Andrew looked up from the accounts he was reviewing at a rap on his office door. His mutable blue-green eyes flicked to the pink Federal glass coffee mug standing empty on his desk. In as much as he didn’t want her working, and especially working at the Trust, he missed having Evelyn here with him. She’d made the minutes bearable, put the petty nuisances of his day into perspective. Prepared him the perfect cup of coffee. The rap came again at the door, along with the tentative, female voice. “Mr. James?” Evelyn knew to rap once, then to come in without him telling her to, and he'd never had to tell her to do that. Not that it mattered—he wasn’t going through the hassle of training another secretary for a few weeks' worth of work. He would simply swallow his annoyance and make do. “What is it, Carole?” he called. “May I come in, sir?” she asked, and Andrew tipped his head against the back of his executive chair, rolling his eyes heavenward.

“Andrew, why did you tell him all that?” a still shell-shocked Evelyn asked when he returned from seeing Detective Kelly out. "After all this time. After all the private investigators and the personal researching, now you'll tell him? Why?"Picking up his brandy snifter, Andrew drained it. “Because all this intrigue has gotten personal.” He walked to the bar and refilled his glass. “And now I’m worried about protecting my family.”“’Now’?” she quoted. “It wasn’t personal before? When your brother died? When Miranda Stiles was going to let him take me with him? When that man, Aldrich, tried to kidnap me? When Edward Montero died and the police came looking for you? All the things you’ve learned over the course of time from Charlotte? Now? Now is when it’s become personal?”Inhaling deeply, he prepared to defend himself. “Darling, it’s clear that you disagre

The Great Depression had been one of the defining moments for anyone old enough to remember what it had been like before the stock market crash of October 1929. With both his father and brother and many family friends in banking and finance, Andrew had known that the problems that led to the Crash for industrialized world economies had been brewing on the horizon several years before that. During the early 1930s, the devastating effects became widespread in the United States as banking institutions fell and manufacturing and business suffered in every industry. Cities were particularly hard hit, and New York City had been especially susceptible. Professionals, skilled workers and others used to enjoying good income found their salaries disastrously cut. Those who depended on savings, pensions or investment income for a living fared far worse. In the world of banking and finance, interest from bonds or savings deposits soon depreciated to where they had no real value. Stocks paid meag

“What are you thinking about, darling?” With her eyes following a young family with three children, the eldest about Peter’s age and the rest younger, she smiled as she answered, “All the people here in costume. The children I expected, but so many adults are costumed too. It adds a great deal to the carnival atmosphere on the last day.” Among the children, the cowboys and cops, princesses and angels were always popular. But many children had drawn inspiration from events of the year and Elecktro-style robots giggled with Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. Frank Buck-style jungle explorers jitterbugged with giant jungle cats, and clowns with comic book heroes. Her silvery-blue eyes lingered on an obviously well-to-do couple dressed in bright and wildly colored, sequined and feathered Venetian style costumes with oddly grotesque and appealing masks—his a black and gold, curly-horned, laughing skull, and hers a magnificently plumed, long

The autumn chill awakened Evelyn even before Andrew’s alarm. Lifting herself up so she could see over him, she glanced at the faintly illuminated face of his clock and groaned. Another hour, perhaps more before the apartment would start to warm up. While his residence was far less drafty than hers had been, she missed her small fireplaces. It had been nice to supplement the building’s giant Octopus coal furnace’s heat for her apartment, and in particular, for her bedroom, and to any extent she desired, as long as she had the firewood. The extra blanket she’d pulled over the footboard from the bench to heap on top of her during the night wasn’t enough to ward off the uncomfortable cold this morning, and sadly, it was only going to get worse. Andrew generated a delightful amount of heat with his masculine metabolism, but in general, she slept too warm for him, and during the night he’d retreat to his side of the bed, often with only the sheet to cover him. Assuming he