The Only Gold (15 page)

“Delmonico’s.”

Jonah wondered just whom Reid hoped to impress. “You are not some distant relative of the Astors, by chance?”

“Regrettably, no. I just happen to like Delmonico’s. Seven o’clock sharp. Don’t be late or I’ll sit you between Helen and Simon.”

“In that case, I will be there at six thirty.”

Reid laughed. “I thought you might.”

True
to his word, Reid made himself a steady presence in Jonah’s office, as often to solicit advice as broach new ideas. Jonah knew it was a tactic to win him over, but he would not be easily beguiled into giving Reid his way. If Reid’s latest innovations had merit, they would not be harmed by a period of consideration nor the additional time it took to gain the board’s approval.

Reid showed no impatience, to Jonah’s surprise. He would merely nod at the suggestion that his ideas simmer a while, then change the subject—or return to his own office, seeming preoccupied with other matters. The week passed in relative peace, and Saturday evening found Jonah not dining alone on leftover soup, but in a cab on his way to supper—something he hadn’t done in years. Apart from the brief, uncomfortable appearance he’d put in at the bank ball three years before, and two dinners he’d unwillingly shared with Reid, he’d never had so much as a cup of coffee with anyone who worked at the bank.

Uneasy at the prospect now, Jonah descended from the cab and lingered on the busy sidewalk, letting subsequent arrivals precede him. He reached under his partially buttoned coat and with restless fingers smoothed his waistcoat. He would comport himself as he did at the bank, so that, come Monday morning, the staff would see him no differently than they had any day before.

He took a bracing breath of the evening air and went inside—only to stop short in the anteroom, captured by the expansive view of white linen, gilt walls, and glittering cut glass. The bank paid well, but Reid surely had considerable savings put by, to treat everyone to such a night. Barely divested of his coat, hat, and scarf, Jonah heard someone call his name and turned to find Helen nearby, giving her velvet wrap to another attendant.

Relieved to find a friendly face, he offered her his arm, and they proceeded into the dining room. Near the tall, damask-draped windows, Reid reigned over a table occupied at the moment by Margaret, Matthew, and four young clerks who looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Disconcerted by the starched and polished finery of people he’d only seen in their workaday garb, Jonah tried not to stare. He managed in every case but Reid’s. The man knew how to dress, and moreover, appeared as entirely at ease at Delmonico’s as he had at the wretched eating house weeks before. When Reid rose to greet them, a glitter of triumph in his eyes that left the cut glass dull in comparison, Jonah knew for whom it was meant. He merely smiled politely. “You’ve no cards. Where would you like us to sit?”

Though there was a chair vacant beside his, Reid guided Helen to the seat next to Matthew’s. Jonah realized the vacant spot had been left to him, and though he would have preferred to sit beside Margaret, he took it. Conscious that everyone seemed to be surveying him with equal curiosity, he bent his head over the bill of fare. Reid’s voice was low under the chatter, directed at him alone. “I’m glad you decided to join us.”

Jonah smiled faintly. “Did I have a choice?”

“You’re saying I coerced you?” Reid seemed so pleased, Jonah regretted bringing it up. Still, he would not shy from the truth.

“You did.”

“But with the best intentions.”

“Really? I thought it was merely the fun you found, poking pins in me.”

“I can’t deny that’s part of it,” Reid said with shameless cheer. “But only a very small part. Champagne?”

Before Jonah could decline, Reid filled his glass. More than one bottle was passed around as the rest of the clerks, tellers, bookkeepers, and even old Mr. Hook arrived to take the remaining chairs. The enthusiastic chatter did not lessen with the appearance of the first course, and fueled by champagne and wine, became only more boisterous as the evening wore on.

Expecting to be left to partake in peace, Jonah found himself drawn into conversation with Reid as the man kept up a lively discourse with everyone in earshot. He flirted with Helen, to her delight, and Margaret, to her amusement. He rambled on about everything from the upcoming election to the baseball season, evidently as imminent. And on all of it, he solicited Jonah’s opinion with what seemed the most genuine interest.

Jonah did not know what to make of it. It surprised him that Reid cared to discuss anything other than bank matters with him. They might have achieved something of a truce, but they would never be friends.

“Do you mind if I ask, did you throw such generous parties at your bank in Washington?”

“I suppose I did.” Reid’s cheeks were flushed, less from embarrassment than too much wine, Jonah guessed. “What better way for me to get to know everyone?”

“But weren’t you at that bank a matter of months?”

“Six.” Suddenly he grinned. “Maybe Grandborough will be where I’ll stay.”

Jonah eyed him dubiously. Reid was trying to provoke a reaction. “Why Grandborough, in particular?”

“Solid bank, first-class staff, progressive board, and all here in New York. I was born and raised here. I miss it. Besides,” he added with a roguish curl of his lip, “I like a challenge.”

Jonah wasn’t sure he appreciated being referred to as a challenge. “You have my cooperation. And if you didn’t, you could simply demand it, or have me discharged.”

Reid gazed at him, smile fading. “That’s not quite what I meant. But I’m glad enough for a little cooperation. And in the spirit of cooperation….” He stood, raising his glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, to Grandborough
National
Bank and its loyal, industrious staff. A force to be reckoned with.”

Scattered applause and several cheers rose. The toast was drunk and followed by more, until the late hour was noted and a sleepy chorus of goodnights began. Jonah, intending to be among the first to go, reluctantly lingered, struck by a subtle change in Reid’s mood. He seemed wistful as he exchanged a word and a handshake with his guests. When they’d gone, he dropped back into his chair. “It turned out all right, don’t you think?”

Jonah took in the remains of the feast and the waiters at work, clearing it away. “It went over very well. But it is late—”

“Would you like another cup of coffee?”

“I’d like a warm bed and a good night’s sleep. You surely must too.”

Reid merely nodded, gaze gone distant. Jonah hesitated another moment, then rose. “I’ll say goodnight, then. And thank you—”

Reid turned to him and smiled, rising. “We can share a cab. If you don’t mind.”

“You know where I live?”

“I assume you’re heading uptown. I’m not far. A rooming house off Broadway.”

“Good heavens. How do you sleep?”

“I don’t mind the noise. Really, I prefer it to too much quiet.”

The side street was less raucous than expected, but still lively with constant traffic and crowded sidewalks—probably well into the morning, Jonah mused. Reid’s place of residence proved to be a smoke-stained brick box with grimy windows and a crumbling stoop. Peering at it from the interior of the cab, Jonah had no trouble comprehending how Reid could afford extravagant suppers. A room in such an establishment was most substandard for a banker of his means. Jonah wondered why he didn’t seek out better lodgings.

Reid, half-asleep, woke at Jonah’s hand on his shoulder. He sat up and yawned. “Home?”

“If you can call it that.”

Reid smiled sleepily. “It’s a palace on the inside.”

“Yes. On the European plan, I’d guess.” Jonah watched him climb unsteadily from the cab. “Do you need some assistance?”

Reid blinked at him. “With what?”

Jonah sighed. Though there was probably no one about at such an hour who might recognize either of them, it would not do for Grandborough’s cashier to be seen staggering up his front steps, or worse, passing out thereupon. He emerged from the cab and paid the cabbie, asking him to wait. Slipping an unobtrusive arm around Reid, he led the way up into a corridor brightened unbecomingly by a single, low gas jet. “Do tell me you’re not on the fourth floor.”

“Third,” Reid said with a laugh.

From out in the street came a shout and the crash of breaking glass. Jonah grimaced. “Have you considered more private boarding, with a family?”

“That’s what you do?”

“Yes.”

“Anything available in your place?”

“Not for a few months.” Jonah did not elaborate, not wanting to encourage Reid’s interest in his boarding house. Having him take up residence there would prove uncomfortable for them both. “I can direct you to one or two others, if you like.”

They reached the third floor, and Reid managed the key without too much difficulty, allowing Jonah into a room furnished, as expected, with the barest necessities of bed, basin, wardrobe, and rug. The window looked into the street, where some sort of brawl continued to rage in the midst of traffic. Jonah noted the saloon across the road. “Do they carry on all night?”

Reid tossed his hat to the washstand and sat on the bed. “Saturday’s the worst of it.”

“Quite the lullaby. Edith Muncy, my landlady, might know of a house you’ll find more restful. Certainly better furnished.”

“I don’t think I’d like to be closed in by a brigade of plant stands and knickknacks.” Reid moved over to give Jonah room to sit. With no other option, Jonah lit gingerly on the frayed brown quilt. Reid’s smile was soft. “Comfortable enough, don’t you think?”

“If it suits you, I suppose that’s what matters.” An uneasy self-consciousness crept over Jonah. He did not want to linger further in the lonely, alien room of a man he was not comfortable with under the best circumstances.

“Would you like a drink?” Reid asked. “I’ve got a respectable bottle of whisky—”

“I think I’ve kept the cab waiting long enough.” About to rise, Jonah hesitated as Reid held out a hand.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

Reid smiled. “Don’t think I don’t know why you saw me up.” His hand wrapped warmly around Jonah’s. “I don’t believe I’m drunk enough to warrant it, but I appreciate the thought.” In the weak light, his dark hazel eyes were full of unspoken curiosity and something else; something that spurred Jonah to withdraw his hand and abruptly stand.

“It was only—”

“In the bank’s best interest.” Reid laughed. “Goodnight, Mr. Woolner.” That wistful note again, reflected in the trace of a smile Jonah caught as he stopped at the door and glanced back at the shadowed profile. He wondered how a man who made friends so easily could seem so alone. He was sometimes lonely, himself, but he was solitary by nature. It was surely a situation more difficult to bear for someone as gregarious as Reid.