Mrs. Linder shook her head sadly. “I don’t think that’s wise. I can almost guarantee the family won’t change their mind.”
The last thread of hope stretched and broke. Olivia’s shoulders sagged under the weight of knowing that she had truly lost her son and there was nothing she could do about it.
Unable to say another word, she simply nodded and made her escape before her tears could fall in earnest.
41
You look like a worn-out dollar bill.” Mr. Walcott stood in the open doorway of Darius’s office, his arms crossed.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” Darius muttered.
“Me neither.” He entered the office and perched on the edge of Darius’s desk. “I know you’re officially off the Bennington case, but I assume you’ve heard about the city council meeting scheduled for the sixteenth of this month? The neighbors will be presenting their petition to have the home closed.”
Knots tightened in Darius’s neck. “I just heard they’d set the date.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to loosen the tension. He’d already had disappointing news this morning. Salvatore had called earlier to tell him that his visit to the Children’s Aid Society had been unsuccessful. He wasn’t able to get any information on either Matteo or Abigail, effectively destroying Darius’s hope to give Olivia good news.
“Caldwell is out sick,” Walcott continued. “And the other staff members are tied up on important projects. You’re the only one who seems to be at loose ends.”
Darius couldn’t deny the statement. With the loss of the Peterson contract and Mr. Cheeseman still in mourning, Darius’s major accounts were presently inactive. Sure, he’d been doing the basics—collecting the rents, arranging for repairs that were needed, and finding new tenants for any vacant building space. But over the past weeks, he’d lost his initiative to drum up new business. In short, he wasn’t doing much except the bare minimum to earn his paycheck these days.
Walcott leaned toward him. “I want you to round up more people who oppose the home and who’d be willing to testify at that meeting. Preferably local businessmen since their word will carry more weight.”
Was he serious? Darius had been very clear about not wanting to take action against the maternity home. Yet could he refuse a direct order? His gut clenched as the answer became clear.
Darius pushed up from the desk. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not? There’s nothing intrinsically immoral about canvassing support.”
Darius walked to the window and stared out. “I happen to think Bennington Place is an excellent facility. And I also know how much that house means to Ruth Bennington. I’m not going to help anyone take it away from her.”
At the unnerving silence behind him, Darius turned to face his boss.
“It’s that pretty partner of hers, isn’t it?” Walcott sneered. “I saw you talking to her at the fundraiser, and if memory serves, it was because of her that you burned our bridges with Elliott Peterson.” He stood up, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t believe you’d risk your career over a skirt.”
“My feelings for Miss Rosetti are irrelevant. I’ve made my position clear. I don’t feel right about trying to manipulate a widow out of her home.”
Walcott’s mouth twisted into a grim line. “If you refuse to do this, then you leave me no choice but to terminate your position.”
Darius stared at the man he’d once considered a mentor. “That’s all our association means to you? One disagreement and I’m out?” A twist of disappointment tightened his chest. He’d thought their relationship stronger than that. One based on trust and mutual respect.
Apparently he was wrong.
“It’s more than a simple disagreement, Darius. I thought you were a team player, someone I could count on to get the deals done. But if you’re going to always let ethics get in the way, you’re in the wrong business, my friend.” He pointed a finger at him. “Think long and hard about this. You have until tomorrow to start canvassing those neighbors.”
Darius let the waves of hurt and anger roll over him. He’d expected this confrontation would happen at some point, but it still irked him that Mr. Walcott couldn’t see past his own greed to recognize the inappropriateness of his actions. “I don’t need more time to think about it,” he said. “Consider this my official resignation. I’ll have a letter on your desk first thing tomorrow.”
Walcott blinked, then his expression turned thunderous. “I never took you for a fool, Reed. Seems I was wrong about you after all.” Then he strode out of the office and slammed the door so hard that the frosted glass rattled.
On a loud exhale, Darius sat down and dropped his head into his hands. Had he just thrown away his whole future? He had Sofia and his parents to think about. And without a stable source of income, he’d have nothing to offer Olivia. No way of passing the requirements to adopt Abigail, if that ever became a possibility.
I need your help, Lord. I’ve made a mess of everything. Please show me a way to make things right.
Walking into St. James Park, Olivia marveled at the hidden beauty tucked away in this corner of the city. A sea of multicolored flowers flanked the walkways that led to a central stone fountain and a gazebo in the distance. Huge trees that were just beginning to change color provided shade for multiple seating areas. Olivia scanned the park for her brother. More than likely she’d beat him here since she was early for their meeting.
She found an empty bench and sat gingerly on the edge, her purse on her lap. She’d donned her best dress and hat, wanting to make sure she looked respectable when in a priest’s company. She’d thought it better to meet out in the open, rather than in a restaurant or at the rectory, where her presence might cause too many questions.
The autumn sun warmed her
