Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(42)

Gideon Shaw took a long time to answer. He set down his half-empty cup and stared at her steadily. “McKenna saved my life, to start with.”

Aline did not move or speak as he continued.

“I was wandering along the waterfront, blind drunk. Even now I can’t remember how I got there, or why. On occasion I have some memory loss while drinking, and I can’t account for hours or even days.” His bleak smile chilled her to the marrow. “I stumbled and fell into the water, far enough along the docks that no one saw me, especially as the weather was inclement. But McKenna happened to be ferrying back from Staten Island, and he jumped into that damned freezing ocean—in the midst of a brewing storm, no less—and fished me out.”

“How fortunate for you.” Aline’s throat tightened at the thought of the risk that McKenna had taken for a complete stranger.

“Since McKenna had no means of identifying me,” Shaw continued, “and I was out cold, he took me to the tenement room he rented. A day and a half later I found myself in a rat hole of a room, being slapped awake by a giant, irate ferryman.” A reminiscent smile touched his lips. “As you can imagine, I was much the worse for wear. My head felt like it had been split open. After McKenna brought me some food and drink, I was lucid enough to tell him my name. As we talked, I became aware that despite his rough appearance, my rescuer was surprisingly well informed. He’d learned a great deal from all the passengers he’d ferried back and forth, much of it concerning Manhattan real estate. He even knew about a parcel of land that my family had bought on a long-term lease, and had never developed, and then he had the b—pardon me, the audacity…to propose a deal.”

Aline smiled at that. “What was the deal, Mr. Shaw?”

“He wanted to subdivide the land into a series of lots and sell them as short-term leases. And of course he wanted ten percent of whatever he could get for them.” Leaning back, Shaw rested his interlaced fingers on his midriff. “And I thought, Why not? No one in my family had bothered doing anything with the land—we third-generation Shaws are accurately known as a bunch of idle pleasure-seeking good-for-naughts. And here was this stranger, reeking of ambition and primal intensity, obviously willing to do anything to make a profit. So I gave him all the cash in my wallet—about fifty dollars—and told him to buy himself a new suit of clothes, cut his hair and shave his beard, and come to my offices the following day.”

“And McKenna did well for you,” Aline said rather than asked.

Shaw nodded. “Within six months he had leased every square inch of that land. Then, without asking permission, he used the profits to buy up acres of submerged shoreline property from the city, in the area below Canal Street. That made me rather nervous, especially when I began to hear the jokes circulating about the Shaw and McKenna ‘underwater lots’ for sale…” A gentle reminiscent laugh escaped his lips. “Naturally I questioned his sanity. But at that point, there was nothing I could do but stand aside as McKenna arranged for the submerged acreage to be filled in with rocks and soil. Then he built tenements and a string of warehouses, transforming it into valuable commercial property. Eventually McKenna turned an investment of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars into a development that yields approximately a million dollars annually.”

The numbers, so casually spoken, stunned Aline.

Seeing her wide eyes, Shaw laughed softly. “Not surprisingly, McKenna has become a sought-after guest in New York, not to mention one of the city’s most eligible bachelors.”

“I suppose his attentions are encouraged by many women,” Aline said, trying to keep her tone offhand.

“He has to beat them off,” Shaw replied with a sly grin. “I would not claim, however, that McKenna is known as a ladies’ man. There have been women—but to my knowledge, none that he has ever taken a serious interest in. Most of his energies have been directed toward his work.”

“What about you, Mr. Shaw?” she asked. “Are your affections engaged by someone back home?”

He shook his head at once. “I’m afraid that I share McKenna’s rather skeptical view of the benefits of marriage.”

“I think you will fall in love someday.”

“Doubtful. I’m afraid that particular emotion is unknown to me…” Suddenly his voice faded into silence. He set his cup down as he stared off into the distance with sudden alertness.

“Mr. Shaw?” As Aline followed his gaze, she realized what he had seen—Livia, wearing a pastel flower-printed walking dress as she headed to one of the forest trails leading away from the manner. A straw bonnet adorned with a sprig of fresh daisies swung from her fingers as she held it by the ribbons.

Gideon Shaw stood so quickly that his chair threatened to topple backward. “Pardon,” he said to Aline, tossing his napkin to the table. “That figment of my imagination has reappeared—and I’m going to catch her.”

“Of course,” Aline said, struggling not to laugh. “Good luck, Mr. Shaw.”

“Thanks.” He was gone in a flash, descending one side of the U-shaped stone staircase with the ease of a cat. Once he reached the terraced gardens, he cut across the lawn with long, ground-eating strides, just short of breaking into a run.

Standing to better her view of his progress, Aline couldn’t suppress a mocking grin. “Why, Mr. Shaw…I thought there was nothing in life you wanted badly enough to chase after it.”