Billy gave one of the charmaine wheels a spin with his hand. Alva wasn’t even sure he was listening to her. She followed as he moved on to the horse stalls, of which he had sixteen. A red bay’s head appeared through one of the windows.
She was focusing now on the aesthetics. “The interior, as you know, has to be done just right. Why, I’m sure you can picture the great hall, the staircases, the upholstery on the seats, even the curtain, right down to the embroidery.” She smiled, knowing he hadn’t stopped to think about any of that. “All the men are so busy, I don’t know that any of them have the experience or the time to see this construction through.”
Billy looked at her like he was already getting a headache from it all. She waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she continued. “As you know, I’ve been working with Richard Hunt on the Fifth Avenue house. I could speak to him and—”
“No need,” Billy said, stroking the horse’s muzzle. “We’ve already awarded the new opera house to Josiah Cady.”
“Oh.” She tried not to let her disappointment show. She skirted around to the other side, hoping to get Billy’s full attention. They were already moving ahead, making decisions without her, and that couldn’t be. It was time to be direct. “I have a vision for this new opera house. I can see exactly how it should be designed. I know how to communicate with the architect, the workers, the contractors and the masons.”
“I’m sure you do, Alva. I’m sure you do.” He patted the horse’s neck.
“Other women might like to have their hands covered in jewels but, I tell you, I’d rather have mine in mortar.”
Billy laughed. “All right. I get it, I get it.”
“I just know I could—”
“Alva, relax. I said okay. You can do it. You take charge.” He smiled. “Go on, jump in with both feet.”
Alva thanked him, but she would not celebrate her victory until after she’d left the stables and was sure Billy was out of earshot. Then she let out a cheer that sent a flock of birds, perched on the fence, soaring into the sky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Caroline
NEW YORK, 1881
Caroline stood still while her maid tended to the buttons on yet another black gown. Her mother had passed away six weeks before, in her sleep, on her own terms, when she was good and ready. She was eighty-nine years old.
At first Caroline felt none of the things she thought she should or would. No excruciating sorrow or paralyzing grief. She had managed to push all emotion aside and had thrown herself into planning the wake, the funeral, settling her mother’s estate, readying her own house for the two-year mourning period. She’d been icy cold about it, all business. Though she was the youngest, Caroline took charge of everything, believing that her two sisters had been through far too many family burials.
All of her mother’s servants had attended the funeral. They had lined up, reverent, heads bent, some crying over the loss of the woman they’d cared for nearly all their lives. Smithy had to have been close to ninety himself. And Abigail and Sissy weren’t much younger. The others were newer hires that Caroline didn’t know, even by name. But as for Smithy, Abigail and Sissy—what would happen to them? Did they have family that would take them in? Surely they were too old to stay in service. No one would hire them. These were the things Caroline had decided to worry about as they laid her mother to rest.
She hadn’t shed a single tear until one week after the funeral when Caroline had found herself with nothing to do, nothing to organize or fix. It was three o’clock in the morning. Though her eyes burned, her mind wouldn’t quiet. No matter how much she willed it, sleep would not come. She surrendered, got up and inched her way downstairs. As she approached the sitting room, she saw a wedge of light beneath the door. When she stepped inside, Hade sprang from his seat and dropped a deck of cards, the jack of hearts landing faceup on the carpet.
“Madam, forgive me.” He was in his bathrobe and slippers, as was she. And without her wig. All she could think was that he was staring at her thinning hair. But perhaps he was too embarrassed for himself to worry about her appearance.
She was about to turn away, when he said, “I was just playing a little solitaire and having some warm milk. It helps settle the mind.” He had already gathered up the fallen cards. “May I prepare a cup for you?”
She thought for a moment. “Actually, yes,” she said, wondering what had been keeping him awake at this hour. Naturally he must have had worries of his own—maybe something with his daughters, a friend in need? She had no idea what thoughts drifted through his mind when he wasn’t focused on her. Realizing she knew more about her mother’s servants than her own got her thinking about Smithy, Abigail and Sissy. Smithy could sew buttons faster and better than any tailor she knew. Once he fixed a button it was there for life. Abigail made the best muffins, fluffy and moist. Sissy was a stickler for cleanliness.
“Hade,” she said on a whim, thinking aloud, “I’d like to bring on some of my mother’s servants.”
He thought for a moment. “But we’re completely staffed at the moment, madam.”
“I realize that. But surely we can make room for three more.”
“If you wish.”
She knew it was impractical, but it was what her mother would have wanted. “I do wish to do that. And as soon as possible.”
“Very well.”
After he left to prepare the milk, Caroline reached for the deck of cards and shuffled them, trying to remember the last time she’d played solitaire, or any card game, for that matter.
When Hade returned with a tray of biscuits and a pot of steamed milk, he was back in his uniform, hair combed. For all she knew he might have even shaved.
“Will there be anything else?” he asked as he poured her a cup and set it down before her.
“Do you play cooncan?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Cooncan? Do you know how to play?”
He cleared his throat. “Uh, yes. As a matter of fact . . .”
She held out the deck to him. “Neither one of us can sleep. We might as well play a hand or two.”
“Very well, madam.” He stiffly sat down and after sorting out the unneeded eight, nine and ten cards, he shuffled the deck and dealt the first hand.
They sat in silence but Caroline didn’t mind whatever awkwardness prevailed. She was grateful to be absorbed in organizing her hand, melding her cards into sets and sequences. She drew a seven of hearts, which she’d melded with her seven of spades and seven of clubs, allowing her to place down the first set.