My Heart Belongs in San Francisco, California

by Janice Thompson

  “Snap out of it, Sam.”

  Had he really spoken those words aloud?

  “I’m sorry, Sam. What did you say?” Abby glanced his way just as the reverend passed by, headed to the front of the room.

  “Oh.” He shook off his ponderings and fought for an answer. “I need to snap some … peas.”

  “Snap peas?” Cookie gave him an incredulous look. “Since when do you snap peas?”

  “It’s the least I can do. You ladies work so hard in the kitchen.” He turned his attention to the reverend, who now approached the podium.

  “But I don’t have any peas to snap.” Cookie looked genuinely perplexed.

  “Oh, I see.” He shifted his position in the uncomfortable pew. “Well then, let me know when you do. I’ll be happy to help.”

  He faced the front of the sanctuary, embarrassment washing over him. What in the world was all that nonsense about snapping peas? Had he lost his mind? Something about Abigail Effingham had that effect on him, and he wasn’t sure he liked it one little bit.

  Abby enjoyed the church service immensely. Every word the reverend spoke seemed to confirm the fact that she should teach lessons to the men in town. Yes, this was certainly God’s reason for bringing her here, not just to wait for Mama.

  The service ended just before noon. Before they even made it down the steps of the church, an unfamiliar fellow approached her. The man was old enough to be her father, but with far less gray in his hair. He extended his hand and spoke, his voice smooth and clear. “Charles Daring, Miss Effingham. Editor at the Gazette.”

  She shook his hand, but took note of the concern in Sam’s eyes as he passed by.

  “I wonder if you would be so kind as to do me a favor.” Mr. Daring continued to hold onto her hand, even giving it a squeeze, as if they were familiar friends.

  “A favor? Of what sort?” She hardly owed this stranger a favor of any kind.

  “A story for the paper. It’s not often we get young women brave enough to travel all the way to San Francisco on their own. Not women of your ilk, I mean.”

  “My ilk?” She withdrew her hand, unsure of what to think about his word choice.

  “You get my drift, Miss Effingham. We’ve got older ladies like Cookie. And Maggie O’Callahan over at the laundry, of course. But younger women like you in the San Francisco area are few and far between—outside of the saloon, anyway—and it’s a unique story, you traveling all this way on your own.”

  This man only had part of the story right, so she corrected him at once. “I came with Neville, our butler.”

  He patted her hand, as a father would do to a small child. “Yes, but alone in every other regard. Mr. Denueve told me all about your journey. Remarkable thing you’ve done, very brave.”

  “Oh? You’re a friend of Mr. Denueve’s?” A wave of relief passed over her. “I see.”

  Still, she couldn’t help but notice Sam’s wrinkled brow as he watched from across the churchyard.

  Mr. Daring’s expression brightened as she mentioned Mr. Denueve’s name. “Business partners, I guess you would say. He’s been instrumental in getting the Gazette up and running.”

  “Gracious. Is there a business in town he’s not involved in? What an impressive fellow.”

  “As of yet, the restaurant and the barbershop.” Mr. Daring grinned. “But he suggested that, perhaps, you would be kind enough to grant me an interview for the paper. I think it’s a wonderful idea. This article will be of interest to men and women alike.”

  “Why would anyone be interested in me?” Abby shook her head. “There’s nothing remarkable in my story, after all.”

  His eyes lit with excitement. “I dare say, your story—heading to the Oregon Territory alone to find a family member, then being diverted to San Francisco—is the stuff dime novels are made of.”

  “Ah. I wish my father saw it that way.”

  “No doubt he’s sick with worry.” Mr. Daring patted her arm. “That’s another angle altogether. Consider the fact that most of the men who’ve come to California looking for their fortunes have left daughters—not unlike yourself—back home. They fret over those daughters, and sons too. Perhaps it will bring peace of mind to many, knowing that young women can take care of themselves and even find a sense of normalcy in the city of San Francisco.”

  Gracious. This fellow was really pushing the angle of his story, wasn’t he? Abby squared her shoulders. “Again, I did not come alone. Neville has been helpful in more ways than I can count. And I would never have survived this long in San Francisco if not for Cookie and Sam.”

  “Sam Harris. Yes.” He scribbled something onto his notepad. “I understand he’s got you working round the clock, doing manual labor?”

  What an odd question. It caught Abby completely off guard. “Not at all. He’s offered me a position in exchange for a small bit of pay, along with room and board.”

  “How small, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I … I do mind you asking. I’m afraid that’s my business, and mine alone.”

  “Always trying to root out corruption, Miss Effingham. It seems to me that a man like Harris could afford to pay you a decent wage, that’s all.”

  “But I never said he didn’t. I’m not even sure why you have concerns along these lines. He’s given me all I need.”

  “And not a penny more.”

  Her temper flared. “My, how you’ve turned this story on its ear already. And we’ve barely begun.”

  Those cool gray eyes of his sparkled. “So you’re agreeing to the interview, then?”

  Now she found herself completely flustered. “I … I never said that.”

  “Think about it, Miss Effingham.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “Everyone in town will admire your tenacity, your kindness, your bravery, once they read the story of how you crossed the miles to search for a lost loved one.”

  “My mother’s not lost. She’s simply traveling.”

  “Ah.” He scribbled something else down. “Good to know. As you’ve said, it’s all about the angle.”

  An idea struck her at once. Yes, this would be the perfect angle to pitch. “If you want something to write about, do a piece about the lessons I plan to teach at the restaurant.”

  “Lessons?”

  “Yes, in etiquette and social graces. Any time you want to talk about that, I’ll be happy to oblige.” She gave him a curt nod. “Now, good day, Mr. Daring. I’ve got to get back to the restaurant to spend the day resting and relaxing with my friends.”

  “I see.” He closed his notepad and nodded.

  “Take that and chew on it,” she wanted to add … but didn’t.

  Sam couldn’t stop thinking about Charles Daring’s conversation with Abby. Why it irked him so much, he couldn’t say, except that Denueve had Daring in his pocket. The two of them were clearly trying to woo Abby, to pull her into some sort of a web. And she seemed a willing candidate, if not oblivious. He would have to keep an eye on this situation, for sure.

  When they arrived back at the restaurant, Sam headed upstairs to look for his father while Cookie, Abby, and Neville went to work preparing leftovers for their lunch. Strange, he found his father’s room empty.

  After pulling off his coat and tie, Sam made his way back downstairs to the dining room, where he found Cookie hard at work, loading platters of leftovers onto one of the tables.

  “Where are the others?” He kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard.

  “Abby and Neville are in the kitchen, slicing pie. Jin is around here somewhere. I think he slept in this morning. He wasn’t feeling well.” Cookie’s gaze narrowed. “You’re still worked up over that Daring fellow talking to Abby, aren’t you?”

  “Sometimes I think you can read my mind, Cookie.”

  “Just sometimes?” She grinned. “Trust me, I’m worried too. Did you hear? Charles did a big write-up in the Gazette about the new menu Marcus plans to offer at the saloon.”

  “Haven’t read
the Gazette in ages.” Sam tried to appear nonchalant. “Don’t care to. But I’m not surprised he’s supporting the saloon with an article like that. They’ll want to give the whole idea a big plug to draw in patrons.”

  “That food might look good in print, but taste is another thing. Hope so, anyway. Don’t need the competition.” She continued to organize the platters on the table.

  Sam turned to face Cookie, his heart stirred to action. “I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to steal you away from me, Cookie, if you want the truth of it.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Sam wondered, based on the lengthy pause that followed if, perhaps, Marcus had made her some sort of an offer.

  “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t go for all the gold in the American River.” Cookie gave him a pat on the arm. “You’re stuck with me, Sammy. I’m like a bad itch that won’t go away.”

  “A lovable itch.” He reached over and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  “Still worried about Abby, though.” Cookie plopped down into a chair. “How do we get her to steer clear of the likes of Marcus Denueve and Charles Daring? I worry for her safety.”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m more worried about these lessons she’s planning to teach. Abby’s lost her ever-lovin’ mind if she thinks that’s a good idea.”

  “You think?” Cookie glanced his way.

  “Oh, I don’t think. I know. The men in this town are never going to take manners lessons. I was just joking when I asked her to teach me how to speak correctly and all that, by the way. Didn’t think she’d take me seriously. It was just a joke on the day we first met.”

  “I’m guessing the fellas would love to take a few lessons from a pretty girl like that.”

  “I sign up, Mr. Sam. First thing.” Jin’s voice sounded as he entered the room with a pitcher of tea in hand.

  “I hope you’re not serious.” He gave his good friend a “You wouldn’t dare” look.

  Jin proceeded to fill glasses with tea.

  After a moment of careful reflection, Sam added his thoughts. “If you want the truth, I’m worried the men in town will see this as an opportunity to get too close to Abby. I’m afraid they’ll hurt her.”

  “I see.” Cookie smiled. “So, it’s Abby you’re worried about.”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I don’t like the way the men look at her.”

  Cookie tilted her head at him. “They look at all the women in town that same way.”

  “But she’s not like the other women in town.”

  Cookie’s brows elevated as she responded. “True, but I didn’t realize you’d spent enough time with her to notice the difference. I’m proud of you, Sammy-boy.”

  “A man would have to be blind not to notice. She’s well-bred, sophisticated, and …”

  “Innocent.”

  “Yes.” He felt his cheeks grow warm. “A far cry from the womenfolk around us, and that’s no exaggeration. I’m afraid the men will notice that and work overtime to try to woo her or to flatter her, and she will fall into their trap.”

  “You’re not giving her much credit, Sam. We could look at this little idea of hers as a potential investment in the inn. Marcus Denueve is over there raking in the dough at the mercantile, trying to outwit us at every turn. Now he’s taking over the saloon too. And the paper. What’s next? This restaurant?”

  “Over my dead body.” Sam’s blood boiled at the very idea.

  “Well, maybe Abby’s lessons will offer us a new and fresh way to get the fellas to stick around the restaurant. Don’t you think? One more thing to endear them to us.”

  “They don’t need anything but your good food, Cookie.” Sam took a seat at the table, his thoughts in a whirl. “These lessons of hers are just as likely to turn them against us and send ’em running for the hills. What if she ends up offending them with some of this highfalutin hogwash? Ever think of that?”

  “No.” Cookie shook her head. “I’m more inclined to think they’ll start off taking her lessons as a joke, but eventually learn a thing or two about how to behave in gentlemanly fashion. It’ll be great fun, I would imagine, and something to divert their attention away from the saloon.”

  “We make good friends,” Jin added as he filled the last glass. “Bring more customers. Good for all.”

  Sam gave him a warning look.

  Cookie glanced Sam’s way again. “It did occur to me that this might be a terrific way to advertise for that new bakery.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, we could serve sweets. Samples of the goods I’ll be selling once the bakery opens in the fall.”

  He shrugged. “An expensive form of advertising.”

  “I’ll cover the cost myself. I’ve been saving up, Sammy-boy. I don’t mind.”

  He gave her an admiring look. “Cookie, I don’t say this often enough, but you’re a marvel. Truly. I don’t know what we’d ever do without you.”

  “Hopefully you’ll never have to find out. So, can I tell her my plan? I think the men will come for free desserts and such.”

  “Okay, tell her. But don’t let your generosity get out of hand. Don’t want you to end up overextending yourself.”

  “I’ll do my best. But I’m not just thinking about the bakery, or the men. I’m thinking about the women over there at the saloon, and the few other women—like Les, for example—who find themselves in San Francisco. Surely these gals will eventually want to marry. To have children. To settle down.”

  “I doubt the women at the saloon want to marry any time soon.” He reached over to fill his plate.

  “Not to contradict you, Sammy, but I disagree. They are women, same as the rest of us. Yes, they’re lost right now. And yes, they’re caught up in sin. But every woman, in her heart of hearts, just wants to be loved for who she is, even those gals over at the saloon. And God sees them through that lens.”

  “Hmm.”

  “‘For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: Not of works, lest any man should boast.’” She paused and gave him a thoughtful look. “Don’t you see? In so many ways they’re just like me. And Abby. Women in need of rescuing.”

  “Never thought about it that way.” Sam paused to think through Cookie’s passionate speech. The woman always seemed to bring him around to her way of thinking. How did she manage that?

  Abby crossed the room with slices of cherry pie in hand. “Amen to every word you said, Cookie. Amen! I wholeheartedly agree.”

  “Glad to see someone sees clean through to my heart.” Cookie gave Abby a little wink. “Just set that pie down here, girlie.” She pointed to a spot on the table.

  “I agree with your words, Cookie,” Abby said as she put the plates down. “But I see a problem too. What if these men and women do turn their lives around and marry. Then what? If there are no schools to educate their children, no politics to guide them, no new churches to settle them, then what? Will the city of San Francisco be passed to future generations with no structure at all?”

  Sam rubbed his chin and wondered how the conversation had led to this. Did these women really think the local men and women would eventually settle down? It would take an act of God to accomplish such a drastic change.

  “It’s only fair to future generations if we begin to bring about order now, don’t you see?” Abby took the seat next to Sam and brushed a strand of loose hair out of her face. “All the more reason why I need to offer lessons on social graces. Why, the whole community could be transformed.”

  “You speak as if you plan to stay, Abby. Do you?” Sam turned her way, surprised by the odd look of homesickness that flickered in her eyes.

  “We are here for a short season only.” Neville entered the room with a coffeepot in hand. “No time for such foolishness, Miss Abigail.”

  “I …” She paused. “I hadn’t given it any thought until now. But it breaks my heart to think a place as beautiful as this might be given over into the enemy’s hands.”

 
; “Enemy’s hands?” Neville asked.

  “Yes. The enemy of our souls. He loves chaos, anything to pull God’s children away from their heavenly Father. What a field day he must be having over the current state of affairs. How joyous he must be.”

  Sam listened as Abby poured out her heart. She didn’t know much about San Francisco, but she clearly knew quite a bit about the Lord and His plan for His children.

  He didn’t have long to think about it, though. At that moment, Sam’s father entered the restaurant, dressed in his finest suit.

  “Father?” Sam called out. “Where have you been? We missed you at church.”

  “Oh, I …” A pause followed. “Had an appointment, son.”

  “An appointment? On Sunday morning?” A thousand questions ran through Sam’s mind at once. No one—short of Charles Daring or Marcus Denueve—did business on Sunday morning. But, where had his father gone … really?

  From the suspicious look on his face and the hint of a twinkle in his eye, the man was up to no good. Sam cringed, just thinking about the possibilities.

  On the day after Abby attended church for the first time, her thoughts remained firmly affixed to her new idea to teach etiquette lessons. Working out the details would take some doing, but the more she pondered the notion, the more realistic it became. Hopefully she would hear from her parents soon, to know their travel plans. That would give her an end date, a time frame for shaping up the fellas in town. Yes, this would be just the ticket.

  After serving lunch, Abby happened to catch Cookie alone in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. She decided to join her.

  “Neville and I have an ongoing feud about which is better, coffee or tea,” Abby said as she filled her cup with her favorite hot brew. “He says tea, of course.”