Echoes of Titanic (17 page)

Refusing to think about all of that right now, Kelsey put on a brave smile, pushed the door open further, and leaned inside.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

He looked up to see her, his reaction subtle but definite, a shifting of the shoulders and a brightening in the face.

“Somebody's glad to see you,” the aide said, giving her a warm smile.

“I'm glad to see him too,” she replied, crossing the room and giving her father a big hug.

By the time she pulled away, the aide had discreetly left them alone, for which she was grateful. These days, it was hard enough to talk to her father about regular, day-to-day kinds of things, but harder still to do so when someone else was there. She couldn't imagine trying to have this particular conversation with an audience present.

She pulled up a chair to sit facing her father and asked how he was doing.

“Gloria,” he mumbled in reply, tears filling his eyes.

Blinking back her own tears, Kelsey placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I know, Dad. It's just awful, isn't it?”

They sat together in silence for a long moment, both of them acknowledging the passing of their dear friend. Across the room the grandfather clock ticked loudly, the pendulum swinging back and forth, counting away the minutes of her day. Kelsey had never liked that clock, but at the moment something about its steady rhythm felt calming to her soul.

“Dad, I need to talk to you about something else,” she said. “It's about the other bad thing that happened yesterday.”

He grunted. “Liar liar man?” he replied, causing her to smile.

“Yes, the disruption by the man who yelled out ‘Liar! Liar!' Listen, I've kind of looked into things and had some conversations, so I have a general picture of what that was all about. I know this matter has come up twice before. Is that correct?”

He managed a nod. “Cor-rect.”

“And I believe it ended with a settlement the first time and some legal threats the next?”

He nodded again. So far, so good.

“Okay, then. I just wanted to ask if there's anything about this situation that I ought to know, anything I need to say or not say, you know? Do you remember much about the specifics? Can you give me any guidance here at all?”

Since her father's stroke, his speech was slow and often disjointed. Sometimes he seemed confused, but Kelsey wasn't sure if he was really lost temporarily or just couldn't string words together to express himself. Often she sensed frustration as he tried to get his thoughts across.

It also took a long time for him to respond, as if all input had to work its way through a faulty computer before it could kick back out on the other side. Breathing deeply, she practiced patience and waited for what he might say.

“Always thought…” he said slowly, and then he shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Don't know what?”

He shrugged again. “Might be true.”

She blinked, studying him.

“Might.”

Kelsey narrowed her eyes.

“Wait a minute. What? What might be true?”

Her father shrugged. “Adele.”

She thought for a moment.

“Are you saying Rupert's claims might be true, that Adele was actually her cousin Jocelyn just posing as Adele? Are you kidding me?”

“Can't prove. Settled.”

“Adele's identity couldn't be proven or disproven, and that's why they were willing to sign a settlement? Is that what you're saying?”

He nodded.

“What about DNA testing? Did you try that?”

Her father blinked, trying to form an answer with his lips. Finally he blurted something that sounded like “mothers down to fathers.” She took it to mean that there was some DNA complication because of the way the lineage played out. Then again, the science of DNA was growing more sophisticated all the time. Perhaps what couldn't be done five or ten years ago was perfectly doable now.

He let out a loud sigh and ran a hand over his face.

“I'm sorry, Dad. You're tired. I shouldn't wear you out.”

“Sean's will,” he said.

“Sean Brennan's will? He left everything to Adele, didn't he?”

Her father nodded, but tentatively, as though there was more to the story—which there certainly was. He went on, but his words were a bit garbled now. Kelsey leaned close.

“Settlement within.”

She puzzled over that, repeating it back to him. “A settlement within? Within what? The firm, maybe?”

“Settlement,” he said again. “With eee-un.” He pulled his lips back and bared his teeth. “Eeeee-un.”

She thought for a moment then said, “Ian? You reached a settlement with Ian.”

Looking deeply relieved, he nodded.

Oh, great. Now they were caught in a loop. They had already covered this. “Right. Yes. I knew that, remember? I mentioned it a minute ago?”

He just stared at her, his jaw slack. Feeling bad for having snapped at him, she went with the repetition, hoping it might bring up other memories for him of that time. “So neither you nor Ian could prove anything conclusively about Adele's true identity, but there was enough of a question there that you offered the family some money to go away and keep quiet. A settlement. A payoff in exchange for a gag order—at least until Ian died and Rupert tried to stir things up again. Right?”

Nodding, Nolan seemed to be trying to say something—either “right” or “Rupert”—but finally gave up and mumbled instead, “Liar liar man.”

Kelsey realized he was smiling, and she grinned at him in return. “That's right. Rupert's the liar liar man.”

She had so much she wanted to learn, but she could tell she was quickly wearing her father out. “I know this isn't easy for you, Dad. I appreciate your trying.”

He nodded, running a hand over his face again.

“Just one last question. It's about bonds, the bonds that were part of the legend of Adele. Do you know what I'm talking about?”

“Bonds,” he repeated.

“Right. The bonds. Did Great-Grandma Adele ever actually have any bonds, or was that just a myth?”

He pursed his lips for a long moment, almost like he was trying to whistle. Finally, she realized he was attempting to make the sound of a “t.” After a moment, he got it out. “True.”

“It's true?” she asked, her pulse surging. “There actually were bonds, really valuable bonds, that Adele used to get the company through tough times?”

He nodded. “T-true.”

“Did she use them all up or were there some left?”

He tried to answer but mostly sputtered in frustration.

“Sorry, Dad, let me try that again. Did Adele use the bonds all up?”

After a beat, “No.”

“Are there any left?”

A longer pause. “Yes.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Kelsey took a moment to let that word roll around in her mind. There had been bonds, yes. There still were bonds.

Yes.

April 10, 1912

A
DELE

W
ithin an hour, all irritations and frustrations faded away in the excitement of boarding the ship. Adele couldn't believe she was actually stepping aboard the finished
Titanic
at last. For three years she and her fellow citizens of Belfast had watched the vessel go from a steel skeleton on dry land and then a shiny, floating shell on the water to a fully appointed ship here at the White Star docks in England. And though their little group would be staying in the ship's second-class cabins down on the F deck, she was excited to learn upon boarding that for a short while they were welcome to tour the upper portions of the ship if they desired, as apparently the first-class passengers would not be arriving for at least another hour.

They started by heading down to their staterooms to take a look. Adele and Jocelyn eagerly took in every detail of the gorgeous ship as they went, though the two men adopted an air of sophisticated indifference. Adele found their attitude both amusing and irritating, knowing full well they had to be as excited and impressed as she and Jocelyn were.

Truly, the ship was the most elegant thing Adele had ever seen. From the oak-lined passageways to the well-stocked second-class library to the elegant second-class smoking room, Adele and Jocelyn were dumbfounded and impressed by it all.

They especially loved their stateroom, once they found it, a small but graciously appointed space with two beds bunked along the left wall, a
convertible sofa on the right, and in between a fold-up washbasin cabinet that the steward said would supply fresh water from a holding tank. The room also featured two mahogany wardrobes, each fitted with drawers and a mirror, and under the sidelight was a small but comfortable-looking upholstered chair. All in all, the room was quite impressive, far better than one might normally expect from second class. As the two girls stood in the doorway gazing in at it, Adele commented that they were the first passengers to ever use this berth.

“You're right,” Jocelyn whispered reverentially. “What a historic moment for us both!”

They shared a smile. Many others would use this room over the coming years, but they could always say they had been the first.

“Ready for our tour?” Uncle Rowan asked, appearing behind them in the white-walled hallway. His room was on the same deck, not far from theirs. Apparently Tad was also on F deck, though his room was down a completely different corridor.

The four travelers made their way back upstairs and began their tour on the promenade deck, a first-class-only area that ran the entire length of the ship. As they were standing there admiring its length and appointments, they were joined by another gentleman, one Uncle Rowan seemed to have been expecting.

When he introduced the fellow as Mr. Neville Williams of Transatlantic Wireless, Adele realized instantly who he was. This was the man Rowan and Tad had met with in London the day before. Adele's father was extremely interested in investing in Mr. William's company, which was the reason he had sent a representative over to London in the first place. Tad Myers had crossed the ocean charged with the task of escorting Adele and Jocelyn and Rowan back to America, yes, but prior to that he was to meet with Mr. Williams, learn more about Transatlantic Wireless, and evaluate it as a potential investment on behalf of Brennan & Company. Uncle Rowan had attended that meeting along with Tad yesterday, and though the young American had dismissed the company as an unwise investment choice, Rowan hadn't seen things quite that way. He hadn't bought in as of last night, but as soon as Adele could get her uncle alone, she would ask for more details of this morning's “change in plans.” She had a feeling that he'd slept on the matter and awakened this morning with a different intention, despite Tad's negative evaluation. She could only assume from Rowan's jubilant attitude and easy
manner with Mr. Williams that a transaction had taken place that morning and he was now in possession of investment bonds from Transatlantic Wireless.

“Mr. Williams is a first-class passenger,” Uncle Rowan explained to the girls now as he made the introductions, “but he has come aboard early just to give us our very own customized tour.”

Soon their group of five set off, and Adele realized that she liked the man right away. Mr. Williams seemed a true British gentleman, yet not one mired in convention. He was also quite knowledgeable about the ship and made for a fascinating tour guide indeed.

As they moved through first class past the darkly paneled male-only smoking room and then the more feminine reading-and-writing room, conversation between the three men turned to the business model of the White Star line, which involved catering to passengers' growing demand for beauty and luxury.

“And this room is the perfect example of that,” Mr. Williams said when they reached the first-class lounge. “It is considered by many to be the finest room afloat.”

Looking around, Adele could believe it. The magnificent space, with its gold and green decor, intricately carved oak paneling, and large marble fireplace, reminded her of pictures she had seen of the palace of Versailles. There was even a cupola in the ceiling, fitted with intricately cut glass panels that allowed a gentle illumination of the entire space.

As they continued down to a lower deck, Adele decided to insert herself into the topic and give her own opinion on the matter. Like many in Belfast, she had read extensively on the various issues besetting the White Star Line and their multimillion dollar investments in
Titanic
and her sister ship,
Olympic
. And though the company repeatedly touted its emphasis on luxury, she felt that behind closed doors their real emphasis had been to tap into the ever-growing third-class-passenger market.

She said as much to their little group now, adding that while she knew that White Star's public emphasis was indeed on luxury, their bottom line was probably far more dependent on plain old steerage.