not be able to find investors. No guardian angel would magically appear and save her from poverty.
She reached the landing and turned toward her room, then halted in surprise at the sight before her. Her neighbor from upstairs was kneeling in front of her door, a screwdriver in his hand. Beside him stood her solicitor, Mr. Finch, holding a lamp to light the dim landing.
"Use your free hand to hold the latch in place while I insert the screws," the former instructed, and Mara watched in astonishment as the dignified Mr. Finch knelt on the floor beside Mr. Chase. The two men remained there for several moments, then rose to their feet.
Mr. Chase must have sensed her presence for he suddenly turned and glanced in her direction. Looking at her over the rims of his spectacles, he smiled. "We've fixed it," he announced proudly and stepped back so that she could see the shiny new brass handle that now graced her door.
"You should have strong locks if you insist upon living in this area of town, my dear," Finch chided her as he crossed the landing to hand her a key.
Mara took it from him automatically. She couldn't think of a thing to say. She glanced from one man to the other, completely baffled.
"We've been waiting for you," Mr. Chase said. "Thought we'd pass the time putting a new latch on your door. Haversham's Hardware is just up the street, you know."
"Thank you." Mara shook her head, still trying to sort things out. "You've been waiting for me?"
"Mr. Chase came to see me today," Finch told her. He glanced at the other man. "Perhaps we should go upstairs?"
"Excellent idea." Mr. Chase lifted his spectacles to place them atop his head, then took the lamp from Finch, turned, and started up the stairs.
Mr. Finch held out his arm to her. "Mr. Chase and I have been discussing a business proposal," he explained. "Given your situation with the bank, it might be of interest to you."
Her problems with the bank aside, Mara couldn't fathom what sort of business proposal her bizarre neighbor might have that could possibly interest her, but she put her arm through the solicitor's, and they followed Mr. Chase.
When Mara stepped through the door into his rooms, she noticed that many of the crates had disappeared, but the steamer trunks were still where they had been that morning, and his belongings were still scattered everywhere. She was relieved to note that none of his toys were whirring or spinning.
Glancing at Mr. Chase, she wondered how anyone could live in such disarray. His eyes were amused as they met hers, as if he were fully aware of her disapproval and didn't care a whit. Gesturing to the sofa and chairs to Mara's right, he added, "Shall we sit down?"
He removed papers, various toys, and other gadgets from the leather sofa, clearing space for his guests to sit. He turned to the fireplace and dumped the armful of items he'd gathered into the empty coal bin. "I'd offer you tea, but I'm afraid I've none here. As you can see, I'm still moving in."
Mara took a seat on the leather sofa and privately thought it wouldn't matter how long Mr. Chase lived in these rooms. They would never be tidy. Mr. Finch sat beside her and Mr. Chase took the chair directly opposite. He placed his spectacles on the low mahogany table that lay between them, then looked at her. Silent, he studied her for a long moment.
Mara tapped her foot against the floor, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Why did he have to stare at her as if he wanted to read what was in her soul? "Perhaps you should tell me why we're here," she suggested with a hint of impatience. "You have a business proposal that might interest me?"
"I was very sorry to hear about your husband," Nathaniel said unexpectedly. "I knew him, you see."
"What?" Mara was startled as much by the change of subject as by the surprising news that he'd known James. Not so surprising, she amended to herself. Her husband had known many strange people.
He nodded, and one unruly lock of hair fell over
She reached the landing and turned toward her room, then halted in surprise at the sight before her. Her neighbor from upstairs was kneeling in front of her door, a screwdriver in his hand. Beside him stood her solicitor, Mr. Finch, holding a lamp to light the dim landing.
"Use your free hand to hold the latch in place while I insert the screws," the former instructed, and Mara watched in astonishment as the dignified Mr. Finch knelt on the floor beside Mr. Chase. The two men remained there for several moments, then rose to their feet.
Mr. Chase must have sensed her presence for he suddenly turned and glanced in her direction. Looking at her over the rims of his spectacles, he smiled. "We've fixed it," he announced proudly and stepped back so that she could see the shiny new brass handle that now graced her door.
"You should have strong locks if you insist upon living in this area of town, my dear," Finch chided her as he crossed the landing to hand her a key.
Mara took it from him automatically. She couldn't think of a thing to say. She glanced from one man to the other, completely baffled.
"We've been waiting for you," Mr. Chase said. "Thought we'd pass the time putting a new latch on your door. Haversham's Hardware is just up the street, you know."
"Thank you." Mara shook her head, still trying to sort things out. "You've been waiting for me?"
"Mr. Chase came to see me today," Finch told her. He glanced at the other man. "Perhaps we should go upstairs?"
"Excellent idea." Mr. Chase lifted his spectacles to place them atop his head, then took the lamp from Finch, turned, and started up the stairs.
Mr. Finch held out his arm to her. "Mr. Chase and I have been discussing a business proposal," he explained. "Given your situation with the bank, it might be of interest to you."
Her problems with the bank aside, Mara couldn't fathom what sort of business proposal her bizarre neighbor might have that could possibly interest her, but she put her arm through the solicitor's, and they followed Mr. Chase.
When Mara stepped through the door into his rooms, she noticed that many of the crates had disappeared, but the steamer trunks were still where they had been that morning, and his belongings were still scattered everywhere. She was relieved to note that none of his toys were whirring or spinning.
Glancing at Mr. Chase, she wondered how anyone could live in such disarray. His eyes were amused as they met hers, as if he were fully aware of her disapproval and didn't care a whit. Gesturing to the sofa and chairs to Mara's right, he added, "Shall we sit down?"
He removed papers, various toys, and other gadgets from the leather sofa, clearing space for his guests to sit. He turned to the fireplace and dumped the armful of items he'd gathered into the empty coal bin. "I'd offer you tea, but I'm afraid I've none here. As you can see, I'm still moving in."
Mara took a seat on the leather sofa and privately thought it wouldn't matter how long Mr. Chase lived in these rooms. They would never be tidy. Mr. Finch sat beside her and Mr. Chase took the chair directly opposite. He placed his spectacles on the low mahogany table that lay between them, then looked at her. Silent, he studied her for a long moment.
Mara tapped her foot against the floor, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Why did he have to stare at her as if he wanted to read what was in her soul? "Perhaps you should tell me why we're here," she suggested with a hint of impatience. "You have a business proposal that might interest me?"
"I was very sorry to hear about your husband," Nathaniel said unexpectedly. "I knew him, you see."
"What?" Mara was startled as much by the change of subject as by the surprising news that he'd known James. Not so surprising, she amended to herself. Her husband had known many strange people.
He nodded, and one unruly lock of hair fell over
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