The Lady of Tarpon Springs Page 2

  On most occasions, she found humor in her brother’s jibes, but not today. She pinned him with a hard stare. “Work doesn’t have to be physical to be exhausting. Using one’s brain can be every bit as tiresome as shoveling dirt or sanding the planks of a boat.” She lifted her gaze to his shoulder. “Or carrying a load of canvas.”

  He blew a long, low whistle. “What’s wrong with you today? You can’t joke with me anymore?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and I feel like a failure.”

  “You? How can my smart sister who has her own law office be a failure? If you’re a failure, then what am I?”

  “You’re an assistant boat builder—and a very fine one. Judging from my success over the past eight months, you chose the more profitable profession. Right now, I think I should have gone into business with Papa.” She tugged the brim of her hat to shade the setting sun from her eyes.

  “You think our father would permit you to work alongside him like a man when he still won’t admit to himself that you passed that test and you’re a lawyer the same as old Mr. Burnside?”

  Zanna furrowed her brow. “I don’t think that’s true. I think he believes I’m a lawyer, but he’s still unhappy because he believes I deceived him.”

  “Well you did, didn’t you?”

  “I did not. I merely remained silent about what I was doing, which isn’t a lie or deceitful.”

  Her brother shifted the canvas to his other shoulder. “You can tell yourself that if you want, but you didn’t tell anyone Mr. Burnside was helping you study to take that law test because you knew Papa wouldn’t approve. Isn’t that true?”

  She lifted her nose in the air. “You’re the one acting like a lawyer with all your ridiculous questions.”

  “And you’re doing your best to avoid answering my question. I’ll bet that’s one of those maneuvers you learned from Mr. Burnside. Right?”

  There would be no winning this argument—not that she truly cared. Sparring with Atticus about taking the bar exam was in the past. They both knew her father would never have agreed had she requested his permission to sit for the exam. They both knew that was why she didn’t tell him until after she’d passed it. And they both knew he wanted her to marry and have babies—not practice law.

  They continued toward the family home adjacent to her father’s boat-building shop that fronted the Anclote River. “The river’s higher than usual. I hope we don’t get any more rain for a while.” She caught sight of her father standing atop the bow of his most recent project and waved.

  He called out a welcome and then gestured to her brother. “Hurry, Atticus! I need that canvas. You should have been back long ago. You always spend too much time visiting with Mr. Fernaldo.”

  Atticus tipped his head close to her ear. “No matter how soon I return, he says I spend too much time visiting.”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t want to build boats, after all.” Zanna smiled at him and turned toward the house, where her grandmother was sitting on the front porch winding a ball of bright blue yarn. She leaned down and kissed her weathered cheek. “What are you making, Yayá?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure. Maybe a wrap to keep you warm when we sail for Greece?” Her eyes brightened with mischief. “You would like that?”

  “I would like you to make me a shawl, but I’m not planning a trip to Greece.” Zanna tried to keep her voice even. “I’m sure Mama would consider making the journey with you.”

  Her grandmother cackled. “Your mother isn’t the one who needs to find a husband.” She pulled a knitting needle from her basket and pointed it in Zanna’s direction. “But you! You should have been married long ago. If your papa had his way, we would already be on our way to Greece.”

  Zanna gave her grandmother a patronizing nod and hurried inside before the talk of husbands, Greece, and marriage could go any further. She removed her hat and stepped into the kitchen. “Do you need any help with supper, Mama?”

  Her mother’s graying hair was in the usual large knot at the nape of her neck. The older woman shook her head, the knot swaying like a melon preparing to break loose from the vine. “If you would bring in the wash from the clothesline, that would help.”

  Zanna picked up the large woven basket and made her way to the lines her father had strung from the side of the house to a tall palm tree. The sagging rope bounced as she lifted the weight of the shirts, work pants, cotton dresses, and aprons from the line.

  The scent of her mother’s fish stew, laced with fennel, thyme, and saffron, wafted through the open kitchen window and created an enticing incentive to move with speed. Both her mother and grandmother could produce lavish meals in the blink of an eye. Or so it seemed to Zanna, who still couldn’t use the briki and make her father a cup of his morning coffee.

  Her father and brothers were seated at the table when she returned inside with the laundry basket on her hip. Capturing her mother’s attention, Zanna nodded toward the basket. “I’ll take this to my bedroom and fold them for you this evening.”

  Her father pointed to the tureen of fish stew now in the center of the table. “You need to spend more time in the kitchen so you can learn to cook good Greek food.”

  Zanna strode into the bedroom, longing to tell her father she had no desire to prepare Greek food—or any other food, for that matter—but of course she held her tongue. Any retort would only evolve into yet another discussion of her need to marry and have babies.

  While removing clothes from the line, she’d momentarily considered speaking to her father about the arrival of the Greek spongers and Lucy’s predicament, but his recent remark was enough to erase that idea. Any mention of difficulty in the law office or her inability to solve a client’s problem would only add fuel to her father’s deep belief that his daughter should already be married. She’d keep Lucy’s predicament to herself. If help was going to come, she’d need to depend upon the Lord.

  As morning dawned, Zanna awakened with a start. An unexpected surge of excitement pulsed through her veins. She had a plan. And not just any plan, but one that had come to her in a dream during the night. Giving little thought to anything else, she donned her clothes, rushed down the stairs, and hurried to the door while calling out a quick good-bye. Her grandmother’s admonition that Zanna should eat breakfast before leaving the house trailed after her as she scurried from the yard.

  Her breath came in gasps as she pounded on Lucy’s door. When she didn’t immediately answer, Zanna danced from foot to foot, then knocked again. “Where is she? Surely she’s not still asleep.” Zanna cupped her hands around her eyes and peeked through the decorative triangle of tinted glass in the front door. Her heart plummeted. Maybe Lucy had been called out to care for a patient. She inhaled a deep breath and turned to leave when the front door opened.

  “Zanna, what’s wrong? Is someone ill? Your grandmother?”

  “No, everyone is fine, but I . . .”

  Before she could complete her sentence, Lucy stepped away from the door and waved Zanna inside. “From the way you were pounding on the door, I was sure there must be some emergency.” Lucy’s brows puckered, and her lips tipped into a wry smile. “My goodness! Did you get dressed in the dark? You’re wearing the jacket to your brown suit with a skirt that doesn’t match.”

  Zanna glanced down and felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I can go home and change later. This is important.”

  “It must be.” Lucy chuckled and stepped to the side. “Do come in and tell me what it is that would cause you to leave home in that terribly mismatched attire.”

  Zanna grasped Lucy’s hands. “I have a solution to your problem.”

  “You do? Then I won’t say another word about your outfit. Tell me everything. Did you seek help from another lawyer?”

  “No. I don’t think any lawyer can find a way out of that contract, but I had a dream last night. I had prayed and asked God to help me find some way to help you, so I’m sure the dream was His answer to m
y prayer.”

  Lucy pursed her lips and dropped back in her chair. “You know I believe in prayer, but I’m not—”

  “Don’t become skeptical before you’ve heard what I have to say.”

  “I’m sorry, Zanna. It’s difficult to believe your dream is going to solve my problems, but I promise to listen with an open mind.”

  Zanna pressed her palms down the front of her skirt and nodded. “I am going to take charge of the sponging business for you. You will remain the owner, of course, and I’ll seek your permission before making any major decisions, but you won’t have to worry about any aspects of the diving operation. I know how to keep proper accounts. I managed Mr. Burnside’s accounts when I clerked for him, and I understand the proper methods of bookkeeping. I read and write Greek, so I can communicate with the men who will be arriving next week. There may be a few who speak some limited English, but the majority will likely speak only Greek.”

  When she stopped to inhale a breath, Lucy scooted forward in her chair. “That’s your solution? That you’re going to manage fifty Greek spongers who are coming here expecting to go to work for my father? I’m sorry, Zanna, but how can you think that is God’s answer to my dilemma?”

  Zanna’s mouth dropped open. She’d been so excited, so certain Lucy would be thrilled with her plan. Instead of listening with an open mind as she’d promised, Lucy had immediately been dismissive.

  Zanna crossed her arms across her waist and frowned. “Unless you have another solution, at least let me tell you why I think this will work.”

  “I’m sorry, Zanna. I said I would listen.” Lucy waved her hand in a circular motion. “Please, go on.”

  “Although you still want to believe there’s some way to get out of the contract, you need to accept that you are legally bound by its terms. With that in mind, you must have someone manage the business for you. Since you have no interest in the sponging operation and want to continue with your medical practice, I believe I’m the best choice to assist you.”

  “And is that because you believe you failed as a lawyer?”

  Zanna shook her head. “No. I’ve already told you that this came to me in a dream last night.”

  “Oh, yes. The dream. I’d forgotten.” Lucy hiked a brow. “Do continue.”

  Zanna’s stomach clenched in a knot. She hadn’t missed the lack of belief in Lucy’s tone. Maybe the dream wasn’t God’s answer to Lucy’s problem. She fought off the niggling thought and continued. “As I said, I can read and write Greek. I’m a lawyer, which should give me an advantage in dealing with the sponge buyers and when legal documents are needed. In addition to working for Mr. Burnside and in my own law office, I’ve helped my father with the accounts for his boat-building business. And though you may not consider it an asset, I have two brothers I’ve been able to boss around with great authority, so I think I can handle the spongers just as handily.”

  Her friend waited a moment. “Is that everything?”

  Zanna leaned forward. “No. In truth, I’ve saved the biggest reason of all for last.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “And what is that?”

  “My father is threatening to send me to Greece with my grandmother—on a matchmaking journey to find what he considers a proper Greek husband.” Zanna reached for Lucy’s hand. “Surely you can understand my plight. You’ve told me you don’t want to marry unless you find a man who will permit you to continue your medical practice. And maybe not even then. If you let me do this, we would be helping each other. I’d relieve you of the day-to-day responsibility of operating the business, and you could continue with your medical practice.”

  “I know you have the ability to do what you’ve offered, Zanna, but—”

  Zanna shook her head. “There is no other option. Those men and their equipment will be here soon. Either you take charge now or you arrange for someone else to do it for you.”

  “I wish I could simply put them and their equipment back on a boat and send them home, but I don’t have the funds to do that. This entire disaster has stripped me of everything.” A tear slipped down Lucy’s cheek.

  “Only for the time being. I believe it can become a sound business venture.” Zanna hoped her assurance would finally convince her friend. “You wouldn’t even have to pay me anything until the business is solvent.”

  “That’s kind of you, Zanna.” Lucy pushed up from the chair. “But perhaps I can find a buyer even before the business is solvent.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  Lucy’s final remark squelched Zanna’s earlier enthusiasm like water on a campfire. She stared at Lucy and briefly attempted to understand the comment. Lucy hadn’t been herself since discovering her inheritance had been invested in sponging boats and diving equipment. She’d become annoyed at every turn. Zanna was doing her best to cope with Lucy’s irritation, yet she longed for the return of the kind and good-natured friend she’d grown to love over the years.

  Silence hovered over the room like a funeral pall until Zanna could bear the quiet no longer. “Exactly what do you believe you can sell, Lucy?”

  Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, Lucy sighed. “The business. Isn’t that what we’ve been discussing?”

  “Don’t you see that there truly isn’t any business yet? Until the crews arrive and begin diving, we won’t know the quality or quantity of sponges to be found in the Gulf. This entire endeavor is a gamble.”

  “My father was willing to take a chance with his money. Surely there’s someone else who would do so.” A spark of hopefulness shone in her eyes.

  “If you believe you can find someone willing to do so before the men arrive, then you can ignore what I’ve suggested. However, I believe your idea is akin to offering fifty experienced railroad workers and a coal car as a business, so I would argue you don’t own anything of value to an investor. You have the crews, the boats, and some equipment, but there still isn’t any proof this will be a profitable venture.” Zanna shrugged. “The decision is yours.”

  “I’m not sure I agree that there’s nothing of value to sell, but I know I won’t find a buyer or even an investor on such short notice.” Lucy’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “On the other hand, I might be able to secure a loan to send the divers home. Under the circumstances, I think they’d prefer a return to Greece, don’t you?”

  “You’re not thinking logically, Lucy. Why would you want to incur a large debt to send them back? The bank would require security and you’d have to pay interest. Do you want to place your home and land in jeopardy? Besides, how would you repay the loan?” Zanna drew in a deep breath. She needed to approach her friend with calm assurance. And while she wanted to offer support, what Lucy needed most right now was for someone to look to her best interests in the long run. “I told you before that I don’t think the men will want to return home. I’m sure they have dreams of earning a better wage and eventually sending for the wives and families they left behind. If you attempt to default on the contract, they would likely be heartbroken. And they could possibly sue you, as well.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” Lucy’s expression softened for a moment, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. She squared her shoulders. “I don’t believe any court would hold it against me. Any sound judge would see that my father was the one who intended to see the contract to completion.”

  “That matters not a whit, Lucy. You are the sole heir of your father’s estate, and he made it quite clear that his heir would be bound by the terms of the contract.”

  “Perhaps, but he didn’t think he would die soon after he’d signed that contract.” Lucy’s voice trembled during her brief rebuttal.

  “I know, but that argument won’t hold water in any court.” Zanna sighed. “Any judge worth his salt would point out that nobody thinks they’re going to die. Folks believe death will come to others, but most never consider their own mortality. Besides, any attorney for the opposition would argue the fact that
your father stipulated the terms of the contract should pass to his heirs, and that is proof enough to bind you to the agreement.”

  Lucy sat down and stared out the front window for a long moment. She finally turned and looked at Zanna. “How long before the business is profitable?”

  Zanna gulped. “Surely you realize that there is no way for me to give you a definite answer to that question. Since the Greek divers can go much deeper, they may be able to find sponges that are as large and lovely as those being harvested from the Aegean Sea. If they locate sizable beds of quality sponges and can reap large harvests, I would estimate the business could repay you within two to five years. But that’s only a guess. There’s no way for me to be certain.”

  “That’s a long time, Zanna.”

  “Not when you consider the divers must receive wages, the cost of upkeep on the equipment, and the need to rent storage space for trimming, sorting, and storing the sponges until they’re sold.”

  “I don’t understand any of this. I’m a doctor. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. This is far more complicated than I anticipated and only heightens my desire to rid myself of the entire matter.”

  “I completely agree, and that’s why you should permit me to take charge. I’m willing to step in the minute you tell me to do so.”

  “I know you’re worried about me.” Lucy massaged her forehead. “And there aren’t many options. Let me think about it. Right now I need to take care of my patients.”

  Zanna nodded. “Just remember. There isn’t much time. There will be a group of Greek immigrants arriving in the blink of an eye.”

  That evening Zanna strode toward home. She had hoped to hear from Lucy before day’s end, but that hadn’t happened—at least not yet. Given their earlier discussion, Zanna was confident she would be appointed manager before week’s end.

  Her brothers and father had already taken their seats at the supper table. After her mother, grandmother, and Zanna had joined them in a prayer of thanks for their meal, Zanna filled her plate with a small helping of moussaka.