Promise of the Valley

by Jane Peart

  When the train finally pulled into Sacramento, Addie, like most of the passengers, took the ferry to San Francisco. There, Addie decided to splurge. Using one of the gold pieces Cousin Matthew had pressed on her, she went to a fine hotel where she obtained a comfortable room, luxuriated in a warm bath, washed her hair, and had dinner sent to her on a tray. She didn't even feel guilty about it.

  The next morning, after the first restful night's sleep she had had in weeks, she sought information about getting to Calistoga. She was told that the steamer left San Francisco twice a day. She had a choice of two departure times, morning or afternoon, to make the sixty-eight mile trip to the Napa Valley. Taking the 2:00 P.M. steamer would break up her trip so that she could spend the night in Vallejo; then, the next morning, she could board the train of the newly established California Pacific line, thus enjoying the scenic trip through the Redwood-covered expanse in daylight. Having read and heard so much about the giant trees, Addie decided that this is what she would do.

  She spent the morning walking around the city, being sure to keep within sight of the impressive hotel where she had stayed the night before. San Francisco amazed her with its many fine buildings. It was a city bustling with commerce. The streets were crowded with different kinds of vehicles, from large delivery wagons to polished coaches pulled by matched horses and driven by drivers in flashy livery. Elegant shops of every description lined the hilly streets, their display windows filled with all manner of expensive wares, millinery, fabrics of silks and satins, jewelry, fur-trimmed manteaus, beaded purses. Florist stalls stood on every corner and offered a profusion of flowers, some of which were long out of season back east: gladioli, phlox, chrysanthemums. The sidewalks were crowded with all sorts of people, from stylishly attired men in frock coats and top hats, and women in the very latest Paris creations, to roughly dressed workmen hurrying to their jobs. Construction seemed ongoing, buildings seemed to go up before your eyes, and the sound of hammers banging was constant in the misty, sea-scented air.

  Addie window-shopped until it was time to take a hack to the dock to board the steamer. Living as she had for all these years in the small Virginia town, and deprived of seeing such luxurious abundance of merchandise, she felt quite dazzled by it all.

  Therefore, she found the leisurely river trip relaxing by comparison. The steamer moved languidly over the placid sun-dappled water. Standing on deck, Addie was awed by the variety of fall colors in the trees that lined the bank. Now, in early November, they still retained abundant foliage in glorious array of polished cinnamon, old-gold, flashes of brilliant scarlet against the sage green of the pines. The river trip passed all too quickly for her, and the afternoon had grown chilly by the time they reached Vallejo.

  Upon disembarking from the steamer, the passengers were herded to the only hotel available and served dinner—if the food could be described as such. Later, Addie was shown to a small, dingy room with a narrow iron bed, covered with doubtfully clean blankets, into which she could not bring herself to crawl—even though she was bone tired. There was a little stove whose fire only smoldered instead of burning, and then she could not budge the window to clear the room of smoke.

  If Addie had not been blessed by a sense of humor, she might have been totally undone by the situation. It seemed so ludicrous that she found herself having a fit of giggles as she tried a dozen different positions on top of the lumpy mattress. She awakened before dawn and went outside to walk to the train shed. There, alone in the misted morning, she breathed deeply the pine-scented air, as fresh and intoxicating as wine, and heard birdsong high in the majestic trees, and felt she had an idea of California at last.

  The whole trip had been an education. She became accustomed to the casual camaraderie of travel, the heartwarming generosity of fellow passengers, and the willingness of strangers to share and help. Although the usual protocol required in polite society was often ignored or dismissed while traveling, there was an unexpected pleasure in mingling with others who were also enjoying the excitement and adventure of crossing the wide, varied country of America.

  She felt the train begin to slow, and the chug and the grinding of metal wheels on steel rails began to lessen. They slowly passed orchards, vineyards, and farmhouses. People on the streets stopped to watch and sometimes waved as the train rolled down the tracks toward the yellow frame building with a sign that read "Calistoga."

  As the train pulled to a stop, Addie adjusted her black-dotted face-veil on her black faille bonnet, securing it more firmly with a jet hat pin, then checked it critically in her small hand mirror before slipping the mirror back into her purse. She pulled on black kid gloves, picked up her valise, and started making her way down to the door of her coach.

  A well-dressed man just ahead of her in the aisle looked over his shoulder and cast an admiring glance in her direction. Then breasting his hat, he stepped politely aside to let her go first, his eyes following her slim figure.

  At the car's exit door, Addie halted for a moment and drew a long breath. Here she was, for better or worse. Then she took the conductor's hand, with which he helped her down the steps onto the wooden platform.

  Calistoga, California—where she would spend the next year of her life.

  Chapter 2

  The town of Calistoga lay nestled in the Napa Valley, rimmed in rolling oak-studded hills, surrounded by acres of vineyards under the blue-purple shadow of Mount Helena.

  As Addie stepped from the train onto the wooden platform, the first thing she was aware of was how warm it was. It had been cool in San Francisco yesterday, with wisps of swirling gray fog obscuring the tops of the buildings and with a chilly wind off the bay. Here it might as well be midsummer. She ran her forefinger under the edge of her high-necked basque and took a small hankie from the sleeve of her jacket and dabbed her damp upper lip.

  The last communication she had received from the nephew of her employer-to-be was that someone from Silver Springs Resort would meet her train when she got to Calistoga. Addie looked around hopefully.

  As she did, her gaze met that of a man standing a few feet away. For a moment, their eyes locked. Could he be the person sent from Silver Springs? Almost immediately, she decided no. He looked more like a cowboy from pictures she'd seen of the West. He was tall, over six feet, lean, broad shouldered, long limbed, wearing a faded blue cotton shirt, buff-colored breeches, and knee-high, worn leather boots. His brown felt hat had a dented crown, and its wide brim looked as if it had often been exposed to wind and rain. When he removed it, as if in greeting, it revealed a deeply tanned, strong-featured face, with deep-set light-gray eyes and a cautious expression. He took a tentative step toward her, as if he thought he knew her, yet wasn't sure.

  Addie wondered if she should acknowledge him. Perhaps he was a hotel employee here to meet her. As their gaze held, Addie had an uncanny sense of recognition. But that was impossible. How could she possible know him? And yet . ..

  As he continued to stare at her, suddenly she felt dizzy, almost faint. It must be the glare of sunlight, the unaccustomed heat, the long train ride over the winding hills, the sleepless night in the dreadful Vallejo hotel, the lack of food—all were combining to make her feel disoriented.

  Just as he seemed about to approach and she started to speak, she heard her name spoken. "Miss Pride? Miss Adelaide Pride?"

  Quickly she turned away from the man whose gaze had captured hers to see an elegantly dressed gentleman striding toward her, smiling broadly.

  Reaching her, he swooped off his hat and announced, "Brook Stanton, your host at Silver Springs Resort, at your service. Mrs. Amberly told me she had received a message that you were expected today, but since she was scheduled for one of her health treatments, I volunteered to welcome you to Calistoga."

  A little taken aback by this exuberance, Addie murmured an appropriate "thank you" while she took in his appearance. He was strikingly handsome with a smooth olive complexion, flashing smile, dark curly hair cut close to
his head and slightly silvered at the temples, and he sported a flourishing mustache. In contrast, his eyes were a surprisingly vivid blue. He was dressed like a dandy, in a biscuit-colored broadcloth coat, brocaded vest, ruffled linen shirt, and highly polished black boots.

  A sudden flash of memory reminded Addie of an incident out of her childhood. Her father had taken her on a trip to visit relatives in Mississippi on a paddle boat, the Delta Queen. On board, a darkly handsome man, wearing a white linen suit, with a sparkling diamond stud pin in his silk cravat, had been pointed out to her as a well-known "gambler." To her little-girl imagination, he had seemed a glamorous figure, but her father had told her sternly he was to be avoided as "not our kind." Mr. Stanton's appearance was remarkably like him.

  "I'll see to your luggage, Miss Pride; then we'll be on our way to the resort," he told her, offering her his arm. Then they started toward the other end of the platform where the baggage compartment was being unloaded. Before they had taken more than a few steps, a voice behind them called, "Stanton!"

  They both halted and watched as a man approached them.

  "Mr. Montand!" Stanton greeted him cordially. "I didn't see you. Did you just get off the train from Vallejo?"

  "Indeed, I did. I was visiting the Fleischers, looking over their winery and learning their process." The man's gaze moved over to Addie. "I believe this young lady and I were in the same coach." There was a questioning lift to his cultivated tone.

  "Allow me," Stanton said. "May I present Mr. Louis Montand, Miss Pride, one of our guests at Silver Springs. Miss Adelaide Pride."

  Addie looked into a face that might be considered handsome, but it struck her, despite its even features, as somewhat bland. Soft brown hair waved back from a high forehead, a well-trimmed beard outlined a narrow jaw. His brown eyes were alert and curious.

  "I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay at Silver Springs. My sister and I have found it most comfortable, a pleasant place to wait out the completion of the home we're building in the valley." He looked at Stanton and shook his head. "These Californio carpenters and stone masons work at a snail's pace. It would be unheard of in Boston! I'm beginning to wonder if we shall become your permanent guests, Stanton."

  "Oh, I'm sure not, although there could be worse fates!" he laughed jovially.

  "Spoken like a true hotelier!" quipped Montand, including Addie in his smile. "Is this your first visit to the area, Miss Pride?"

  "Actually, it is my first visit to California!'

  "Ah, well, we must show you the beauties of the valley, then."

  "Miss Pride has come to be Mrs. Amberly's companion, Montand," Stanton informed him.

  Addie noticed a subtle change in Montand's expression as he darted a quick glance at Stanton. Something she could not discern seemed to pass between the two men at the mention of her employer's name. Or was it her imagination?

  The awkward moment passed, and Montand directed himself again to Addie. "Well, I'm sure you're not here for your health, Miss Pride, and I hope you will have plenty of free time to enjoy the beautiful surroundings of the resort. I would like the pleasure of showing them to you." He smiled ingratiatingly. "Even my sister, Estelle, who is extremely particular, agrees that Silver Springs is one of the nicest places we've stayed on our travels—especially in the West."

  "When will Miss Montand return from San Francisco?" Stanton asked.

  Montand rolled his eyes dramatically. "When the stores there run out of merchandise or our bank funds are depleted, whichever comes first!" He threw up his hands in a hopeless gesture.

  As both men laughed heartily, Addie felt sure, from the cut of Montand's splendidly tailored clothes, the gold cuff links, and the watch chain across his satin vest, that the latter was not about to happen soon.

  "Can I give you a lift back to the resort, Montand?" Stanton asked.

  "No thanks. My vineyard overseer is meeting me. I want to go out and see what progress has been made on the house while I've been gone." He turned to Addie, bowing again. "So, then, I'll bid you good-bye for now, Miss Pride, and look forward to seeing you again soon." He tipped his hat and spun on his heel to walk back down to the opposite end of the depot platform.

  Stanton settled Addie in his shiny green two-seater buggy, then supervised a porter who was securing her small leather trunk to the back. She guessed he might find the meagerness of her luggage strange. Probably most of his wealthy, health-seeking San Franciscans arrived with handsome matched sets of luggage. However, she was coming as a "paid companion," not as one of the guests, she reminded herself. A fact that the gallant Brook Stanton seemed to overlook, for he treated her as if she were a member of Queen Victoria's court.

  After tipping the porter, Stanton took his place beside her in the smart buggy, smiled at her, lifted the reins, then they started off at a quick trot down the street from the depot.

  "I'm sure you are going to enjoy your stay in Calistoga, Miss Pride. Accommodations at Silver Springs Resort are of the very best. I pride myself on giving my guests luxurious rooms and amenities that compare favorably with any of the finest resorts in the east—some in your own state of . . . Virginia, isn't it, Miss Pride?"

  "Yes," Addie answered. "How did you know?"

  "I'm a connoisseur of accents." He smiled disarmingly, then added, "I'm a Southerner myself, although I've lived away from my native land for a good many years. I was born in Savannah, raised in Tennessee."

  Addie glanced at her companion's aquiline profile, thinking how nice it was to find a fellow Southerner so far from home. It made her feel easier and warmer toward him. Up until now everything had seemed so strange, so new to her. Most of the people she had encountered on her trip almost seemed to have foreign accents—harsh, nasal, or twangy.

  "You could not have come at a better time of year—Fall is one of the most pleasant seasons here, although our climate is extremely mild year-round and considered very healthful with just enough rainfall to keep our air fresh and clean and uncontaminated with some of the unfavorable elements in our cities."

  Addie listened while she was busy looking from left to right as they turned onto the main street, which the sign indicated, she noted with some distaste, was named Lincoln Avenue.

  Both sides of the road were lined with small stores of various types, interspersed with shade trees, some now beginning to show fall colors. It looked on the whole like a quiet but pleasant little town.

  "And the resort itself is full of interesting, enjoyable things for our guests. Of course, most come for the wonderful treatments, which are even better than the great European spas, if I do say so myself. But besides that, we have a number and variety of social and cultural events, dances, musicales, lectures, poetry readings. Some of our guests have been well-known authors themselves. . . . I would name them but most wish to remain anonymous while vacationing. And that is another thing about which I pride myself—honoring my guests' wishes, whatever they are. Our motto here at Silver Springs is that our guests are all treated like royalty."

  They passed a building under construction. Stanton pointed with his buggy whip. "That is one of my newest projects. I'm building an opera house. Here I plan to invite some of the greatest internationally acclaimed artists of the opera and theater to perform. It is almost completed. I've ordered carpets from India, carvings from Italy, furniture from France. It will be a showplace. Opera buffs from San Francisco will buy season tickets and flock here...."

  Addie realized that Brook Stanton was a true entrepreneur, a man of ambition and vision. She had been in the company of so many defeated men in the last few years, men who had lost their zest, their hopes, and dreams. It was refreshing to meet someone so full of enthusiasm and ideas.

  Addie was totally unprepared for Silver Springs Resort. She hadn't expected anything nearly so grand. As Stanton's high-stepping, gleaming black horse trotted through the gates, Addie saw a sweep of velvety green lawn. It was beautifully landscaped, dotted with sculptured flower beds, bright with a mixt
ure yellow, bronze and russet chrysanthemums, marigolds, and deep purple stattice. A winding gravel drive serpented through the parklike grounds. It led to a white Colonial-style building with white pillars and green shutters. A balcony fronted the upper story, and a deep verandah circled the lower floor.

  "This is the main building where many of our social events are held. There are some guest rooms upstairs, but you and Mrs. Amberly are lodged in one of the cottages," Stanton told Addie as the buggy came to a stop. "First, I'll show you the lobby before I take you over to your cottage." He pulled out a handsome gold watch and consulted it. "Mrs. Amberly still has at least forty-five minutes before she's finished with her treatment. One of the bathhouse assistants will escort her back to the cottage, and she'll rest for a half hour there, so there's plenty of time before you have to begin your duties." His eyes twinkled as they regarded hers.

  He got out and came around to help her down from the buggy. Then he offered his arm, and they walked into the lobby together.

  Addie looked around with surprised pleasure. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but nothing like this. She had never dreamed Silver Springs Resort would be this luxurious. Brook Stanton seemed to sense her reaction and stood beside her for a few minutes, looking pleased.

  The lobby was furnished tastefully: pale green painted walls gave it a restful atmosphere, graceful furniture was placed in small conversational groups around the large room with many windows, curtained in sheer lace, draped in cream taffeta swags, letting in the filtered afternoon sunlight.

  "Now that you've admired my pride and joy sufficiently, I'll escort you to your cottage," Stanton told Addie teasingly. Back in the buggy, with the horse slowed to a walk, they proceeded around a flower-bordered circle over to a group of white cottages, which all had peaked roofs and small, elaborately fretted porches.