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I ran to my private room, heaving for air, and slammed the door shut. The train was rolling along at a good pace. At least I made it on the train, even if my shoes had to be sacrificed for it.
I sat down on the couch and shuddered at the thought of blood being shed on my father's train. When the body was found there were very little clues as to who killed the man. The door to my room abruptly opened. "Mother. You startled me," I said. "What are you doing here?" "Scarlet, is this what you plan on doing for the rest of your life?" She glared at me and promptly sat down, not waiting for an invitation or an answer to her question. "You spend months on this bloody train, doing nothing but sulking about your life." "I'm not sulking Mother. Maybe if you would take the time to find out . . ." "Enough!" she growled. I sat silent, knowing she would never listen. "It's 1952 and the passenger train lines are going bankrupt. We've received another offer from Jonathan Adams. It's a fair offer and I think it's time we accepted." "You know I can't do that Mother." "If you don't give this man what he wants, he will come after you. And possibly me as well." She stood up and paced the small room. "Think about it Scarlet. And stop acting like a spoiled child. Your father's gone. Holding onto this company won't bring him back."
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