by S. C. Wilson
Jesse removed the lid from the box. “What are they?” she asked, staring at the gold jewelry inside.
“They’re cufflinks. Here, let me show you.” She stuck the pins through the fabric and clipped the studs with the fasteners. “So, what do you think?”
Jesse pulled her sleeves down and looked at her cuffs again. “I like ‘em. Thank you,” she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. She felt Jim clinging to her pant leg. “Abs, go sit on the bed. Let’s see if he’ll walk to you.”
Abby smoothed out her ball gown and sat, reaching out with both hands. “Jim. Come here,” she said, raising the pitch of her voice to entice him to come.
Jim looked at her but didn’t move. Jesse gently pried his fingers loose and turned him in his mother’s direction. “Go to your ma,” she said, letting go of his hands.
He stood, tottering in place as Abby continued to encourage him. Finally, he moved one hesitant foot forward. Jesse bent over and followed behind him, hand at his back, ready to catch him should he fall. They watched attentively with breath held as he swayed back and forth with each step. Each time he leaned too far to one side, both women leaned as well, as if their movements somehow had the power to keep him on his feet. Five monumental steps later, he reached his mother’s outstretched hands.
Jesse scooped him off the floor and held him high in the air. “You did it! That’s my big boy.”
Jim cupped her face in his tiny hands and giggled.
A knock on the bedroom door interrupted the momentous occasion.
“Cuffy’s here,” Toby said.
Three weeks ago, he and Aponi had finally moved into their new home in Neva. They had come back into town earlier in the day to sit with the twins.
“We’ll be right down,” Jesse said. She put Jim on the floor next to Gwen and reached for her black-silk tailcoat. Glancing into the mirror, she took one last look at her short hair, which had been slicked back with a hint of Madagascar oil before donning the top hat.
“You look very nice,” Abby said.
Jesse turned to face her. Abby was wearing a flowing, maroon, ball gown, which matched the embroidery work on Jesse’s vest. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun and pinned into place with a jeweled hairpin. She was wearing little makeup, just enough to enhance her beauty.
“And you’re still the prettiest woman I have ever seen,” she said, running her finger lightly down the soft skin between Abby’s breasts.
“Now don’t go starting something,” she said teasingly as she pulled Jesse’s hand from her cleavage. “So, you think you’ll remember the steps I taught you? Because tonight, when we dance, I want to get lost in your arms,” Abby said as she slipped on her lacy-black gloves.
“I guess we’re both going to find out soon enough.”
At precisely eight o’clock, Cuffy pulled the polished carriage to a stop in front of the Bowman mansion. He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Jesse to step out first. Then, he offered his white-gloved hand to Abby, assisting her down the carriage steps. She curtseyed a small thank you to him. He returned the salutation with a warm smile and a bowed head.
Jesse offered her elbow and the couple strode together through an opened gate along a brick-paved path. They paused next to a five-tiered fountain to take in the sprawling estate. The grandiose forty-three-room granite mansion sat on a well-manicured lawn, surrounded by meticulously shaped hedges. Its three stories were topped off with a wrought iron widow’s walk on the mansard roof.
Just beyond the splashing sound of the fountain, they could hear the muffled chatter coming from the large gathering of people visible through the open double doors.
Jesse turned to Abby. “I’m not sure this was a good idea.” The lines of worry in her forehead only deepened. “Look at all those people.”
“I know you hate crowds, but you’ll be fine. I promise. Besides, I can’t wait to see it. You worked so hard.” She tightened her grip in the crook of Jesse’s elbow and pulled her along before she could talk herself out of going inside.
They entered into a grand foyer with eighteen-foot-tall ceilings, held up by massive Corinthian marble columns. They were cordially greeted by one of the uniformed staff who offered to take Abby’s shawl. Distracted, she mumbled an unintelligible thank you as she tried to see through the throng of people gathered around the staircase.
The stairway had a towering presence, unlike anything she had ever seen. The attention to detail was extraordinary. The handrail had recessed patterns of acanthus leaves, which seemed to grow right from the wood. The spindles had been carved to look like vines of climbing ivy. While these details were beautiful, they were nothing compared to the heart of the structure. The real masterpieces were the two, five feet tall newel posts.
Jesse had gotten her inspiration from the Bowmans’ doorknockers. She had fashioned the newel posts to look like rearing black stallions with red eyes, their manes flowing in the wind. A few of the guests were reaching out for a touch as if they almost expected to feel hot air snorting from their flared nostrils.
Abby’s mouth was wide open in shock, and she quickly covered it with her hand. “Jes,” she said finally, “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful. How’d you get the eyes to look like that?”
“I went to a glass shop and had them—”
“There’s the man of the hour,” Sam announced, his voice carrying over the crowd.
Jesse watched as he made his way toward them, mingling and quickly greeting people along the way as he fought through the sea of guests.
He reached out to shake her hand and leaned in close. “I’ll bait. All you have to do is set the hook,” he whispered.
The line of people that had fallen in behind him as he made his way over now congregated around them, each one eager for a chance to meet the new artisan in San Francisco.
Sam raised a quieting hand. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce to you, Mr. McGinnis. As most of you know, I’ve been all around this world. He is by far the finest craftsman…” He paused, trying to find a better word, and continued, “…artist I’ve ever seen. I am honored to have his presence here with us this evening.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the guests swarmed in closer around her and Abby.
Abby released her grip on her arm. “Don’t be too long,” she said, smiling at her sweetly. “You promised me a dance.”
Jesse watched her walk over and stand next to Helga. “So?” she heard a man say. She turned toward the voice. “So, when could you start? The Mrs. and I would like—”
A man stepped in front of him. “Do you have a waiting list? If so, I’d like to be placed on it.”
An older woman holding a small poodle in the back of the group raised her hand, her voice loud in spite of the crowd. “I’d like to hire you.”
Sam raised his hand in the air again. “Honored guests, please. Don’t crowd. If you’d like to speak with him, then follow me.”
He led Jesse and a small group of people toward his office. “Mr. McGinnis,” he said, pulling his big leather chair out from behind the desk.
Jesse took the offered chair while Sam pulled one of the smaller chairs around the desk and took a seat next to her. He dotted his pen in the inkwell and held it poised over a blank sheet of paper. “If you’re interested in hiring Mr. McGinnis, I will take your name and address and he’ll be in touch. He is very particular about his work. Not every home can have an original McGinnis statement piece, so please don’t take offense if he declines.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Jesse spoke with potential clients to get an idea of their visions and then Sam took down their names and addresses if she felt the work was in her wheelhouse. Most of them were willing to hire a contractor to install her handiwork if need be. All she had to do was carve.
After Sam had penned the last name, he escorted the couple out of his office and closed the door. He went to the liquor hutch and retrieved a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “That went better
than I ever imagined,” he said, pouring the liquor. “You’re going to make a fortune, my friend,” he said, handing her a glass.
Jesse held it up, toasting him. “I’m forever grateful to you. If I can ever do anything for you…just name it.”
Sam nodded and tapped his glass against hers. He sat on the edge of his desk. “You know most rich people are fools with their money. Look at the folks who just left. They’ll claw at each other to get you to build them a staircase—or whatever. Don’t get me wrong, you do exquisite work, but the more costly something is the more rich people want it. If it’s expensive, they have to have it.”
He drank down his scotch and refilled his glass. “My advice to you is to be absurd when you shoot them your price. Mark my words. They’ll pay anything you ask.” He tapped his glass against hers again, clearly happy to be passing along his wisdom to someone potentially heading up the social ladder. “Oh, and make sure you ask for half up front.”
Jesse’s head was whirling even before she took a drink. She tossed back the scotch and sat her empty glass on the desk. “Can I ask why you’re doing this for me?”
Sam opened the box on his desk and pulled out a cigar. He offered one to her, but she declined with a shake of the head. He struck a match and lit his cigar. After a couple of puffs, he asked, “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course.”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “There was a time when I thought Abigail and I would marry. Even though things turned out differently for us, I’m still fond of her. She holds a special place in my heart. Always will.” He held up a hand. “Now, don’t think I have any intentions of chasing after your wife. I’ve moved on and am quite happy with Helga. It’s obvious that Abigail is in love with you—always has been. You’re a good man. You do right by her. I like that. I just want her to have a comfortable life and don’t want to see a good family have to struggle.”
“I want her to have everything she could wish for. Same for the twins. After tonight, because of you, I think I’ll be able to make that happen.”
He puffed on the cigar, shaking his head in bewilderment. “Twins. I can’t even imagine.”
An instant wave of guilt ate at her insides. Had Abby been wrong about him wanting children? The thought flitted through her, and she considered maybe he had the right to know the truth. “Do you and Helga plan on having children someday?” she asked, wanting to know what was in his heart.
He laughed and snuffed out his cigar in the crystal ashtray. “I can’t imagine Helga ever wanting to have children. I’m sure she’d think it would ruin her figure,” he said with a chuckle.
His reply didn’t answer whether or not he wanted children, and Jesse sensed a bit of deflection in the way he had answered with a joke. She pressed on. “How about you, though. Do you want to be a father?”
“Never really considered it.”
In an effort to pin him down further, she dug deeper. “But what if Helga came to you and said she was having your child. Would you be happy with the news?”
Sam shrugged. “Hardly. I’m always away on business. And, to be honest, I don’t have a fondness for children. Never have.”
Hearing his answer erased any guilt she was harboring. Abs was right. Her conscience was cleared in that moment, and all she felt now was gratitude. “Thank you again for everything you did for me this evening.”
“I was glad to do it. If you ever need anything, just ask and I’ll do what I can.” He stood. “I suppose we’ve kept the wives waiting long enough.” He folded the piece of paper with the list of names on it and handed it to her. “Why don’t you take my carriage and let Cuffy take you around the city? He knows how to find the addresses.”
She stuck the paper in the pocket of her tailcoat and smiled at him. “Thank you! And I’ll take you up on your offer.”
Jesse found Abby in the ballroom, watching as other couples moved in rhythm with the music. She approached her from behind and placed a hand on the small of her back. “This has been one of the best nights of my life,” she whispered. “I have so much to tell—” She wasn’t even able to get her words out before guests began coming up and introducing themselves.
Over the next hour, she met more people and received even more compliments on her work. So many, in fact, Abby was starting to get a little annoyed. Not because she didn’t enjoy meeting people or because she disagreed with their assessment, she just wanted Jesse all to herself for a change. Each time a song drew to a close, her frustration grew.
With Jesse consumed in yet another conversation, Abby slipped away undetected. She worked her way through the crowd, searching among the dozens of faces until she spotted Helga. After getting her attention, she waited off to one side until Helga had detached herself from the circle of women gathered around her. She felt bad for pulling her away from her guests, but knew the only way to get time alone with Jesse was to ask for her help.
After speaking with her, Abby made her way back to Jesse and did her best to stay pleasant. She was polite when Jesse introduced her. She played her part of the smiling, devoted wife. Still, she couldn’t help but glance anxiously at the large wall clock, watching as the minutes rapidly faded. Funny how I was the one who was looking forward to this and had to convince her it wouldn’t be so bad.
When the clock struck ten, Abby tugged on Jesse’s arm, pulling her from her conversation. “They’re getting ready to play the last song of the night,” Abby whispered.
Jesse couldn’t believe the evening had passed in a blur. Turning back to the railroad tycoon who was still speaking to her, she said, “My apologies. I need to excuse myself for a moment.” With Abby’s hand gripped firmly in hers, she led the way onto a floor already filled with other couples.
Jesse and Abby stood facing each other, waiting for the music to start. When the first trilling notes of the piano rang out, Jesse exhaled slowly. This was the dance she felt most confident with, which was why Abby had asked Helga to make it the last song of the evening.
After bowing to one another, Jesse put her right hand on Abby’s waist. With her other hand, she took hold of Abby’s right. Though her hand was shaking slightly, Abby’s was steady. She tried to draw confidence from the wink Abby gave her as they set off across the floor with the other dancers.
Jesse did her best to keep up with the fast-paced tempo of the Galop. There were many spins and turns and double reverse spins, and more than once she knew she had missed a step and landed on Abby’s toes.
Abby’s smile never once faltered, though. Instead, she kept her chin held high as if nothing were amiss.
When the song had ended and the room erupted in cheers, Abby and Jesse couldn’t help but mix in claps of their own. As they stood catching their breath, Jesse noticed Abby’s wide smile and she wondered if she had even noticed her missteps. As she was about to ask, Sam called out, requesting everyone’s attention.
His announcement asked for all the assembled guests to follow him to the rear of the estate. Jesse and Abby filed in line with the others as they headed toward the back of the manor where hired staff in white coats moved among them carrying silver trays loaded with flutes of champagne. Jesse took two and handed one to Abby. Just as their glasses clinked together in a toast, a loud boom shook the night. Jesse instinctively dropped her glass on the lawn and moved to shield Abby with her body.
“It’s all right, Jes,” Abby said reassuringly. “It’s only fireworks. Look.”
All around them explosions were going off; raining down sparks of multi-colored lights. They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching in fascination as one explosion after another went off. The spectacle lighting up the night sky was unlike anything Jesse had ever seen before, and she hadn’t the slightest understanding of how it was being done. She only knew it was beautiful.
Abby stood on the tips of her toes and whispered into Jesse’s ear. “Happy birthday, My Love.”
Following the Bowman Gala, Jesse found herself with more requests
for her services than she ever thought possible. Wealthy socialites wanted to hire her for all sorts of custom woodwork: crown moldings, wainscoting, doors, chair rails, and intricate window casings. Whatever they could imagine, they were willing to pay for. For the majority of them, cost was of no concern. One potential client, a white-haired widow with so much of her late husband’s money she had run out of ways to spend it, asked for a life-sized statue of her pet poodle, Priscilla.
Jesse was still shaking her head in disbelief when Cuffy dropped her in front of the house on Taylor Street. It had taken four days to meet with all the names on the list, and nearly everyone had paid her a handsome deposit for the future work. After thanking Cuffy for his services and wishing him goodnight, she started for the door, whistling as she went. Short of robbing a bank, she had collected more than she ever dreamed of.
“How much does that make now?” Abby asked, staring at the roll of money Jesse placed on the side table next to the sofa.
Jesse tossed her hat on one of the empty chairs and dropped down next to her. “I can’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “Thirty-six hundred. And that’s only half of it. Sam was right. Rich people don’t bat an eye when it comes to spending money. I probably could’ve made more if I asked for it.”
She reached down to pick up Gwen, who had crawled over and was swatting at her foot. “Oh, I swung by and talked to Sam,” she said, raising Gwen in the air, eliciting a happy coo. “He’s arranging for us to meet with an architect this Friday.”
“Did he say how long it would take before the plans would be ready?”
Jesse lowered Gwen and blew raspberries onto her daughter’s stomach. Gwen’s laughter increased and Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle herself now. “Says it depends on what we design.”
“I guess that makes sense. I have so many ideas for the new house—”
There was a knock on the front door. Jesse stood and handed Gwen off to her. It had already become a common occurrence for people to show up unannounced, seeking out Jesse’s services. She heard Jesse explain to a man at the door she was tied up on other projects and the best she could do was take down his information and put him on a waiting list.
