From Across the Room by Gina L. Mulligan (sneezy the snowman read aloud .TXT) 📕

>After the bank robbery blunder, Bennett fled to New York to begin a new life using the assumed name Lowell Kennard. This explains why Mr. Everett was unable to find information on Kennard prior to 1879. To legitimize his new identity, Kennard needed reputable employment so he accepted a job as a bookkeeper with Harting Railways. He also began another printing project by cover of nightfall. I shall get to that in a moment.

By 1880, a series of rail accidents and labor strikes left Mr. Harting overextended and panicked. Stock prices were down, which meant a considerable risk to Mr. Harting’s personal finances. In short, he was in jeopardy of losing everything. This was when Mr. Kennard approached Mr. Harting with a profitable scheme. According to his own admission, Mr. Harting never questioned Kennard’s methods. Instead, Mr. Harting promoted Kennard.

Under Kennard’s direction, Mr. Harting created a fictitious corporation, secured a large loan, and solicited help from his cousin living in London. Kennard was again partnered with Mr. Crawley (I have yet to decide if I shall share this unsettling news with my father), and the two designed a new counterfeiting press. With all the players at the table, the joint business venture began in the fall of ’82; Mary was just fourteen.

Henry, do you recall the scandal you stumbled upon in London? Even as I commit this to paper, I am awed by such an elaborate international con. Mr. Harting, William Crawley, and Lowell Kennard have been printing and selling counterfeit United States bonds. Having learned from the bank mishap, Kennard even set up a swindle to trade the counterfeit bonds for a legal commodity.

Mr. Harting’s cousin in London locates foreign investors dabbling in U.S. cattle and farming. Mr. Harting and Kennard then offer generous amounts of phony American bonds in exchange for cattle and crops. Overjoyed by their windfall, the investors hold the counterfeit bonds until full maturity while Harting and Kennard sell the cattle and crops for real currency. Their success surpassed all expectations, and there seemed no end in sight. Then a year ago Kennard revealed a deep secret.

Kennard told Mr. Harting he was in love with Mary and wanted her as his wife. Outraged, Mr. Harting refused to even consider letting an unscrupulous charlatan marry his precious daughter. They argued; however, the feud had to wait until after the family vacation in California. This is where I stumbled in like a drunken actor who had forgotten his lines. While Mary and I frolicked, Mr. Harting dealt with harassing telegrams and letters from Kennard. The day before Mr. Harting dragged Mary back to New York, Mr. Kennard played his final hand.

Kennard revealed a second and more interesting set of business records that implicated Mr. Harting as the sole perpetrator of their illegitimate operation. Kennard had planned for his escape, except he no longer wished to flee. He wanted Mary, and the blackmail was straight-forward.

Mr. Harting first attempted to fabricate equally damaging documents about Kennard. Mary and I witnessed this covert exchange in San Diego. Unfortunately, Mr. Harting's would-be accomplice cheated him. Cornered and desperate, Mr. Harting invited Kennard to family dinners and galas hoping all would take a natural course. Mary, however, was preoccupied. You can see why Mr. Harting detested my very existence. He was on the verge of ruin while I wrote love letters.

When I burst into Mr. Harting’s office with accusations of Kennard’s nefarious endeavors at the bank, it was in fact the first he had heard of that caper. Mr. Harting was abusive in efforts to shake loose bona fide evidence against Kennard. My story, though interesting, has proved worthless. Kennard insists Mary accept his marriage proposal within twenty-four hours or he will go the police with the forged documents.

Charlton Harting fell to his knees, clutched Mary’s skirt, and begged her to save the family fortune and reputation. He assured Mary of Kennard’s true affections and offered an extraordinary allowance if she married him. For the first time in her life Mary refused her father. She is packed and we leave for Boston at the end of the week. I have never been so proud of anyone in my life.

So now you know the whole tale. Are you satisfied in the telling? Seems there was no shortcut on this trip, and I tripped on every rock in the road. Still, I believe I needed to take this path in order to learn a most valued lesson.

Writing is not the imitation of life; it is the exploration of living. Lift your head from the pages, my friend, and feel the sun on your face. The world awaits, and we have more to offer than a good story. Though my cheeks are burned and I know there are more rocks ahead, I have never been more content and have also answered all but one question.

Henry, will you be my best man?

Your friend,

Thomas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SUMMER 1888

 

 

September 15, 1888.

DEAR AVERY —

Before you top your threatening telegrams with a rabid dog, the novel is complete. If you are now pawing through your desk for a calendar, allow me to assist. By my calculations, I am a week early. Wonders never cease.

You should let Harpers know your relentless pestering inspired me and in fact found a place in this new book. Before you worry for your reputation, rest assured you are not the only one immortalized in these letters. It turns out my family and friends really are characters. I should warn I strayed from another adventure novel, but the idea to mingle intrigue and romance into my ordinary life was inspired.

Did I tell you it was Henry who convinced me writing amid the beauty of the Hotel Del Coronado would loosen my writer’s block? He claimed the salty breeze would clear the dust between my ears. Henry could never have predicted the woman on the upstairs balcony dousing herself with talcum powder. Each morning began with a fresh dusting. Nevertheless, my writer’s block was cured by my propensity for observation and the hotel’s diverse activities. In fact, you would rather enjoy the gaming here, especially the hunting. All summer there was a contest to see who could bag the muskrat family freeloading under the gazebo.

Once this package is sealed, I sail for Greece to make amends with Beau and attend the International Magician’s Training Symposium and Souvlaki Bake. Regrettably, I shall miss Harpers’ extensive publicity meeting, but surely they would never squelch a man’s lifelong dream of pulling coins from unsuspecting ears. By the by, if in my absence, you happen upon my father, flee before he shares his dissertation on how writers and agents are the embodiment of lethargy and an economic burden on proper society. He sends his regards.

Avery, I must leave you here to get to the post and bid a final farewell to my beautiful muse. As I mentioned, this epistolary novel was inspired, and who stirs men more than a lovely creature. You know I never even found out her name. Ours was a love created by the flawlessness of imagination. She was the woman of my dreams, and though we never met, she was delightful and perfect as I watched her from across the room.

Your friend always,

Thomas

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

Gina L. Mulligan is a veteran freelance journalist and the author of two historical novels; REMEMBER THE LADIES and FROM ACROSS THE ROOM, and the non-fiction DEAR FRIEND; Letters of Encouragement, Humor, and Love for Women with Breast Cancer. After her own diagnosis, Gina founded Girls Love Mail, a national charity that collects handwritten letters of for women with breast cancer. Since the formation in 2011, the charity has sent out over 165,000 letters across the country. Gina has been featured on The NBC Nightly News with Lester Holt, The Steve Harvey Show, People.com, Today.com, and Woman’s Day Magazine.

www.GinaMulligan.com

www.GirlsLoveMail.com

mailto:[email protected]

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