Love in the Time of Depression
Setting: Kansas City, Kansas, USA - 1929.
Summary: When a poor factory owner's daughter and a criminal oil boss's son fall in love, will they find their way to each other? An AU fic with DL, Mac/Stella, FA and the rest of the team.
Rating: K+
Pairings: Danny/Lindsay, Mac/Stella, Flack/Angell, other pairings maybe later on. All characters of CSI:NY will be in the story though.
Disclaimer: We unfortunately don't own anything apart from our own thoughts.
Chapter 1
It was the winter of 1929 and the world was going into recession. They had only just recovered from the First World War and the next crisis was already ahead.
Mac Taylor walked through his cotton factory and nodded at several workers to his left and to his right. Neither one of them knew that the company wasn't doing very well and even though Mac tried to do all he could, he wasn't sure that he could save all those jobs. Money was the problem - and the fact that he didn't have enough to keep the company running. Orders only came sluggishly and it seemed as if the Americans were no longer interested in wearing or using cotton produced in the Taylor Productions factory. Mac could practically feel the noose tighten around his throat. He needed more money to keep the production running, but the only source he could get it from was not willing to give out any more. The oil tycoon Gerrard Messer had already given Mac so much money - Mac doubted that he would give him yet another credit. But without it, there was no way to save the company.
Letting his eyes wander through the large halls of the factory, knowing there was the high possibility he would have to close it if he didn't manage to get money to keep it running, broke Mac's heart. Since he could think, owning his own factory had been his dream. All his life he had been working to make this dream come true. He could clearly remember the day he had opened his cotton factory in the midst of the Golden Twentieth. Economy had been promising, making him certain that his factory would be a success. Who would have expected that only a few years later they would have to face the biggest economic downturn the world had ever seen. Months ago, the Wall Street Crash had been the beginning of his biggest fear; the Golden Twentieth were over, causing his dream to shatter. Now, instead of hoping for success and money, he had to fight for the existence of his factory and for the jobs of his busy workers. So much depended on this factory.
Releasing a deep sigh, Mac rubbed his tired eyes. So many sleepless nights he had to suffer through. He couldn't lose his factory. Not only because it was his dream. He had to feed his family; his wife, his daughter, his son. They needed him. They needed the money. And they needed help. No matter what it would cost.
In the Rosedale district of the big City of Kansas, a man was sitting in his study, in a brown leather chair in front of the fireplace, a glass of Scotch in one hand and a cigar in another. His name was Gerrard Messer and he was the richest man in all of Kansas. One day, about 15 years ago, he had found oil on his land and he had made a lot of money by that. These days, he used his money to invest in other companies - or at least that was what he told others he would do for a living. In reality, he spent his money to buy up insolvent businesses, invested money in them afterwards, put them back into black numbers and then sold them on for a large sum. If he lost out on money by a business gone wrong, he didn't mind - he had enough of it. One thing he absolutely hated though was when someone begged for money and then exploited his generosity by not paying him back.
There was a knock on the door and Gerrard Messer asked the person inside.
"Sir, Mister Ross is here," the maid announced.
"Thank you, Agatha, ask him inside, please," he dismissed the maid. He had a wide staff of servants working for him - only one of the few luxuries he granted himself and his family.
Adam Ross, a red-headed tall young man in his early twenties, walked into the room and up to Gerrard.
"You asked me to come here, Sir?" Adam began.
"Yes, Adam. I have a little task for you," Gerrard started. "I want you to stop by Mac Taylor's factory. Please, do remind him that at the end of the week, I'm expecting my money back from him and if I don't get it, he might be in a lot of trouble."
Adam nodded at Gerrard and left the room - he had been working for the powerful Gerrard Messer for about a year now and he knew what he had to do.
Gerrard was left behind in his study, taking a sip of Scotch, smiling to himself. He knew that Taylor was sweating because he had no means to pay him back. Gerrard was already looking forward to visiting Mac himself at the end of the week.
Barely a minute had passed when another knock on the door interrupted him in his thoughts. Not awaiting anyone and not willing to see anyone, he spoke an annoyed "Yes, please?" to allow the person to enter the room. The door was opened and Danny Messer entered the room. The look his father gave him, almost made him stop half way.
"Oh, should I come back later, father?" he asked. If someone knew it wasn't a wise move to disturb his father while he was either busy or in a bad mood, it was him. His father's temper was famous and feared; more than once he had gotten into his way himself. Gerrard's temper wasn't predictable; he could be the most friendly man in one second and get a hysterical attack in another. Unfortunately Danny was aware that he had this high temper inside him as well. Still he could control himself enough to not attack random people just because he felt like it.
"No, it's fine. Have a seat Daniel," Gerrard answered, nodding towards the other brown leather chair next to the fireplace. Still hesitant, Danny walked over to the offered seat and sat down. He shook his head when his father offered him a drink and cigar as well. Gerrard sighed and rolled his eyes at his son.
"Daniel, how old are you? 20? You're acting as innocent as a little boy," he said. "Never a drink too much, never a cigar, never going out or staying up too long. What am I supposed to do with you? Do you need me to find you a woman you can marry and have a happy family with?"
"Father, I..." Danny started. He didn't know how to finish the sentence. What was he supposed to say? He was well aware of the fact that he wasn't the way his father had always imagined his only son to be. He also knew that Adam Ross would have been more able to make his father proud than he ever could. Father and son were just too different.
"Daniel, I'm serious," Gerrard continued. Like always he spoke without looking at his son; a behaviour Danny found very impolite but didn't dare to criticize. "What is my son going to do with his future? You know I want to see you take over my company one day."
"And you know that's not going to happen, father," Danny answered, with a little more force than he wished. They had had this kind of discussion many times, always without a result. Gerrard wanted his son to lead his company one day; exactly the opposite of what Danny wanted. He didn't know what caused it, but he had the feeling that leading this company would be a huge mistake. He didn't know much about his father's business, mainly because he didn't care. Something was telling him that what this man did for a living wasn't really the right way. Danny didn't want to get involved in this kind of business and especially would never lead this company. One glance at his father revealed that this answer wasn't what the older man had wanted to hear.
"That's not what I have a son for," Gerrard hissed. "How is it possible Adam is willing to do whatever I need him to do and you don't even care about my company? It's what I'm paying our lifestyle with! If I were you I'd show more interest."
"And if I were you, I'd finally realise this lifestyle is the least I care about," Danny replied in a sharp voice, getting up from his seat. "If Adam is such a great worker, maybe give the company to him. I won't let you push me into a job I don't want to do. I don't care about your money."
With that he turned around and left the room again, not without closing the door loudly. He didn't care that his father was seething inside, once again disappointed and mad because of his reaction. The two of them were two entirely different persons and he wouldn't give in to the older man's wishes.
It was evening and Mac arrived home, tired and exhausted. Worrying about money all the time was taking up his last strength and then pretending as if everything was fine back at home sometimes almost killed him. He didn't want his family to find out, but hiding it from them was the hardest thing he ever had to do.
"Dad, you're home late," Sheldon commented as he walked out of the living room and met Mac in the hallway. Mac had adopted Sheldon when the little boy was only five years old. His parents had died in a terrible accident and because they had been dear and close friends to Mac and his wife Stella, they had decided to take the five-year-old boy in and raise him as if he was their own. By now, no-one even noticed that Sheldon had black skin and the Taylors white. He was a part of the family, called Mac and Stella 'mum' and 'dad' and saw in Lindsay his sister. This was the way Mac wanted it to be.
"I know I'm late, it was just a busy day," Mac replied to Hawkes and then followed him back into the living room. He was glad that neither his wife nor his daughter were inside because he needed a few minutes to relax and to forget about the events of the day. Sheldon was already out of the living room again to let his mother and sister know that Mac was home and they could finally have dinner. The few minutes Mac had to himself he used to think about his conversation with Adam Ross.
Mac had been about to leave work when Adam Ross walked into his office at the factory. Mac knew who Adam was working for and he knew that with him, trouble was entering the room.
"Mister Taylor, nice to see you again," Adam had greeted Mac sarcastically.
"Mister Ross, right?" Mac asked.
"You know exactly who I am," Adam hissed.
"Maybe," Mac admitted and looked down at some papers on his desk. He couldn't quite say why, but the other man, even though he was younger, always seemed to pose such a threat to others as soon as he was in the room.
"Let's get right down to business, shall we?" Adam started. "My boss just wanted me to remind you that you have five more days and then he expects his money back, not a cent missing."
Mac didn't answer. He was not a very good liar and so he didn't want to lie to Adam. But he couldn't tell him the truth either - that he would not be able to pay the money back just yet.
"Friday, Taylor. My boss will come himself to collect the money," Adam threatened and pointed his finger in Mac's direction. With one final grin, he had left the room.
Mac sighed and tried to forget the conversation, but he couldn't - it was hanging like the sword of Damocles over his head.
"Mac? Are you alright? Mac?"
The warm yet concerned voice of his wife interrupted Mac in his thoughts. It was then that he noticed he must have been silent and staring at his plate for several long minutes. Looking up, he found his family watching him, all of them concern in their eyes. Ever since he had realised what an immense effect the economic problems, from which the country was suffering lately, had on his factory, he had tried everything possible to hide his worries from his family. Sleepless nights, a constant fear and his lack of appetite lately were difficult to conceal and so it was only a matter of time until the family members would realise how serious their situation really was.
"Yes, I'm fine," he answered, trying to give Stella a smile to emphasise his words. He wasn't sure whether it worked though and so he added, "I'm only a little stressed at the moment. Work is hard. But I'll be fine."
Stella nodded. Her eyes were telling him that she wasn't convinced yet, but she knew when to stop questioning her husband. "I think what you need is something nice to cheer you up," she said instead. "For ages, we haven't given any parties at our house anymore. Maybe this would be a great way of distracting you from work. You're working so hard, you deserve a nice event like this."
Mac saw the sparkles in his wife's eyes; she was already excited by the prospect of a party at their house. It was true; they hadn't given any parties for a very long time. For a good reason. A party counted to the long list of events and things Mac didn't have money for anymore. He didn't know how long he could pay their few servants - then how was he supposed to pay for a party? In his wife's eyes he could see how much she wanted to give this party though. To cheer him up and make him feel better. Little did she know about the real reasons for his mood and for now it was supposed to stay like this.
"Alright then. This sounds like a nice idea," he answered with a tiny sigh. "Next weekend we'll give a party."
A bright smile lit Stella's face. "Oh, this is going to be wonderful. I'll invite all of our friends. You'll see, Mac, this will help you to feel better again."
Mac only nodded in response. While Stella already started to create plans for the party, his eyes wandered to his daughter, who was sitting at the left side of the table. He had felt her eyes resting on him for a while now and when she found herself caught, she quickly turned her eyes away from him and back to her plate. He was aware of what his daughter had been thinking while watching him.
It was dark and late, possibly already after midnight. The entire house of the Taylors was quiet, everyone had gone to bed already, possibly asleep by now. Everyone except of one young woman. Lindsay was still awake. Quietly lying in her bed, she was staring towards the ceiling. She had tried her best to fall asleep, had even read a bit in one of her beloved books - something her parents didn't like too much to see, something she normally wasn't allowed to do at night. Still, she was awake and didn't feel like she would be able to fall asleep any time soon. There was one thought always present in her mind: the concern she had seen in her father's eyes before.
Mac Taylor was a man who didn't speak about problems, no matter what kind of problems they were, no matter how serious they might be. Still Lindsay could sense that something was worrying him. She couldn't put her finger on what this might be; problems at work maybe, or financial problems? Those were just guesses, but Lindsay was smarter than people thought. She was aware of what was happening with the economy of the country they were living in. Despite what her parents wanted her to do, she had been paying attention to what people were talking all around her. Whenever she was in town, she tried to catch as much as she could. Whenever the radio was turned on, she listened to it closely. Whenever she found a newspaper, she read it. She knew their country had economical problems and if she wasn't wrong, this was what caused her father's worries. How much she wished she could help him. But he wouldn't even want her support. All she could do was watch and hope that he would work out whatever problem he had.
Releasing a tiny sigh, Lindsay turned around to lie on her side, staring towards the window. Even from her position in her large, warm bed, she could see the few stars sparkling in the endless, deep black sky. It was one of those dark, cold and snowy nights that caused this strong longing to rise inside her. It wasn't like she was a lonely person. Lindsay enjoyed quiet moments, she enjoyed to be all on her own, busy with reading a good book or simply enjoying the beauty of the landscape. Sometimes, in moments like this though, she felt the longing for more. How much she sometimes wished to experience what she was reading about in her beloved books. How much she longed for a shoulder she could lean on when she had a rough day, strong arms that held her tight when she didn't feel well and needed comfort, someone who listened to her when things got complicated at home again, like they were at the moment.
It was one of those nights where Lindsay hoped one day she would find all this. For now, she had to accept that she still had to wait and so she wrapped her blanket a little tighter around her slim body and closed her eyes to dream about the day her wishes would come true.
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