Christmas Pie Read online

  “Oh.” Fingering her medals, Polly kept staring at that hole, wondering.

  James had been leaning back negligently in his chair, but he sat forward now, drawing Polly’s attention away from his carpet. His expression was intense.

  “Miss MacNamara, I realize that my reputation is not the most savory to be found in San Francisco but, believe me, what Bullock tried to do to you passes the bounds of tolerable behavior. It was insupportable. I won’t have it, and I want you to know that.”

  James frowned at his desk and fingered his chipped paperweight. “And when I think of what he might have been able to force you to do. And all because of his status with the firm. Well, it’s intolerable.”

  The thought of what Lawrence might have been able to force her to do brought the color back to Polly’s cheeks. Nevertheless she managed to say, “Thank you, Mr. Drayton.” Until two days before, she’d never guessed she’d find kindness in her employer.

  James looked up from his paperweight and smiled at her. “Believe me, Miss MacNamara, you’re entirely welcome. Besides,” he added, his grin broadening, “I owe you a great debt for endowing my disreputable hound with a pedigree. Getting rid of Bullock was the least I could do.”

  Mentioning the episode with the dog introduced an element of lightness to the conversation and Polly forgot all about the hole in the carpet. She returned James’s grin with a broad smile. “How is your dog doing, Mr. Drayton?”

  “My rarely seen Philippine Tapir Hound is doing quite well, thank you, Miss MacNamara.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you decided on a name yet, sir?”

  “Not yet.”

  Polly nodded sagely. “You’ll think of something. My brother Stephen always said that when you’re around an animal long enough, his name will come to you.”

  James cocked his head and grinned at her brother’s wise words. “Did he?”

  “Oh, yes. And Stephen was—is very good with animals.”

  Still fiddling with the paperweight, James studied Polly’s face for a moment, his smile fading. His perusal was just long enough for Polly to become nervous again.

  She began to rise. “Well, Mr. Drayton, thank you very much for your consideration.” She wanted to get back to the type-writing room before the girls’ speculation got out of hand.

  “Wait.”

  His voice startled her, and Polly stopped halfway to her feet, and looked at him. When she noted his unwavering expression, she seated herself again, slowly.

  Sensing her alarm, James said, “I mean, please, Miss MacNamara, don’t run away yet. There’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

  Mystified, Polly sat back in the chair and refolded her hands in her lap. “Certainly, Mr. Drayton. What is it?”

  “It’s about your father.”

  “My father?”

  “Yes. I have been—making inquiries into the accident with Golden Liberty.”

  Polly’s heart suddenly took to thudding painfully. “Thank you,” she murmured, afraid to look at him for fear her emotions would get the better of her and she’d start to cry. Never in a million years had she expected this man to take an interest in her family’s tragedy.

  “Don’t thank me yet, please, because so far I’ve not managed to do much. I’m still making inquiries.”

  Looking up, Polly found James rubbing his finger across the nick in his paperweight. He looked almost angry, and Polly didn’t know how to account for it.

  Before she could disgrace herself by bawling, she said, “Mr. Drayton, my mother and I will be forever grateful to you for anything you’ve done. Please don’t think you need do more. I’m not sure what happened after the accident because I was quite young and not at all conversant with the ways of the business world, but—but I certainly do thank you for looking into the matter.”

  When he lifted his head and eyed her again, his gaze seemed harder than she’d seen it in several days. He looked like the James Drayton she’d observed from afar before he’d offered her a ride home in his lovely new motorcar. Unconsciously she lifted her fingers to her charms again and wished his eyes would soften once more. He looked very nearly approachable when he wasn’t sporting that hard look.

  His grin came out of nowhere, so sudden and beautiful that Polly’s lips parted in wonder. “Nonsense. I’m going to do more than merely look into the matter, Miss MacNamara. I plan to get to the bottom of it, and make sure you and your mother get everything due you.”

  His smile could have melted a polar ice cap. “I know justice has not been done, and I plan to see that it is.”

  Where she found the wit to say “Thank you,” Polly didn’t know. Oh, my, he was so handsome. More than that. Polly suddenly had the absurd notion that if a man were to be crafted specifically for her by one of God’s minions, that man would be James Drayton.

  James continued to smile at her for a moment or two, and she continued to bask in the glory of his stunning maleness. She’d never been so conscious of a man’s presence before. James Drayton’s quite took her breath away.

  At last James said, “Well, I suppose we both need to get back to work.”

  “Oh, of course!” Polly rose out of the chair as if she’d been goosed, mortified to have been staring at her handsome employer. “Why, I left an error glaring from the page and must get back and erase it before the ink sets too deeply.”

  Feeling like an absolute imbecile for having uttered such an inane thing, Polly almost ran to the office door. All that stopped her from flinging the door open and bolting through it was James’s amused voice.

  “Miss MacNamara, please wait a moment.”

  She whirled around and faced him. To keep her hands from wringing each other to death in front of her, she consciously dropped them to her sides and strove for dignity. “Yes?” She was pleased when her voice betrayed none of her disquiet.

  She was sure his easy grin was proof that he considered her a lunatic. But then he asked, “Aren’t you interested in who will be taking Lawrence Bullock’s place with the law firm, Miss MacNamara?” and she wasn’t so sure.

  After a moment and a gulp she was sure James could hear from his desk, Polly said, “Why, certainly.”

  “I’d like your opinion on the matter, actually. Will your error last for another minute or two?”

  He spoke softly and with no irony, but Polly wasn’t sure of anything anymore. With a coolness she did not feel, she said, “Of course,” and went back to sit again. Although she assumed an air of polite concern, she did not relax.

  “What do you think of Drayton and Associates hiring a Chinese attorney, Miss MacNamara?”

  “A—a Chinese lawyer?” Polly, who’d never had occasion to think one thing or another about Chinese lawyers before, was at a loss.

  “Yes. You seem to be such a sensible person, I’d like your opinion. Do you think San Francisco would spurn Drayton and Associates if we were to take a Chinese associate into the firm?”

  James’s question was a serious one. Polly recognized the fact, and was gratified that he’d asked for her judgment. Because he seemed to expect a thoughtful, honest opinion, she did not respond immediately but considered the impact of such a move by his law firm before answering. When she did answer, she chose her words carefully.

  “Well, I expect there might be some people in town who will look askance at the addition of a Chinese attorney to the firm of Drayton and Associates. I believe, however, that there will be even more people who will applaud such an addition as a shrewd business move on your part.”

  James’s moss-green eyes opened wider. “Do you really?”

  Polly’d never before been asked to give an opinion on such a weighty matter, and trepidation skittered up her spine on prickly feet. But she had given him her considered recommendation. She was committed now and would not back down from her reasoned conclusion. Besides, whatever the world thought, her opinions were as valid as anybody else’s. She sat up straighter
and nodded firmly.

  “Yes. I do, because there is such a large community of Chinese living in San Francisco. And, although they are not allowed to own property, they manage a good deal of it. We also do a vast amount of trade with China, and one needs Chinese translators and agents in order to conduct business properly.”

  “I presume your father did business in such a manner.”

  “Oh, yes. Yes, he did. Why Mr. Chang even dined at our home several times.”

  Deciding her statement had been intolerably priggish, Polly hurried to say, “I mean, he was almost like a member of the family. I looked on him as an uncle. When one gets to know and like another person, one forgets the color of his skin.” She looked James straight in the eye, wondering if she’d shocked him by voicing her candid view. “At least, that’s what I think,” she added, almost defiantly.

  He smiled at her for so long, Polly almost lost her nerve and dropped her glance. Only the strength of will she’d acquired over the last several brutally hard years kept her gaze steady.

  At last James said, “I am very happy to hear you say so, Miss MacNamara.”

  Astonished, she said, “You are?”

  “I am. And I hope you’re right. The gentleman who will be joining our firm is the same one you met the other night. Raymond Sing.”

  “Why, I had no idea he is an attorney, Mr. Drayton. He looked to be no older than I am!”

  A crooked grin accompanied James’s, “And just how old might that be, Miss MacNamara, if I may be so bold as to inquire.”

  Polly said, “Twenty-one,” before she could think about it and felt like a fool again.

  “So young,” James murmured.

  Polly clamped her lips together and decided she’d humiliated herself enough for one day.

  “Actually, Raymond is older than you are, Miss MacNamara. He is a graduate of a prestigious law school, who granted him a scholarship on the weight of his brilliant academic achievements in school. He is a member of the California Bar Association and a dear friend of mine.”

  “Oh.” Polly began to relax again. “You know, I thought you were friends. You seemed so comfortable with each other the other day when I barged in on you.”

  James gave her another brilliant smile. “And I’m very happy to hear your sentiments on the matter, because they correspond absolutely with my own.”

  With another “Oh,” Polly felt a wash of relief.

  “And now, I suppose you have an error waiting.”

  James rose from his chair and stepped over to Polly. He extended a hand to help her rise and she took it without hesitation. Neither one of them wore gloves, and his hand felt very big and warm and masculine gripping hers. There was something truly thrilling about feeling his flesh press against hers. Polly wished her cheeks would lose the intense color she knew they sported.

  “I certainly hope we will have an opportunity to chat again soon, Miss MacNamara. I find your company refreshing.” James opened his office door.

  “Thank you, Mr. Drayton.”

  It took every ounce of Polly’s composure to walk in a stately manner past Mr. Gregory. She wanted to pick up her skirts and run like a jackrabbit away from James Drayton and the tremendous pull she felt toward him. But walk in a stately manner she did. She even gave Gregory a frosty glare as she passed his desk. He glared back, and Polly smiled, feeling superior. She’d bet James Drayton never asked Gregory his opinions about hiring Chinese attorneys.

  When she got back to the type-writing room, her error awaited her. So did Constance, Rose, and Juliana, and they were in a catty mood. Polly put them in their place with a few well-chosen words and went back to work.

  The other girls didn’t like her. Polly knew it, but she didn’t know what to do about it. Her life was just so different from theirs. She didn’t have time for all the frivolities they shared. That was all.

  As for James, he shut his office door and meandered back to his desk, all the fury of his earlier encounters in the day forgotten. He sat down and fingered his broken paperweight once more. Then he stared at his office door, a moony smile on his face, for a good ten minutes before he made himself get up, don his overcoat and gloves, and go out to pay a call on Raymond Sing.

  # # #

  The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Polly read the eleventh chapter of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to the older children at the Sisters of Benevolence and Doll Rosie’s Days to the younger ones. Just as she prepared to leave, she was caught up short by a friendly voice.

  “Miss MacNamara!”

  She turned and was surprised to see Raymond Sing, brand-new associate at Drayton and Associates.

  “Why Mr. Sing, what a pleasure to find you here. Don’t tell me you support the Sisters of Benevolence, too?”

  “Well, all right, if you insist, Miss MacNamara. But it will be a lie, because I do.”

  Raymond gave her a conspiratorial smile and Polly laughed. “That is a pretty silly expression, isn’t it, Mr. Sing? I understand there are no such ambiguities in the Chinese language.”

  “Oh, there are ambiguities aplenty in Chinese, ma’am, but we manage.”

  “I’m quite fond of this organization myself,” Polly told him, looking around at the walls of the orphanage.

  Old and built from California stone, those walls might have been grim except that Mother Francis Mary had allowed the children to paint murals on them. Now they wore gay pictures of flowers and animals. There were even some scenes inspired, Polly knew, by the fairy tales and nursery rhymes she read.

  “I’ve been reading to the children once a week for a couple of years now. I love doing it. I wish I could come more often.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. I’m quite fond of children, and these children, in particular, need love and attention. Don’t you think so?”

  “I certainly do.”

  For just a moment, it looked to Polly as though Raymond wanted to say something more, but Mother Francis Mary joined them and he didn’t.

  “Good evening again, Polly. Are you acquainted with Mr. Sing?” The Mother Superior’s eyes were more twinkly than usual this evening, Polly thought, and she wondered why.

  “Indeed, we have been introduced, Mother. Mr. Sing has just joined the law firm where I’m employed.”

  “Is that so? My, my, it’s a small world.”

  Mother Francis Mary hooked an arm through Polly and Raymond’s elbows and walked between them toward the gates of the orphanage. They both had to look down at her when she spoke to them.

  “We’re having our annual charity ball on Christmas Eve, Polly, and you’re invited again, you know.”

  Polly smiled. “Thank you very much, Mother Francis Mary. I can’t imagine attending such a grand function, though.”

  “Why not, Miss MacNamara?” Raymond asked, over the nun’s black wimple. “I’m nobody, and I’m going. I think it might be fun to mingle with the few kind hearts in our fair city.”

  With a little laugh, Polly said, “Oh, no. I’ve never been to a function of that nature. I wouldn’t know what to do.”

  “Well, I wish you’d go,” Raymond said seriously. “Then at least I’d know two people there.”