Everyone knew it was her office. Legally, he was the one in command. Lindsay smiled and arched a brow. Lucy needs you more today than we do.
Stonewall Jackson's Way
And send word as soon as you have it. Lindsay watched as he walked sedately to the door of the MacPhaull Company offices, crossed the threshold to the busy sidewalk, and then broke into a dead run.
With a quiet chuckle, Lindsay turned and resumed her regular morning course. There might be as much as a half ounce of gold in her name, she decided as she entered the dark paneled office. Every bit would help. Ben was such an interesting blend of contrasts, she thought — not for the first time. He was a supremely efficient bookkeeper, with a devotion to order and neatness that bordered on obsession, and yet there was something about him His clothes were stylish and seemingly chosen to accentuate his blond hair and pale China-blue eyes.
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Lindsay knew that maintaining his wardrobe had to consume the vast majority of his wages. How he afforded to eat and entertain was beyond her. Of course, she reminded herself as she stripped off her gloves, Ben could well have family resources from which to draw. He was at the age when most men could expect to receive an inheritance from their fathers.
It was, after all, the way the world worked, and Ben appeared appropriately discreet about it. She just hoped that it never occurred to him that she might be receptive to his advances. Ben was a pleasant, handsome, and intelligent-enough man, but he was simply too much of a dandy to appeal to any of her senses. He reminded her of a porcelain doll. She considered Richard, noting the creases in his brow and the tension in his powerful shoulders. Lindsay barely managed to keep her smile contained. Would you care for your coffee now?
The first letter was from a bank in St. Louis reminding her that the loan payment on the warehouse was sixty days past due. Lindsay quickly moved on.
Will Adamsdale and a Fuel Production
The building had burnt to the ground three months ago. Given the current economic situation, there was no point in rebuilding it and no reason to pay for something that no longer existed. She and Richard had decided that the only reasonable course was to sell the land itself in an attempt to recoup the loss. The second letter was from an architect who wanted payment for the design phase of a large renovation project being undertaken on the home of Mr. Henry MacPhaull. With clenched teeth, Lindsay moved it to the bottom of the stack.
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Richard wordlessly placed the cup and saucer on the wide arm of the divan. The third piece of correspondence was from a man on Long Island who indicated that he would be most happy to sell Miss Agatha MacPhaull the land she wanted.
Jackson’s Way – Fuel
He considered seventeen hundred dollars a very fair price and was instructing his attorney to draw up a bill of sale. Seventeen hundred dollars? Lindsay skimmed the letter again. For five acres? Perhaps in the center of the city, but certainly not for land on Long Island. In fifty years, seventeen hundred dollars might be a reasonable price, but not now.
Lindsay expelled a long breath and took a careful sip of her coffee before going on to the rest of the news awaiting her. The project had been abandoned and the managers had taken themselves to parts unknown. The bank showed the MacPhaull Company as having a fifteen percent interest in the concern and thus owing twenty thousand dollars of the outstanding debt. An old school chum had been the head of the firm and Henry had made an absolute pest of himself about it, eventually wearing down her patience.
Her blood pounding, Lindsay went to the last letter. Heavy spring rains had combined with a rapid thaw and led to widespread flooding in western Virginia. The MacPhaull Coal Company managers had been forced to suspend operations until the mines could be pumped out and the lost and damaged machinery replaced.
They roughly estimated the temporary loss of revenues at forty thousand dollars, the cost of salvaging and rebuilding at another forty. Her stomach leaden, she laid the stack of papers in her lap. The annual income from the mines last year had been close to a quarter of a million dollars, the revenues providing the fiscal foundation of the MacPhaull Company. The scenes would be horrible. Henry and Agatha had never learned the difference between wanting and needing. Neither produces revenue; they just consume it. Both are expenses the company can ill-afford given the present circumstances.
Selling will not only give us needed cash but free up future money that can be used to keep the revenue-producing ventures in operation. But times were hard, she reminded herself sternly. Sacrifices were necessary. Invited audience members will follow you as you navigate and present People invited to a presentation do not need a Prezi account This link expires 10 minutes after you close the presentation A maximum of 30 users can follow your presentation Learn more about this feature in our knowledge base article.
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