Snowflakes Over Manhattan


— Chapter 6 —

Of Ink and Pine


WARMTH—COZY AND WELCOMING—greeted them as they stepped into the toy store. Christmas carols were piping from phonograph horns; light from elegant brass electric ceiling fixtures spilled all around them; groups of shoppers moved from one display to another, ladies' fingers examining everything and men's eyes dreading the upcoming sales total even as they kindly helped daughters pick out dollies and sons try on green Alpine hats. Children were everywhere, cheeks flushed with excitement, eyes large with wonder and more than a touch of hope.

Pops of Christmas red were found every place eyes landed. Gold and silver decorations draped from the ceiling, swirled around table legs, and lined counters. In a corner, warmly lit, was a small table behind which a lady dressed in red with a long white apron was ladling hot cocoa for customers. The scent of chocolate, warm and milky, cloaked itself around them.

But it was the toys that took center stage.

They were everywhere: artfully arranged on display tables, stacked high on the shelves behind the counters, filling in the empty space under tables, in niches along columns. . .

Toy heaven, Elizabeth thought with quick delight, eyes darting up and down, back and forth, more enchanted with every glance.

"Allie, there are more floors above us, filled with more toys?" Nathan had uncovered Holly's face and only stopped his soft kisses to the dark, silky down on her head long enough to look over at Allie with inquiring eyes. When Allie nodded, confirming his suspicion, he glanced around again, a look of respect deepening his features. "Incredible," he murmured, almost to himself.

Elizabeth agreed.

There were dollies with sweet faces and in every conceivable size and costume, boing!-ing Jack-in-the-Box's that scared nervous grandmothers who exclaimed, clutching handkerchiefs in dismay as their grandchildren stifled giggles at their expense; freshly-painted bicycles, pint-sized vanities with mirrors, miniature prams, carved wooden nutcrackers, rocking horses with manes and tails that looked real, marble games, toy train sets, whistles, pocket knives, board games, three-story dollhouses of intricate detail, knights defending the drawbridge of a moated castle. . .

The toys were endless both in variety and quantity, and Elizabeth's eyes were glowing with sheer childlike joy when they finally left several hours later, her clutching to her chest several wrapped packages of age-appropriate gifts they had found for Samantha and Leah, their oldest girls, while Nathan's free hand easily held two large shopping bags filled to the brim with gifts for Holly. . . and some carefully selected gifts for their godchildren and their friend's children back home.

"Oh, Allie, you were right," Elizabeth sighed in pleasure. "I'm so glad you brought us here. It was just. . . beyond words! What an experience you gave us. Holly loved it, and I feel like a little girl again."

Allie's hands held several smaller bags and her satisfied happiness was apparent. "That makes me very happy indeed. Isn't it something else? I had a feeling you would love it! Now, while we head back to catch the subway, let me tell you about the recently deceased German gentleman who started the toy company. He dreamed of a marvelous, bountiful emporium full of extraordinary, one-of-a-kind toys from all over the world. His name was Frederick August Otto Schwarz, hence the name of the store — F.A.O. Schwarz — but when he started it in 1862 in Baltimore, Maryland, it was just called Toy Bazaar and he and his German immigrant brothers retailed toys from a stationary and fancy-goods store. . ."

The tale kept them company all the way back to Times Square, conveniently ending just as they were coming up to the cart from which the aromas of basil and tomato had emanated so enticingly from earlier. One look at each other and the trio of Grants were in silent accord: It was time to satisfy their now empty stomachs. It was past time for a mid-day repast.

"Antonio" of Antonio's Pizza Pies was, as it turned out, as colorful and warm as his sign. And his pizza was one of the most delicious things Elizabeth had ever tasted in her life, surpassing some of the finest restaurants she had dined in. The golden, pillowy edge of the crust, the hot, melted goodness of mozzarella, the fresh tomato flavor of his homemade sauce, the crispy underneath crust. . . she could have eaten it for days and never tired of it.

A small, wiry man with olive skin and a Roman nose, Antonio watched them eat slices of his hot pizza with interested eyes until he decided that Nathan needed a hand with Holly so he could eat more comfortably. Elizabeth had no objection and she watched, smiling, as the expressive Italian rocked Holly expertly against his shoulder, turning this way and that to show her all the sights, explaining each one to her—but really, to them—in colorful Italian, interspersed erratically with broken English that made them laugh as they tried to understand what he was so enthusiastically sharing with them.

When Nathan finished, he offered to take the baby but the Italian looked so crushed, Nathan stepped back and shook his head, laughing. They were well acquainted with the power of tiny Holly by now. No one was immune to it, it seemed.

Nathan had been intrigued by the process of assembling and baking pizza in such a small space and outdoors in the cold, and began to ask questions. The Italian lit up. He stepped back around his cart and started explaining the process, gesticulating as he talked, pointing and patting his food preparation and cooking implements like they were his babies—all without ever relinquishing Holly, who seemed to have become another of his favored possession in the short time she'd been on his shoulder.

As for Holly, she was watching him rather seriously with unblinking eyes that peered out of her wrappings, and Elizabeth and Allie stifled giggles behind their hands at how easy it was to imagine her understanding every word he said even as they struggled to. Nathan however seemed to be picking up most everything the man was sharing, and when new customers came up to the cart, hungry eyes on the food, he took his baby daughter back from the pizza maker—who, as it turned out, had four young children and a baby girl at home—and the two shook hands like new friends.

"Buon Natale!" Antonio-the-pizza-vendor cried after them with a wave.

"Merry Christmas!" they chorused back.

The whole of the experience followed them like a warm hug as they headed for the subway entrance, rendering the chill in the air quite negligible.

Elizabeth took a last look at Times Square—dubbed thus a mere twelve years earlier, having previously been known as Longacre Square—as they approached the entryway to the subway, narrowly dodging two boys gleefully tossing snowballs at each other on the sidewalk outside.

This time, her eyes lingered on the eye-catching Times Tower as it was still called, despite The New York Times newspaper having moved its corporate headquarters and most of its operations to West 43rd Street three years earlier due to space restrictions at Times Tower. They'd simply outgrown it, as The Times—close rival to Allie's paper—rapidly expanded its readership.

The stately edifice was Neo-Gothic in design, its facade refined. Exquisitely carved doorways greeted visitor and employee alike at its main entrances. The first three stories were beautifully decorative and clad in cream-colored Indiana limestone The upper stories showcased ornate terracotta details such as brackets and cornices. Ornamental ironwork was strategically installed, including window frames around each of the first floor windows and again from the twelfth story up.

It stood alone and soared up sixteen stories in three horizontal sections, each higher than the one below, a flagpole atop its tower where the stars and stripes of the American flag unfurled vibrantly in the breeze; red, white, and blue against the pale winter sky. But the most striking element of the building was its shape. Tall and incredibly narrow for a building of its stature, it occupied an oddly shaped parcel of land, resulting in a building that was slightly V-shaped, a gentle triangle amidst all the squares and rectangles around it.

"Scoping out the enemy?" Allie had backtracked to where she stood, and now leaned her head against Elizabeth's with a teasing smile.

Elizabeth patted her cheek. "You know I would never so much as glance at any of your rival's papers," she said loyally. "But you must admit, The Times' building, or old building I should say, is really quite something. It visually dominates the southern end of Times Square. I can't stop looking at it. Such stateliness, such imaginative architecture!"

Allie's laugh was merry. "Oh, I'll give you that!" she acknowledged with a cheerfulness that showed no rancor. "Our building at The Post is no slouch in style or scope, but there's not much that can match The Times Tower for uniqueness and I freely admit it."

"Nathan taught you well." Elizabeth pulled back and smiled fondly where Nathan waited with Holly by the covered entrance to the subway station. "You are well-versed in being fair-minded, despite your natural loyalties."

"He did, but you had a big hand in that too." Allie's voice was sweet with love and gratitude.

A brisk breeze barreled through from nowhere, interrupting the moment and lifting Allie's hat nearly off her head. Allie squawked in her throat, clamping a hand on her head, trying to secure the hat as she scrambled to re-insert the hat pin that had wiggled loose. Elizabeth clutched her parcels in one arm as she endeavored to assist Allie. In another second, they were done; hat once more snug atop Allie's hair.

"Whew!" Allie stooped to pick up the bags that had slipped from her hands when she'd jumped to fix her errant hat. "That was close. But it wouldn't be the first hat I've lost to these windy streets!"

"Everything alright?" Nathan had walked to them and was watching them in concern, wind tousling his hair, a visual Elizabeth could look at all day. It wasn't fashionable for a man to go outdoors without a hat, but Nathan had never been prone to wearing them since leaving the Mounties and she had her own reasons for liking to see him without a hat covering that thick, dark hair of his.

"Oh, we're all good." Allie was cheerful as she started briskly walking to their destination, where ENTRANCE TO TUNNEL beckoned them in white lettering. "Just the usual fight against the wind."

The noise of street trolleys, motorcars, and horses faded as they descended, replaced by the the chatter of people in an enclosed space as they exited the stairs underground, and following the signs, purchased their tickets and pushed through wooden turnstiles to find their platform.

Elizabeth took a breath, getting a lungful of cool air. She had never been in an underground subway station before. On the way to Times Square from Allie's boarding house earlier, they had opted to utilize a combination of walking and above-ground trolley's so that Allie could more easily show them sights along the way. She was slightly nervous about the notion of riding a train car underground through tunnels, but Allie's experienced ease and the inherent calm of Nathan's steadiness settled her. More relaxed, she started looking around with curiosity.

Women, trim in long skirts, and men in hats and coats stood along the crowded platform, some in loosely formed groups, some standing apart, the couples standing alongside each other. An older man leaning heavily on a walking stick wheezed as he made his way past them, his nursemaid in a white cap hurrying after him, nervously scolding him for rushing off without her. A stately older couple reposed nearby on a bench. Seamstresses rubbed shoulders with bankers, and bricklayers with judge's wives.

Warm-toned tiles in earthy green, bronze-y brown, and a softening cream patterned the multiple arches that met above their heads in a dome and lined the sleek, curved walls of the tunnel and the multiple arches that formed ribs along its length, but the floor beneath their feet was made of larger, textured tiles, each big enough for several people to stand upon.

There was a sudden sensation, like a subtle shiver against the soles of their footwear, and a soft rumble began to fill the space around them.

Elizabeth clutched Nathan's arm. "Is it coming?" she wondered aloud.

He glanced down at her and smiled reassuringly, his eyes bright with interest. "It is, love."

Allie came up alongside them, plumed hat pert and waving. "I love the sound as it approaches," she said happily. "And you'll like being onboard! No need to worry either; New Yorkers have been driving trains through tunnels for twelve years now, ever since our first subway line opened in 1904. They're old hands at it by now, and it's quite safe. They wanted to open a subway in the city going back to at least 1863, but politics and power plays got in the way."

The rumble grew closer.

Chatter quieted. The heads of the crowd began to turn expectantly towards the right.

Elizabeth followed the direction of their gazes curiously and took a little breath as, nearly without warning, a dark shadow grew swiftly on the wall and on its heels came the cause. Around the corner came what Elizabeth could only imagine must be a subway car. Steel and aluminum, dark and decorative, it bore steadily down on them, a bespectacled conductor at the nose of it, gripping the bars from his place on the covered platform that was half-open to the air.

The car slid smoothly into place alongside the crowds of waiting passengers where they waited on the elevated platform that lined the tracks. Elizabeth craned her head as people around them began to pick up up their bags and move toward the doors which conductors were standing beside.

"Oh!" she gasped, not wanting to sound overly provincial but amazed nonetheless. "There's more cars attached behind it. It really is an underground train!"

"It really is." Allie shuffled the smaller F.A.O. Schwarz bags she was holding to one hand, and grasping Elizabeth's in her freed hand, walked backwards, pulling Elizabeth after her with small, convincing tugs. "Come aboard the subway! I promise it's not scary."

With Allie before her and Nathan's solid presence behind her, Elizabeth's new boots crossed from the familiar to the unfamiliar without fear. There was only the slightest hesitation as her feet approached the edge of the platform, then with a feeling of mental release, like balloons away to the sky, she stepped onto the floor of the subway car. And just like that, she was through the door and, for the first time in her life, inside a subway car.

The ceilings were tall and curved upward over their heads, clearing Nathan's by several feet. Padded and long, comfortable-looking seats lined each side of the compartment, with short, graceful wooden dividers partitioning the seats into spaces that would seat a few in each. There were metal poles extending to the ceiling from the front of the wood seat partitions, resulting in twelve standing supports per car. A multitude of brown leather handstraps dangled from the ceiling in generous loops, awaiting the hands of any standing passenger who might prefer them to the poles. The car was amply lit: electric lights dangled above each row of seats and formed yet a third line of light down the middle of the car. Advertisements for everything from soap flakes that promised not to shrink your baby's woolens to Tennessee whiskey to a women's university—all the same uniform shape and size—were neatly plastered in a row above the windows flanking both sides of the car.

The long seats were filling up rapidly. Men sat with business cases on their laps, ladies their handbags. Nathan caught the elbow of Elizabeth's coat between two fingers to catch her attention and pointed his head towards an opening to his right.

"Allie!" She snagged Allie in turn, but when they reached the spot—people obligingly tucking their feet close to let them by; a kind courtesy as there was several feet of empty space down the middle for them to walk—it became apparent that it would only seat two at most.

"Please sit." Nathan's smile urged acquiescence, and she blessed him for his chivalry. "You ladies take a seat. Little Miss Holly and I will be just fine right here in front of you. Won't we, precious girl?" Holly's head bobbled a little on his shoulder and his smile skewed tender at her wobbly little movement.

Elizabeth melted, watching them. There was a funny, squishy feeling in the center of her chest. Oh, my Nathan. I love the way you love your girls.

Depositing the large bags he had been holding—stuffed to the brim with toys and presents from the unique toy-maker whose store they'd left not long before this—on the floor between Elizabeth and Allie's feet, Nathan reached up and grasped onto the leather loop, readying himself for departure.

Elizabeth tipped her head back, necessary in order to look at him from this angle. He looked so big towering over them, legs slightly braced, one strong hand keeping his tiny daughter securely fastened to his shoulder, the other curled over the handstrap. A smile toyed with her lips. He quirked an eyebrow at her, but she just shook her head, her smile growing. Explaining why she was smiling wasn't something she intended to voice in a compartment full of strangers.

Allie's eyes were dancing with understanding when she looked over at her.

Elizabeth huffed; a small laugh of chagrin at being found out admiring her own husband. Having lived with them for over thirteen years, she shouldn't be surprised that Allie could read her mind at this point. If nothing else, Allie was well acquainted with the softness in her eyes whenever she gazed on Nathan.

There was a cry announcing that the doors were now being closed and a sliver of quiet descended over the space.

Elizabeth's eyes wavered, not afraid, just. . . anticipating the unknown. Allie took her hand and Nathan shifted closer until his leg buttressed hers reassuringly. She smiled at them, both loving their support and feeling a little embarrassed that she felt better with it.

There was an abrupt if subtle rocking sensation, like a brake had been released from a chomping stallion—one was trying to be a gentleman about his compulsion to run. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the car moved, conveying them along the tracks with a smooth, rolling sensation that fluttered Elizabeth's sense of balance for one brief but annoyingly disoriented second.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and relaxed into the sensation of movement. It was nearly like a train, just below ground instead of above. Looking out the bank of windows, she thought how strange it was to see tunnel walls, interspersed with lights, flashing by mere feet from the where they sat instead of landscapes like mountains, farms, towns, forests. . .

Turning her gaze ceiling-ward, she mused how right above this tunnel were streets full of shoppers and workers, young and old, rich and poor, modern motorized cars and timeless horses, for the subway tunnels ran directly below the existing streets of New York City.

Swaying slightly with the motion of the car, Nathan nudged her knee gently. "You alright?" he mouthed silently.

Lips lifting in a smile, she nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and caress his arm through the coat sleeve in soft gratitude for his tireless consideration of her needs and comfort.

A grey-mustached man, conductor's cap firmly in place, twin rows of gold buttons marching down the front of his uniform jacket, moved in their direction. "Tickets please!" he called out. He eyed them genially as he punched their tickets. "Where will you lot be from then?"

"Canada," Nathan answered.

"Ah, you don't say. Welcome to our city!" he said in an accent thick with traces of the Emerald Isle. "Are you enjoying your stay then so far?"

Nathan nodded. "It would be hard not to." He smiled. "It's an incredible city."

"That is is." A wise nod. "'Tis one of a kind, it is. Not perfect, mind, but it's ours." He glanced down the length of the train. "I'd best be gettin' to the rest of my riders, but you enjoy the rest of your visit now, you hear, and if you need anything a'tall whilst you be on my train, you just give a holler for Patrick O'Shannon"—he touched the brass name plate pinned to his jacket with warm pride—"and I'll sort you out, never fear. God bless you and your beautiful family, young man."

Nathan smiled his thanks. "Your family as well, sir. Merry Christmas!"

"Indeed it will be." Pale blue eyes twinkled at them from under the bill of his cap. "And a very Happy Christmas to you lot as well!"

As he moved off, continuing his duties, Elizabeth couldn't help bit whisper with quiet marvel, "It feels as though every nation on earth must be here, Allie."

Allie twisted a little in her seat to face her better. "You wouldn't be far off the mark, believe me." She glanced behind them, seemed to recognize something. "Almost there now. We'll get off at the next stop."

Elizabeth blinked in some disappointment. "Already?" The subway car must have been traveling faster than she realized, for it felt like they had just boarded. And truth be told, she was rather enjoying it now that she'd settled in to the new experience.

Allie pressed the tips of her gloved hands to her lips to try to hide a smile, but Elizabeth caught it and started to giggle. "Alright, you caught me! You were right. I'm enjoying this, Allie."

"Well, not all conductors are as lovely as Mr. O'Shannon," Allie twinkled. "Some are real stuffed suits, I can tell you!"

"Wouldn't make that much of a difference," Elizabeth murmured happily. "I'm just enjoying the experience itself, novelty or not, and pleasant conductor or not."

"I'm glad." Allie's face shone with quiet joy. "It's what I hoped for."

Mr. O'Shannon's booming voice sounded, calling out the name of the upcoming stop, asking all those disembarking to prepare to exit the car upon arrival.

"Soon we'll be able to see where you go to work everyday," Elizabeth said gently. "We've been so looking forward to it."

Allie's face sobered a little. Elizabeth swiftly glanced at Nathan. He had seen it, and discreetly captured her gaze, giving her a small nod of acknowledgement.

They pulled into the station so smoothly Elizabeth wondered if the tracks had been greased with butter. They gathered their shopping bags again, and it was with a sense of regret that Elizabeth alighted from the car into the cooler air of the underground station.

Mr. O'Shannon leaned out from the still open door and called after them. "You enjoy the rest of your stay with us now! Come back and ride with me anytime."

They assured him they would love to and waved their good-bye's as the doors began to close. Their last sight of him was him tipping his hat to them, eyes alight with an Irish twinkle, before the doors closed, hiding him from view as the subway cars began to move off, picking up speed until they disappeared from view down the tunnel.

Smiles on their faces after such a send-off, they ascended the stairs that led to street level and back to sunlight, Allie and Elizabeth picking up their skirts to assist with the many steps up. It seemed like only a matter of minutes once they reached street level before Allie was pointing up the street, informing them that this was her place of work.

Allie had not lied; the building that housed The Post was not as impressive as The Times Tower, but it hinted at quiet wealth and a certain reserved elegance.

Six stories high, it was a rectangular building of stately grey stone with an aged brass sign alongside the main entrance that announced it was home to The Post. Darker grey stone edged the doorways and windows. There were multiple street-level entrances along both lengths of the building, but Allie led them unerringly towards one in particular.

Oak-framed revolving doors greeted them and they snugged into one section together, laughing at the tight fit, before they were bustled out the other side and into a pine-scented lobby that led to an ornamental staircase, where people in business attire—a handful of women among them—filed up and down the steps. Huge Christmas trees flanked the base of the staircase, bedecked with glittering gold stars and long ribbons in red that streamed from the top, forming a veritable forest of Christmas welcoming all who entered the building.

Off to the side, Elizabeth glimpsed a crowd of people waiting in front of an elevator, the lift looking and sounding very much like the one in Allie's boarding house, only larger. Black marble wainscotting laced with bronze veins covered the lower portion of the lobby walls, while the upper portion was painted a rich cream, soaring high to arched, fifteen-foot ceilings. White mosaic covered the shining floors, reflecting the dozens of warmly glowing light fixtures attached to walls and falling from the ceiling in the form of graceful chandeliers.

"How wonderful, Allie!" Elizabeth nodded approval. "I'll love to think of you working in such a lovely building. This is so beautiful."

"It's very tastefully appointed," Nathan agreed, eyes on the far wall where a group of comfortable wingback chairs clustered around a large fireplace. The fire was crackling merrily, orange flames spitting the occasional spark. The walls on either side of the fireplace were filled with framed photographs of the paper's history and figure heads.

"It is rather nice, isn't it." Allie was modest, but there was no mistaking the quiet, possessive pride in her eyes as she looked around, as if seeing it through their eyes. "Let me show you more. I'll take you on a quick tour before I have to drop these edits off in the pressroom."

She smiled cheerfully at the young man behind the reception desk—a long, widely curved affair of sleek dark wood that formed a half-moon against the wall—who bobbed his head back at her. Nathan and Elizabeth trailed after her as she set off with brisk strides. She took them down corridors and up stairs—the marble wainscotting and white mosaic tile floors carried on through most of the main halls and rooms, lending a unified air of cohesiveness to the visuals—showing them as much as she could. The executive offices with their red-oak doors and ornamental cornices; the staff kitchen lunchrooms—of which there were many to accommodate the paper's many employees; the mailing department, the repair department, and finally, as one last stop before the pressroom, the large room that housed the printing presses of the newspaper.

There were four printing presses to serve the readership demands of The Post's circulation, and Allie told them there were rumbles they might soon need a fifth if growth continued at its current trajectory. The room hummed with electricity and smelled of hot ink and paper. Huge rollers and massive sheets of paper warred with the whirring and clanking of machinery.

Elizabeth was in awe of the four machines that managed to look both delicate and hulking, tiptoeing around the men busily operating them. Nathan shook hands with one and immediately proceeded be given a tour of the machine, his eyes lit with keen interest.

Holly, far from being frightened at the noise level in the room or the strange men in it, was blinking bright eyes and following her father's every expression with that soft, infant captivation that bespoke her fascination with the world at large and him in particular.

Daddy's girl. Elizabeth watched through eyes gone fuzzy with love.

Allie soon gave Nathan a suggestive head tip in the direction of the door, letting him know it was time to move on. The man who had been explaining his printing press walked them to the door and gave Holly's nose a gentle tap of his finger as he ushered them into the hallway.

"I think you've got another newsie on your hands there!" he grinned.

Allie pursed her lips to hold back her sudden smile of delight.

"Perhaps we do." Nathan laughed softly and shook the man's hand good-bye. "I hope you get that fifth press. Have a blessed Christmas!"

Up a flight of stairs they went, Allie leading them through a back stairwell. "Now, you're really one of us," she chuckled mischievously over her shoulder, leading the way up, the wine plume of her hat bobbing at each step. "This is hallowed ground you're on."

"I'll remember that the next time I'm using an Employees Only stairwell," Nathan bantered back readily.

When they reached the top, Elizabeth took the opportunity to straighten her coat and kiss her baby girl before giving a satisfied sigh and declaring she now felt presentable to, at long last, face the press room where Allie spent so many of her working hours.

Allie led them down a long hallway, winter greenery tied with ribbons around the electric hallway sconces. When they came to the door that read PRESS ROOM, Elizabeth found herself surprised that it was a simple door, made out of dark wood and more than a little battle-scarred. There was a brass kick-plate at the bottom and another waist high, both polished and worn from frequent usage.

Allie put a hand on the door, paused, looked over at them. And smiled. A little proud, a little nervous, mostly excited. "Well, here we are," she said. "This is it." And with that, she pushed open the swinging door with the ease of old familiarity and went before them, holding the door ajar for them.

Elizabeth caught Nathan's arm, sharing a thrilled look with him, then with him at her side, stepped inside the room where their Allie spent much of her life in journalistic pursuits and which they had long desired to set foot inside.

The room was long and narrow with dark woodwork buttressing floor and high ceiling, woodwork that copied over to the desks that filled the floorspace. Independent desks aligned alongside tall windows that flanked the street side wall. In the center of the room, neat clusters of high-topped desks filled the floor, four to a grouping, men perched atop stools, backs bent over their work.

Elizabeth had never seen such an atmosphere. Men were everywhere; some at their desks pounding away at battered typewriters; others carefully laying out what looked to be advertisements for everything from hair pomade to bicycles; still others scribbled furiously across sheaves of paper with pencils worn to a nub, crossing out and underlining as they went.

There was a constant sensation of movement. Figures crisscrossed each other in the aisles—if such could be considered aisles—at such a pace that she held her breath waiting for a concussion-inducing collision. Most were neatly dressed in matched suit and tie, sleeve protectors in place to keep their sleeves from becoming as ink and lead-smeared as their fingers. Still others had their suit jackets removed, draped over the back of chairs or hanging from coat racks, as they labored in shirtsleeves.

Along the inner wall, in a series of high desks, she spotted women—a few young ladies in dark skirts and neat shirtwaists which sported round collars and short ties, attention focused on the large sheafs of paper before them.

And at the far end of the room, a tall man who had raised his head when they'd stepped into the room went quite still, watching them through eyes initially surprised, but which Elizabeth found rather intent when they finally met hers.

By her side, Allie sighed, very softly. "Oh. He's here. . . "


—oOo—


A/N: Yup! Allie's "ogre of a boss" (as Nathan teasingly referred to him in a prior chapter) is finally here. ;)

I have an Irish friend who has only ever used "Happy Christmas" (as opposed to "Merry Christmas" which is what I'm accustomed to) and I've also seen it used in historical pieces featuring that part of the world, so I used that for our Irish conductor's greeting here. In case anyone was wondering. ;)

Also, I'd originally intended for this story to be fully published by Christmas, but as I wrote, I perceived there is just too much story left to tell to complete it by then, so I hope you guys won't mind reading a Christmas story that will continue well past Dec. 25. (Maybe we could think of it as a story that extends the Christmas feeling for us? :) Hope this is alright with everyone.