Chapter 39 Amy-Rose

Chapter 39

Amy-Rose

The towering edifice on the north side of Chicago cast the entire street in shadow. It was early, and steam seemed to billow from the surface of the road. In this neighborhood, white gentlemen walked briskly with their collars turned up, and the postman lingered to speak with the business owners unlocking their doors. The city was just starting to wake up. Amy-Rose left the salon in the charge of her two hairdressers.

She looked down at the letter in her hand.

Miss Amy-Rose Shepherd,

Your presence is requested at the Law Offices of Cliff and Jameson at 9 a.m. for the delivery of Mrs.Davis’s last wishes as they pertain to you. She checked the address and pushed inside.

“You got an appointment?” asked the secretary at the desk.

“I received a letter.”

He sighed. “Do you know who you’re here to see?”

“No, I—”

The gentleman’s attention drifted back to the book he was consulting.

Annoyed that she had left her own business to be here, Amy-Rose slapped her letter on the counter. “This is the letter that directed me here. I have a business of my own to run. Please notify the person in charge that I am here. I do not have all day.”

The secretary read her letter and excused himself. His footsteps were lighter and faster than she would have imagined. She smiled to herself, knowing that Mrs.Davis would have approved. While waiting, Amy-Rose admired the marble entryway and the thick columns that stretched into the vaulted ceilings. The rustle of shuffling papers floated on the air, which smelled of old parchment.

“Miss Shepherd?”

Amy-Rose spun to see the secretary holding open a door to a hallway beyond. She nodded the way she’d seen Mrs.Davenport do a thousand times and walked through that open door with her chin up. She was shown to an office that had a large window overlooking the street below.

“Please, have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly.”

She waved her thanks, still watching the carriages roll by. Once the door clicked shut behind her, Amy-Rose exhaled. She tugged at the waist of her dress. It was a heavily tailored bodice—professional and expensive. It made her feel confident and capable, but it was also too tight to breathe easily. Helen was definitely onto something, she thought. As instructed, she took a seat and waited.

And waited.

The chair beneath Amy-Rose groaned. She’d been waiting the better part of an hour for Mrs.Davis’s lawyer to arrive. The letter said it was urgent. Not urgent enough for him to be on time, though. She was to meet John for lunch but now suspected she’d be late for that as well. Amy-Rose had made up her mind to pay the front desk a visit when the door swung open.

“My apologies, Miss Shepherd. I’m Mr.Rowan.” A gentleman in a gray suit bustled in, adjusting his tie. His skin was a deep brown, his hair cut short. He had dark circles under his eyes that did not dampen the brightness in his expressive brown eyes. “My wife and I are new parents.”

“Congratulations,” she said. Her next words were cut short when another gentleman entered the room. He was taller and had sandy hair and a flushed expression. Lastly, Ruth Davis entered. She wore one of her mother’s most expensive broaches on a black dress with a tight silhouette. A fishnet veil hung from the fascinator she wore on her head. She was a caricature of grief, and it made Amy-Rose’s blood boil.

“The documents you requested,” said the sandy-haired man, handing a folder to Mr.Rowan, and bringing Amy-Rose’s attention back to the room. He exited as clumsily as he had entered, leaving Amy-Rose wondering just what she was doing here.

Mr.Rowan watched her over the papers in his hand. “What was your relationship to the late Maude Davis, Miss Shepherd?”

“I was her traveling companion for a time. Then when I started my business, I became her protégé. She was my first investor. We remained close friends until she passed.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end. She glanced at Ruth, who now occupied the chair next to her.

“Right, sorry for your loss,” he said, almost like an afterthought. “I have some papers for you to sign, and then we can be underway to transition ownerships of the accounts. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to have the titles and funds consolidated to your existing accounts. At your own establishment?”

Miss Davis sat forward in her seat. “I beg your pardon.”

“I don’t know that I understand. What accounts?” said Amy-Rose.

Mr.Rowan set the documents in three neat piles and offered her a pen. “Mrs.Davis named Miss Shepherd the recipient of her estate, less the amounts specified for members of her staff and a trust for her daughter, you, Miss Davis. There are also instructions for donations to some charitable endeavors that will need your approval.” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “Miss,” he said, his focus returning to Amy-Rose. “You just need to read and sign. Then it’s all yours.” Next to the pen, he placed a set of keys she recognized to be Mrs.Davis’s personal copies to her home and automobile.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Are you sure?” she asked, tripping over the matter-of-fact way he informed her that she’d inherited what once belonged to her mentor.

“This is ridiculous!” Miss Davis launched from her seat and stalked over to the desk. “I am her daughter!”

“I understand this is difficult for you, but your mother was clear about her wishes. You do have a trust with a payment plan to keep you comfortable. She was in good mental health and aware when she made her decision. I cannot go against her wishes.” From his jacket pocket, he pulled a small sheet of paper and gave it to Amy-Rose. It was a handwritten letter on Mrs.Davis’s personal stationery.

Dear Amy-Rose, don’t stop chasing your dreams. I believe in you.

It was dated before she and Mrs.Davis had left on her last trip. The rest of the note listed properties in New Haven and New York that Amy-Rose would have to visit and take stock of, and do with as she pleased. She was speechless and sad and overwhelmed.

Ruth Davis read over her shoulder, letting out a screech at the end. She stormed out of the office. A trail of destruction sounded in her wake. The slam of a door made the whole room flinch. Amy-Rose’s mind raced. She couldn’t fathom the wealth Mrs.Davis had in life. And now to own it? The thought was as exhilarating as it was overwhelming. What should I do first? Again, Amy-Rose wished the brash widow was here to give her council. Her gaze dropped to where one of her tears had smeared the ink.

Don’t stop chasing your dreams.

···

Later that night, Amy-Rose sat on the steps outside the salon, grateful the heat wave had finally broken. She heard the sound of the engine before the motorcar became visible, coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. John climbed out and took the short stack of stairs to sit beside her. The bouquet of roses he carried dropped petals around them. “I imagined today would have been a difficult one for you,” he said, handing them to her. She rested her head on his shoulder and recounted the meeting with Mrs.Davis’s lawyer. He listened without interruption and provided his handkerchief.

“Oh, Amy-Rose,” said John when she was done. “A windfall like that is likely to make anyone a target. I’m sorry for that piece of it.” He brushed her face where it still felt damp. “The inheritance will make expanding your business easier, though I imagine you’d rather have Mrs.Davis than her things.”

Amy-Rose’s heart squeezed. “Yes,” she said. “I would.”

“When is Elizabeth due to arrive? Jessie gave me specific instructions not to return home without that information.”

Amy-Rose giggled despite herself. “At the end of September.” It couldn’t come soon enough. After so much loss, she was looking forward to adding to her family. She laced her fingers through John’s, grateful for him. Content to do this for the rest of their days.

She looked up at the building her mentor had secured for her, her mother’s name printed on the door, and knew they had given her all she needed to succeed, in life and love. She took the roses from John and inhaled deeply. “Let’s not waste any more time.”