A Basket Brigade Christmas (14 page)

Lucy sighed. “At the very least, she’ll demand a recount.”

“If it will save you any difficulty at all,” Silas said, “we can certainly do one.”

The door swung open and in rushed Mrs. Collins. “I’ve three more pair,” she said, and plopped them on the counter. She looked from Lucy to Silas and then over at Oscar. “I told my husband you’d be here,” she said. “I’m glad to see I was correct. He wanted me to ask that you stop in the bank at your earliest convenience. Something about an account you wanted to establish?”

Oscar nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.”

“I’d be happy to show you the way.”

“I know the way,” Oscar said, and looked over at Lucy with a sweet smile. “But I was hoping that Miss Maddox and I might have time for a cup of tea at the café as part of our morning together.”

Lucy tried to hide her surprise. They hadn’t made any such plans. It was nice of him to surprise her, but surely he knew that her morning was more than full already. They must congratulate the winner, submit the announcement to the newspaper, and stop in McHenry’s bakery to consult with Mr. McHenry in regards to the celebration. And Oscar wanted to take tea? Just the two of them? A glimmer of hope made her wonder if he was possibly going to declare himself, but it was merely a glimmer and it flickered out when it became obvious that Mrs. Collins was not to be denied.

“I would say that
now
is your earliest convenience, Private Greene. Mr. Collins does not like to be kept waiting.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Lucy said. “I can stop at the bakery and make the order for our celebration while you meet with your banker.”
His
banker. How fortuitous that he had selected Father’s bank to be his own. Again, hope flickered. If a man established a banking relationship, that meant that he intended residency, didn’t it?

“If there is one thing I know about ladies,” Oscar said with an odd laugh, “it’s that they despise business meetings. I hate to leave you alone to make all those calls, dear Lucy, but—”

“Actually,” Mrs. Collins interrupted, “I have a private matter to discuss with Miss Maddox. We can all walk down together.” She nodded at Lucy. “You and I can speak while the gentlemen have their little meeting. How does that suit?” She smiled brightly at Oscar. “I’m sure it’s nothing to be too concerned about, Private Greene. My husband knows that you’ve become a favorite of the Basket Brigade.”

Oscar offered his arm to Lucy. “I do apologize, Mrs. Collins. If it weren’t for the infernal Rebels, I’d be able to offer you my other arm.”

Mrs. Collins brushed past him. “Now, now, Private Greene. There’s no need for gallantry today. Come along.”

Something was wrong. That was quite clear. Whatever Mr. Collins’s business with Oscar might be, Lucy couldn’t imagine that it was so urgent as to merit being nearly dragged out of the mercantile. As Mrs. Collins led the way to the bank, Lucy could not quite shake the feeling that she and Oscar were naughty children being herded into the schoolmaster’s office for a scolding. And whatever Mrs. Collins had to say to her could certainly be said in the presence of Silas and Mrs. Tompkins. It was likely some petty complaint about the way the contest had been run. She’d probably gotten wind of the fact that she wasn’t the winner.

Lucy glanced up at Oscar as they hurried along. His expression told her that he was upset, too. A shadow flitted across his face when, as they entered the bank, they nearly collided with Mr. Slade of the depot hotel. Something passed between Oscar and Mr. Slade. Something unpleasant. Lucy told herself that it was only the natural animosity between a man who’d been wounded in the war and a civilian who was doing everything in his power to avoid service. Mr. Slade’s mother had insisted that giving one son to the cause was enough, and apparently, Mr. Slade agreed. Lucy supposed that a brave man like Oscar would dislike someone like that. That must be what it was.

The moment the three of them entered the bank, Mr. Collins’s assistant rose from a desk and hurried over to greet them. “Right this way.” He led them toward Mr. Collins’s office. Apparently, whatever Mrs. Collins needed to discuss with Lucy could wait.

“We’ll just see what my husband has to say first, dear,” Mrs. Collins said, and motioned for Lucy and Oscar to go ahead of her.

Oscar stopped abruptly just inside the bank president’s office door. He almost took a step back, but Mrs. Collins and Mr. Collins’s assistant were standing right behind them, effectively blocking the door. Why were soldiers in the office? What was happening?

A lanky private looked to his superior and nodded. “That’s him. That’s ‘Gamblin’ Greene.’” He smirked as he said to Oscar, “Guess they’ll be calling you ‘Deserter Greene’ from now on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Oscar protested.

When a third soldier stepped forward with a pair of handcuffs, Lucy released Oscar’s arm and took a step away from him.

“You’ve got the wrong man.” He appealed to Lucy. “It’s not—they’re lying. I’ve never—”

“Come on, Greene,” the man with the handcuffs said. “I lost half a month’s pay to you not two weeks before you went missing.”

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Oscar insisted. He looked over at Lucy. “On my honor, my dear. I did not desert. I was given leave.”

“One week,” the officer snapped. “Long enough to return to your regiment. But you failed to report for duty.” He glanced at Lucy and then back at Oscar. “It would appear you decided to seek out the charms of Decatur instead. And now,” he said, “Private Oscar Greene, it is my duty to place you under arrest.”

Oscar paled. For a moment, Lucy thought he might try to flee. But then, his shoulders slumped and he submitted to the handcuffs.

“But, Oscar,” Lucy croaked. “You said—” She broke off. Handcuffed, he would not even look at her.

Mrs. Collins reached over to support Lucy’s arm. “I imagine you’d like to sit down, dear.”

Lucy resisted. “I’d like an explanation. Oscar?”

Still, he would not meet her gaze as he muttered, “I’m sorry. You’re a nice girl. I—I honestly did grow fond of you.”

Fond.
That word again. Turning her back to him, she allowed Mrs. Collins to lead her to a chair. The soldiers left with Oscar in tow. Her head swam.
I’ve been a fool. Again. First there was Jonah, and now
—
this.
How would she ever show her face in public again? She’d be a laughingstock.

Mrs. Collins sat next to her, patting her arm. “There, there, now, my dear. It will be all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”

Mr. Collins dismissed his assistant. Once the office door was closed, he said quietly, “You have Mrs. Collins to thank for this rescue, by the way.” Lucy looked up just in time to see the banker beaming at his wife with affection. “She was very concerned when Private Greene appeared at your door. In the end, however, Greene’s own hubris gave him away. He talked his way into a hotel room and an account at your store, but—”

“Wait.” Lucy held up a hand, frowning. “Who gave him an account at the mercantile?”

“Mr. Tait didn’t want to say anything to anyone,” Mr. Collins explained. “But once I told him I was already looking into the man, he said that Greene had come in and asked to have credit extended so that he might purchase a gift for you—just until he could receive a transfer from another bank.” Mr. Collins grimaced. “The problem was with the other bank. There wasn’t one. No money ever arrived, and when I checked with the one he named, they’d never heard of an Oscar Greene.” He sat back and folded his hands across his expansive midsection. “Next came a concern about the hotel bill. Mr. Slade came to me about that after overhearing one of the men on the hospital train call out to Oscar from the car. ‘Gambling Greene,’ he called him.”

Gambling Greene.
The same moniker the soldier had used moments ago.

“As it turns out,” Mr. Collins continued, “Private Greene was to have returned to his regiment two weeks ago.”

Anger flared. “Was everything a lie?” Lucy asked. “Did he even come about my name honestly—or did he steal a letter from some poor wounded soldier?” The idea made Lucy shudder with revulsion.

“His wound was real. It just wasn’t nearly as severe as he made it out to be. He was perfectly fit for duty when he got off the train here in Decatur.”

Lucy hung her head. “I’ve been such a fool.”

Mrs. Collins reached over and squeezed her hand. “No more than the rest of us, my dear. He took us all in. With the exception of the people who work for you. Mr. Tait had his suspicions early on. He’s a very good judge of character, it would seem.”

“But—he didn’t say anything. Why wouldn’t he have tried to warn me?”

Mrs. Collins didn’t answer right away. “Perhaps you’d better ask him about that.”

Lucy sighed. Silas was too kind, for one thing. He wouldn’t have wanted to hurt her feelings. The dear man. Always thinking of others first. And Martha. She owed Martha an apology. “Martha tried to warn me this morning. I didn’t want to hear it.” Lucy looked over at Mrs. Collins. “Is unmasking Private Greene the real reason you wanted me to come with you to the bank?”

Mrs. Collins nodded. “It was the only way we could think of to protect you. Of course there will be gossip, since Private Greene disappeared so quickly. Someone will have seen him being taken away. But you can be assured, my dear, that neither my husband nor I will say a word. We never discuss bank business with anyone other than the client affected. It has always been thus and it shall ever be thus.”

Lucy took a deep breath. “How will I ever thank you?”

Mrs. Collins smiled. “Just try not to poke me when you pin that gorgeous brooch on me.”

The morning after Oscar Greene was hauled onto the train to be taken away to wherever deserters went, Lucy was still in her room when the doorbell rang. She hadn’t even gone down to breakfast yet. She had no appetite. She could not bear the thought of facing the stitchers. No one save Martha knew she’d cared for Jonah. That had been a private disappointment, but it made the fiasco with Private Greene even more painful. And everyone knew about him. She might never show her face in public again.

The doorbell again.
Where was Martha? And who was calling this early? She thought for a moment that Mrs. Collins might be here to flaunt her success. There had, indeed, been a recount, and while Lucy had no idea yet who had won the Golden Needle Award, if it was Mrs. Collins, she would surely want to arrive first today in order to receive everyone’s accolades. Somehow, Lucy didn’t mind.

There was more to Mrs. Gertie Collins than Lucy had ever seen. Beneath that annoying habit of drawing attention to herself, beneath the strong will to rule the women of the city, there beat a kind heart. It might not be too horrible to see Mrs. Collins this morning. Perhaps she would have some words of wisdom for Lucy. Heaven knew, Lucy could use the wisdom of the older women in her life.

Crossing to her parents’ wing, Lucy went to the front window in Father’s room and peered through the shutters.
No carriage.
Not Mrs. Collins, after all. The insistent knocking continued, and Martha continued to ignore it.

Lucy hurried down the back stairs. Martha was just taking a pan of her Scotch cakes from the oven. “Don’t you hear that? There’s someone at the door.”

“It’s for you,” Martha said as she set the pan on the counter.

“I’m not receiving today. I need time. Surely you can understand that.”

“I do. But you don’t have time, miss. There is no less work to be accomplished today than there was yesterday, and no less need for your leadership. There is no better way to assuage a disappointment than to carry on.” As if to illustrate the point, Martha began to transfer warm cakes to a serving platter. “A caller wishes to see you, and you are definitely receiving.” She looked pointedly at Lucy as she said, “The Maddoxes do not hide, Miss Lucy. They hold their heads high and they do their duty.” She returned her attention to her work.

“I cannot bear the thought of being the object of laughter.”

Martha’s tone was almost stern. “Then refuse to be one. Laugh at yourself in whatever way you deem best and move on.”

The door again.