A-Splendid-Ruin(48)

I struggled to hide my shock.

Oelrichs went on with a quiet lightness that belied his words, “You don’t belong here, Miss Kimble. You’re completely in over your head. Learn to swim, or drown. Those are your only choices when it comes to the Sullivans. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll wish you good evening.”

He left me astonished and bewildered. Given everything Goldie had said about Stephen Oelrichs, I would have discounted his comments without thought. But now, coming so soon after Dante LaRosa’s, it was not so easy to do.

I went back to the ballroom to find my cousin. When she saw me, she gave me her great golden smile and said, “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere!” and I let her sparkle carry me into the party, and wrapped myself once again in the jocular good natures of Linette and Thomas and Jerome. I tried not to think of what Dante had said about social tiers that we did not belong to, or about secrets and corruption, or about Abe Ruef sitting at a table in the Palace Bar with my uncle and his mistress with her Important Connections. I tried not to think of Stephen Oelrichs. “You don’t belong here . . . Learn to swim, or drown.”





The next Sunday, Uncle Jonny received a call just before we left for church. He came out to the carriage, where Goldie and I waited, with a large envelope and an apologetic smile.

“There’s no help for it, I’m afraid. These papers need to be at Farge’s before the afternoon.”

I said, “But it’s Sunday! Surely Mr. Farge will be at church as well.”

“He’s as caught up in deadlines as the rest of us.”

Goldie warned, “We’re going to be late.”

“Surely Petey can deliver them,” I said.

“Petey is not my liaison to Farge. You are.” My uncle put the envelope into my hand as he helped me from the carriage. “Farge is at his office now. He’s expecting you. You’re to wait until he’s gone over them, in case he has questions. I don’t know how long that will take, but I’m afraid you’ll have to miss the service today.”

“Won’t there be talk if I’m not at church?” Uneasily I remembered LaRosa’s comments about my being fast—among other things—even as I had to admit that a day spent learning at Ellis Farge’s side sounded far more alluring than a sermon.

“We’ll smooth all the ruffled feathers,” Goldie assured me. “You’re festering from some dire illness and simply cannot show your face to the world.”

My uncle climbed into the carriage. “Petey will have the buggy ready in a few moments.”

The carriage door closed; they drove away. I did not have to wait long until the stable boy appeared with the buggy, and we were off.

I glanced at the envelope in my lap, wondering what could be inside that was so important it must be delivered on Sunday, but I didn’t really care; I was just glad to be the courier. When we reached the Montgomery Block, it was as busy as the other times I’d been there—apparently I wasn’t the only person skipping church.

I was sorry to see that Coppa’s was closed, however, and pleasantly nervous to note that Ellis was the only one at his office. The place felt empty.

“Ellis?” I called softly.

“May, is that you?” His called answer was followed quickly by Ellis himself. He smiled brilliantly when I gave him the envelope. He slid it open, leafing through the papers inside. “Thank God. I thought I’d mislaid these.”

“My uncle was determined that you should get them today. I’m to wait until you go over them. I’m missing church.”

“I hope it won’t imperil your immortal soul,” Ellis said.

“I expect God makes allowances for emergencies. Are they very important, then?” I craned to get a look.

Ellis put the envelope on his desk. “Crucial to the project. Please, sit down.”

He sat at his desk, and I took the chair across. He scrutinized the papers while I looked about his office and tried to contain my fascination with the framed plans, the photographs, the wooden case with the drawing tools nestled inside, F. Hommel-Esser stamped in gold on the blue velvet.

Impatiently I waited for Ellis to put the papers aside, and then could not wait another moment to say, “Have you considered the design?”

“I’ve been unable to without these. Now all I need is a bit of inspiration.”

“Perhaps I can help. Is it to be an office building? My uncle spoke of leases, but that could be anything. I’d just like to know what it should feel like.”

“What it should feel like?”

“Isn’t that how you begin to plan?” I asked. “Isn’t the way the building should feel the first thing to come to you?”

“The use comes first.”

“Of course, but”—I struggled to explain—“but like this place. It’s meant for artists, you can tell.”

He gave me a puzzled look.

“The high ceilings. The windows everywhere. So much light. Of course artists would flock to it.”

Ellis chuckled. “I rather think it was the cheap rents.”

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Yes, of course.”

“But yes, I suppose the light has something to do with it. They called it Halleck’s Folly when it was first built. No one thought all the rooms would ever be filled. And like attracts like. You know what they call it now? The Monkey Block.”