Niall again. “Do you not have a brother, Miss Hockensmith? You know how they are. I think they must secretly believe that no sister ever grows up to be a woman.”
“And a woman such as yourself would not wish to remain dependent. I admire your courage.” Cecily closed her fan. “Nevertheless, do call upon me at any time, Miss Munroe.”
“Athena, please. We are such a small circle in Denver.”
“And formality is best reserved for those outside it.” Athena had the brief, uncharitable thought that Cecily must have practiced her perfect smile before a mirror. “I am certain we shall become bosom friends, dear Athena.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you at our next meeting.”
With a graceful turn, Cecily swept to the door. Athena admired the way she moved so that her form-fitting skirts maintained a column almost undisturbed by the motion of her legs.
As if she had no need of legs at all.
Athena wheeled her chair to the window and drew back the curtains. All of the carriages had gone, even Cecily’s. Not one of the ladies would consider walking home, though most lived within a few blocks of the fashionable quarter along Fourteenth Street.
Would they choose to walk tonight if they might never walk again?
You are morbid this evening, she chided herself. Niall will soon be home.
And Niall deserved peace and tranquillity after a long day of business. Athena deftly maneuvered her wheelchair to the kitchen to consult Monsieur Savard about the evening’s dinner. She rearranged the roses displayed on a low rosewood table in the marble and oak-paneled entry hall, and spoke with the housekeeper regarding the new chambermaid and the hiring of a laundress to replace the woman who had returned to her native France.
When all was completed to her satisfaction, she took up her usual place at her secretary in the private sitting room and began to sort through the various letters, invitations, and responses to her charitable campaigns. She basked in each small victory and refused to regard the minor failures. Where the orphans were concerned—or the unmarried mothers, or the poor men up by the smelters, looking for work—she could be remarkably persistent. She had something to fight for.
Something that was beyond herself and her petty problems.
In the hall outside the front door opened, and Athena heard the boom of her brother’s voice, followed by the cultured tenor of Brinkley’s. Niall strode into the room, a typical look of preoccupation on his handsome face. He paused just inside the door and noticed Athena with vague surprise, as if he did not find her waiting in precisely the same place every evening.
“Good evening, Niall,” she said. “How was your day?”
“Very good, thank you. And yours?”
It was the comforting ritual they always followed, though seldom had either one something truly noteworthy to report. Niall ran their father’s business and handled Athena’s inheritance, providing her with a very liberal allowance; she, in turn, kept the house and played hostess when his business associates gathered for dinner or a sociable meeting.
But there were times, like this evening, when Athena felt a treacherous yearning for something more. If only Niall would take some real interest in her activities…
“It went quite well,” she said. “The Aid Society met to discuss the Winter Ball—”
“That’s months away,” he said, pouring his usual whiskey at the sideboard.
“Yes. But the Munroe successes have always come from excellent planning. I only follow your and Papa’s examples.” She smiled to take the challenge from her words. “I regard my work as worthy of such care.”
Niall downed his drink. “I’m not so sure that the beneficiaries of your charity are worthy of your efforts—or the money you spend on them.” He poured another drink and frowned at the inoffensive glass. “You are much too generous.”
Athena retained her smile. Niall had always been blunt, and this was hardly a new argument. “We agreed long ago that you would make the money, and I would see that some portion of it went to help the less fortunate, according to my own judgment.”
“A judgment based upon emotion and sentimentality.”
Page: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157