’re avoiding, and one that you’re not sure if you want to kiss or punch?”
Vivian didn’t need to ask who the last two were. “What would you do if you were me?”
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Bea said, shaking her head as she bent to tie her shoes. “I don’t go in for that messy nonsense. I’ve got my fella, and he’s got his job that’s completely separate from here, and that’s the way I like it. You keep your romantic troubles to yourself.”
“Bea,” Vivian protested, laughing in spite of herself.
