The Daughter's Walk - Jane Kirkpatrick [121]
“He wasn’t that old,” Louise said.
“Old enough,” Olea told her. “Come along now, let’s have an egg sandwich. Clara made bread this morning. Isn’t that nice?”
“I made the bread, you say? It isn’t clear.”
“You might have,” Olea said. “I think you took it from the oven. You did your part.”
When Franklin called from New York, I was out building a fire on a spot in the backyard, thawing the ground so I could dig a hole deep enough to bury Lucky. Olea called from the porch. “I’ll watch the fire,” she said. “Franklin wants to talk with you.”
I grieved Lucky’s death, maybe even the loss of the routine we’d developed with our four-footed pal. Grief can affect our hearing and our hearts.
“But your telegram didn’t say anything about meeting you in New York,” I said. “It read ‘reach New York.’ ”
“That was a mistake then,” he said. “It was to have read ‘meet,’ not ‘reach.’ I wanted you here. That’s why we sailed ahead of the cargo.”
“But why?”
I didn’t really want him chattering about personal affairs on the party line. Olga, the phone company operator, would be listening even now.
“Well, at least you know about the insurance situation.”
“Yes, the telegram said the price was exorbitant. The cost of doing business, right?”
“What? No, I said the cargo was secured, not insured. It was aboard ship and ready to transport.”
“But it is insured,” I said. My heart started pounding in alarm. “You did arrange it with Lloyd’s, didn’t you? You had the money.” I could feel my palms grow moist.
“I couldn’t,” he said. “They make … exceptions during wartime, and the cost. It was too much, Clara. They said themselves that they wouldn’t underwrite the policy because everything was too risky.”
“You let the cargo ship without insurance?” My throat felt dry. “But we planned for it.”
“It would have cost nearly as much as the initial investment,” he said. “I didn’t have that kind of cash, and I suspect neither did you.”
“How much would the insurance have cost us?” I said. “We should have sold—”
He told me and I shivered at the amount. “You’re right.” I swallowed. “I would have taken the risk too. There wouldn’t have been time to sell the diamond ring. But we should have been consulted.” Could I have come up with more money quickly enough?
“The phone lines are spotty for getting through, Clara.” He had a reassuring voice now. “Most of the ships have made it fine. America isn’t in the war. And I agree. I ought to have wired you, but I thought that if you’d been with me, you would have done the same. That’s how I evaluated it, by asking what Sharon would do.”
“Who is Sharon?” I said.
“What? I meant I asked myself what would Clara do.”
“And you thought I’d risk the shipment?”
“I did,” he said.
“Is the cargo on an American ship?” I held my breath. It would be the safest.
“No. British.” he said. “The Brits have lost only a few ships, and those farther south. I just hoped you’d be here so we could talk in person. And so that, well, so that you could meet my wife. I hoped you could get to know each other on a train ride out west.”
Franklin’s married. I wanted to learn of the trip, everything that he hadn’t been able to put into letters or that phone call. Franklin is married. I wanted to know about the production of the designs. Franklin. Married.
I wanted him to be happy. I tried not to think that he might have been distracted, and that was why he chose to let the cargo be transported uninsured. We had several thousand dollars invested, and not to cover it seemed foolish. And yet, the price … Insurance wasn’t always considered necessary by our neighbors. I wondered what Sharon had thought.
I heated my curling iron. Things would change yet again. I’d enjoyed knowing that someone special thought about me when I wasn’t there. I had looked forward to Franklin’s letters, his calls. Because I so seldom saw him, he proved more angelic in my eyes than he probably was. “He was your held-out hope,” I said to the image in the mirror. I felt the tears come—hard, wrenching