Chapter 26

~Erik~

The coin rolled back and forth across the back on my knuckles in a distracted dance. Fingers with so much memory of how to manipulate objects … I wondered if they even listened to my brain any longer. In a quick turn, the coin vanished only to reappear.

"Nice trick." Gallo threw back his mug of ale with an appreciative sigh before slamming the empty vessel on the rough table between us. "A fella once taught me a pretty slick card trick. Wanna see?"

"No. I can not say I care for this wretched bar you have brought us to this evening. I am waiting and my patience is wearing thin."

"Relax." He leaned back tugging his cap down low. "They'll be here soon. Promise you that. This is their favorite place and word traveled fast the other day. If VanHollus really did push him into the brink, his whole crew will be here barking mad about it. Oh, hello." He sat up, craning his neck. "There you are, Monsieur. The whole dang lot, fit to be tied."

I clung to the shadow as the creaking door admitted the torrent of cursing men. No less than a dozen pushed up to the counter. Working men, calloused hands and dirt packed skin, tempers flaring like wolves denied access to sheep. The poor lads. All they needed was to have someone masterfully cut the fence.

"What the hell am I going to do?" A burly man pounded his fist on the counter. "Whole company dismissed cause the boss lost his contract. No work coming in the spring, not even a chance at our winterin' money. Can't find labor this late in the season."

A younger man, on the cusp of adulthood looked up from the miserable heap. "You're at least more than an apprentice. I haven't even a full season. Everything … my whole future is gone. We were counting on that money to keep the apartment through the winter."

"Shit boy, you live in the Bowery. Ain't an apartment. Ain't nothing but a death trap."

"Mother and Father were counting on me! Can't work cause they're so sick."

The man clicked his tongue, other gazes turned with sorrow. "S'right Piero, forgot your folks got consumption."

Piero untied the scarf from his neck with numb fingers. Absently he rubbed it against his haunted eyes, the bleak future reflected in his blank stare. Even the hardened men around him softened their voices for a moment.

"We'd all go to the boss and plead your case. But the truth is he's probably gonna lose his own roof shortly. We're all sinkin' in this mire and there's nought that we can do for it." Stripping the hat from his head he pressed it to his heart and sighed. "Truth is, few of us make it out of here save in the ol' pine box."

The coin in my hand skipped across the counter, striking a metal platter leaning against the wall. All eyes turned in alarm to the source of the sound. Then gradually, they turned one by one, to look upon me. My hands steepled before me. I spoke just above a whisper drawing the men towards me.

"There is another way out of the Bowery. One that benefits all that are here."

The burly man took a step forward, placing himself between me and the young Piero. "What's this nonsense, stranger?"

"Soon you shall learn I am no stranger to you."

"Ain't seen the look of you before. Sit up, man needs to see who he speaks with."

I did not move. "I have a proposition for all of you. Word has reached me that you are recently unemployed. I will be in need of a crew to work my stone, to build my buildings. I am looking for eager men of all skill levels." I glanced at the young Piero peering around at me. "Especially those willing to learn."

A general babble broke out before the man quelled them with a hand. I assumed he must have been their foreman. "Not sure it's gonna be worth trying to stay in the trade. Seems like every crew is being torn apart. You one of VanHollus's cronies come to pick the remains of his dirty work?"

Somehow the blade had found itself into my hand, the tip slicing into the soft wood. "Hardly! Recently I have come to learn of VanHollus's despicable game. He has been stealing contracts from me and I have a desire to see him put in his place. I need a loyal crew who is driven by that same desire."

The foreman spat on the floor, eyeing me. "You an architect?"

I nodded slowly. "Not only that, a master stone mason with my own quarry in the north of the island."

Heads turned and the men leaned forward.

I pushed up from the table removing a roll of paper from beneath my sweater. "I have a proposition for everyone of you. I cannot offer you much in advance."

The sound of disgust traveled in a wave.

"Patience." My voice cut through. "You want to make a fool out of VanHollus? You want to be free of this Bowery? You want a chance at a better life than this cesspit?"

Every head nodded tentatively, even Piero's.

Unrolling the paper I showed the map of my land. My finger traced a wide tract of field. "Every man who signs on to work for my crew will be permitted a small plot of land beside the quarry. He will be allotted stone and supplies, and in his spare time may build a home for his family. As long as the man is in service to me, the home is his. Serve me well enough and the home becomes his permanently."

Hope. Hope glimmered in their hungry eyes. Hands twitched as if already signing in the air.

The foreman lifted his head appraisingly. "What's this got to do with VanHollus, old man?"

I locked eyes with him and offered a cold smile. "When I am done exposing his true nature to society not even the beggar will look at him without disgrace."

He glanced at the plot map, rubbing his stubbled chin. "There are others."

Spreading my hands wide I declared, "Bring them one and all to me. I shall offer them a home and work. Once my work is visible on this island I can assure you there will be plenty of contracts."

Piero stepped around the foreman. "Sir, I am but an apprentice. But I will work very hard for you if you will have me."

"Let me see your hands, boy." He placed the calloused fingers in my hands, palm up. They were strong, steady. They had seen rough stone work common for a first year. "There is promise in you. The offer stands for you as well."

"Even the house?" He leaned forward.

Waving my hand over the map, "Where would you like it?"

~Erik~

"Everything is sparkling." Nadir declared to the empty upper town street. It was as though he felt I needed to hear it, as though I was a blind man who would appreciate his narration.

Yes, a blanket of freshly fallen snow had whitewashed the city. It was mid-December after all, snow is rather commonplace. Beautiful. Lovely. I have better things to do than tromp through it, bundled in several layers trying to stay warm. I could be … well … I'm sure I would think of something more beneficial than begging winter for death from cold. What had compelled Nadir to inflict this kind of torture on us, a stroll through the aristocratic streets? Garlands draped gaily about windows and doors, pine trees sacrificed for some ritual to be brought inside and set ablaze with candles. A season of joy. My shoulders stiffened at the sight of brightly wrapped packages carried by servants into an extravagant home.

"Explain to me again," Nadir intruded my melancholy, "it has been many a year since you have spoken of your once Christian faith. I do not understand what would compel one to bring a tree into their home."

The silence stretched between us. My eyes drifted to the Persian beside me. Threadbare clothing hung off his malnourished frame. He knew enough about the Christian holiday from our conversations before … The lowly manger story that inspired it all. He also saw the lavish celebrations dripping with excess and waste, the hypocritical gluttony. On that night households would be gathered around their trees lit by hundreds of candles, one family feasting on enough food to feed four blocks in this city, singing carols and drinking toasts to a bright future. They would be reveling in their generosity. Nadir and I would be shivering in the Bowery by the light of our single candle, eating a paltry meal of boiled grains, silence pervading as we sipped weak tea with a nip of Nadir's whiskey. What an abysmal waste.

"Erik, please. I am really trying to understand the strange custom."

A rude laugh escaped me. "This coming from a man who hails from the land of excess."

He blushed briefly, diving into his scarf. "It was different over there."

"Do not play word games with me. Those halls were filled with as much wasted resources as this wretched custom brings."

"You find no comfort in the joviality?"

Ducking down further into my cloak I shrugged, "Why on earth would I?"

"I am to understand that this is in celebration of a Savior. Some pathway for the forgiveness of sins."

"That nest of nonsense." I rolled my eyes. "You care more for that pitiful story than I ever have."

His hand tapped my shoulder firmly. "That is not true. There was a time. You have hinted at it enough. Else how would you have known."

Cocking a brow I replied, "I know of eunuchs and harems from Persia. I know of your faith, sometimes I swear more intimately than you. One does not have to believe to comprehend. I assure you, Nadir, it has been a great long time since I have taken that word seriously. I never shall again. Those who wish to waste their money on such fleeting things as this dreadful holiday, that makes a mockery of the poor, will do so in their own ignorance." I had more important things to address. Like building my network to bury VanHollus. It had been several days since I had heard from Gallo. Perhaps my frustration had more to do with the fact that winter hobbled all my efforts.

"At least you are talking." He muttered, "been too damn quiet lately with only my own thoughts as company."

"You can always go downstairs and ask Chastity for a lesson."

All I could see now was his eyes over his scarf, eyes tainted with embarrassment.

Was it my fault that he had gone smitten for her? I closed my eyes for a brief moment and the fool was sharing her bed. The nerve of the Persian heart, so fickle.

"We saved your life," he murmured.

Well … there was that.

"You could show a little gratitude."

My feet paused in the street. A moment later I took a few steps back. My eyes had not fooled me. There was a building that stretched the entire facade of the block, that was all it was. A narrow slice of a building standing apart from the ones comprising the rest of the block. How did this strange structure come to be? And why? It was as though it stood on its own plot of land in defiance of the rest of the block.

"Erik? Erik, are you even listening to me?"

I waved a hand to Nadir. Yes, that was it. The building nestled tightly into it's own slice of the block. I had heard of this happening, the city blocks not always matching the original boundary lines. This remarkable building must have been the result of just such a situation.

"Ingenious!" I mused. "Look, you can see it is one very narrow building connected through the various floors by that central stairwell. From the looks of it, there are two dwellings on either side of the entrance. I can only imagine the jest this structure made to whomever owned the land behind. What an incredible stroke of defiance to employ the plot in such a manner."

"Who would live in such a place?"

"Who lives beside an underground lake beneath five cellars of the Paris Opera in a house no one knows exists." I whispered with a wink. "A man who recognizes the potential for something unique."

The gears turned. I had glimpsed VanHollus's designs and before long would know one when I saw it, but not for a good reason. It wasn't style or distinction, but repetition.

Gazing up at this unusual architectural statement, I remembered the awe in Reed's eyes as I had shown him my vision … that was what set us apart. I doubted VanHollus could learn to adapt as thoroughly as my decades of life had taught me.

~VanHollus~

Remarkable how a stonemason such as Shaw could live in such an uninspired dwelling. Every time he held a gathering in his parlor I was reminded of his simple tastes. How unfortunate. Ones home really did reflect upon the man. His screamed ordinary.

It was New Year's Eve, and it seemed such a lamentable waste not to be gathered in my ballroom. Compelled to humor the man, I decided to grace everyone with my presence.

"Tell me, VanHollus, how is your wife?" Shaw addressed me when we retired to his quaint little parlor, cigar smoke rising into the air. "I beg pardon for saying so, but she looked a bit pale at dinner."

I took a long draw off the fine cigar, savoring it before I replied. "She is well. Her complexion suffers a bit from a condition."

"Oh dear." Polstern politely bowed his head. "I was unaware she was ill."

I chuckled. "We shall see how fit a wife she is for me if she bears me an heir."

Their own complexions blushed. "Oh!" Shaw sat up, reaching for his glass. "So a toast is in order!"

Waving my hand in dismissal, I took another long breath of the smoke, holding it briefly before I replied. "That can wait til we see of her success in her wifely duties, Gentlemen. I daresay that if she succeeds there it shall be the first and likely only time she has performed satisfactorily."

Polstern inclined his chin. "It was said she had a mind of her own."

"I have been forced to put her in her place more than once."

"Her willful nature inspires others," replied Polstern. "More than, once after they have had tea, I have had cause to remind my wife that women have no place in the business world."

"Better left to their embroidery." I savored my cigar contemplating taking a sip of the champagne. Didn't I pay Shaw well enough to afford something better than this … this … swill? And surely he could afford better trained servants. A gentleman should never need to voice his wants, a servant should simply know.

"It is such an insufferable situation each and every time my wife returns home with these ideas in her head. Ideas about how dreadfully unfair it is to push the mediocrity down, to remove them from attempting to practice business. She is distraught until I remind her of that simple fact."

I smiled and concluded for him. "That those are not men we have cut down. The low class are not worth a woman's tears. Fairer sex indeed. They want to suckle every poor soul that begs for a handout. No grasp of the true nature of the business world."

Shaw pulled out his pocketwatch, glancing at the time. "Ten minutes, Gentlemen, and we may bid a fond farewell to 1882."

"As with any other year." I sat up straighter in my chair, adjusting my smoking jacket. "This was most profitable. And what a delightful little turn of events. Some have left our circle only to be found useful once again."

"Reed?" Shaw cocked his head, distractedly replacing his watch.

"Indeed. Which reminds me, I should get around to drafting that conservatory he asked for before the ground thaws."

Polstern lowered his glass, his eyebrow raised. "Then … you have not heard?"

I stared at him, waiting overlong for a reply as he seemed to search for words. "Pray, tell."

"Why, there is no need for you draft for him. Reed secured a contract with another architect in late fall."

The ash from my cigar fell and singed my hand before I could brush it away. Fingers dug into the arm of my high back backed chair. I drilled him with my eyes. "Who dared to steal my contract?"

Shaw leaned forward with curiosity while Polstern cleared his throat. "Monsieur Erik."

That ridiculous fool? How did he manage to get his contract back after my forged letter announcing he had to cancel his meeting? Reed had seen him after that? I knew Reed was a cad, but it was unforgivable for a businessman not to honor his meeting time. Precisely why I used that tactic so often. It was ironclad.

Raising his glass Shaw grinned, "Well Gentlemen, a toast to a new year! May it bring about many ambitious ventures for one and all. To 1883!"

Absently I raised my glass. To ambitious ventures indeed. The first of which was to utilize my resources to bury this upstart who dared to try and steal from me!