door.
She made her way slowly down the darkened hallway. Each leaden footstep took her closer to ruin.
When she opened the door, it would truly be all over. By sunset tonight, there wouldn't be a stick of furniture in her apartment, and by tomorrow, there wouldn't even be an apartment. Not for her, anyway.
Number 17, Dakota Apartment, now belonged to the bank.
At the door she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Wiping the emotion from her face with practiced ease, she opened the door.
THE ENCHANTMENT
51
"Miss Hatter?"
Emma studied the man with unconcealed surprise. He wasn't dressed in stained blue dungarees; nor was he big and burly. Instead, he was a small, bespectacled, stoop-shouldered man in a suit that was at least six years out-of-date. A suit, for God's sake. What kind of a furniture mover wore a suit? "You're going to need help with the piano," she commented dryly.
"Excuse me?"
"In fact, you may need help with the dining room
chairs."
He pulled the lopsided brown bowler off his head and crushed it to his chest. "He told me you were . . .
opinionated."
A bittersweet smile softened the hard lines of Emma's mouth. "That's what I like about Eugene. He's tactful. Anyone else would say I was rude."
"Eugene who?"
"Cummin."
"Oh, no, thank you. I can only stay for a moment."
Emma almost laughed aloud. "I didn't say 'Come in.' I said Cummin. You know, Eugene Cummin, the man who hired you."
"I was hired by Michael Jameson."
Emma frowned. "You work for Michael, at Columbia?"
The man's wrinkled face lit up. "I'm proud to answer yes to that one."
"And Michael told you I was opinionated?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. Mr. Jameson would never say such a thing. Not to me, anyway."
Emma felt a headache start. She pressed two fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. "Look, Mr.
what ever your name is, I—"
52
Kristin Hannah
"Doctor," he cut in. "Dr. O'Halloran."
That was when she knew. Emma's eyes flipped open. "You're a friend of his. That idiot doctor."
O'Halloran nodded eagerly. "Larence Digby."
"No confusion over which idiot, I see," she said crisply, crossing her arms. "Okay, O'Halloran, why are you here?"
"Larence sent me over here to give you this." He held out a tattered, dirty scrap of paper.
Taking the ruined calling card between her thumb and forefinger, Emma grimaced. What had Dr. Dimwit used it for? Dusting? "He sent you all this way to return my card? How . . . nice."
"No. He sent me here to tell you that he's leaving for New Mexico tonight."
"And he thinks I ca—" New Mexico. Ciburra. Gold! Emma's heart lurched into her throat. The missing entry in her checkbook! It was the ten-thousand-dollar check she'd written to Digby. She must have been too upset that night to record it.
Bits and pieces of Digby's speech came to the forefront of her memory. Gold. Silver. Turquoise.
Treasures.
She grinned suddenly. "Well, Dr. O'Halloran, I appreciate you stopping by."
"My pleasure, ma'am." He put the bowler back on his balding head and turned to leave.
Before he'd reached the elevator, Emma called out to him. "Oh, Doctor, could you tell me where I might find Dig—Larence this afternoon?"
"I suppose he'd be in his office at the college. He's usually there until about suppertime."
"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very much."
* * *
THE ENCHANTMENT
53
Less than two hours later, Emma stood at the closed door to Digby's office. Anxiety coursed like electricity through her blood. She was nervous, hopeful, and excited all at once. She'd found it. Her hidden asset. Ten thousand dollars was more than enough to start over; she could do with half that amount. Now all she had to do was get it back from Dr. Dimwit. And outsmarting him would be like taking candy from a baby.
At the thought, a smug smile settled on her face. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing nerves, she raised her gloved fist and rapped sharply on the hardwood.
"Come in," came a distracted voice from behind the
door.
Emma
She made her way slowly down the darkened hallway. Each leaden footstep took her closer to ruin.
When she opened the door, it would truly be all over. By sunset tonight, there wouldn't be a stick of furniture in her apartment, and by tomorrow, there wouldn't even be an apartment. Not for her, anyway.
Number 17, Dakota Apartment, now belonged to the bank.
At the door she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Wiping the emotion from her face with practiced ease, she opened the door.
THE ENCHANTMENT
51
"Miss Hatter?"
Emma studied the man with unconcealed surprise. He wasn't dressed in stained blue dungarees; nor was he big and burly. Instead, he was a small, bespectacled, stoop-shouldered man in a suit that was at least six years out-of-date. A suit, for God's sake. What kind of a furniture mover wore a suit? "You're going to need help with the piano," she commented dryly.
"Excuse me?"
"In fact, you may need help with the dining room
chairs."
He pulled the lopsided brown bowler off his head and crushed it to his chest. "He told me you were . . .
opinionated."
A bittersweet smile softened the hard lines of Emma's mouth. "That's what I like about Eugene. He's tactful. Anyone else would say I was rude."
"Eugene who?"
"Cummin."
"Oh, no, thank you. I can only stay for a moment."
Emma almost laughed aloud. "I didn't say 'Come in.' I said Cummin. You know, Eugene Cummin, the man who hired you."
"I was hired by Michael Jameson."
Emma frowned. "You work for Michael, at Columbia?"
The man's wrinkled face lit up. "I'm proud to answer yes to that one."
"And Michael told you I was opinionated?"
"Oh, no, ma'am. Mr. Jameson would never say such a thing. Not to me, anyway."
Emma felt a headache start. She pressed two fingers to her temples and closed her eyes. "Look, Mr.
what ever your name is, I—"
52
Kristin Hannah
"Doctor," he cut in. "Dr. O'Halloran."
That was when she knew. Emma's eyes flipped open. "You're a friend of his. That idiot doctor."
O'Halloran nodded eagerly. "Larence Digby."
"No confusion over which idiot, I see," she said crisply, crossing her arms. "Okay, O'Halloran, why are you here?"
"Larence sent me over here to give you this." He held out a tattered, dirty scrap of paper.
Taking the ruined calling card between her thumb and forefinger, Emma grimaced. What had Dr. Dimwit used it for? Dusting? "He sent you all this way to return my card? How . . . nice."
"No. He sent me here to tell you that he's leaving for New Mexico tonight."
"And he thinks I ca—" New Mexico. Ciburra. Gold! Emma's heart lurched into her throat. The missing entry in her checkbook! It was the ten-thousand-dollar check she'd written to Digby. She must have been too upset that night to record it.
Bits and pieces of Digby's speech came to the forefront of her memory. Gold. Silver. Turquoise.
Treasures.
She grinned suddenly. "Well, Dr. O'Halloran, I appreciate you stopping by."
"My pleasure, ma'am." He put the bowler back on his balding head and turned to leave.
Before he'd reached the elevator, Emma called out to him. "Oh, Doctor, could you tell me where I might find Dig—Larence this afternoon?"
"I suppose he'd be in his office at the college. He's usually there until about suppertime."
"Thank you, Doctor. Thank you very much."
* * *
THE ENCHANTMENT
53
Less than two hours later, Emma stood at the closed door to Digby's office. Anxiety coursed like electricity through her blood. She was nervous, hopeful, and excited all at once. She'd found it. Her hidden asset. Ten thousand dollars was more than enough to start over; she could do with half that amount. Now all she had to do was get it back from Dr. Dimwit. And outsmarting him would be like taking candy from a baby.
At the thought, a smug smile settled on her face. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing nerves, she raised her gloved fist and rapped sharply on the hardwood.
"Come in," came a distracted voice from behind the
door.
Emma
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