Patrick nodded. It was a nice painting of the house and the cliffside, but nothing special.
“I painted that,” Joshua said in satisfaction. “I’d like to open an art gallery someday. Uncle Oscar said he would stake me in the business, but lately he’s been less free with the wallet. Poppy spends money by the fistful, and he won’t rein her in. Personally, I think it’s embarrassing for a man to be so besotted over a woman half his age, but he works hard to keep dumping money all over her.”
A group of younger cousins came meandering toward them, asking Joshua to join in a game of poker. “Edwin brought the poker chips, and we need a fourth player.”
“Right,” Joshua readily agreed.
They didn’t ask Patrick to join, which was fine. He had no interest in playing games with grown men dressed entirely in white. Only men who never sweat, got dirty, or did real work wasted money on white clothes.
He headed back toward the lounge chairs, where most of the older relatives were gathered with Poppy and Liam in the center. The annoying little girl was there too, and it looked like an argument was underway. Liam’s expression was stormy as Poppy spoke with great passion, jabbing an index finger directly in Liam’s face. Patrick quickened his steps to join them, and they all went silent as he approached.
Bertie turned to him. “Say, Poppy’s heard some unflattering things about you. What’s this about a warrant for your arrest over robbing a church?”
Patrick rocked back in disbelief. “I didn’t rob anyone,” he said tightly. “That was a trumped-up charge, and we told Frederick about it the day we arrived.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling them,” Liam said. “If Frederick believed it, we’d have been kicked out the moment we set foot on this island.”
Poppy lifted her chin to look at Patrick with disdain. “Liam can’t help his background and we have to tolerate him, but we don’t have to put up with you. I think you’ve overstayed your welcome.”
“If he goes, I go,” Liam said.
“What a wonderful idea,” Poppy replied.
Aunt Martha raised her palsied hand in an appeal for peace. “I think we should all calm down. I trust Frederick’s judgment, and, Poppy, you shouldn’t be spreading unfounded rumors.”
“I think stealing from a church is disgusting,” Penelope-Arabella said. “You should know better than to steal from a priest, Patrick.”
“And you should know better than to address a grown-up by his first name,” he snapped, causing the girl to burst into tears and run to her mother on the beach, wailing about the man who was mean to her.
Poppy shot him a look that was the perfect blend of schoolmarm and malice. “We have an example to set for the children, and Gwen shouldn’t have brought such trash to a family gathering.”
Liam wasn’t taking it anymore. “Poppy, beneath all those snooty airs, I’m pretty sure you’re the biggest wad of trash on this island. I grew up on the streets and can spot grifters a mile away.”
The old aunts looked appalled, but Poppy’s eyes gleamed with aggression as she flung insults back at Liam. Mudslinging wasn’t getting them anywhere, so Patrick stepped forward to intervene.
“Where did you hear about this supposed theft?” he asked.
Poppy’s tirade came to a halt. She gave him a withering glare as she reached into a canvas tote to produce a newspaper folded open to an article covering the Pittsburgh police blotter. A two-paragraph story mentioned the church burglary and named Patrick O’Neill and Liam Malone as suspects currently on the run.
“I intend to speak with my husband about this,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to tolerate a thief in our midst.”
Poppy clasped a hand over her expanding belly as though feeling weak and let a pair of the elderly aunts support her as they guided her up to the house, but Patrick thought Poppy Blackstone might be the strongest and most dangerous person on this island.
Telling Gwen about the confrontation on the lawn was going to be hard. Patrick and Liam took her to the meadow behind the boathouse to discuss it in private. With her crown of flowers and flowing white gown, she looked like the personification of natural innocence. Her face transformed from radiant happiness to disillusionment and then anger as Liam recounted the delight Poppy took in spreading slander about them.
It made Patrick resent the Blackstones even more. They were contemptible. Thank heavens Gwen’s father had the wisdom to raise her at the college, where she wasn’t tainted by the decadence of her family.
She raised pain-filled eyes to his. “They aren’t usually like this,” she said in an aching voice, then turned to touch Liam on his arm. “Please don’t hate them. It will only take a little time.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t have time,” Liam said. “I wanted to scrounge up some people here to side with me against the U.S. Steel merger, but now everyone thinks Patrick and I are shysters.”
“Someone has been watching us,” Patrick said. “They’ve managed to poison the water here, but we can still go after Mrs. Carnegie and her seven percent of the vote. She’s the only way we can get to fifty-one percent to save the college’s funding.”
Liam unleashed a streak of foul language. “Who cares about Mrs. Carnegie? She’ll never vote against the steel merger.”
Patrick moved in close. “But she might vote for the college, and that’s just as important.”
“Bull hockey,” Liam growled.
“Watch your language around your sister.”
Gwen stepped between them. “Liam, clean it up. Patrick, calm down. If we leave immediately, we can be in Manhattan before nightfall. We’ll stay at Frederick’s house, since it’s empty right now and directly across the street from the Carnegies. I’ll request a meeting with Mrs. Carnegie as soon as possible.”
And if they could sway Mrs. Carnegie to their side, they could save the college.
33
Patrick loathed everything about the Fifth Avenue mansion owned by Frederick Blackstone. The main parlor was an opulent showpiece of cold marble so white it hurt his eyes. The chandeliers dripped with crystal, and the spindly chairs looked too delicate to sit on.
“I can see why your grandfather prefers living out at the island,” he said as Gwen showed them into the parlor. He set down his traveling bag. He’d always been proud of this leather bag. It was the first quality item he bought once he started practicing law, but in this grand setting, he noticed its cheap clasp and faded leather. Gwen probably saw it too.
“I’ll send for tea,” Gwen said. “The servants didn’t know we were coming, so don’t expect anything fancy, but my grandfather always keeps an impressive collection of imported cheeses on hand. Would that be all right?”
“A cheese sandwich sounds good,” Patrick said. “Liam?”
Liam wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy running a finger along the wall. “Is this cloth or wallpaper?”
“Silk wallpaper,” Gwen replied. “Please don’t touch. It’s antique and quite fragile. Make yourselves at home while I arrange for something to eat and place a telephone call to request a meeting with Mrs. Carnegie. Hopefully she’ll be able to see us tomorrow.”