City of Ash by Megan Chance

Langley—is it true what they say, that you kept a quite famous salon in Chicago?” Mr. Reading asked.
    Wistfully, I said, “It was very well attended.”
    “Do you intend to continue it here?”
    “No, I think not. Much as I wish it otherwise.”
    “You should not let them stop you,” he said. “They control too much of the city as it is.”
    Mrs. Reading leaned forward, her plump face etched with compassion. “He’s right, I’m afraid. Do you know, Mrs. Langley—andI mean this in the best possible way, you understand—I believe it would be best if you not try to placate those who cannot be pleased and simply … be as you are.”
    Her kindness, the sentiment, the hope she raised … I remembered Nathan’s words from the other night.
Remember who you are, Geneva
. Though he had not meant it the same way. I said simply, “I wish I could.”
    “You will consider the salon, then?” Mr. Reading asked.
    “Assuming I did start it, Mr. Reading, who would even attend?”
    Mr. Reading said, “We would. And I am quite certain there are others who would welcome the opportunity.”
    “Welcome what opportunity, my dear?” Nathan was suddenly at my shoulder. He said hello to the Readings, then leaned close to say, “They’re calling us to dinner. This way.”
    “It was a pleasure to meet you both,” I said to Mr. and Mrs. Reading before Nathan led me away, and it was the most sincere thing I’d said in weeks. The few moments I’d spent in their company had been like breathing again. As we went to the dining room, Nathan said, “Ginny, there are twenty people here at least it would be better for you to meet. Trust you to land in a conversation with James Reading.”
    I glanced at him. “He isn’t … inappropriate?”
    “Inappropriate? No. But he is unconventional. People were watching. It can’t have done you good.”
    “Do you know he’s paid a troupe to rehearse a play with him? He’s always wanted to be an actor.”
    “He’s a laughingstock, is what he is,” Nathan said shortly. “The perfect example of what happens to a fool and his money.”
    “Perhaps.” I could not help sounding wistful. “But it’s a clever idea. I don’t know why I never thought to do it myself when I was in Chicago.”
    He gave me a look that made me wish I’d said nothing. In fact, I wished James Reading had never told me of it. Because all I heard the rest of the night was his laughter, and the things he’d said danced in my head, and I knew I was not done with them, and was afraid of myself, of the things I wanted, of everything I could no longer have.

Chapter Seven
    T he next morning, Nathan seemed strangely thoughtful. We sat silently at breakfast, but his gaze rested on me now and again as if something troubled him, and finally I put down my coffee and said, “Was it so bad last night, do you think? I … I didn’t realize the Readings were … well, I didn’t realize. It’s a pity, you know. They’re the first people I’ve met here that I actually enjoy.”
    “I had a visit from a playwright yesterday afternoon,” Nathan said abruptly.
    I blinked in confusion. “A … what?”
    “A playwright. I had not wanted to mention it last night, what with the ball, and the governor, but yes, a playwright came to my office. DeWitt, I think his name was. Yes, that was it. Sebastian DeWitt. Have you heard of him?”
    “Sebastian DeWitt? No, I don’t think so. Why ever did a playwright come to see you?”
    “Because I’ve invested in the Regal Theater.”
    I stared at him in surprise. “You invested in a theater?”
    “I was looking for opportunities, and the Regal was suggested to me. It’s a popular theater and a good return for my money.”
    “And that’s all you care about, the money,” I said bitterly.
    He gave me an impatient look. “Your father doesn’t buy art just because he likes it, Ginny. It’s also a good investment.”
    “He’s not quite so mercenary as that. And unlike