ROSE IN BLOOM
Chapter Two

Andrew Calvert sat at his cluttered desk, poring over the past month’s financial reports. With a frustrated sigh, he ran his ink-stained fingers through his jet black hair and didn’t notice the knock at the door. He didn’t realize it until Charles Bukater, his boss, opened it and stepped inside.

"I’m sorry, sir," he apologized, his dark eyes looking up at the tall, slightly heavyset man before him. Mr. Bukater chuckled warmly. Andrew Calvert was one of his best accountants, one of the few men in his company he respected highly.

In his early thirties, Andrew had been an employee for the Bukater Oil company for a good three years. "You don’t have to figure this mess out tonight, Calvert. It’s closing time, eh?"

Andrew nodded, rubbing his chin. "I really don’t get it," he muttered under his breath. Lately, the company had been losing money frighteningly fast, and he couldn’t understand why. He kept very detailed books of each transaction, and somehow, someone else was responsible for its slow deterioration.

"Plans tonight, Calvert?" Charles asked as Andrew began packing his things, hastily shoving papers into his files. He shook his head.

"Nothing important, sir. Why?" He snapped his briefcase shut, hoisted it into his hand, and followed his boss out of the office.

"Would you care to join us for dinner? Perhaps you can discuss your concerns over the reports then. But I refuse to let you become the workaholic I myself have become." He winked, and Andrew had to laugh as he stepped outside.

"I wouldn’t want to impose," he replied, and Charles snorted.

"How would you be imposing if I invited you?" he asked. "And besides, my daughter has been asking about you for the past couple of weeks, and subtly hinting that she would like to see you."

Andrew blushed. He’d met Rose DeWitt Bukater, the only daughter of Charles and Ruth, and was quite taken with her on the first calling. She was beautiful--pale, with curly red hair that went down to her shoulders. Her blue eyes were always dancing with merriment, and when the two of them were together, they were always laughing at something or other.

"You’re right, sir. I would certainly like to come."

They began to stroll down the sidewalk, watching as shop owners prepared to go home for the evening as well.

"Are you still planning to attend Rose’s coming out party?" Charles asked as he led the way down a narrow street.

"I do, though I must admit, sir, large affairs such as that make me decidedly uncomfortable." He shuddered. Having been an only child, Andrew was rarely around large gatherings. He kept to himself mostly, and often at night worked on one of his plays. Which is merely a hobby, he reminded himself. Several scripts he’d given out were utter flops, but that didn’t necessarily kill his spark for creativity entirely.

In fact, with Charles Bukater’s help in financing the local theater, it would be very difficult to lose out entirely.

"Neither is my daughter." Charles chuckled. "I have a hunch that she’d be happier if we decided not to celebrate her birthday at all."

Andrew smiled and gave a nod. "Well, sir, I think I’d best go home and change. I’ll meet you at your home…"

"Seven o’clock," Charles replied, and Andrew checked his pocket watch. It was currently 5:30, so he would have plenty of time to get ready if he hurried. "I will see you there, then." The two men broke apart, and Andrew headed in the direction of his house. He didn’t like to call the house a mansion, because he didn’t believe in joining in the snobbery of his class. It was a large house in which he lived alone, with the exception of his maid from Ireland. Addy was a lovely woman, always willing to serve her employer in any way she could. Andrew was too quiet and shy to make a scene if she did not do things exactly as he’d wanted, so if there was something out of place, he’d fix it himself.

Andrew whistled as he walked along the side of the street, turning another corner that eventually led to his street. He reached the front door, unlocked it, and entered. He could hear Addy’s voice as she sang loudly and slightly off key, and found her dusting the furniture in the parlor. She was singing an old folk song, Over in Kilarny, and smiled broadly when her eyes fell on Andrew.

"Good evenin’, sir," she greeted.

"Good evening, Addy. I won’t be having dinner at home tonight, so don’t worry about that. My boss invited me to supper at his home, and I have to be there by seven."

Addy smiled. "Ah…seein’ Miss Rose again, are you, sir?" There was a hint of amusement in the older woman’s voice, and Andrew pointed his walking stick at her in warning.

"There is nothing going on between us, Addy, and I don’t want you twisting my arm about it. Understand?"

Addy chuckled. "You men are so silly when it comes to courtin’. She’s a lovely girl, and I think she’d do well under your wing."

Andrew smirked before heading up the stairs towards his bedroom. He was grateful to toss his briefcase to the side and sit on the edge of the bed, flipping through the pile of mail Addy had brought up. Bills, nothing but bills. Well, a letter from his mother, but he’d read that after dinner. Right now, he had to focus on getting himself ready, and he knew his nerves would get the better of him.

*****

Meanwhile, nerves were already getting the better of Rose. She stood staring out the window, checking the clock every couple of minutes. Her father was late, late by twenty minutes, and that was very unlike him. She could hear her mother speaking to the maid in the hallway, telling her that if Charles did not return home in the next half an hour, he would be…

Rose whirled around as the main door opened. "Charles!" Ruth exclaimed, exasperated. "You are twenty minutes late! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?"

Rose dashed into the hallway, her skirts swishing along the wooden floor. "I’m terribly sorry," Mr. Bukater apologized, kissing his wife on the cheek. He smiled broadly as Rose approached him and kissed her twice, examining his child with pride.

"What kept you?" Ruth asked.

"Well, Andrew Calvert and I were just having a good chat on the way home, and we lost track of time. Besides, my dear, he will be joining us for dinner tonight at seven. I do hope we’ve enough food for a guest…mmm?"

Andrew Calvert! Rose felt a hot blush creeping into he cheeks. Why had she not thought of him before? She’d met Andrew on several occasions, each one more pleasant than the first. He was a very handsome, cheerful man, who insisted on making her laugh so hard her ribs ached.

"Here?" Ruth asked, putting her hands on her hips. "Well, it would have done you quite a bit of good if you’d told me ahead of time that you were planning to have company. Yes, we are having enough…roast duck fit for an army. But, oh, Charles." She shook her head, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Ruth, I’ve brought home guests before at the last minute. Why are you getting your feathers in a ruffle?"

"Let me take your hat and coat, sir," Trudy offered as she approached the family, and Mr. Bukater gratefully gave the top hat to her, along with his walking stick.

"Well, never mind," Ruth replied at last. "Rose has finally chosen her coming out dress pattern today."

Mr. Bukater looked at Rose, who tried to look as innocent as possible. "Very lovely. Very lovely." The three of them walked into the parlor…Rose and Ruth took a seat on the couch, and Mr. Bukater took his favorite chair by the fireplace. He gave a soft grunt as he sat down, and Rose waited until he was completely comfortable before speaking.

"It’s not extremely fancy, Father," she admitted. "But it’s very becoming."

"What color is it?" he asked as their other maid, Annabelle, brought him his pipe and a glass of brandy. She served the women glasses of wine before making her way back into the kitchen. Rose could already smell the spices coming from the oven, and her stomach growled embarrassingly loud.

"It’s a lovely green," she replied.

"Green…mmm? That seems to be your color, eh?" Mr. Bukater chuckled warmly, though Ruth gave him a warning look.

"So," Rose added, "how is Andrew? I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks. Is he still working on that new play of his?"

Mr. Bukater shook his head. "He hasn’t told me. He seems to be well, however. He is a bit nervous about the party, but I suppose all of us are."

Rose smiled--Andrew never did enjoy large crowds of people.

"I suppose I am," she agreed, taking another sip of wine.

"And how were your lessons?" Mr. Bukater always wanted to be up-to-date on the lives of his family when he returned home. It put him quite at ease when they spoke of their daily activities, and the calmness that circled his daughter relieved him.

"I’m afraid she still needs a bit of work on Moonlight Sonata." Ruth sighed.

"Mother," Rose groaned, and Mr. Bukater took a puff on his pipe.

"Why don’t you play for me? Let me judge how you’re improving from the last time."

Rose gulped, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. She stood and went obediently over to the piano, sitting down on the bench, and lifted the hatch. She began to play softly, and Charles listened intently, turning his eyes to Ruth. "Sounds perfectly all right to me, my dear," he said, and Ruth pursed her lips. Rose fought from looking up at her parents as she continued her way through the piece. When she finished, Charles set his glass of brandy down and began clapping.

"Bravo!" he exclaimed, and Rose beamed.

"Well! You certainly did not play as well when Mrs. Adams was here!"

Charles snorted. "Mrs. Adams could freeze the wool off of a mammoth with her coldness, Ruth." He let out a hearty laugh, and Rose remembered how much she adored it. When she was a little girl, she used to find the deepest amusement in the way her father’s round belly jiggled when he laughed…he reminded her very much of Santa Claus.

Ruth sat gazing at him and sighed. "Honestly, Charles Bukater, I do not know what to do with you."

Charles reached over and pinched Ruth’s cheek gently. "Cheer up, Ruth. You never smile anymore."

Rose wet her lips, quietly lowering the hatch to the piano. "Father?" she asked, breaking the tension a little, and her parents looked at her. "Is Andrew coming to the party on Friday?"

Charles nodded. "As far as I am aware, he is. Nervous as a mouse, poor chap."

"Poor Andrew is always nervous." Rose laughed, sitting on her father’s lap. "But he is such a dear! I am very glad he is coming for dinner tonight."

Charles gave Ruth a smug smirk. "You are overruled, my dear," he teased, and Ruth raised her hands in exasperation.

"I can see that." She stood up, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress. "Well, I am going to check on the cook’s progress with the meal." She swept out of the parlor, and when she was out of earshot, Rose burst into giggles.

"Impossible woman, your mother," Charles whispered, and Rose bit her lip.

"Why did you marry her, then? You two are so very different!"

Charles chuckled. "I love your mother very much, Rose. She was very different in her youth when we met. But there is quite a bit going on that is starting to make us a tad…bitter."

Rose straightened up. "Going on? Father, I have heard you and Mother discussing things in the hall, but Trudy pulls me away before I can hear anything of importance. Is your business quite all right?"

Charles cleared his throat, rubbing his palm over his thin beard. "Rose, I am not sure of anything just yet. Between Andrew and myself, we are trying to discover a bit of a pothole in our accounts."

Rose stared. "How large of a pothole?"

Charles sighed. "Your mother would burn me alive if she heard me telling you this now, Rose, but I believe you need to hear the truth, love. There are funds missing from our treasury; a great deal, in fact. Andrew suspects embezzlement, but as we have recently hired our new treasurer, we cannot be certain."

Rose covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, my God," she breathed.

"If we keep losing money as we are, Rose, I am afraid our business is going to go bankrupt."

Rose lowered her head, feeling sick to her stomach. "Bankrupt. But…but you have an oil company!"

"Only a branch of the Hockley system, Rose. You know that. We were doing well, but the oil wells have been drying up on our plots, and, of course, with the money we have made going to the devil knows where, problems are going to arise."

Ruth came back into the parlor just as Charles finished speaking, and she cocked her head to one side. "You’ve told her," she said stiffly, noticing Rose’s attempt to look as though she had been talking about nothing of great importance.

"He…he hasn’t said a word, Mother," Rose insisted, and Ruth laughed coldly.

"Rose, you are no good at lying. Charles, I thought we discussed this! We were not to worry her! Now she has to have all of this weight on her shoulders before her celebration, and she will not be able to present herself properly to her guests!"

Rose stiffened. "Father says it is not quite so bad yet," she replied. "And I do wish you would not speak as though I were an object in this room."

"Rose is mature enough to take this in, Ruth," Charles added.

"So that is why you are both so eager to marry me off to some wealthy man?" Rose asked, the pieces all fitting together. Ruth touched her shoulder.

"We want you to be well-cared for, Rose. You are our only child. We could not bear to see you living on the streets."

Rose closed her eyes. "And if none of the men are satisfying to me at the party, what are you going to do? Bring in other lines of acceptably rich candidates?" she asked, slipping off of her father’s lap.

"Rose, we want you to marry for love," Charles told her, "but love is not the only thing that will keep you stable in this day and age."

Rose glared at her mother, and then turned to her father. "I do need to be alone," she whispered, and stalked out of the parlor. Charles sighed heavily as he heard her footsteps moving down the hallway, and cleared his throat.

"Now look what you’ve done," Ruth told him, and Charles raised a hand innocently.

"Rose is going to be an adult," he explained. "Therefore, she needs to learn to take life from the position of one."

Ruth turned towards the ticking grandfather clock in the corner; it read 6:15. "Well, I do hope you are satisfied with yourself." She reached over to the small table before her and picked up a copy of the Bible. Charles watched as she opened the worn leather cover and grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

*****

Up in her room, Rose stood in the center of the floor, her fists clenched at her sides. She couldn’t believe it; her father’s business, the one that had kept them in high society for so long, was failing. It was not happening; it was some sort of nightmare!

"Back where I began," she sighed, sitting down at her desk and gazing out the window. She sat there for a good while before she noticed a familiar figure making his way down the darkening cobblestone streets. Her heart lifted slightly; Andrew Calvert had arrived.

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