The Address(78)

He was right. If it were true, and everyone seemed to be convinced of it, then Daisy had taken advantage of Sara’s trust and vulnerability.

She stood and looked about the room. “You’ve done well for yourself.”

“I thought it was time for me to stand on my own two feet. More importantly, Hardenbergh finally came through.”

“When did you set up shop?”

“A few months ago. I’m afraid clients aren’t exactly breaking down my door.” He shook his head. “But I refuse to do more of the same. I want to create buildings for the coming century, not this one. Here, look at my ideas.”

He grabbed a sketchbook from his desk and handed it to her. She leafed through the pages, unsettled by the feel of him standing so close beside her.

“This one is quite lovely.”

“A library.” He drew his finger along the roofline. “Any ornamentation is also structural. Like these pillars.” Another turn of the page. “Here is an office building for the city. Made out of concrete. The smooth surface draws the eye upward, into the sky.”

“It is breathtaking.”

“The city would be transformed. It’s a completely different way of looking at the world.” He looked down at her. “I knew you’d understand. I imagine block after block of these, each with their own personality but not fighting each other the way the big mansions do now along Fifth Avenue.”

He sat beside her, no longer looking down at the pages. “If you won’t go back to the Dakota to work, would you work for me? As my office manager? Or managerette? Whatever you want to call it. Granted, there’s not a lot to do right now, but together we’ll make it all work out. I need you beside me, you see.”

A lump lodged in her chest. “I couldn’t do that. It would attract too much attention.”

“I don’t care about that. In fact, I could use the attention.”

“It wouldn’t be right. What about Mrs. Camden?”

“She felt terrible when the truth came out. She has a larger perspective on what is important. To her, it’s the children. To me, it’s my work. You see, we have never been very happy together. We’ve reached an understanding, you might say.”

“She doesn’t know about me, about us?”

“No. Of course not.”

Sara considered her choices. She could take over Mrs. Haines’s job at the Dakota, but that would be a step backward. Working with Theo on his new projects would be fulfilling. And dangerous.

“We couldn’t ever do what we did that one night.” Her boldness made her turn red, and the heat crawled up the back of her neck.

He looked away. “Of course not. I understand that. But we’d work together well, don’t you think?”

She didn’t respond.

“What about this? What if I got you an apartment at the Dakota? There’s one on the sixth floor that’s vacant, as the tenants both passed away last month.”

“The Rembrandts?” Sara remembered them. A much older couple, devoted to each other, who had taken the adventurous step to move uptown. She was sorry to hear they had died.

“Yes. Once the press gets used to the idea that you are free and taken care of, living in the Dakota and working for me, we’d be able to go on with our lives. It’s an opportunity seized from a tragedy.”

“I can’t imagine living in the Dakota again. It would feel so strange.”

“But you must. They’ll let you live there for a year rent-free. I will insist.”

“You would?”

“Of course. It is the right thing to do. Please say yes, Sara.”

She’d come to America to do better, to improve her lot, and she had been betrayed and abused. But instead of giving in, she’d figured out how to survive under the most atrocious circumstances. Now she would get to work alongside the man she adored, live in a beautiful building befitting an earl’s daughter, and no longer be in service.

An opportunity seized from a tragedy.

His words echoed in her ears.





CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR



New York City, September 1985


Theodore Camden’s murder, not surprisingly, had made big news back in 1885. The most sensational articles Bailey found were in the New York World. One stated that Sara Smythe had been incarcerated earlier that year at Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum and released due to the intervention of a female journalist, Nellie Bly. After Sara got out, she’d been hired as an assistant to Theodore Camden before savagely turning on him and stabbing him in the library of his Dakota apartment.

Bailey spent hours at the public library, reading through Nellie Bly’s accounts of her time at the asylum, which was located right across the East River on what was now known as Roosevelt Island. The graphic descriptions turned her stomach. As did the fact that alcoholics were often locked away in the workhouse on the island. How lucky she’d been to be born a hundred years later.

Sara Smythe, who might very well be her great-grandmother, had been through a terrible ordeal. After all that, Christopher had never received the letter from her confirming that she was indeed his mother. Minnie had hidden it away from him. The injustice of it all left a sour taste in Bailey’s mouth.

But Renzo’s warning stayed with Bailey. Maybe the letter was from Minnie. After all, it was found in her purse. The whole thing made Bailey’s head buzz with confusion. Still, no matter who his mother was, Christopher’s father was Theodore Camden. The letter was proof, proof that Melinda wouldn’t be able to deny.