Love on a Dime
LOVE
ON A
DIME
LOVE
ON A
DIME
CARA LYNN JAMES
© 2010 by Carolyn James Slaughter
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
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Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, King James Version.
Publisher’s note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
James, Cara Lynn, 1949–
Love on a dime / Cara Lynn James.
p. cm. — (Ladies of Summerhill ; 1)
ISBN 978-1-59554-679-1 (pbk.)
1. Women authors—Fiction. 2. Rhode Island—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3610.A4284L68 2010
813'.6—dc22
2010006925
Printed in the United States of America
10 11 12 13 14 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
Love on a Dime
is dedicated with all my love
to my husband, Jim. Thank you for your help, support,
encouragement, and patience. You're my hero!
CONTENTS
NEW YORK CITY , MAY 1893
J
ack slowed his pace, his courage once more waning at the sight of the Westbrook home across the way. Anxiety twisted his stomach in a knot. But in the dusky light, Lilly’s glow of confidence reignited his own flame. She understood her parents far better than he did. Since she believed her father would agree to the marriage, why should he hesitate?
Arm-in-arm they strolled across the road. Among the row of fine brick townhouses facing them, the Westbrook house stood three stories tall like all the rest, with long, paned windows overlooking Washington Park.
Mr. Ames, the ancient butler, opened the front door. Jack and Lilly entered the dimly lit foyer.
“Where is my father this evening?” Lilly asked the butler.
“In the back parlor, miss.”
“Shall I go with you, Jack?”
“No,” he whispered, squeezing her hand, “I’d rather do this on my own. Say a prayer all will go well.”
Jack strode toward the parlor, determined to plead his case. Every nerve ending in his body fired with life—and more than a few with apprehension. He’d calm himself and then ask Mr. Westbrook for Lilly’s hand in a respectful tone, solicitous, but not fawning. He’d restrain his usual brash attitude and hope Mr. Westbrook would consent to a marriage most would deem unsuitable. If he weighed the odds of success, he wouldn’t even try.
Jack inhaled a steadying breath and increased his pace down the narrow hallway leading to the back of the house. Gas sconces threw a pale light along the Persian runner that muffled his footsteps to a soft shuffle. The house lay silent except for the noise of a sledge hammer beating against his chest.
Lord, I need a large dose of Your strength. Don’t allow me to cower. I’ve never been a quitter and I don’t want to start now
.
He hadn’t asked God for much in the past, but this was too important to rely on his own untested powers.
Jack paused before he came to the door of the back parlor, straightened his bow tie, and squared his shoulders. Voices stopped him before he moved forward. He recognized Mrs. Westbrook’s high, girlish tone. He ’d wait for a lull in the conversation, excuse his entry, and then ask to speak to Mr. Westbrook. Jack waited for several minutes before he heard his name.
“Thomas, I noticed Jackson Grail seems especially fond of Lilly. You don’t suppose he wants to marry her, do you?”
Jack winced at the worry in her voice. With his back to the wall he stepped closer to the parlor.
Mr. Westbrook chuckled. “No, my dear, he ’s George ’s friend, not Lilly’s. She ’s hardly more than a child.”
“For goodness’ sake. Lilly’s nineteen, certainly old enough to catch the eye of a young man.”
“All right, she ’s not my little girl anymore. But ready for marriage? No, Nessie, I don’t believe so. She has lots of time to choose a mate. There ’s no rush.”
“Hmm. I wouldn’t want her to delay too long. I’ve given considerable thought to her future.”
“I’m sure you have,” Mr. Westbrook murmured. Jack pictured his wry smile.
“Well, it’s my duty as her mother to guide her. Oliver Cross or Pelham Mills come to mind as possible suitors. Maybe Harlan Santerre. He ’s such a polite young man and his mother and I have been friends since childhood. Yes, he ’s most definitely my first choice.”
Jack let out the breath he ’d been holding, knowing he should break away, cease his eavesdropping—
“They’re all acceptable to me. But what about young Grail? You say he might be interested in her. He ’s got a good head on his shoulders.”
“But no money in his pocket. Need I say more?”
Jack frowned and tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry.
Mr. Westbrook sighed. “No, my dear. You’re absolutely right. He’s not suitable, though I do like him.”
“I do as well. And now he’s as finely educated as our own George. But he would have to strike it rich quickly in order to court Lilly,” Mrs. Westbrook added. “And that’s highly unlikely.”
“Nearly impossible, I’m afraid. So I hope you’re wrong and young Grail hasn’t set his heart on Lilly.” Her father sighed. “He ’s an intelligent boy. I’m sure he ’d know better. Especially when she has an ambitious mama anxious to make her the perfect match.”
Mrs. Westbrook laughed. “Thomas, do stop your teasing.”
Jack bumped his shoulder against the curlicues of a large gilt picture frame. Turning to give it a hard shove, he stopped himself. He wouldn’t let his temper get the better of him. Leaving the oil painting crooked, he stumbled down the patterned runner, away from the awful voices. When he came to the foyer he dropped into a rosewood chair and ignored the curious stare from Mr. Ames.
Jack buried his head in his hands and tried to gather his wits before he had to face Lilly. But the Westbrooks’ conversation resounded through his mind.
Poor. Unsuitable
. Why had he ever thought they’d accept him as a son-in-law? His love for Lilly had banished all reason. He ’d lived in a fog of hope these last several months, but now it cleared.
At the sound of light footsteps he looked up. “What did Papa say?” Lilly asked, grasping his hands.
He glanced at her without speaking and then saw his own anguish reflected in her eyes. He so wished his answer could bring her joy. She gently pulled him into the dimly lit sitting room. The sheers and heavy velvet curtains blocked all but the final rays of daylight from seeping through the windows overlooking the park. They faced each other in front of the unlit marble fireplace, his arms tight around her slim waist, her hands lightly touching his vest.
“Tell me,” she said in a rasping voice, barely audible.
“I never had the chance to ask, Lilly. When I got to the back parlor your parents were already discussing appropriate husbands. And my name wasn’t on the list.”
“That’s because they don’t know we love each other. Papa has never refused me anything. It might take some persuasion, but you can do it. We can approach him together.”
Lovely, pampered Lilly, who owned her father’s heart— except when it came to marriage partners. And marriage among the rich was certainly a business transaction. Their kind never married Jack’s kind. He’d gone to St. Luke ’s and Yale with the wealthy, but as a scholarship student, he didn’t belong to their set no matter how hard he tried to fit in. Maybe he would’ve accepted the impenetrable barrier if Lilly hadn’t swept into his life.
He gazed at her, drinking in her passion, memorizing her large, expressive eyes and flawless skin, her tall, slender form and thick brown hair framing her face.
Her eyes blazed like blue fire. “Come. We ’ll speak to Papa. Right now.”
Jack caught her wrists. “No, I can’t. I’m so sorry. He won’t change his mind. It’s pointless to even ask.”
Save me the humiliation
.
Her strangled cry pierced his heart. “You won’t even try? We love each other. Isn’t that worth fighting for?” Lilly’s voice rose with disbelief.
How could he explain he couldn’t abide her father’s rejection? He refused to hear again that he wasn’t good enough to court Lilly—once was enough. And he didn’t want her to elope with him without her parents’ approval. Jack groaned. As much as he adored Lilly, he wasn’t acceptable to the family. The daughter of a prosperous banker, Lilly couldn’t marry a man without a family fortune.
“We can marry without their consent. You’ll find a good job. I know you will. Don’t you see, Jack, we don’t need my parents’ permission.”
“But I want their respect.” And he ’d never gain their esteem by stealing their daughter away. He turned from her, running a hand through his hair. He ’d been fooling himself. How could he provide for Lilly, care for her in a manner in which she was accustomed? What could he promise her? A one room apartment in a dingy part of town while he made his way in the world, if he ever made it at all. How long before his beautiful, young and idealistic bride would realize she ’d sacrificed too much for an improbable dream? He ’d harm her if he stole her from her family.
He glanced at her and could see in her face the stubborn, naïve hope that lingered there. But he understood reality as she never would. He ’d let his love blossom before he should have.
Jack slowly moved away, steeling himself for the hurt yet to come. “Your parents are right. I’m in no position to marry. I should never have proposed, because I have nothing to offer.”
Lilly rushed to him and flung her arms around his neck, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What about our love? Why do you need more than that?”
“Lilly, we can’t exist on dreams. I have to earn a living. And I can’t support you on a clerk’s salary. You’d miss your old life.”
Her lovely, soft features hardened. “You must think my love is too weak to withstand hardship. It’s strong enough to survive anything. Why do you doubt me so?”
Jack shook his head. “I doubt myself, not you.” What if her confidence in his abilities weren’t warranted? What if he never rose above petty clerk, despite his fancy education? A girl from a society family, proud and successful for generations, could never be content washing laundry, cooking meals, and scrubbing floors on her hands and knees. She ’d grow bitter and resentful.
“I can adapt to less. I don’t care about a beautiful home. I only want you,” she said, her voice rising with frustration.
He wouldn’t argue about the effects of poverty and how it wore on a person. She wouldn’t understand. “If we came from the same background, I wouldn’t hesitate to speak to your father. But we didn’t.”
“But you will. I know it. I’ll wait until you feel ready to marry me. There’s no hurry. I’m patient. I can wait forever.” She pleaded with beautiful eyes glistening with tears.
“No, please don’t wait for me.” Jack’s voice cracked like ice.
He wanted her to wait, but he couldn’t ruin her chances of making a suitable, maybe even a happy marriage. The odds of succeeding in the business world without connections were small. If and when he ’d proven himself, he ’d return and hope she ’d still want him. And forgive him. But he couldn’t ask her to wait.
He blotted her tears with his handkerchief, but they kept streaming down her face. Her slender shoulders heaved with soft sobs. He kissed her again gently and then retreated to his bedroom before he was tempted to crush her in his arms and beg her to elope. He'd planned to stay for the week as George 's guest, but now he needed to leave quickly. now he needed to leave quickly.
Within ten minutes he was gone.
JACK'S HEART SLAMMED against his ribs. The past two weeks had been a misery. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat.
Go back, go back!
his mind and heart screamed.
You’ve made a terrible mistake!
His stomach roiling, Jack fought to keep a dignified pace and not run all the way to Washington Square. At last, he stood before the Westbrook home and tapped the front door knocker against the heavy wood.
He’d explain he couldn’t manage without her and his infernal pride had blocked his common sense and their tender love. Would she accept his apology? They’d work something out. He didn’t know how exactly, but they would. He knew their union was sanctioned, indeed designed, by God.
Mr. Ames pulled the heavy door open. “May I help you, sir?”
“Yes. Is Miss Westbrook at home?”
The hunched-over butler shook his head. “They’ve all gone abroad. They sailed yesterday.”
Jack’s cautious optimism collapsed in a heap of despair. “And when will they return?”
“Next spring.”
Next spring
. Jack groaned. “G-Good day,” he mumbled, turning from the door.
I’m too late. I’ve lost her
.