The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,12

interested in seeing me socially.”

Schmitt lifted his brows. “So you’ve already begun to pursue her. Excellent!”

“As I said, she’s not interested in seeing me. I don’t plan on embarrassing her or myself. I’m sorry, Mr. Schmitt. Without any information about how this would be a benefit to yourself or to the city, I’ll have to decline your request.”

“Decline my request?” Schmitt said softly. “Let me spell something out. I’m not asking you to do this. I’m telling you to do this.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I won’t. If you’d like me to tender my resignation, I will.” Alex’s stomach roiled with the thought of quitting the job he’d come to enjoy even more than expected, notwithstanding Schmitt’s unpleasantness.

Schmitt smiled again. “That’s unfortunate. I’m sure your parents, especially your mother, your sainted mother, will be, let’s say, disappointed in the extreme. There’s always talk, even about events that happened years ago.”

A shiver trailed down Alex’s neck. “My mother? Why do you mention my mother?”

“Perhaps you should ask your father, boy.”

It was a threat, of that he was certain. He was as angry as he’d ever been and knew he’d not be able to hold on to his temper much longer. “I’ll do that, sir. Right now. I’ll be leaving for the afternoon.”

Schmitt nodded magnanimously. “Of course, Pendergast. Take whatever time you need today. We’ll speak of this tomorrow.”

Alexander stood, his arm straining to stay at his side and not wrap his fingers around Schmitt’s flabby neck. He walked the seven blocks to his family’s home and handed his hat and coat to the butler.

“Is my father home, or is he at the mill, Webster?”

“He is home, sir. In his office. May I bring you some coffee or sandwiches?”

Alexander shook his head. “No, thank you. I’d prefer to be uninterrupted.”

“Of course, sir.”

Alexander walked the length of the long downstairs hallway, his heels tapping on the black-and-white checked tile floors, past the paintings and the sculptures and the velvet draperies edging twelve-foot tall windows. He was accustomed to the wealth but not oblivious to it. He knew his father, and his father before him, to be hard workers and shrewd businessmen and that his mother and grandmother raised sons and daughters to be well-educated, refined, civic-minded, and prepared to take over the reins of a vast enterprise. He knocked on the door of his father’s office and opened it soon after.

“Come,” his father said without looking up. “I’ll have coffee, Webster.”

“Father,” Alexander said.

“Alexander! What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here in the middle of a workday?”

“I need to speak to you, sir, privately, and asked Webster to not disturb us.”

“Of course,” he said as he rose from behind his desk. “Let us sit in front of the fire, where it’s comfortable.”

“Actually, I’d prefer to stand.”

His father slowly lowered himself back to his desk chair, a concerned look on his face. “What is it? What is the matter?”

He repeated the conversation with Schmitt, beginning with the three men who’d walked past his office. “And then he said that Mother would be disappointed in the extreme and said I should ask you about it.”

Alex’s heart sank as he watched his father’s face. There was no change in his expression, but his eyes gave him away. There was something to what Schmitt had intimated.

“What is it, Father? Are we in money trouble?”

“What? No. No. The family fortune continues to grow after buying out your Uncle Nathan. You and your sister will be well situated even if the mill were to stop producing today.”

“Then what?”

Andrew Pendergast drew in a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “I knew this day would come sometime but managed to put it out of my head for months at a time. I should have never sent you to work for Schmitt, the bastard. He is just the type of man to use this.”

“Father. Tell me.”

Just as Pendergast opened his mouth to speak, the door to the office opened and his mother came through, looking as if she were twenty-eight years old instead of forty-eight. She smiled brilliantly when she saw him.

“Alexander, darling! I’ve been thinking about you, and here you appear.” Alexander submitted his cheek for her kiss, and she laughed as she rubbed away the lip rouge she’d left on his skin. “You look like some young and beautiful woman could not resist kissing you! But no. Just your mother,” she said and smiled warmly at him. “What brings you to see us? Although you know you never need