and took off, merging into traffic.
"We'll have our attorney contact the officer. We should offer her a settlement, Ed. I think we have enough trouble. I thought all those pallets were secured."
Ed glanced up at the building, a dark skeleton of steel in the waning light, his eyes on the floor where the pallet has fallen. "So did I."
Chapter 5
After work, Idalie walked the last blocks from the trolley toward home, in her mind designing the miniature clothing she would make in the coming weeks. Over the last few months, the fashion design department had made a large number of ballgowns for holiday parties, many of them accented with jet beading, one of the few trims the employees were not allowed to take when a design was finished. She had some beautiful lace in her bag, and fine linen for undergarments, but elegant trims were scarce.
She stopped at the intersection closest to home and waited. An uncomfortable feeling swept over her, as if she were being watched and she looked up. There were probably fifty men on the walks around her and she shook off the feeling. At the front stoop, she removed her key and started to open the door, when a man came toward her from the opposite direction.
"Miss Everdeane?"
She took a step back. Someone had been watching her. But he was no ruffian, and stood back like a gentleman, which clearly he was in his custom cut superfine wool jacket, striped trousers and a finely-sheared, beaver-felt Homburg in his left hand. I'm John Gleason, Esquire."
She read the card he handed her. The law firm of Watson, Gleason and Mitchell with an uptown address. An attorney to see her. No one had bothered her for over a year, perhaps longer. Not since shortly after the funeral. "My home is not for sale, Mr. Gleason." Idalie turned back to the door.
"I'm representing the firm of Lowell & Green, Miss Everdeane, regarding the incident on their job site. Can we talk? We can make an appointment to meet in our Westside office, if you are uncomfortable talking to me now."
This man was no threat to her, so she opened the front door. "Come inside, Mr. Gleason." He followed her into the small parlor and stood in the middle of the room, looking out of place in her home, while she unpinned her hat and removed her coat.
Men did not call on Idalie. This was her private sanctuary. Her safe place. She kept them at arm's length. Moving toward her small chair by the tufted sofa, she said, "Please sit down. Can I offer you some tea? Coffee?"
"No, no, I'll only take a moment of your time. Lowell & Green are concerned about your well-being after the accident. I'm here to offer you settlement. To help with any repercussions that might have arisen from the accident. I understand you were struck fairly hard, ma'am. Mr. Green is concerned, as is Mr. Lowell." He removed an envelope from his jacket and held it out to her.
She took the envelope and unfolded the papers inside, a letter which was attached to a release form removing Lowell & Green from any responsibility or future liability for the accident. They were afraid she would bring a lawsuit against them. The bank draft was for five hundred dollars. She looked at Mr. Gleason, a man of about thirty, with brown hair and eyes and pleasant face, sitting on the edge of the formal sofa, his hat on his knees, waiting.
Idalie stood, walked over to her small writing table in the corner, sat and signed their release form. She stood. "Here you are, Mr. Gleason. Your signed release. Lowell & Green have no reason to be concerned about me. Edward Lowell had saved me from probable harm. He owes me nothing. She held out the papers and the bank draft.
He looked exceedingly relieved. Clearly he had expected trouble, but then, wasn't that was how attorneys thought, in terms of the worst possible thing that could happen? "Thank you, Miss Everdeane. I will take the release, but you must keep the bank draft. It's required as part of the release." He set it on the desk. "I'll take up no more of your time. Thank you."
She saw him out and locked the door behind him. Five hundred dollars. Five hundred dollars. She stood there for a long while, until she didn't want to think about the money anymore and especially the man who had given it to her.
The