by Paige Powers
Amelia shook her head. "Where would you come up with something like that? Who told you that?"
Jonathan's chest swelled. "Are you calling my mother a liar?"
"Not at all, Mr. Smith. I don't even know your mother."
He calmed down, and spoke slowly. Raging at this woman would not be the answer to his needs.
"I come from a wonderful family. My mother is a good woman."
Amelia nodded. "I'm sure she is."
Jonathan threw his hands in the air. "Please don't patronize me, Ms. Smith."
Amelia held her hands up in surrender.
He continued. "I did not live a life like you did. I was not privileged with the best of everything. My mother had to provide for me, and she did the best she could. I never knew my father. I was told that he passed away when I was very young. So you can imagine my surprise when I found out from my mother that the man I thought was my father was not. A man that I never even knew, but idolized because of what my parents and my grandparents told me. It was bad enough that he was always an idea, but to find out that he was never even real…"
"What are you talking about?"
Jonathan's temples began to throb. "Why don't you get it? My mother and your father were an item. Your father, being the pillar of the community that he was, got my mother pregnant, and instead of making an honest woman out of her, he left her. Left her to go away somewhere and have a baby all alone. Left her to come back to Boston, pretending to be a widow with a toddler. Because that would be a much better story than the truth. She fell in love with a wealthy man who did not truly care about her. She fell in love with a man who did not protect her or take care of her or her child."
Amelia shook her head, and a look of incredulousness came over her face. "There is no way. Your mother and my father? No way."
"Why is that not possible? Do you consider me and my mother so beneath you that you can't believe that your father would fall in love with someone so, so…" Jonathan struggled to find the word. "…So common?"
"This is preposterous. Why would she wait until now to disclose this information to you? Why would she wait until my father died to let this kind of secret out? What purpose does this serve?"
"Amelia? Amelia? Where are you?"
The sound of heels clicking on the floor came close and closer.
Mary, Amelia's assistant came walking in. She was smiling from ear to ear. A young, blonde woman, very petite but full of energy. The smile on her face quickly dropped as she walked in and found Jonathan and Amelia in their heated discussion.
"Mary. I will be right with you. We have company. Mr. Jonathan Montgomery Smith, please meet Ms. Mary Studebaker, my assistant."
Jonathan nodded at the pretty woman.
"Well, I think I will get the lessons set up for the day, if you will excuse me, Amelia. Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Smith?' Mary offered.
"No. Mr. Smith was just getting ready to leave."
Amelia's words were rushed, harsh, but obviously spoke her truth.
"No problem." Jonathan picked up his hat. "I will be in town for the next week or so. We will have plenty of time to discuss our personal matter and attempt to find some resolution. Good day, Ms. Studebaker. And good day, Ms. Smith."
He turned to let himself out. Once he hit the fresh air, there was a rush of anger, frustration and exhilaration, all in one. Jonathan had taken the biggest first step: meeting Amelia, his sister. There was no way that he would be able to know what the outcome of the meeting would turn out to be, but at least he had made himself and his presence known.
Chapter 7
Jonathan knew that going to Amelia's without Ben may have been a bad move. He was just impulsive, and there was no way to avoid what was inevitable. He had come all that way, clear across the country to San Francisco for a purpose. There was no way that he could get out there and not fulfill it.
He spent the past few days pacing his hotel room, waiting to hear from Amelia. He just knew that she would come over to where he was staying and address him. Or at least send for him so they could come together and talk about how to proceed.
It would have been insane to think that things would work out easily. He would have to be crazy to believe that he could come to town, tell the woman he was her brother, and expect her to simply agree to hand over what he deemed to be his inheritance.
He just wanted it to go a little more smoothly. He wanted Amelia to at least consider the fact that what he was telling her could possibly be true. Why would she not think that her father could have fathered another child? It was not like he was telling her that their father was being unfaithful to her mother. As a matter of fact, according to his mother, she had not heard from William Smith since he came and told her that he was leaving her for someone else. That someone else was Lulu la Rue. A woman who was not totally less than, but definitely not worth more than his own mother.
So now what was he supposed to do? Just sit and wait until she decided to make a move? Was he supposed to just let her control the entire situation?
Jonathan was not sure exactly what he should do next. There was no way that he was willing to let Amelia keep the ball in her court. But then and again, he did not want to become too aggressive and push her away. There had to be a way to get through to Amelia. Some way to make her see that he was not trying to do anything other than get what was rightfully his. He did not want to get tied up in lawyers, especially since he could not afford to hire someone as high-powered as McGill was.
He was pretty sure that McGill had thwarted unsuccessful attempts from others trying to get at the Smith fortune. There were most likely built-in protocols to dealing with such matters, and McGill had to always be on guard, ready to get rid of anyone who wanted to lay claim to the Smith clan's dollars.
Suddenly, an idea came to mind. He figured out a way to get through to Amelia, and what he was thinking had to work.
*
Up close, the woman looked like she sucked on lemons for a living. She could have been attractive, but all of her features were so severe that she did not appear capable of enjoying any of life's wonderful opportunities.
"Excuse me, Madam. My name is Jonathan Montgomery Smith."
She had been strolling along the avenue when Jonathan approached her. He hoped that this would work out for him the way that he envisioned it.
"Well Mr. Jonathan Montgomery Smith, what exactly does that have to do with me?"
He paused for a moment, knowing that whatever words he spoke next needed to be correct, because it would make or break his possibilities.
She was standing there, waiting for him to respond.
"From what I understand, you are the soon to be mother-in-law of Amelia Smith."
The comment seemed to peak the woman's interest.
"Yes I am. What does that matter to you?"
"I would love to get a chance to sit down and talk with you and your son. I have some information for you that I think would be of interest to you."
"What did you say your name was again, son?" she asked as she stepped a bit closer. She looked him directly in the eye.
"Jonathan Montgomery Smith, Madam."
"Why don't you meet me and my son for lunch in an hour? At the Jackson Tea Room on Fifth Avenue."
Jonathan tipped his hat. "Yes, Ma'am."
The woman continued her stroll as if she and Jonathan were just two strangers on the street.
Jonathan had gotten what he wanted – an opportunity to meet with Alfred Sharp and his mother.
*
Jonathan walked into the tea room and spotted Mrs. Sharp and Alfred sitting at a table in the back of the room. He walked over to where they were seated and introduced himself.
"Hello, Mrs. Sharp."
Mrs. Sharp nodded her greeting.
He extended his hand to Alfred. "Jonathan Montgomery Smith."
"Mr. Smith." Alfred returned the handshake, and then motioned for Jonathan to have a seat.
"What can we do for you, Mr.
Smith?" Alfred folded his hands and a serious expression came over his face that let Jonathan know that he wanted to get down to business.
"I don't know any other way to discuss this, so we will get straight to the point. Ms. Smith and I are related."
Mrs. Sharp and Alfred both sat there, stoic expressions on their faces. Jonathan took their silence as his opportunity to continue speaking.
"I have recently discovered that Ms. Smith and I are siblings. Apparently my father…"
"Mr. Smith, why is this any of our issue?" Mrs. Sharp interrupted him, her voice steady and abrasive.
"Well now, I think we can help one another."
Alfred sat back in his chair, a devilish grin coming across his face. "Why would we do that?"
Jonathan could see that the Sharps were going to give him a run for his money.
"Secrets," Jonathan began speaking. "Secrets can be helpful. You know, sometimes there is a need for secrets. Sometimes we just need to keep other people from knowing something that will truly hurt them. Most times though, secrets are selfish. They fulfill our own needs and they don't really help the person we are keeping them from."
"So you are saying that you are the brother of my fiancée?"
Jonathan smiled. "Yes. I just recently found out that my mother and her father were once an item. Apparently, things did not work out between them and they both moved on, but out of their love affair, a child was born."
"And let me guess, your father was not aware of his love child?" Mrs. Sharp's inquiry seemed biting and harsh versus an attempt to make sure she understood what he was saying.
"Something like that," Jonathan replied.
"Ah, and you are here to claim your inheritance, I bet?" Alfred added.
"Well, I would like to get to know my sister. After all, we were not afforded the opportunity to get to know one another as children. We lived completely different lives."
"I am certain you did," Mrs. Sharp replied. She sipped her tea and nibbled on a tea cake. She and Alfred never even looked each other's way, but they both seemed to be on the same page.
"Smith is a pretty common last name. How is it that you assume that Amelia's father is your father as well?"
Jonathan sat back, stroking his chin. "Very good question. I thought of that myself. But once I met Amelia, I could see the resemblance. The brown eyes, the slight dimple in the chin, the unruly brown hair. You must admit that we do resemble each other."
Neither Mrs. Sharp nor Alfred admitted anything.
Jonathan continued.
"Like I said, secrets ruin lives. Make us live in unnecessary discomfort. Telling the truth is much more admirable."
"What is it that we can do for you, Mr. Smith?"
"You know Mrs. Sharp, I did not come to San Francisco from Boston unprepared. I did my research on Amelia. The one thing that I did not anticipate was her courting such a fine young gentleman like your son here," he held his hand open in Alfred's direction. Alfred's only response was to look Jonathan up and down.
"So when I found out she was spoken for, I did a bit of research on you, Alfred. It seems that our otherwise strait-laced young man is not quite who he appears to be."
Jonathan watched for the slightest change in expression on either Mrs. Sharp or Alfred. Both of them sat there, staring, with no expression change.
Jonathan leaned in closer. "It seems that both of you have built quite a life for yourself. Coming down here from a small town in Oregon, you can be whoever you would like to be. I mean, you could essentially go from being desolate and living in squalor to moving to the bustling city of San Francisco, working for a large grocery store chain as an accountant and preparing to take the hand in marriage of one of the wealthiest woman in the area. What a stroke of luck!"
"Luck has nothing to do with how my life turned out, Mr. Smith. Hard work is the name of the game."
Jonathan took a sip of tea. "Oh, I am absolutely sure of that. How hard did you work to pilfer money from the accounts of the businessmen that you worked for, though?"
Mrs. Sharp's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Smith. I am not sure what you are accusing my son of."
He smiled as he responded. "No accusations at all, Mrs. Sharp. There are such things as facts and sometimes those facts turn into secrets. Those dirty little things about ourselves that we won't share with others. Like how you got run out of town because you stole money from –, let's see, what was the name of the employer?"
Jonathan snapped his fingers. "Bigelow Candle Makers. Yes. You were accused of stealing about half of their revenue for the year in 1858. Then there was the move to Seattle. And where was it you were employed? Ansel's Grocers. Yes, that was where you left your employment before they figured out that you have been stealing a percentage of their revenue as well."
Alfred seemed unfazed. "All accusations, Mr. Smith. Pure accusations." He sipped his tea, and relaxed in his chair.
"We all have secrets, Mr. Sharp," Jonathan replied.
"And what would be yours, Mr. Smith? Since we all have secrets." Mrs. Sharp stared at him intently, waiting for her answer.
"I just shared mine, Mrs. Sharp."
"We all have secrets, Mr. Smith. And I am not sure what exactly your purpose or your angle is. And I am also not sure from where you have obtained your information, but Sir, please make sure that your sources are correct. It seems like your sources may be untrustworthy all the way around."
"Mrs. Sharp, I cannot question the sources. I trust them and completely understand if you cannot trust those sources. If I were in your position, I certainly would not trust a man who marches in to my life with the claims that I have made. But what you can trust is the truth. You can trust the fact that you know exactly what your son has done and who he is."
"And what is it that you want us to say, Mr. Smith? Do you want me to hang my head and admit to what you have proposed that I have done?" Alfred held Jonathan's stare.
Jonathan clasped his hands together. "Not at all. I would never expect that. But what I would like, in return for me helping you to maintain your secret, is a bit of assistance from you in developing a relationship with my sister."
"Mr. Smith. You will of course understand that all you have shared with us is a bit overwhelming. It would be helpful if we could let all of this information settle in and give us a chance to come up with a way that we may be of assistance in your situation."
"I am not against that, Mrs. Sharp. I am staying at the Beacon Hotel. Alfred, I am sure that you will be able to find me once you figure out what you would like to do next."
Alfred stood up, pulling the chair out for his mother.
"I will be in touch, Mr. Smith."
Jonathan nodded. "I look forward to it."
*
Jonathan watched as Mrs. Sharp and Alfred walked out of the tea room. He sat at the table drumming his fingers on the table.
"So what exactly are you doing?"
Jonathan turned around toward the voice.
"Ben. To what do I owe this visit? Do you frequent the tea room often?"
"Not at all. I was passing by, and I happened to see you in here talking with Mrs. Sharp and Alfred Sharp. What was that all about?"
"I think you have done your job. I hired you to locate my sister and you have done that."
"True. But you have not done what we agreed. We agreed that you would not go and introduce yourself to her without my backing. And I know that we did not discuss any meetings with the Sharps, but at some point that should have seemed a bit out of line."
"Look Ben. I came all of the way across the country, and I did not want to lose momentum. Waiting on you to accompany me? I am my own man."
When Ben took a seat, Jonathan was not sure exactly why. Jonathan was ready to go.
"Mr. Smith. I am just trying to do my job. As a Pinkerton, working with me, you have the benefit of having the law behind you. We just don't need you to get yourself wrapped up in anything unnecessary when we could work together as a team to get wh
at you need. That's all I'm saying."
The words he spoke seemed to fall on deaf ears. Jonathan stood up from his chair.
"I appreciate all of the work you have done for me, Mr. Abbott, really I do. I think I have to finish this on my own."
The expression on Ben's face showed confusion and disagreement. Jonathan knew that Ben would have more to say.
Ben just shook his head.
"At least let me buy you a drink, Mr. Abbott."
"So be it, Mr. Smith. I don't agree with your tactics, but I can say that I will have no problem having a drink with you."
Chapter 8
Amelia could not figure out if it was anger or frustration or just plain exasperation she felt. The audacity of a man to waltz into her life, making claims and demanding things.
She ran the scenario over and over in her mind. Her father had been in love with another woman and left that woman while she was pregnant, unbeknownst to him. The woman then, in all of her martyrdom, runs away, births a child, and comes back to Boston to raise the child with the help of her parents. And she decides not to let her father, who was supposedly the love of her life, know that she was pregnant and living only a few miles away.
It just did not make sense. If she had been in love with William Smith – the wealthy, esteemed William Smith – she would have told him that she was with child and expected him to take care of the child at all costs. Amelia did not know a woman who would be willing to suffer and live in dire straits at the expense of her pride.
It was not smart. It was not the type of thing that would make her the better woman. It was the type of decision that would leave her with nothing. And besides that, Amelia could not figure out what the purpose was of telling her son at this point in his life that the story he had been told of his parentage was not true. What was she going to gain? Why would she not share this with him when the man that she claimed was his father was alive?
Maybe she knew that William Smith would laugh her right out of his front parlor. Maybe she had never been courted by William Smith and had made the entire story up. Lesser women had done worse.