September Sky (American Journey Book 1) Read online

"It's all important, Justin, at least potentially."

  "Why don't you just find this guy and talk to him? Tell him to take a vacation in August to a place where he can't hurt someone or be blamed for something he didn't do. It has to beat reading up on Jean Lafitte."

  "I couldn't talk to Wyatt now even if I wanted to. According to his secretary at the Gulf Star Line, he's been on a business trip all week. He won't return until Monday."

  "So talk to him then," Justin said.

  "I'll talk to him when I'm ready," Chuck said. "I want to know more about him before I tell him he'll soon be arrested and convicted for a murder he didn't commit."

  "OK. You do that. I'm going to go outside to get some air. Let me know if you need anything. I'd like to be at least occasionally useful."

  Chuck smiled.

  "I'll holler if I need you to run an errand."

  Justin nodded, left the archives, and walked toward the lobby. When he reached the public area, he spotted Charlotte at the reception desk and acknowledged her with a slight wave. He still couldn't believe how much she resembled the mother he missed so much.

  A moment later, Justin exited the building. He walked to the edge of the street, looked in both directions, and headed west. He traveled barely half a block before he found something far more interesting than cargo ships and history books.

  He walked toward an outdoor dining area that a café had set up for its patrons. Sitting alone at one table was a young woman in a white blouse and a dark blue skirt.

  "Do you mind if I join you?" Justin asked.

  The woman lowered a sandwich to her plate and looked at the man who had disrupted her lunch. She gave him a hard stare he had seen for the third time in five days.

  "Why should I mind?" she asked. "Do you bite?"

  Justin smiled.

  "I don't bite. I don't even have a biting wit. I'm just a regular guy."

  Justin waited for a sign and got one when the woman pointed to an empty chair. He sat in the chair, straightened a jacket that he was beginning to love, and removed his hat.

  "I'm Justin Townsend, by the way."

  "I know who you are," the woman said.

  "You do?"

  "Of course I do. You're the son of that Yankee reporter who messes up my shelves, leaves maps on my tables, and flirts with my supervisor."

  Justin chuckled.

  "You're observant."

  "I have eyes, Mr. Townsend."

  Justin couldn't take issue with that. She had eyes all right, stunning ones. The shade of a tropical rain forest, they were the prettiest peepers he had ever seen.

  Justin leaned forward.

  "I know who you are, too, Miss Emily Beck."

  "I should hope so. You've been watching me all week."

  Justin laughed as he tried to decide which was more unsettling – Emily's attitude or her perceptiveness. After giving the matter some thought, he went with the former.

  "Are you always this friendly?" Justin asked.

  "Do I detect sarcasm, sir?"

  Justin nodded.

  "I meant no offense. You just seem a little testy."

  "Perhaps I am," Emily said.

  "Why?"

  "I have my reasons."

  Justin smiled. He didn't think it was possible to be angry and appealing at the same time, but Miss Get Your Hands Off Me was pulling it off.

  "I saw you at the dedication," Justin said.

  "That's impossible. You must have seen someone else."

  "No. It was you."

  "How do you know?" Emily asked.

  "I know because I stared at you for a long time. It was you."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah. I'm sure," Justin said.

  "In that case, you should apologize. Staring at people is rude."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  Justin wondered why Emily had been reluctant to admit they had seen each other on Saturday. Was it embarrassment or something else?

  "I noticed that you seemed upset with the man standing next to you. You left before the governor's speech was over. May I ask why?"

  Emily pushed her plate away.

  "No. You may not. It's none of your business."

  "Sorry for asking," Justin said.

  "Stop apologizing. It's a sign of weakness. You obviously want to know why I left the dedication, so I'll tell you," Emily said. She folded her arms. "I left because I learned that my fiancé, the man at my side, is a filthy, lying cheat."

  "That's a good reason to leave."

  "It doesn't matter. What's done is done. I am free of a miscreant and a little wiser to the ways of your kind."

  "What do you mean by 'my kind'?" Justin asked.

  "I mean men."

  "So all men are bad?"

  "Yes," Emily said. "If they don't lie and cheat, they use and abuse. They also treat women like chattel and drink too much. Did I leave anything out?"

  Justin shook his head.

  "I don't think so. Should I kill myself now or let you finish your lunch?"

  Emily gave him an icy stare.

  "You're making fun of me."

  Justin smiled and nodded. He waited for a positive reaction. When he didn't get one, he switched from flippant to sympathetic.

  "I'm sorry you had a bad experience. I really am," Justin said. "For what it's worth, I think that any man who cheats on his fiancée is a jerk and that any man who cheats on someone as beautiful as you is clinically insane."

  Justin watched with interest and amusement as Emily turned red and bit her lip. He decided right then that a self-conscious beauty was just as appealing as an angry one.

  Emily turned away in an apparent attempt to hide her blush and stared out at the street, where noisy seagulls feasted on discarded scraps of fish. When she looked again at Justin, she did so with softer eyes. She smiled sadly, put a quarter next to her plate, and got up from her chair.

  "I should return to work," Emily said. "Thank you for the company."

  Justin nodded and then watched the lovely man-hater leave the dining area, turn a corner, and continue toward the library. When she disappeared from sight, he settled into his wrought-iron chair, stared blankly into the distance, and smiled.

  He didn't know what to make of Emily Beck or their short, crazy exchange, but he did know one thing. Chicago could wait.

  CHAPTER 18: CHUCK

  Friday, April 27, 1900

  Chuck had to admit that his first impression of Rose O'Malley had been about as wrong as an impression could get. He had expected a country bumpkin with a host of colorful stories. What he got was a college graduate and a gifted actress who had turned down Broadway and three marriage proposals to live and work in the town she loved.

  "Thanks for taking the time to see me," Chuck said as he walked with Rose from a library meeting room to the lobby. "I'm sure there were other things you could have done today."

  Rose glanced at Chuck and smiled.

  "You're right," Rose said. "I could have filed company reports, mopped the floors, and rehashed the War Between the States with the geezers in the gallery."

  Chuck laughed.

  "Your job's not that bad."

  "It's not when I have the opportunity to talk to people like you. It was a pleasure, Mr. Townsend. I mean it."

  "The pleasure was mine," Chuck said.

  Rose stepped ahead of Chuck when they reached the front desk and walked around to the work area in back. She grabbed a shawl off a coat rack and joined Charlotte behind the desk. At five after four, her workday was over.

  "Did you two accomplish a lot?" Charlotte asked.

  "I think we did," Rose said.

  "I know we did," Chuck said. "That's why I'd like to visit again. If it's all the same to you, we can meet at the café next door. You pick the day. Lunch is on me."

  "Now that's an offer I can't refuse," Rose said.

  She turned to face Charlotte.

  "You'd better watch this one," Rose said. "He may try to talk you into keepi
ng the library open after hours with promises of wine and roses."

  Charlotte smiled as she filled out papers at the desk.

  "I'll be careful," Charlotte said.

  Chuck laughed.

  Rose threw the shawl over her shoulders.

  "That's it for me today," Rose said to her supervisor. "I'll see you sometime on Sunday."

  "Enjoy yourself," Charlotte said.

  "Do you have a big weekend planned?" Chuck asked.

  Rose smiled.

  "I have plans, Mr. Townsend."

  "That's nice to hear," Chuck said. "Before you go, though, I'd like to ask you one more question. I figure a longtime resident might know the answer."

  "Fire away."

  "OK. It's a simple question, actually, and it has nothing to do with my research. Where can I find a place I can rent by the week?"

  "You don't like the Bayside?" Rose asked.

  "The hotel is nice. It's very nice, in fact. It's just much more than my son and I need for an extended stay."

  Charlotte lifted her eyes from her work.

  "Are you planning an extended stay?" Charlotte asked.

  Chuck nodded.

  "We are. Justin and I talked it over last night. We both want to stay in Galveston at least through the end of May. That's why we need to find something more affordable."

  Rose put her hand on her chin.

  "That's a tough one. I know of less expensive hotels but none that rent by the week."

  "We don't necessarily need a hotel room," Chuck said. "We just need something that's less expensive. We'd gladly take an apartment or a small house, so long as it's furnished."

  "Let me check around," Rose said. "Can you wait until next week for an answer?"

  "I can."

  "Then let me see what I can do."

  Rose retreated again to the work area, lifted a purse off a table, and walked around the side of the desk to the front. She approached Chuck and offered a hand.

  "Once again, it was a pleasure, Mr. Townsend."

  Chuck shook her hand.

  "Have a nice weekend, Rose."

  Rose glanced at her colleagues in the back of the room. Goldie straightened tables and chairs. Emily picked up scraps of paper off the floor.

  "See the rest of you on Monday," Rose said as she started toward the exit.

  Emily responded with a faint wave. Goldie continued working. Two patrons sitting in chairs kept their noses in their newspapers. Only Charlotte, who offered a warm smile, seemed to care when Rose O'Malley left the building.

  Chuck took a moment to think about his afternoon and then directed his attention to Charlotte, who continued to process papers at the desk. He started to say something when he heard footsteps from behind. He turned around.

  "I couldn't help but overhear the conversation about your housing dilemma, Mr. Townsend," Goldie said. She stopped when she reached the desk. "I believe I can help."

  "You can? How?"

  "My landlord rents beach houses. Most are no more than shacks, but they are furnished and have electricity and running water. The smaller units go for five dollars a week."

  "How do you know this?" Chuck asked.

  "I know because I rent one myself," Goldie said.

  Chuck looked at Charlotte.

  "What do you think?"

  Charlotte smiled slightly and gave him a sidelong glance.

  "I think if you're going to stay in Galveston another month, then you should see what five dollars a week buys at the beach."

  Chuck returned to Goldie.

  "Who's your landlord?"

  "He's a developer named Samuel Billings," Goldie said. "He maintains an office on Avenue Q. I can let him know you're interested in a rental, if you'd like."

  "I'd appreciate that, Goldie. Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  Chuck watched Goldie walk to the far end of the desk, where a stack of periodicals waited to be processed. When she started stamping and labeling, he went back to doing what he had done all week – flirting with the director of the Texas Maritime Library.

  "Thanks for recommending Rose as a resource," Chuck said. "She's a veritable font of information and one of the nicest people I have ever met."

  "I'm glad you approve," Charlotte said.

  She smiled coyly as she continued to work.

  "Did Rose answer all of your questions?"

  "She answered most of them, but she wasn't very helpful when I asked about the Fitzpatrick brothers," Chuck said. "I thought that was odd given that she seems to know everyone in town."

  Goldie stopped working and turned her head.

  "We all have our limits, Mr. Townsend," Charlotte said.

  "Please call me Charles."

  "We all have our limits, Charles."

  "I know. I'm just a little surprised she didn't know more. She seemed to know more about the one-armed dockworker on Pier 17 than two of the most prominent men in Galveston."

  "As I said."

  "I know," Chuck said. "I'm not complaining. I'm just a bit surprised."

  Charlotte finally lifted her eyes from her work.

  "Have you completed most of your research?"

  "I've completed much of it, but I would still like to know more about the city and the people in it. I'd like to know more about the people I've met this week."

  "Do you mean the people at the library?" Charlotte asked.

  "I mean the director of the library."

  Charlotte reddened.

  "I'm not sure how to respond to that."

  "You don't have to respond at all," Chuck said.

  "I don't?" Charlotte asked.

  "You don't."

  Chuck smiled.

  "You just have to join me for dinner."

  CHAPTER 19: CHUCK

  The Seafarer at the Bayside was not the best restaurant in Galveston, Texas, or even one of the best, but it was quiet, accessible, and far better suited for a last-minute dinner date than many top-of-the-line establishments or a madhouse like Lafitte's.

  Chuck looked around the dining room and noticed that only eight of the restaurant's linen-covered tables were occupied. Then he looked at the woman in front of him and decided that he didn't really care. He had everything he needed at his table.

  "Have you decided what you want to order?" Chuck asked.

  "I'm debating between the red snapper and the sea bass," Charlotte said.

  "Take your time. I'm in no hurry."

  Charlotte smiled sweetly and lowered her menu to the table.

  "Thank you for taking me here. It's been a long time since I've been to this restaurant and even longer since I've been here with a gentleman."

  "You don't go out much?"

  Charlotte shook her head.

  "I've always preferred a walk on the beach or a quiet evening at home. When I do go out, it's usually with Rose to a play or a concert."

  "You like her, don't you?" Chuck asked.

  "I do. Rose is my best friend and one of the nicest people I've ever known. She's also a capable library assistant, a trusted confidante, and my housemate."

  "She's your housemate?"

  Charlotte nodded.

  "We share a house on Nineteenth Street. She moved in shortly after my husband died two years ago. We're like sisters."

  Chuck cocked his head.

  "She didn't tell me that."

  "I'm not surprised. Rose may speak freely about many things, but she rarely talks about personal matters unless she knows the person well."

  A waiter approached the table.

  "Are you that way too, Miss Emerson?"

  Charlotte smiled.

  "I think it's time for us to order."

  The reporter laughed when he heard the evasive reply. He would have to add coy to his dinner companion's resume.

  Chuck watched with interest and amusement as Charlotte peppered the waiter with questions, first about the snapper and then about the bass. He had never seen anyone break down an entree so thorough
ly.

  Chuck ordered a saddle of lamb with kidney beans and a bottle of burgundy to wash it down. He turned again to Charlotte when the waiter took the menus and walked away.

  "So tell me how you and Rose became such good friends. Surely there's a story."

  "Oh, there is," Charlotte said.

  Chuck tilted his head.

  "Well? Are you going to share it?"

  "I'm trying to decide whether I know you well enough."

  Chuck looked at her incredulously.

  "I'm just teasing," Charlotte said with a smile. "Of course I'll share it."

  Chuck suddenly didn't care whether she shared it or not. He just wanted to look at a woman who was as intoxicating as moonshine. He grinned and shook his head.

  "You're something," Chuck said.

  "May I tell my story?"

  "Yes. You may."

  "All right then," Charlotte said. She looked at him with wary eyes and continued. "Rose and I have known each other fourteen years. We attended the same women's college in Missouri but did not become good friends until we came here in search of jobs following our graduation in 1890. Yes, Mr. Townsend, I am thirty-two. I am not at all ashamed to reveal my age."

  "Nor should you be. You don't look a day over twenty."

  Charlotte blushed and smiled. She started to speak but stopped when the waiter returned with the wine. She resumed telling her story after the server poured two glasses, placed the bottle on the table, and returned to the kitchen.

  "As I was saying, Rose and I came to Galveston shortly after graduation. We came here in June hoping to find work as an actress and a librarian, but we found something else instead."

  "What?" Chuck asked.

  "Two sailors."

  Chuck laughed.

  "Just two?"

  "Yes, Charles. Just two," Charlotte said. "The one who favored Rose was an ensign who had grown up in Galveston. The one who favored me was an ensign from Iowa."

  "Sounds like a happy story to me."

  "It might have been but for one thing."

  "What's that?" Chuck asked.

  "Rose and I favored the other men."

  "So what did you do?"

  Charlotte grinned.

  "We spent the next three months engaging in subterfuge. We did everything in our power, fair and unfair, to redirect the two men's attention in the proper directions."

  "Did your efforts pay off?"