The Roswell Legacy by Frances Statham (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📗

I will wait for that straggling little piece to get off the train.”

Fifteen minutes later, Richard returned to a nearly deserted platform. “Hasn’t Meara shown up yet?”

“No, she hasn’t. And I’m quite furious with her, keeping us waiting like this. I really feel we should go on. Let her get her own conveyance to the hotel.”

In the end, that was the decision made. Meara had vanished. She was not on the train; she was not in the terminal.

“She’s probably already at the hotel, Lila. Don’t fret about her,” Richard assured his wife.

From the slow-moving carriage, Ginna was content to watch the bustling landscape of a vibrant, sprawling city: the towering buildings, the horse-drawn trolleys and cable cars, the tall cathedral spire. There was a rawness about the city, a loudness that spoke of new wealth and impossible poverty, side by side. Excitement combined with apathy; sights and sounds and smells bombarded the eyes and ears and nose until the senses were satiated.

“What is that awful odor?” Lila inquired, holding her handkerchief daintily to her nose.

“Probably a whiff of the stockyards,” Richard answered.

“What have we gotten into, Richard?”

“No worse than Paris, my dear. Is that not right, Ginna?”

“London, too,” Ginna agreed, wrinkling her nose. “But all large cities are guilty. That’s why I love to be in the country at this time of year.”

Richard laughed. “So Jonathan has found his soul mate, I see. I presume you like horses also?”

“Very much.”

“But won’t you miss the gaiety of a city, Ginna? I don’t think I could bury myself in the country,” Lila said.

Ginna gazed down at the ring on her hand. With difficulty, she tried to keep her voice steady. “I met Jonathan in Washington, Mrs. Montgomery,” she replied, smiling, “at a party. So I presume we might venture out occasionally.”

It was Lila’s turn to laugh. “Of course. At Peggy Drake’s house, wasn’t it? At least she’s taking the credit all over Washington for being the matchmaker.”

Ginna attempted to change the subject. “Have you met Jonathan’s sister?”

“Several times. But that was before her marriage.”

“I was just wondering how we would recognize her.…”

“At the hotel, you mean? Well, that won’t be a problem at all. Unless she’s changed drastically. She looks exactly like her mother.”

Lila’s attention was diverted by the noise behind them. She turned around to make sure the dray with all of her trunks was keeping within sight of the carriage. But she completely ignored the dirty little urchin running alongside the carriage.

The boy was thin and his shirt was ragged. “A dime,” he begged. “Lady, could I have a dime to buy some bread?”

Out of pity, Ginna reached into her purse. “Can you catch it?” she called out.

“Ginna, dear, you shouldn’t do that. We’ll never have another moment’s peace if you do.”

But it was too late. Ginna had already thrown the coin toward the little boy. He caught it before it dropped to the ground. “Thank you, lady,” he said, and then quickly disappeared down the street.

Several blocks more, and then the carriage drew up before a palatial building with red awnings embroidered with an R. Beech and oak trees lined the avenue, giving it the appearance of an extravagant resort, an oasis in the heart of a city.

The doorman, dressed in a smart red uniform decorated with gold braid, blew his whistle, bringing a score of only a little less lavishly dressed helpers. The sight of the carriage, followed by a dray of trunks, indicated that important guests had arrived.

To Lila Montgomery’s way of thinking, she was being quite conservative in traveling so lightly. She came from a family of great wealth—a beauty who could have acquired a European husband as easily as a dozen of her contemporaries whose fathers had traded their daughters’ American dowries for slightly tarnished European titles. But she had elected to marry her true love. She lived like royalty most of the time, anyway. So she felt that she really had the better of two worlds.

She swept into the hotel with all the panache of a queen, followed by Ginna, hugging her small valise. The manager rushed to greet Lila, bowing and scraping, but she gave him little encouragement.

“My wife is quite exhausted,” Richard said. “Please have someone show us to our suite. I’ll be down later to sign the register.”

“Of course, Mr. Montgomery.”

In the space of twenty minutes, the hotel staff had swung into action, catering to the excessively wealthy New York couple who had unwittingly traveled the same route as Nelly Rose and her girls—stopping off in Washington to visit friends and then continuing the journey to Chicago to attend the exposition.

But that was where the similarity ended. The Richlieu was in a class by itself, providing amenities that the Hotel Moffat was unable to emulate.

Already a special maid was at work unpacking Lila’s trunks, while Ginna, feeling slightly out of place, sat on one of the sofas facing the extended bay windows—a hallmark of the sandstone edifices of Chicago.

Looking out the window, she did not hear the footsteps behind her, disguised as they were by the plush peach-colored carpet.

“Ginna,” Richard called out. “Look who I found downstairs.”

Quickly, she stood and turned around. Ginna recognized the woman immediately, as she’d been promised. For Morrow was a younger replica of Allison, with her striking blond hair and amethyst eyes that sparkled with vivacity.

Morrow didn’t wait for Richard to introduce them. “Ginna,” she said, walking quickly to meet her with hands outstretched. “I’m Morrow Lachlan, Jonathan’s sister. Welcome to Chicago.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lachlan. It’s good to be here.”

Morrow laughed and, still holding on to Ginna’s hands, said, “My name is Morrow. Please call me that.”

Lila, hearing voices, came into the living room from one of the bedrooms. “I thought I heard your voice, Morrow.”

“How are you, Lila?” she inquired. “Was it an exhausting trip for you?”

“Quite. But this dear child helped to relieve the boredom of the long train ride.”

“Thank you for looking after her,” Morrow said. “My mother and I both appreciate