D.L. Stewart."
Lilli's mouth dropped open. "Mr. I-Can-Buy-the-World-and-Money-Is-My-Life Stewart?"
Florie nodded.
She groaned and stared hopelessly at the altar. "You were right. This is the worst punishment yet."
"This D.L. Stewart person can't be that bad. I'm sure you were exaggerating."
Lilli snorted.
"Besides, look at the reward. It's the only chance you'll ever have. I pleaded and begged for you. Please, Lilli, just try. I know you can do it. I believe!" Florie said fiercely.
Lilli looked up to Heaven, then took a deep breath and raised her chin a notch. "Yes. I'll try. But this is truly difficult. I was joking when I said converting the Devil would be easier, but Florie," she said, sighing, "that's exactly what Saint Peter has asked me to do."
It took him a day and a half to find her.
He sat in his carriage, parked at the curb, and he watched her standing in front of the church doors. From her manner, she looked as if her burden had only increased, tenfold. Her shoulders weren't squared with determination, and in one gloved hand, her red hat dangled as if it were forgotten. She had the bewildered look of a bird that had fallen from its nest.
Then she saw him as he got out of the carriage. Her face drained of color for the briefest of moments.
He walked up the steps toward her.
She swung her hat on her head and spent a long amount of time tying the ribbons, looking everywhere but at him.
"Lillian." He tipped his hat.
"Mr. Stewart." She raised her chin and took a step.
One could have heard the rip a block away.
She froze, and her eyes grew wide as silver dollars. She looked over her shoulder.
He looked past her.
Her gown was caught in the church doors.
"Allow me." He opened the door and released her gown.
"Thank you." Her nose purposely and humorously high, she descended the steps, her ripped hem dragging in a ragged train behind her.
He bit back the sudden and foreign urge to smile, then hurried down after her until they were even. He kept his pace identical with hers.
She said nothing.
"Nice weather," he commented.
"If you like snow."
"I do."
"So do I."
He moved ahead of her and stopped at his carriage, then opened the door.
She gave him a puzzled look.
"Get in."
"No, thank you."
"I wasn't asking."
"I could tell."
He took a deep breath, then gritted, "May I offer you a lift?"
"No. I wouldn't want to keep you. Time is money."
He said nothing but got inside and sat down, feeling suddenly disarmed. He pinned her with a stare meant to make her feel as uncomfortable as he did. She looked at him and to his surprise, something interesting passed between them: a challenge.
After a moment, she turned and sauntered away.
He tapped on the driver's box. "Follow alongside her, Benny."
The carriage moved right next to her, maintaining a slow pace that matched her stride perfectly.
She never made eye contact.
He slipped open the window and settled back against the carriage seat. "I've been looking for you."
"Why?" she asked, looking straight ahead. "No one for sale today?"
He wouldn't rise to that bait. "It's early yet."
"I would think that looking for me isn't very profitable, Mr. Stewart."
"I have some spare time." He checked his gold watch. "It's ten a.m. The banks have been open for an hour. I've made nearly two thousand dollars in interest already today."
She tugged on her glove but never missed a step. "How nice for you."
"Do you want to know why I was looking for you?"
"Not really."
He watched her silently, tapping a finger against his thinned lips.
After a few more silent steps she stopped, plopped her hands on her hips in frustration, and looked right at him. "I don't understand you!"
"Don't try."
She pulled her gaze away and stared down at her tightly clasped hands. "I think I might have to try."
Well, that was encouraging....
He rested an arm on the window opening. "I have a proposition for you." He leaned a little closer. "Get in and we'll talk."
She looked up at the sky, then sighed. "I don't think I can do this."
"How do you know? You haven't heard my offer."
She shook her head. "I can't explain."
He paused to let the tension build. It was a tactic he used often. Time ticked by with only silence.
She just stood there. An admirable opponent.
"I'll give you a hundred dollars to get in this carriage right now."
Her eyes narrowed suddenly and sharply. She squared her shoulders and began to walk away again.
"Well?" he called out.
"I don't think so."
He watched her pass an alley crowded with immigrants.