Page 5 of The Gilded Heiress

I snorted. Oh, indeed. This handsome man had suddenly dropped out of the sky with the answer to all my problems. “And how

do you plan to do that?”

“I’m acquainted with a few theater owners in town. I can procure you some dates as practice. Then we travel to New York.”

“New York?” I squeaked in surprise and my knee bumped the table. The water glasses nearly toppled over.

Leo took his napkin and calmly blotted the spilled drops of water on the marble tabletop. “New York has Broadway, the Metropolitan

Opera House. Carnegie Hall. Careers are made there, Miss Smith.”

It sounded incredible, like a giant leap toward everything I’d ever wanted. But any offer this good had to have a catch. “And

what’s in it for you?”

“You’re right. I never do anything purely for altruistic reasons. I’d be doing this for money,” he said. “As your manager

I would receive twenty percent of all your earnings.”

Twenty percent? That sounded high. “For how long?”

“For however long we agree. We’d sign a contract.”

I wasn’t ready to sign anything, not until he answered all my questions. “You don’t seem that old. How long have you been

a manager? Who are your other clients?”

“You are asking all the right questions. It proves you’re smart.”

“And you’re evading them, which proves you have something to hide.”

“I don’t have anything to hide. There are no other clients. You’d be my first.”

My jaw dropped open. “You’ve never done this before? Yet you hear me sing and you’re struck with inspiration for a brand-new

career? That’s ludicrous.”

“Not ludicrous in the least. You’re exceptionally talented. And I am basically in sales, so it’s no different if I’m selling you or shoes or hats.”

“I don’t want to be sold.”

“Metaphorically, I meant.” His hands were neatly folded on the table, his demeanor open and friendly. “I would promote you,

talk you up. Sell your ability to get you work.”

The waiter returned with our ice cream, which arrived in fancy silver dishes. I quickly took a bite. Rich and creamy, the

vanilla ice cream was the best thing I’d ever tasted. I couldn’t wait to tell Pip about this when I got home. “How do I know

you can actually help me? You say you know these owners, but you could be swindling me.”

“I could be, but I’m not.”

“Which is what a swindler would say.”

He gave me a broad smile, one I didn’t trust. It was forced, with too much teeth, and it never reached his eyes. “How about

this? In a show of good faith, I’ll get you a meeting with an owner of one of the local theaters. I know several of them,

like Mr. B.F. Keith and the Vincents, the Kimballs. If you feel good about our arrangement following that, then we’ll discuss

a contract.”

Those were names I knew from the newspapers. Maybe he was telling the truth? “A contract allowing you twenty percent of my

earnings.”

“Yes.”

“Fifteen.” I held my breath, unsure if this was wise or not. However, if we were going to work together, he had to understand

I wasn’t a fool. And I still didn’t trust him. “But you have to get me that meeting first. You have to prove that you’re legitimate.”

He stroked his jaw, his long fingers smoothing over golden skin while he stared at me. Finally, he stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

Reaching out, I placed my palm in his, our gloved fingers brushing. “Deal.”

When he tried to release me, I tightened my grip and held on to him. Then I leaned in; our eyes locked. Flecks of gray lurked in his irises, little bits of silver to break up the bright blue. For some reason I found this reassuring, like I’d discovered a chink in his perfect armor.

He was merely a man, and I wouldn’t let him take advantage of me.

I lowered my voice to my most serious tone. “Hear this, Leo Hardy. I’ll allow you one opportunity. But if you’re swindling

me, I’ll kick you in your credentials so hard that you’ll feel it into the next century.”

The smile disappeared as he sobered and nodded. “I understand perfectly, Miss Smith.”

“Good.” I let him go and eased back in my chair. “And I suppose you may call me Josie.”

I slammed the apartment door closed. “Pips! Where are you?”

“Back here,” I heard my friend call out from the bedroom we shared. “I’m coming.”

I tossed my bag and hat on the worn kitchen table, then began stripping off my gloves. “Hurry!”

There wasn’t far to go. Our place was small, but we took very good care of it. The floors were clean, the wood polished. We

never left a dirty stocking or used dish lying about. Also, Pippa was easy to live with. The two of us were more like sisters,

considering we grew up together since we were babies. I knew all her foibles and she knew mine.

Pippa emerged from the back, running a brush through her damp brown hair. “This had better be important for all the ruckus.”

“Of course it’s important!”

“Then let’s hear it.”

“I met a man,” I started.

“Forget it.” Pippa turned on her heel and started for the bedroom.

“Wait, wait, wait.” I lunged to grab her shoulders. “It’s not that sort of story.”

She turned and narrowed her eyes at me. “Is he handsome?”

I hated lying, always had. Pippa was well aware of it, too, which explained why she asked. “Yes.” She started to walk away

again, so I tugged on her hair. “Give me a chance, Pip. This isn’t romantic, I swear.”

Pippa sighed as she came back toward our small kitchen table. “All right. But you better not be falling for some sweet-talker.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” We lowered ourselves into opposite seats. “A man heard me singing in the square today. He took me for

ice cream—”

“Holy Christmas, Josie. You said this wasn’t romantic!”

“If you don’t let me get this story out, I swear I will cut your hair when you’re asleep.” Pip loved her hair more than anything

else.

“If you do that, I’ll tell the nuns at the asylum that you’re the one who broke the Jesus statue in Sister Mary’s office.”

“Cruel, Pippa. Exceedingly cruel. Are you fixing to be quiet and let me finish?”

She nodded once and continued brushing her hair.

“This man wants to help my singing career. He heard me sing in the square and thinks I could end up on Broadway.”

“Anyone who hears you would think so, but how can he actually help you?” I opened my mouth to answer, but Pippa held up a

hand. “Wait. Recite the whole conversation for me.”

It had been this way my whole life. Words, like a conversation or song lyrics, never left my brain. Ever. The ability was

mostly a blessing, but there were times that I wished I could forget something. Unfortunately, my memory wasn’t selective

at all.

I closed my eyes and began recalling the conversation with Leo from the moment he approached me in the square. Pippa made

noises of agreement along the way and snorted when I ordered vanilla ice cream. Ignoring her, I continued, going through Leo’s

proposal and how I haggled with him for fifteen percent.

When I repeated the part about kicking him in his credentials, she laughed. “Good! I’m glad you put a dose of fear into the man. Does he seem honest? Trustworthy?”

I thought about his wide smile that tried to say too much, while his eyes said nothing at all. “Hard to say. Time will tell,

I suppose. He has to live up to his promises first.”

“Do you honestly think he knows anyone in the theater business?”

Pippa and I were as suspicious as they came. We’d worked and struggled our whole lives, receiving very little in return. Two

unwanted orphans who never had a thing handed to us.

But weren’t we due for some good luck?

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I have to try. Why else am I singing on the street and at the saloon, if not to make something

of this gift I’ve been given?”

“Understandable.” She reached over, grabbed my hand, and squeezed. “But I don’t want you hurt or taken advantage of by some

huckster.”

“I’m too smart for that.” I squeezed her fingers back. “And when I become rich and famous I’m taking you with me.”

“Hell yes, you are, Josie Smith. We’re going to live in a big mansion on Beacon Hill.”

“And we’ll be old ladies together, with handsome footmen who fulfill our every need.”

“Every need?” Pippa waggled her eyebrows suggestively as she let go of my hand.

I couldn’t help it—I chuckled. “Get your mind out of the muck, young lady. We’re not taking advantage of our footmen.”

“Then we must find handsome young lovers to live with us. I’m not cut out for a life of celibacy.”

“I’m well aware, based on the late nights at the saloon recently. Who have you been messing about with?”

“The new bartender,” she said, eyes turning dreamy as she brushed her hair. “I like the way he kisses.”

I tried not to feel envious, but it wasn’t easy.

I missed kissing and touching. There had been a few experiences since we left the asylum two years ago, but I refused to let myself grow serious about a man.

My future came first. Most young men didn’t mind; they weren’t interested in sticking around, anyway.

“Maybe I’ll come by tonight and see if there’s someone who catches my eye. ”

“You should,” Pippa encouraged. “In fact, that dockworker, Stevie? He’s been asking about you.”

Stevie had been nice enough, but he smelled like trout. “Not interested, but thanks.”

Pippa glanced at the tiny clock we kept on the counter. “Shit, I need to hurry. I have to be across town in less than an hour.”

She stood up, then came around the table and hugged me with one arm. “Josie, I’m happy for you. I hope it’s the beginning

for you.”

“The beginning for us ,” I corrected. “Never leave a friend behind, remember?”

“Never leave a friend behind,” Pippa echoed our motto, then straightened. “A word of warning, though. Don’t pay this Leo character

anything up front.”

“I won’t. He only gets a portion of my earnings from future performances.”

“Good. Keep an eye on him—a suspicious eye. Not a lascivious one, trying to see what’s underneath his fancy suit.”

I picked at the scarred wooden top of our kitchen table. “How did you know he had on a fancy suit?”

“Please. Your head always turns at the fancy ones.”

“I can’t help it. Maybe I was a queen in a former life.”

“Sure,” Pippa said with a laugh as she walked toward our bedroom. “You were a princess and your mother left you on the asylum’s

doorstep. By the way, it’s your turn for laundry, Your Majesty.”

Ugh. I hated scrubbing and rolling out our clothes. “Didn’t I do it last time?”

“No, I did it. You were singing in the square.”

“Fine. I’ll do it tonight—after I practice a little.” I was too excited, too hopeful, to sit in a quiet apartment all night.

“Good idea. And wash your stuffed rabbit. It’s beginning to stink.”

I stuck my tongue out at her, even though she couldn’t see me. The small stuffed rabbit was the only thing I had left from

my childhood. The nuns said the bunny was with me when I arrived at the asylum, and it was more precious to me than anything

else on earth.

“Though I’m not sure what Leo would think of his prized client keeping a stuffed toy,” she said.

The way she exaggerated his name, like he was someone important, had me rolling my eyes. “You would like him. He’s very charming.”

“I bet he is,” she said from inside our bedroom. “Handsome men usually are. But they aren’t used to hearing the word no, Josie.

Be careful.”

“Don’t worry about Leo,” I called out. “I’ll stick to him like flypaper.”

“That, my dear, is precisely what I’m worried about.”

Frowning at the empty room, I considered telling her she was wrong, that I wasn’t at risk of falling for a man like Leo. But

it was a waste of breath. We worried about each other because we had no one else. In fact, I’d give Pip the exact same warning

if some man was making her big promises.

In this case, however, I was going into it clear-eyed. I was a fighter, a scrapper, like the city of Boston itself, which

had been at the forefront of the Revolution more than a hundred years ago. I could handle Leo Hardy.

And if he wasn’t telling the truth? Then I would sing of his misdeeds on every corner in this city and make him suffer.

Right after I kicked him in his credentials.