Page 84 of The Missing Pages
She gazed over at the sales clerk and smiled. “So did I remember that correctly?” she asked.
He laughed. “For the most part, yes. But you’re burying the lead. It’s called ‘Cakebox’ because they packed it up in cake box tins to take home.”
“Ahhh,” Theo said. “Hence, the name.”
“Yep,” the salesman said as he closed the case. “Anything in particular I can help you folks with today?”
“Actually, yes…” Violet’s eyes lit up. “I noticed a particular tobacco blend wafting outside your store. It’s not Cakebox. Is it something else?”
“Well that’s going to be hard to narrow down. We have hundreds here.”
“Did anyone recently smoke something inside the store?”
He shook his head. “No. We can’t let customers do that. Do you want to describe it to me?”
“I’m hardly an aficionado, but maybe it reminded me of oak leaves. Or vanilla? I’m really not sure.”
“That could be a few kinds,” he said.
“Is there any chance that Leavitt and Peirce kept records of what their past clients ordered over the years?” Violet asked. “I know that’s probably something you do now, but in the beginning. Like in the1900s?”
“They might have had one they called ‘Gentleman accounts.’ You know, where some of the undergraduates had their bills sent home to their parents and they just bought on credit. But I’m not sure. You’d have to ask the owner.” He scribbled down the number. “So feel free to call him. He loves this kind of thing.”
Violet folded the paper. “I’ll do that, thanks.” She really needed to know if the scent of tobacco she kept smelling was truly Harry’s. Maybe one couldn’t actually see ghosts, but that didn’t mean they didn’t leave traces of themselves in the air.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
ROSENBACH INHALED HIS PIPE AND BLEW ANOTHER PUFF OFsmoke. The oaky fragrance filled the air.
“Let’s revisit this idea after Bernard Alfred and I have a chance to discuss the viability of such a venture.”
“Certainly,” Ada said as she put down her teacup and stood up. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you, and I look forward to hearing your decision.”
“Can I get a cab for you?”
“If it’s no trouble,” she replied.
“Of course. You deserve every comfort after your ordeal.”
She nodded meekly. The hour with Rosenbach had taken almost everything out of her.
“What time is your train?”
“Three o’clock,” she lied.
He looked at his watch and said, “Let’s not waste too much time then.”
In a city where the elaborate trolley system had been built by the Elkins-Widener families, it almost felt like a betrayal to Harry as she slipped into the comfortable cab.
“To the train station then, Miss?” the driver said, repeating what Rosenbach had told him.
“Would you mind going out of the way a bit?” she said. “There’s one place I need to visit before I leave the area.”
“I’ll go wherever you tell me to,” he said, “as long as you can pay the fare. That’s the great thing about America,” he joked.
“I need to go to Lynnewood Hall.”
“The Widener estate in Elkins Park? It isn’t that close, Miss… I don’t think there’s enough time to get there and back without you missing your train!”
