My Heart Belongs in San Francisco, California

by Janice Thompson

  My goodness, it suddenly felt very, very warm in here, didn’t it? Still, judging from the playful expression on Sam’s face, things weren’t going to cool off anytime soon.

  Abby didn’t have to advertise for her etiquette classes, after all. Turned out, Charles Daring did a fine job of that for her in his article about her trek to San Francisco. It was the only thing in the article she found palatable. The fellow had made her journey to California a far bigger story and had even gone so far as to accuse Sam and his father of withholding her pay. It took several days of assuring their patrons before the men finally understood the story had been fabricated. All but the etiquette lessons, of course.

  She somehow managed to talk several of the fellas into attending her first session. Les also agreed. In fact, the woman couldn’t seem to wait. Abby had her suspicions that Les wanted to develop her ladylike skills to draw Sam’s eye. Why that troubled her, she couldn’t say, but she agreed to teach Les to walk, talk, and act like a lady, nonetheless. She invited her new friend to come to the restaurant early the night of the first session, and had a special surprise in mind. She led Les to her room, where she presented her with one of her finest dresses.

  “What?” Les looked flabbergasted. “For me?”

  “Just for this evening’s class. If you like getting dolled up, we’ll take it from there.”

  She spent the better part of the next hour getting Les into the corset, gown, and shoes. Things went so well—and she looked so beautiful—that Abby decided to fix Les’s hair as well. She started by unfastening the clip that held the long, dark mane in place and was stunned to see the gorgeous locks hanging in graceful curves over Les’s shoulders.

  “Why don’t you ever wear your hair down?” Abby asked.

  “Too much trouble, I guess. Just easier to pin it in a twist and leave it alone.”

  “You’ve been blessed with so much beauty here.” Abby could hardly contain herself as she fashioned Les’s hair into a gorgeous bun.

  Finally, when she’d put the finishing touches on her friend’s attire, she stood back and proclaimed Les a work of art.

  Les examined herself in the mirror. “I … I have no words.” She stared at her reflection, her eyes wide. “I don’t even know who I’m looking at.”

  “You’re looking at a lovely woman named Lesley, who deserves to be the belle of the ball.”

  Indeed, the young woman’s figure was curving and regal, quite a contrast from before. And the dusty rose of her cheeks spoke of a woman quite content with the results of Abby’s efforts.

  Abby swallowed hard and then added, “And I dare say, you’ll catch the eye of that fella your heart’s been pining for. How could he look away, when you’re such a vision of loveliness?”

  “What?” Les’s eyes widened. “You know who I’m sweet on?”

  “Mm-hmm. It’s written all over your face whenever you’re around him.”

  “Oh, Abby, I haven’t told a soul. Not a soul.” Lesley’s face flamed red. “I can’t believe you guessed when I’ve worked so hard to hide my feelings.”

  “You know what they say about women’s intuition.”

  “I don’t, actually.” Les shrugged. “Too much time acting like one of the guys, I guess.”

  “Well, we women have a sixth sense about such things. It’s easier for a woman to tell when someone is smitten. That’s how I guessed.”

  “I see.” Lesley paused and appeared to be thinking this notion through. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned her gaze back to the mirror and continued to stare at her reflection.

  Abby left the room and walked out onto the landing, where she hollered down, “Cookie. Neville. Sam. Come quick!”

  “What is it?” Cookie’s voice sounded from the kitchen. “I’m in the middle of baking cookies for the fellas.”

  “Come anyway.”

  Cookie barreled into the dining hall and looked up at Abby. “What’s so all-fired important that you have to pull me away from my work?”

  Sam entered on Cookie’s heels, paperwork in hand. “Building on fire?”

  “Nope.”

  “Are you injured, Miss Abigail?” Neville asked as he came into the dining room from the kitchen, mixing bowl in hand.

  “Not at all. I just wanted to show you something.”

  “You pulled me away from my cooking to show me something?” Cookie put her hands on her hips. “Better be important.”

  “Oh, it is.”

  Abby gestured for Les to take a few steps out into the hallway.

  The minute the young woman came into view, Cookie let out a gasp. She practically raced up the stairs to have a closer look. “Les! You’re a dream.”

  Apparently, Sam found her to be a dream too. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not that Abby blamed him. No, with her dark tresses upswept and pinned with a silver comb, her figure beautifully framed with that dark-green dress, her face lustrous after a facial treatment, the woman looked like a picture from a catalog.

  “For pity’s sake.” Cookie continued to stare. “Remarkable. You’re beautiful, Les.”

  “Lesley,” Abby corrected. “Let’s try that on for size, shall we?”

  “Lesley.” This time Sam was the one who spoke her name. He put his paperwork down and bounded up the stairs. “Let me help you, Lesley. You’re going to trip and fall in those ridiculous shoes.”

  “Perhaps.” Lesley’s cheeks flushed pink as she took Sam’s hand. “They’re a mite too small, but I squeezed my feet into them, just to see if I could manage it.”

  Sam looked back and forth between Abby and Les and asked, “What’s all this about?”

  “Oh, just trying to see what it would feel like to get prettied up.” Lesley’s smile lit her face, which further emphasized her beauty, at least to Abby’s way of thinking. “Feels nice, actually.”

  From below, Neville gave her an approving nod.

  Sam guided her down the stairs, then led her to the closest table. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll be a gentleman and pull out that chair for me.” Lesley’s pained expression let Abby know something was amiss. “With this corset tied so tight I can’t even bend over to attempt it.”

  “Sure.” He pulled out the chair and she eased herself down, though Abby could tell it took some doing to accomplish the feat.

  “Before long you’ll get used to it, Lesley,” she said as she rested her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “And just wait till the fellas see you.”

  “Not sure I want to. But it’s fun to playact, I suppose.”

  “Playact, my eye. You were born for this.” Cookie let out a little whistle and leaned down to examine Lesley’s face. “Are you wearing blush?”

  “No. Just warm in this gown, I guess. It’s cutting off my air. Ever heard of a woman fainting ’cause of corset string?”

  “Yep. You might want to loosen the corset a little then, because you look flushed to me.”

  “Embarrassed is more like it.”

  At that moment Jin entered the dining room. He took one look at Lesley and his eyes grew wide. The poor fellow could hardly speak, though he tried several times to formulate words.

  Abby laughed as she watched his reaction. “If the other men respond half as well, then we’re off to a good start,” she observed.

  Yes, she felt really good about the transformation … until Sam drew near and whispered the words, “Why are you doing this to her, Abby?” into her ear.

  She turned to face him, her heart in her throat. “Do this to her? Don’t you mean for her?”

  “She’s been perfectly comfortable for years, just as she was.” His words sounded more like an accusation than a compliment.

  “You think I put her up to this? For the record, she was ready for the transformation. I didn’t thrust it upon her.”

  “All right.” He hung his head and then glanced up with a sheepish expression. “Forgive me?”

  “Hmm. I suppose. But there is one thing y
ou can do for me—and her—to make it up to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Make sure the fellas don’t cause Lesley any discomfort tonight. Be her chaperone.”

  “I’ll do my best.” He gave a deep bow then headed to Lesley’s side. Minutes later men started flooding through the door. Abby could hardly believe the turnout. Maybe she owed Charles Daring a note of thanks, instead of a dressing down for misquoting her. The men took one look at Lesley and the whistling began. Sam managed to hold them at bay, thank goodness.

  After a few moments, Abby was ready to begin. She called the room to order.

  “Hey, where’s them sweets we was promised?” Jedediah Tucker called out. “Ain’t gonna sit still for no sissy lessons lest I get what I was promised.”

  Ah, so that’s why they had come, to sample Cookie’s bakery goods.

  “Sit still and you’ll get them,” Cookie hollered from the kitchen door. “Got cinnamon rolls in the oven now, fellas. They’ll be ready at the halfway point in the lesson.”

  “Cinnamon rolls?” Mr. Braynard licked his lips. “Ain’t had a good cinnamon roll in ages.”

  “And Snickerdoodles too,” Cookie hollered out.

  “What’s a Snickerdoodle?” Jin called out from his spot at the front table.

  “A cookie,” she explained.

  Abby needed to get control of this crowd, and fast. Still, she couldn’t stop fretting over the fact that Mr. Denueve hadn’t accepted her invitation to attend. Didn’t he realize his presence would serve as a help to her? Thank goodness Sam had agreed. Better forge ahead.

  “Now, fellas, I want you to rise, please, and face me.”

  The scuffling of chairs followed and the men all rose.

  “When a lady enters the room …” Abby sashayed across the room in front of them and several whistled. “You give a little bow.”

  “Bow?” Mr. Braynard snorted. “You the queen of Sheba or sumpthin’?”

  “No, but I’m a proper lady, and a gentleman would always acknowledge my presence with a slight bend at the waist. And if he happened to be sitting, he would stand, naturally.”

  Mr. Braynard bowed in a grand gesture. He leaned over so far that he almost toppled to the floor.

  Abby gestured for Lesley to join her at the front of the room. “Now, fellas, imagine you’ve asked a lady to tea.”

  Chet Jamison let out a long whistle. “She’s quite a lady.”

  Lesley’s face turned pink and she gave a little curtsy.

  Abby repeated herself. “Say you invited her to tea.”

  “Don’t drink tea,” Jedediah hollered.

  “To dinner, then. Picture yourself sitting across the table from her at a fine eating establishment such as the Gold Rush Inn, having a meal. You’re wanting to court this lovely lady …” Abby pointed to Lesley. “But she hasn’t reciprocated your emotions.”

  “What’s reciprocated?” Jin asked, his nose wrinkled in confusion.

  “It means she doesn’t feel the same way,” Abby explained.

  “Oh.” His smile tipped downward into a frown.

  “So, how then do you win her heart?” Abby asked the men.

  “Tip her over and give’r a kiss she won’t soon forget,” Mr. Braynard called out. “That’s my method. Works like a charm at the saloon.”

  Abby almost lost control of her audience at this point. The men took to laughing and guffawing, which led to noisy conversation from all in attendance.

  “Absolutely not.” She clapped her hands to bring the room to order. “To win a woman’s affections—her admiration—you must treat her like a lady. For example, you should always pull back her chair when she’s ready to sit. Who would like to demonstrate?”

  Jin raised his hand.

  “Perfect. Now, pretend Lesley is your date, Jin.”

  His face lit up and the men gave a cheer.

  “Plant one on her,” Jedediah hollered.

  Jin looked terrified at this notion and took a giant step backward.

  “No, no. Don’t do that.” Abby shook her head. “If you do, she will slap you across the face and refuse to be seen in public with you again.”

  Lesley doubled her fists as if ready to box it out with Jin.

  “You ain’t met the gals over at the Watering Hole, then.” Chet laughed, long and loud. “Give one of ’em a kiss and you get sumthin’ a lot nicer than a slap.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Adam, Chet’s brother, added. “And them gals don’t care if you pull out their chair or what.”

  “How much nicer would things be if you did treat them in a ladylike fashion, though,” Abby said.

  “Then they might come to expect it,” Chet argued.

  “My point exactly.” Abby released a slow breath and tried to regain her patience. “Now, pull Les’s chair out, please, Jin.”

  He pulled back the chair, the legs scraping against the wooden floor. Lesley had just started to sit when Jin caught sight of Cookie coming through the door with a tray of Snickerdoodles, hot from the oven. Lesley nearly took a tumble to the floor as he pulled the chair too far in the process.

  “Oh, sorry!” Jin pushed the chair in so fast that it caught her behind the knees and nearly caused her to tumble forward into the table.

  Lesley flashed a worried look at Abby, who forged ahead, undeterred.

  “Now, every man take a partner.”

  “More men than women,” Chet fussed.

  “Cookie will help. And those who don’t have a partner can just pretend.”

  This led to a kerfuffle. It took a few minutes to bring the room to order.

  “Practice pulling out her seat, gentlemen.” Abby watched as they followed her instructions. “Don’t forget to gently nudge the chair forward so that she knows it’s safe to sit.”

  All the men did as instructed except Mr. Braynard, who yanked the chair out, leaving Cookie to fall to the floor.

  This, of course, led to a ruckus. And a punch to Mr. Braynard’s jaw from Jedediah Tucker, who declared the clumsy man a traitor to the sex. Cookie managed to stand with Neville’s help, but Abby could tell her backside was tender from the way she flinched when she walked.

  “I’ll just head back to the kitchen where I belong,” Cookie said. “Gotta ice those cinnamon rolls, anyhow.”

  This led to more chaos. Abby clapped her hands to bring the room to order once again. The men refused to cooperate. By now all of them had joined in the argument and tempers continued to climb.

  Until Les pulled out her gun and threatened to shoot the first fella who refused to play nice. For the first time all night, the men in attendance were ready to sit up straight and pay attention. For that, Abby was extremely grateful.

  Sam watched as Abby attempted to get control of the room. He had to laugh at the sight of these fellas pretending to be gentlemen.

  The laughter stopped once the fistfights began, though. “Enough, fellas!” he called out. “We’ve got ladies in the room, you know. Don’t want any of them hurt.”

  “Sam, I need your help.” Abby said. “Please join me.”

  He walked to her side and she spoke to him under her breath. “I have no idea where Mr. Denueve is, so please do me the favor of setting a good example. These men need a leader.”

  So, Marcus had let her down? Good. Perhaps this would serve to rouse her from her slumber where the deceptive fellow was concerned.

  “The purpose of this,” Abby said to the men after she regained control of the room, “is to teach you to respect the gentler sex.”

  “Respect?” Chet snorted. “You ever met Lottie and those other gals at the Watering Hole? They don’t care nuthin’ ’bout no respect.”

  “Well they will, after they’ve had a few etiquette lessons from me.”

  “Aw, don’t go spoilin’ a good thing, Miss Abigail,” Adam fussed. “I like those gals just the way they are.”

  “But would you marry one of them?” Sam called out. “Take her home to Mama?” He could
tell from the looks on the men’s faces that he’d struck a nerve.

  Chet’s face turned beet red. “Ain’t never thought’a that before. Mama wouldn’t abide no saloon girls in the family.”

  “Exactly,” Sam responded.

  “Thank you for pointing that out, Sam.” Abby smiled at him.

  “Anything I can do to help.” He gave her a little wink and then grinned as her cheeks flushed.

  For a moment, she stared at him, not moving. Then, just as quickly, she snapped to attention.

  “Neither would a proper lady care to introduce any of you fellas to her parents unless you learn to treat her with dignity,” she explained. “If you want to win over the parents, start by winning over the woman.”

  Was she speaking to Sam, specifically, or did he just happen to feel the heat of those words?

  This led to a discussion about what folks back home might expect, which only brought chaos to the room once more. Sam let out a loud whistle.

  Les put her fingers in her ears and groaned. “Warn a person, will ya?”

  She glared at him, and he offered an apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

  Abby looked like she was reaching the giving up point. A few moments later, she seemed to gather her wits about her. “All right now, fellas. Let’s practice a minuet.”

  “Minuet? What’s that?” Adam took a seat.

  “A dance, of course. A lovely, peaceful dance, where you hold the lady in your arms and gently lead her across the floor.”

  “I danced with Lottie last night and didn’t do no men-you-et,” Chet grumbled. “Didn’t hold her gently, neither, if’n you catch my drift.” He laughed long and loud. Until Les punched him on the arm.

  “But don’t you see? She will respond in kind when you gently sweep her into your arms and prove that you care about treating her with great tenderness,” Abby debated. “Women love to be wooed, fellas. I’ll turn you into fine gentlemen, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “If it’s the last thing I do.” Sam couldn’t control the laughter as he repeated her words to himself. If Abby thought she’d convert these men into the kind of fellas a girl could take home to Mama, she had another thing coming. Still, he’d better play along, for the sake of all involved, including Cookie, who’d managed to hide out in the kitchen with Neville for most of this evening’s event.