by Mona Ingram
His assistant David looked up as Jamie entered the office. “There you are,” he said, searching among the papers on his desk. “Someone dropped off a letter for you.”
Jamie stared uncomprehendingly at the envelope in his hand. San Francisco had been without mail for three months now, due to some sort of a squabble in Panama.
“It was delivered by a chap from New York,” David said. “He just arrived today.”
Jamie smiled when he recognized Aidan’s handwriting. What was his friend up to now? Aidan was the last person he expected to hear from, but it would be good to hear his news. He opened the letter carefully and began to read.
Moments later, he sat down in his chair with a thud. This couldn’t be happening. He carefully folded the letter, re-inserted it in the envelope, and stared blindly out the window. Why did this have to happen now, when his life was going along so well?
He fumbled for the letter, took out the single sheet and read it again, but the message had not changed. Aidan had penned the note hastily, just before a mutual acquaintance was due to board one of the new record-holding clippers. He had no doubt that a letter from his father was also en route, but was probably stuck somewhere in Panama with thousands of other pieces of mail.
Feeling trapped, he rose and strode out through the front office. “Where are you going?” asked his employee.
“Out.” Jamie’s reply was unusually brusque. He went down the shallow flight of steps to the wooden sidewalk and walked toward the bay. He would apologize to David later for his abrupt departure; right now he needed to be outside, away from the confines of his former life.
He was at the water before he realized it and paused to look out over the mass of ships. The number grew every day, bringing more men bent on making a quick fortune. But it wasn’t that easy, as he had already discovered. He raked his fingers through his hair and groaned aloud, uncaring if someone heard him.
He took a deep calming breath and tried to make sense of Aidan’s letter. According to his friend, Lettie had calmly announced that Jamie had gone ahead to establish a home for the two of them, and that she was to follow as soon as she could organize passage. He opened the letter again and checked, but there was no mention of the fact that she was on her way. A reprieve, but a small one, knowing Lettie.
He should have known that she was capable of something like this. According to Aidan, she’d blithely made the announcement at a society wedding, where both her family and his were in attendance, along with the most prominent businessmen in New York. Eyebrows may have been raised at the unconventional arrangement, but their marriage had been expected; society would forgive.
He laughed, but it was a harsh, mirthless sound. He could imagine her, tossing her head in that imperious manner, her laughter almost genuine as she informed the gathering that he was impatient for her to join him.
“I was there,” Aidan’s letter informed him. “I heard the speech, and believe me, if I hadn’t known better, I would have believed her.”
Jamie gritted his teeth. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Did Letitia’s father actually believe her? Would he let her come? The notion was ridiculous and unlikely. That’s what made it so brilliant. Because sadly, he knew that Letitia wasn’t above telling her father that he’d compromised her... even though it was the farthest thing from the truth.
He had only himself to blame. Letitia Wilkerson always got what she wanted, and she’d made it clear that she wanted him. He’d been fooling himself to think that he’d escaped by simply telling her he didn’t want to marry her.
The multitude of masts in the harbor were a visual representation of the way he felt in his heart. A dark, tangled mess that threatened to choke the life out of him.
He fumbled in his pocket for one of his cheroots and lit it with a trembling hand. The scent blew away on the breeze, and he was transported back to the deck of WindSprite, standing there with Sarah as the ship drew closer to California. His heart constricted at the thought of her. The way her gaze softened as she looked into his eyes, the way her hair whipped around her face in the ocean breeze. The way she cared about everyone she met. Even that prostitute last night had almost been the recipient of her caring nature.
He loved her. It was as simple as that. He had no idea when he’d come to that realization. Perhaps it had come about slowly, during that long voyage when he’d seen her every day, and come to know her fiercely independent nature.
Fear gripped his heart with a cold hand. How would Sarah respond if she heard about Letitia’s claims? And yet how could she possibly know? In all likelihood, Letitia had only been posturing... putting on a show so that he would come back to refute what she said. He couldn’t imagine her subjecting herself to the long, possibly dangerous voyage.
He exhaled slowly, allowing his thoughts to crystallize. Under no conditions would he marry Letitia. She may excel at manipulation, but her powers ended there. He studied the glowing end of his cigarillo and realized that a visit to Sarah wasn’t a good idea tonight. She’d become too adept at sensing his emotions and he didn’t want to give her any indication of how badly Aidan’s letter had upset him.
He almost smiled as he visualized the future. He loved Sarah, and if she would have him, he would marry her... once she was ready.
* * *
“So what do you think?” Sarah tried to read Anna’s expression as she tasted the beans.
“I don’t know.” Anna tried another spoonful. “They lack something, but I don’t know what it is.”
“That’s what I thought.” Sarah admired the cooling pies. “At least we’ve got those right.” She nibbled on what they’d started calling pastry bites. Anna had shown her how to cut the leftover pastry into strips, then twist it and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar before baking, making a tasty bite with a cup of tea. “When I think back on that first day we experimented... back on the ship.” She stopped speaking. “Wait a minute. I’ll bet Lucy has a recipe for baked beans. She can tell us what’s missing.”
“Of course! And here’s another idea. We’ll call them Boston baked beans. Our customers will love that.”
Sarah chuckled. “Anna Taylor, are you sure you weren’t a salesman in your former life?”
“Maybe I was,” said Anna thoughtfully. “Maybe I was.” She piled the pastry bites on a small plate and motioned toward the teapot warming on the stove. “Let’s go into the other room and have a cup of tea.”
“I’ll bring Walter,” offered Sarah, picking up the sleeping child. “And you can try out the rocking chair.”
* * *
Anna watched her with knowing eyes. “I thought maybe we’d see Jamie today. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since the furniture was delivered.”
Sarah shrugged. She’d been thinking the same thing. “He must be busy,” she said unconvincingly. “I might stop by his office tomorrow on my way back from Lucy’s.”
“Did you plan to do that in the morning? I thought perhaps Missy and I would go out and see about selling pies around noon.” She looked down at Walter, who was sleeping quietly, lulled by the rocking of the chair. “You could take care of Walter, if you don’t mind. We won’t be gone long.”
“I could take care of him.” Neither of them had noticed Addie. The woman stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a lop-sided smile on her damaged face. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
Both women stared at her; Sarah recovered first. ‘Do you have any experience with babies?”
Addie crossed the room to stand behind Anna’s chair. “I took care of my younger sister when I was small, and then she had a baby of her own before we left to come out here.” Her voice was wistful as she looked down at the sleeping child. “I love children.” She looked from Sarah to Anna. “I just thought I could help you out.”
“Well, of course,” said Anna, finding her voice. “We’d appreciate that.”
“May I hold him?” The sleeves fell away from her arms as she reached for the child and Anna winced at t
he sight of the bruises.
“Yes, of course,” she said, transferring the sleeping baby.
“Thank you.” Addie’s eyes softened. She rocked the baby for a few moments and then handed him back. “I’m sure you must be wondering about my story.” She glanced at Missy, who had fallen asleep in the big chair beside Sarah. Her breath hitched in her throat, but she carried on. “And I think I owe you that much.”
Neither Sarah nor Anna spoke as Addie gathered her thoughts along with her resolve.
“I met Marcel in New Orleans when I was seventeen.” A faint smile curved her bruised lips. “He was a handsome, exciting man, and I fell deeply in love with him.” She paused for a moment, lost in thought. “I never did know how much older he was, but I think he was about twenty four when we met. Anyway, we became inseparable, and when he asked me to marry him a couple of years later, I was more than ready.” She slid a sideways glance at Sarah. “We’d been living together since we met, so it was just a formality.”
“He was a gambler on the river boats. A good one, too, or so I thought. But then one night he was caught cheating.” She looked at each woman in turn. “An unforgivable sin for a professional gambler. This sounds almost unbelievable as I tell it, but he jumped overboard. He’d told me several times that if anything ever happened to him, I was to get off at the next stop and wait for him. I did that, and he showed up two days later as if nothing had happened. His reputation was ruined so he couldn`t gamble any more on the river boats, but he made California sound like he’d chosen to come out here.” She spread her hands. “So we arrived late last year, when men were making so much money they couldn’t spend all of it.”
“Marcel heard about the gambling tents up the American, so that’s where we went.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “By then, I knew he was cheating, but I couldn’t stop him. He got caught, of course, and he was shot.” She lowered her eyes. “It took him half a day to die.”
A cart rattling past on the street was the only sound for several moments. When Addie spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper.
“I remember the first time.” She swallowed, and for a moment it seemed as though she wouldn’t continue. “The man who brought me back from the gold fields insisted that I pay him for the transport.” She blinked back tears.
“You don’t have to tell us this.” Sarah reached out, but Addie was pacing back and forth, caught up in her story.
Addie stopped, and her focus returned. “Yes, I do,” she said, her throat clogged with emotion. “Because it might help me to understand what happened.”
“After that,” she said, “it got easier.” She paused again. “Well, not easier, but I learned to close my mind to what was happening. And then I discovered that a little brandy helped. But soon one or two drinks of brandy wasn’t enough to numb me to what I’d become. Someone offered me some fortified brandy.” She let out a strangled laugh. “I was desperate enough to think that fortified brandy actually existed. It contained opium and I very nearly became addicted. Perhaps I was, in a small way, but I realized it just in time, and went back to the regular brandy.”
She stopped pacing and stood looking out the window. “Hiram had decided that he wanted me to work in one of his common brothels.”
“Common brothel?” Sarah interrupted. “As compared to what?”
Addie shrugged. “As compared to a High-End brothel, or one of the cribs.” She gave a shudder. “I would have ended up in one of the cribs, eventually. Most of the women working there are alcoholics or drug-dependent. Or both.”
“Anyway, he couldn’t convince me, and you see the results.” She raised a hand to her face. “Do I look terrible?”
Sarah nodded. “It’s pretty bad.”
Addie nodded. “Thank you for being honest.” Once again she looked from one woman to the other. “I know I can’t stay, but even so, thank you for everything you’ve done.”
Anna stopped rocking. “Are you going back to work... as... you know?”
“No, Anna. I’ll never return to that life, but I can’t imagine that you want me around here.”
Anna glanced at Sarah. “It’s Sarah’s house.”
Sarah looked back at her friend. “We’ve already decided that we’d like you to stay.”
Even with her distorted features, the look on Addie’s face was incredulous. “But what about your customers?”
“What about them?” challenged Sarah. “If they don’t like you being here, they can go somewhere else.”
“Are you sure?” Addie looked hopeful for the first time since she’d arrived.
Sarah rose and hugged her. “We’re both sure.” She pulled back and looked at the other woman. “So tell me, can you cook?”
* * *
“You should have come to me straight off.” Lucy settled Sarah in her front room and gave her a cup of tea. “I make the best baked beans in Boston.”
“I believe you,” said Sarah with a laugh. “But are you willing to divulge your secret?”
Lucy listened to Sarah as she described how she had made the beans. “And how much mustard did you use?”
“Mustard?” Sarah frowned.
“Yes. Powdered mustard.” Lucy gave her head a shake. “Everybody knows that.”
“Evidently not.” Sarah was glad to hear that her friend had lost none of her directness. “But now that you mention it, that’s exactly what we’re missing.”
“Of course it is.” Lucy set down her cup and turned serious. “And now tell me about Anna. How is she coping?”
“Surprisingly well. She’s going out today to sell some pies. Addie is going to take care of Walter while she’s out.”
“Addie? Another of your strays?”
“In a way.” Sarah filled the older woman in on Addie’s story. “And when we get busy, we’ll be able to use the extra pair of hands. Everybody wins.”
“I hope so,” said Lucy. “I really hope so.”
* * *
“I’ll take good care of him.” Addie stood in the doorway with Walter as Anna and Missy started out. Missy had insisted on wearing a pink bow in her hair, and held her mother’s hand as they walked the short distance to Portsmouth Square.
Anna recognized the Custom House from Sarah’s description, but the constant movement of people, animals and transport in the square made it difficult to concentrate. Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to sell her pies after all. She shifted the basket to her other hand.
“Hello ma’am.” A bearded man in a blue shirt and muddy boots lifted his hat to greet her. “You might want to walk around the edge of the square, ma’am. It’s a lot safer that way.” A cart rattled past, spitting up mud from its wheels.
“Oh, yes. I see.” Anna thanked him.
“Is this your young one?” The man smiled down at Missy. “I have a daughter at home, not much older than this young lady.”
“I’m eight,” announced Missy. “Would you like to buy a pie?”
“Is that what I smell?”
Anna folded back the linen cover, revealing the pies. “We have meat, and apple.”
“Those look right delicious. How much are they?”
Anna felt a flush creep up her cheeks. “You know, we hadn’t decided.” She looked into his kind eyes. “What would you say is a fair price?”
“Now let’s see.” He pretended to think. “I’d say two for a dollar.”
Anna tried not to gasp. “Isn’t that a lot?”
Several men were starting to move toward them, and he winked. “From two lovely ladies like yourselves, that sounds about right.”
“All right then.” She raised her voice. “Two for a dollar. Take your pick... meat or apple.”
“I’ll take four,” he said, putting a generous pinch of gold in her palm. “Better find a place to stash that, ma’am. I think you’re going to get busy.” He leaned over and put a few flakes in Missy’s pocket. “And some for you, as well.”
“Thank you,” said Missy, standing p
roudly beside her mother. “I hope you like them.”
They sold out within minutes, turning away several disappointed miners. “We’ll be back tomorrow,” called Anna. “Same time.”
“We’ll be here,” the men said good-naturedly. “Save some for us.”
Chapter Fourteen
“We sold everything,” Anna reported on their return. Tired but triumphant, she and Missy emptied their pockets of gold.
“How much do you think we made?” asked Anna, poking at the dull gold with her finger.
“It looks like several ounces to me,” said Addie, caught up in their enthusiasm. “You’ll find that the miners are generous when they’re paying for something they want. Each one probably gave you a little more than necessary.” She passed the baby to Anna and rolled up her sleeves. “You’d better tell me what to do if you’re going to go back tomorrow.”
* * *
The setting sun transformed the city as Sarah made her way back down the hill from Lucy’s. She smiled at the sight of simple canvas tents bathed in the pink glow, tucked in beside the town’s more permanent structures. She hadn’t been here that long, but she swore she could see an increase in the number of ships in the harbor. In some ways it felt like she’d been here forever, and yet deep down she doubted that she’d ever truly understand what drove these people to follow the siren call of the gold.
Her steps slowed as she neared Jamie’s office. She’d missed him these past couple of days, even though she hadn’t had much time to dwell on his absence. Standing outside, she debated the wisdom of going in to ask about him; he knew where she lived if he wanted to see her.
Her dilemma was solved when the door opened and he appeared at the top of the steps and grinned widely. “Sarah!” he said, coming down to street level. “I was just thinking about you. They were selling candles in the plaza today and I bought an extra crate for you. I’ll have them dropped off tomorrow.” He took her arm. “Would you like to go somewhere? We could have a quick supper.”
