Морган Лливелин - Drop by Drop

“I don’t understand, Finbar. I thought the Nyebergers’ lawsuit had everything tied up.”

“Not where the federal government’s concerned. What the fed wants they can get, and they want that land to put a new munitions plant on. It’s centrally located, you see; there’s even proximity to the railway.”

“What about the financial records in the Cloud? They’re still somewhere, aren’t they? Proving ownership?”

He smiled knowingly. “Uncle Sam doesn’t care about that, Nell. This is wartime, or going to be wartime, and the rules are changed.”

“You said it would mean a lot of jobs for the town, but there aren’t many construction workers in Sycamore River and probably no factory workers at all since RobBenn closed down. Who’s going to benefit?”

“The necessary people will be brought in from outside,” O’Mahony assured her.

“So our local unemployed will remain unemployed?”

“Think about the service industries,” he said. “There’s going to be a whole influx of new people with money in their pockets. They’ll need food, accommodation, everything; there’ll be plenty of money made from them. Take your real estate business, for example; you can sell houses to the upper echelon and arrange rentals for the rest.”

The skin tightened around her eyes. “Isn’t that what they used to call profiteering?”

The lawyer was offended. “My dear woman! It’s called turning a profit—or have you forgotten what that means? Your late husband certainly understood it. Consider the house we’re sitting in right now. The profits made by Robert Bennett bought every square inch of this place. Which reminds me… I think the papers are here somewhere…” He leafed through the stack of documents. “Yes, here we are. I’ve requested that you receive the deed for this house and grounds ‘free and clear of all encumbrances’ as part of your financial package.” He looked at her proudly, anticipating gratitude.

“But the Nyeberger boys—”

“Nell, you’re not listening to me. You’re making an issue out of a couple of tiny scratches on a bar of solid gold bullion. This is the federal government we’re dealing with; such an arrangement is an everyday matter for them.” The lawyer’s good cheer was evaporating. “If you want to give the Nyebergers a charitable donation out of your share of the proceeds that’s up to you, of course, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’d be creating a bad precedent, opening the door to endless demands.”

“Let me get this straight.” Nell’s voice was cold. “First we take advantage of the Change to deny those children compensation, then we use the federal government to do it?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would, Finbar, and it’s an outrage to my moral compass. If there’s anything the last couple of years have taught me it’s the true value of money. Which is zero.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want to do this? I’m afraid you don’t understand. For the last time, the government is going to do it whether you agree or not. The only question is what it will mean for you.”

Not many restaurants were still open in Sycamore River, but several enterprising men and women had turned their dining rooms into informal eateries and were doing a brisk trade in home cooking.

When Jack came to take Nell out to dinner she told him about the situation.

“You don’t sound very happy about it, Nell. Most people would be thrilled to have the government take a white elephant off their hands for a fair price.”

“The price is fair enough, but it wasn’t really on my hands. The Nyebergers have a legitimate claim on it, at least on part of the money from the sale. Now Finbar says their entitlement will be obliterated as if it doesn’t matter.”

“Did you actually make that remark about your moral compass?”

“I did.”

Jack was amused. “It must have come as a bit of a jolt to him. I doubt if moral compasses are discussed in law schools these days.”

“Then they should be. And another thing, Jack. The trees.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Surely the munitions plant, no matter how large it is, won’t take up all of Daggett’s Woods. What about the nature conservancy? Shouldn’t some of that be protected? It was given to the people of this town and they have a right to it.”

He drove on for a little way before pulling over to the curb and stopping the car. He switched off the engine, took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wiped his face. Twice. Then he turned toward her.

“Eleanor Richmond, will you marry me?”

She sat up very straight. “What?”

“I asked you to marry me.”

She stared at him. “Were you serious?”

“I’ve never asked a woman to marry me before, so I must be serious. Do you want me to get down on my knees? I’d have to be a contortionist to kneel in this car, but if you insist I’ll try.”

Nell put her hand against his chest. “Please don’t. Why did you call me Eleanor Richmond?”

“Because if you say yes you won’t be Eleanor Bennett anymore.”

At the next meeting of the Wednesday Club they were the last to arrive. When they entered Bill’s Bar and Grill Jack took hold of Nell’s right hand and did not let go.

Nell was glowing.

Engaged, Jack was thinking. Me, Jack Reece. Engaged to be married. To be married.

He had not planned it; had not even thought, consciously, about proposing to her. The words had poured out as if his brain and mouth were not connected.

“We’re going to get married,” he said aloud.

After a startled silence Gerry began to applaud. The others joined in.

“Way to go, buddy!” Bill called from behind the bar. “When did it happen?”

“Just now. I mean, an hour ago.”

“Have you set a date yet?” Gloria asked as she hurried over to them.

Nell said, “It’s far too soon, I haven’t even thought about dates.”

“Well, what about the ring? Did you give her a ring, Jack?” Gloria reached for Nell’s left hand, then frowned in disappointment. “No ring yet. Jack, you’ve got to get your act together. First the ring, then the proposal.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

“Then tomorrow morning you take this girl down to Art Hannisch and make the engagement official.”

Nell was embarrassed. “All this fuss…”

“It’s important.”

From his place at one end of the booth Evan Mulligan declared, “Nobody gets married anymore. And nobody buys engagement rings either.”

Shay told his son, “That’s not true.”

The boy saw his opportunity. “So are you going to marry Lila?”

“Wait a minute!” Lila protested.

Conversation swirled around Nell as if she were in the eye of a storm. Which was how she felt. Questions, suggestions, recollections of other weddings… the Wednesday Club was delighted with the unexpected turn of events: a happy topic to replace all the gloom and doom.

The threat of war was so close now. The air almost smelled of death and destruction.

But two people were in love.

Champagne was ordered. She and Jack were given seats in the middle of the booth. “So you can put your arm around her,” he was told.

She was almost painfully aware of his physical presence. He seemed to radiate heat.

I’ve been married before and it was nothing like I expected. Will this be any different?

I love him. And I’m in love with him, at least I think I am. They’re not the same thing, but I know the difference.

“About the date…” Nell said tentatively.

Jack looked down at her. “Don’t worry about that; like you said, it’s too early.”