“The dress probably hung well above Agnes’s ankles, she is so unbearably tall.” Claire clicked her tongue distastefully, pulling away. “I can only hope Dad remembered the beautiful vision Mother was in that gown.” Claire picked up a silver-framed photo of their mother in younger, healthier years. “I’ll have this waiting just in case he’s forgotten.” She placed the photo on the cherry hutch near the front door. The reminder wouldn’t be missed by Agnes; nothing ever was.
Josephine garnered contempt for her new stepmother, but she held her tongue for Claire’s sake. Harmful words served no purpose now. “Mother would have gladly let her heirlooms go, if it made Father happy.”
“Father will never be happy with her, Jo. How can you even think such a thing? He only married her to give me a mother while he’s working on the rail. A railroad man with children needs a wife, I suppose.” Claire, although only thirteen, was an astute child. Sometimes too intelligent for her own good. “I suppose it’s all my fault. Father couldn’t possibly love Agnes.”
“Practicality often makes up for a lack of love, Claire.” Jo knew better than to condescend to her little sister, but Claire needed a legal guardian. At seventeen, Jo wasn’t quite old enough. The irony of her age only fueled her annoyance.
Claire stamped her foot childishly. “Father gave away Mother’s only legacy because Agnes is an old maid! No dressmaker would fit her with such a fine gown of white lace without laughing hysterically. Seed pearls indeed, on a woman her age! She probably looked like a man in Mother’s beautiful dress.”
“Now, Claire, we mustn’t be disrespectful. This is our new stepmother, whether we like it or not. Father provided for us the way he saw fit.” Jo tried to be the voice of reason, though it pained her. “We shall welcome her into the house just like the day Father brought her home as the hired help.” Jo squared her shoulders, determined to make the best of the situation. Their father’s job as a railroad man took him away from them most of the time. He didn’t have time to provide food and his presence. Unfortunately, he also hadn’t the time to see Agnes for who she really was—a selfish, vindictive woman with her own agenda.
Jo would make the best of it, if only for Claire’s sake. Jo would take the rail pass her father’s job provided and pave a way for them. Their new stepmother certainly wouldn’t take responsibility. Agnes would continue on as before, acting the proper mother for Father’s eyes, and turning into a raving madwoman when he left. A virtual battleground awaited, unless Jo did something to change it.
Jo would find refuge with their sister Marian in California. She hated leaving Claire alone, but the quicker Jo earned her own money, the quicker Claire would be free of Agnes. Any other alternative was only temporary.
Once Claire was settled, Jo would send for the wedding chest. Certainly, their father wouldn’t deny them their heritage, the last vestige of their mother. Agnes would be powerless if their father took charge.
Claire’s head snapped up. “This means you’re leaving, Jo, doesn’t it?”
“It’s the only way, Claire. I’ll go west and send for you as soon as I’m able. It’s time. One less daughter in the house will make things easier for Agnes. Perhaps she won’t have as much to be bitter about.”
“I can only hope,” Claire answered.
Jo swallowed hard. They could both only hope.
Chapter 1
February 1929
San Francisco, California
Jo fell onto the ragged davenport. “Nothing. There’s no work out there, Marian. Everyone wants me to be older, widowed, or the mother of six to qualify for work. What am I going to do? Every day I’m out here, Claire is on her own with Agnes. Maybe I should just go back on bended knee and finish school.”
Marian folded the tiny cloth diapers and placed them neatly on the shelf. “Times are tough, Jo, and if I’m to believe my husband, they are only going to get worse. There are lots of men out of work, and certainly they take precedence over a single woman. Some of them are veterans of the Great War. Would you rather have families go without?”
Jo looked at her squalling nephew and cringed. “No, of course not.”
“Then be thankful for what you have.” Marian, although only twenty-four, seemed so much older and wiser. In Michigan, Marian had been full of energy and excitement, but here she was simply focused on her next task. Aged already with flecks of gray in her brown hair and just trying to make ends meet. Jo wondered if that’s what lay in wait for her, as well—a hard life etched out in laundry and keeping house for a humble man and his baby.
Jo scanned the one-room flat she shared with Marian, Mitch, and Davy. She was thankful. She just planned things differently. She expected immediate work, to bring Claire out within a month or so, and to have a flat of her own. Instead, reality was a far cry from expectation. As it turned out, she was lucky to have a spot on this rickety davenport in her sister’s one-room apartment.
“Oh, Marian, of course I’m thankful.” Jo picked up Davy. The baby gurgled in delight. She snuggled her face into his sweet-smelling head, tickling him into an unrelenting giggle.
Marian smiled. “Must you do that? You’ll get him too excited for his nap. Besides, you have work to find. You can’t give up now; we need the money with an extra mouth to feed.”
Jo grimaced in guilt. “Oh, Marian, I know, and I’m so sorry. I won’t be a liability much longer. I’ll find something soon, I promise. I want Claire out here and away from Agnes more than you know. Mitch works hard enough for his family; I don’t want to burden you anymore.”
Marian shrugged. “God’s timing, Jo. Not yours. Times are tough, and Mitch doesn’t mind. We like the extra set of hands for Davy, and we’re not suffering any more than the next man. At least we’re happy. By the way, set an extra place. Glen is coming for dinner.”
“Glen?”
“He’s our upstairs bachelor, a carpenter’s apprentice, and he just loves to play with Davy. He lives with his sister and her husband, but they don’t have children yet. Glen comes down every once in a while to give them some privacy and keep that little man busy.” She smiled at Davy, and he cooed lovingly at his mother.
“And I don’t suppose this has anything to do with me, your unmarried sister?” Jo prodded. She lifted the baby, and once again, Davy squealed happily.
“Glen’s not in a position to marry, Jo. He makes three dollars a day as a carpenter’s apprentice. He’s only in step two of the four-step process. He doesn’t even come home until the last streetcar passes. He’s coming to spend time with Davy. That’s all. If I was trying to arrange a marriage, I’d let you know first.”
Suddenly Jo’s eyes sparkled, and a smile flickered. Marriage. It hadn’t occurred to her before, but perhaps that was the way out of this hopeless mess. San Francisco was a city full of wealthy bachelors from families who had made their money long ago and new entrepreneurs. The city was teeming with money. Jo just needed to find where it was hidden. It is just as easy to fall in love with a rich man, isn’t it? She’d just find one who went to church and shared her values. It was the perfect, and probably the quickest, solution. A new resolve hidden in her heart, Jo went about setting the table with a happy whistle.
The doorbell rang promptly at six. Jo went to the door, rolling her eyes at the thought of a dinner guest. Mitch worked hard enough each day, but now he was expected to feed the neighbors, too? Her emotions wrestled themselves when she got a glimpse of the simple carpenter from upstairs. Glen Bechtel smiled, and Jo felt her world shift. The full array of his perfect white teeth shone.
Glen displayed the physique of a man who did physical labor for a living: broad shoulders, strong, long legs, and an expansive chest, tightly surrounded by a clean work shirt. His appearance was hard to ignore, especially when combined with clipped, blond Nordic locks, and a carved jawline. All in all, Jo would have to say he was the most perfect-looking specimen of a man she’d ever seen. Too bad he is so poor, Jo thought wistfully. Maybe it wasn’t quite as easy to f
all in love with a rich man. Rich men usually didn’t develop the picture-perfect physique of a man who did strenuous labor. Jo chastised herself for thinking such ludicrous thoughts.
“You must be Jo,” Glen said, placing a work-roughened hand in hers. “You’re as pretty as your sister.” His eyes went past her and rested on the baby as he walked knowingly into the flat. “But not quite as sweet as my boy, here.” Glen scooped Davy up into his arms, and the child wiggled his chubby little hands in euphoria. “Davy, what has my boy been up to all day?” Glen put the baby on the floor and settled himself next to him, playing a silent game of patty-cake. “Smells great in here, Marian.”
“Thanks, Glen; it’s almost ready. Mitch will be home soon.”
“No hurry. Davy and I have some catching up to do, don’t we, Peewee?”
Jo remained at the front door, her gaze lost in the confusion of the situation. Jo had never seen a man take such an interest in a baby. It’s unnatural, she mused. Crossing her arms and finally shutting the door, she watched the two together as Davy giggled constantly.
“Ahem,” Jo abruptly coughed. While no raving beauty, she wasn’t used to being ignored. And she didn’t like it one bit. “Mr. Bechtel, my sister tells me you’re a carpenter’s apprentice.”
“That’s right,” he answered without looking up. “I’m working up at the Linton estate on Nob Hill. Doing a little add-on and finishing work for the family.”
“Estate?” Jo asked as casually as possible. “Is there a Mrs. Linton?” Jo caught Marian’s glance at her, as though her older sister knew exactly what she was thinking. Am I that transparent?
“Oh, that’s right, you were looking for work, weren’t you?” Finally, Glen looked up from the baby and focused his gray-blue eyes on her. She forgot what she asked momentarily, and couldn’t possibly think of an answer to his long-forgotten question.
“Are you still looking for work, Jo?” Glen repeated.
“Work,” she felt her head nod. “Yes, I’m still looking for work.”
“Why don’t you take the streetcar with me tomorrow? I’ll introduce you to the housekeeper, and you can see if they’re in need of a new girl. They seem to go through house girls pretty regularly. The Lintons are very private folks. Can’t say I ever see much of them, but their son is around quite a bit.”
“Their son? Does he have a nanny? Where are his parents most of the time?”
“Their son is about twenty-five, Miss Jo.” Glen laughed. “He hangs around the estate quite a bit. He’s a nice chap, too, a regular joe, very interested in the building going on at the house.”
Jo’s ears perked. “A son. Of course, they’d have a son. About twenty-five, you say? Yes, Glen, I’d love to go to the estate tomorrow. What time should I be ready?”
“I leave about six in the morning to catch the streetcar.”
“Perfect.” And it was, too. Young Mr. Linton was the perfect age and had all the qualifications she required. He was rich, unattached, and about to meet his match.
Chapter 2
Six A.M. was an ugly hour. She emerged from her flat, bleary-eyed and grumpy, only to be met with the Nordic’s big, expressive frown. Glen stared at his watch. “I said six.”
“Close enough,” she groaned.
“Not for the streetcar. Mussolini couldn’t run a better system. Come on.” He grasped her hand and bolted up the hilly San Francisco street, dragging her along behind him. By the time they reached the car, Jo needed to bend and catch her breath. But the crowded streetcar jolted, and Glen grabbed her to keep her from pitching off the side. He helped her into the last available seat, and they rode cattle-style up the long, arching hill. Who would have thought all these people would be up at six in the morning?
“Do you have a problem with mornings?” Glen asked, his burly arms crossed.
“Only that they start too early for my tastes.” Jo’s eyes fluttered shut. Must he talk so much? It’s far too early to be engaged in conversation.
“I can’t recommend you for any job with the Lintons if you have trouble with mornings. They’ll need a good, hardworking girl, not a spoiled princess. I daresay they’ve had enough of them. I’m not going to put my neck on the line for you. I’ve worked too long for this job. If I lose my apprenticeship, I lose my future. Here,” he dropped a quarter in her hand. “You can catch the next streetcar back.” The streetcar lurched to a stop, and she was thrown into him. He began helping her off the car before she realized what was happening.
“No!” She climbed clumsily back up into the cab. “No, I need this job! I’m sorry, I’m sorry I was late.”
His jaw was set. His steely blue eyes unwavering. “It’s not your tardiness that’s the problem. It’s your attitude. You’ve never worked a day in your life, have you?”
Jo thought back to all the chores Agnes forced on her after school. The soaps that dried out her hands, the iron that often burned her, and worst of all, the constant darning of the endless mountain of socks. It had to be cheaper to buy more socks! She knew what it was to work.
Jo put her hand on Glen’s. His rough hand flinched under her touch, and she felt something she didn’t care to examine further. A connection with the hard-hearted carpenter she felt to her very soul. She caught her breath, remembering her situation. “I’ll work, Glen. I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll be on time, and I’ll work harder than any girl they’ve ever had. Just please give me the chance to prove myself.”
He stared again. With an icy look from his blue eyes, he warned, “I’ve only got one shot to be a carpenter. There are four stages, and I’m only in stage two. If I ruin my apprenticeship, I can kiss my trade good-bye. A man without a trade is destined to failure as times get tougher.”
“I’m a hard worker, Glen. Grandmother Faith always commented on that. When my mother was ill, I took over many of the chores.” Jo swallowed hard. “Even more of them when my stepmother came to live with us.”
“Frankly, you haven’t shown me you know how to work, Miss Mayer. Your sister Marian knows how to work, so I’m assuming you’ve seen it put into action at some point. But so far, I’ve only seen the spoiled princess in action.” His eyes continued to assess her, and she unconsciously crossed her arms in front of her.
She couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Her mother had spoiled her, and when Agnes came, her own pride had intervened when she was asked to do something. Perhaps she was spoiled, but she hated the thought. A spoiled woman could never earn enough to care for herself and Claire. If she was indeed spoiled, things needed to change, and quickly.
“No, Glen! You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m a hard worker, or at least I can be. I came here from Michigan by myself so I could earn enough money to bring my sister Claire here. I want to learn how to earn my own living. If I’ve been spoiled, it’s only because I didn’t know any better. Please take me to the Lintons’! I won’t let you down, I promise.”
His expression was unwavering. His narrowed eyes scanned her, as if checking her for honesty. How could she make him understand how badly she needed this job? How badly she needed to bring Claire out and make a life for herself? Of course, she’d never let him know her true plans for meeting the young Mr. Linton, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from working hard. She didn’t examine why his opinion meant anything to her, but his negative assessment stung. She had no wish to ruin Glen’s reputation or her own.
“I’ll recommend you on one condition,” he finally said.
“What’s that? Anything, Glen, anything.”
“If you get hired, you keep the job for an entire year, doing your best regardless of the circumstances. No matter what happens, do we have a deal?”
“A year?” she stammered. “Why would you care if I stayed a year or not?” His requirement simply didn’t make sense. What would require such a promise? She was incredibly uncomfortable with the condition, but considering her remaining options, she didn’t know if she had a right to protest.
“Becaus
e, Jo, in my estimation, a man, or a woman in this case, is only as good as his word. When you’re hired for a job, you do it until completion. That’s what the Bible preaches, and that’s what I believe. If you’re willing to make the commitment, so am I, otherwise …,” he trailed off, leaving her to decipher his final meaning.
“But what if—”
“A year, Josephine,” he answered resolutely.
Jo thought about her options. They consisted of going back to Michigan a failure, continuing to take food from her nephew Davy’s mouth, or taking this job for a year. A job, which may or may not exist when she reached the top of the hill. For now, that was only a possibility.
“A year,” she relented, holding out her hand to shake on the deal.
The electric streetcar ambled up the last hill, chugging desperately to the city’s highest point. She knew sweeping views of the sapphire blue San Francisco Bay were all around her, hidden behind the shroud of morning fog. Stepping off the car, Glen took her hand in his and helped her from the vehicle. He smiled at her, and for a moment she forgot there was any conflict between them at all. There were only his shining eyes, his gaze warmer now, and his masculine carriage.
His chivalry quickly disappeared, however. Carrying his metal lunch box in one hand and his toolbox in the other, he took off at an unnatural pace up the stifling grade. Jo scrambled to keep up.
The stately homes of Nob Hill reeked of money. Elaborate columns and Victorian details provided a sight unlike anything Jo had seen. If times were hard, it certainly wasn’t apparent here. They stopped in front of a stylish three-story stone mansion.
“Now, Mrs. Houston will want to know you’re coming. She doesn’t like surprises. Wait out here,” Glen said. “I’ll check whether she’s willing to see you this morning.”
The Valiant Hearts Romance Collection Page 59
