But what would that do to Olivia’s dream?
Darius forced the thought away. Everything would work out. The women would merely purchase a new property, one better suited for more residents, and Olivia’s mission would continue at a different location.
When all was said and done, everyone would win.
Before guilt could get the better of him, he lifted the telephone receiver and placed the call.
Moments after he hung up, the clock on his wall sounded out ten chimes. Darius straightened his tie, grabbed his notebook, and made his way to Mr. Walcott’s office. His boss detested anyone being late for a scheduled meeting.
After a quick knock, Darius entered the room.
Mr. Walcott looked up, tight lines pinching the edge of his mouth. “Have a seat. I hope you have some good news for me today. I could use some.”
“Is anything wrong, sir?”
“I’m afraid so. We’re on the verge of losing one of our best clients. Elliott Peterson says he doesn’t think he can work with us any longer, that our lofty principles aren’t in keeping with his.” He peered at Darius, rolling an unlit cigar between his fingers. “You don’t know anything about this, do you?”
Darius shifted on his chair, his stomach diving to his shoes. He swallowed. “I had a bit of an altercation with him at the Bennington fundraiser. He was making lewd suggestions to Miss Rosetti, and I had to step in.” But that was weeks ago. Why was the man making waves now? Darius squared his shoulders. “To be honest, sir, Peterson seems to have the morals of a swine.”
Walcott glared at him. “As long as his money continues to flow into our bank account, I don’t give two hoots about the state of Peterson’s morals.”
Darius pressed his lips together to keep from arguing. It was becoming harder and harder to reconcile his Christian way of life with the reality of the business world, where people like Mr. Walcott seemed willing to go to any lengths for personal gain.
“Let’s hope this blows over in a few days,” his boss said. “In the meantime, tell me about the Bay Street property.”
In his most professional manner, Darius explained the setback there. “But I still think we can win this one if I keep after them.”
Walcott shook his head, his jowls quivering. “In light of the Peterson affair, we’d better hold off on making another offer until we get a better idea of what he’s going to do. I need to determine how much available capital we’ll have coming in.”
“That sounds prudent.”
“And where do we stand on the Bennington property?”
Darius leaned forward in his seat. “I’ve arranged for a surprise inspection by the city in the hopes they’ll find something to shut the place down.”
“That’s it?” Walcott whipped the unlit cigar from his lips. “You’ll have to be more proactive than that. Find a way to stop this maternity home nonsense and make selling the house the widow’s only option.”
“Sir, you of all people know how stubborn Mrs. Bennington can be. Bullying doesn’t work or she would have given in to you by now. Let me continue this my way.” At least then Darius would have a small measure of control over how Walcott Industries handled the women. He feared that if his boss had his way, things could get ugly.
Walcott heaved out a breath. “Fine. I’ll leave it up to you for now. But once I’m certain Peterson won’t pull his business, we’ll have to redouble our efforts.” He pointed his cigar at Darius. “Start thinking about another angle in case this inspection idea doesn’t pan out. It goes without saying that your job could depend on it.”
Olivia pulled the black netting over her face and stepped inside the vestibule of St. Michael’s Cathedral. Her heart pounded, and her palms were slick with perspiration beneath her gloves. Just standing in this holy place brought back waves of shame and guilt, reminding her how far she’d fallen from the innocent girl who used to attend here.
The solemn strains of organ music drifted out from the interior of the church. With the ordination of six new priests today, the building was filled almost to capacity. Olivia peered through the open door to catch a glimpse of their family pew halfway down the aisle. Mamma’s lace mantilla was visible beside her father’s dark suit jacket, their heads bent in prayer. Her brother Leo sat on the other side of her mother. Olivia’s heart squeezed, sending spasms of pain through her chest. Tony must still be away at war, but she should be with her family to celebrate Salvatore’s ordination. However, as the proverbial black sheep, she knew she would not be welcome.
She wondered what explanation her parents had given Sal as to why his sister wasn’t here for his special day. Or, for that matter, where she’d been for almost two years. Had they told him of her disgrace or would he simply think she didn’t care?
Oh, Sal, I hope you know I’d be there if I could. If only Papà would allow it.
Olivia moved quietly through the dimly lit church. She might not be able to sit with her family, but she could at least watch from the back as Sal was ordained. She hurried to an open seat in a rear pew, one on the aisle in case she needed to make a quick exit.
The ceremony had already started, the liturgy in Latin booming out over the cavernous space, the cloying smell of incense hovering in the air. After several minutes passed with no one recognizing her or questioning why she was sitting at the back of the cathedral, she allowed herself to relax and let the familiar prayers flow over her.
She stayed until Sal had been ordained, then slipped out the rear door. She found a spot by some bushes where she could watch the procession exit, hoping for a
