“Very soon, I hope, sir,” Dorn said. “Although it would be a waste of my time and your money to wait around San Francisco until Miss Lucy returns.”
“Don’t see how a girl who you say is a secretary can afford to stay away longer than a month,” Marshall Bryant grumbled. “Dorn, are you certain that this Lucy Rowe is actually our granddaughter?”
“No, I’m not certain. It’s only a reasonable presumption at this point, Mr. Bryant. Let me actually see and talk to the girl. I want to question her—yes, discreetly—about certain particulars of the Bryant family history, which she would be likely to know. I want to see whether she has any of your old letters, or photographs of yourselves or your daughter Eleanor. That brings me to my reason, or one of the reasons, for asking you to let me come today.”
“The name Lucy Rowe isn’t so unusual,” Mr. Bryant interrupted. “Might be more than one girl by that name in a city as large as San Francisco.”
“Exactly my view, too, sir,” said Mr. Dorn. “You have told me many details of the family history and shown me documents, but a few questions occur to me. Also, it would help in proving this Lucy Rowe’s identity if you could let me really study those documents, and study any letters in your daughter Eleanor’s handwriting or any family photographs. If you happen to have any available that I could examine, say, overnight—or for a few hours this afternoon—”
“Good idea,” said Marshall Bryant. “Plenty of those things in the safe, right here in the house. I’ll lend them to you overnight or for a day or two. Whatever you say.”
“That will be a help,” said Mr. Dorn. “I’ll return them to you promptly.”
One thing puzzled Vicki. Why had no one at the luncheon table mentioned Jack Rowe, the girl’s father? She murmured her question to Mrs. Bryant.
“Because Lucy’s father died two years ago in an auto accident,” Mrs. Bryant answered her. “Lucy did not write and tell us. Lucy has never written to us, except one or two Christmas letters when she was a child—which my husband asked me not to answer.” Mrs. Bryant sighed. “So we had no way of knowing about Jack until Mr. Dorn investigated and reported to us about three weeks ago. I’m sorry about Jack, if only because his passing has left Lucy entirely alone in the world.”
“She has you and her grandfather,” Vicki said.
“If we can find her, and if she can forget old difficulties. However”—the elderly woman brightened—“on the basis of what he’s already learned, Mr. Dorn is hopeful that everything will work out well.” Then she said, “Oh, Mr. Dorn! Didn’t you say you had some further word about Lucy?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bryant. I’ve had a letter from one of her friends whom I was unable to meet in person. Her friend writes that Lucy is an accomplished swimmer and horsewoman. You know how Californians go in for sports and outdoor living. Her friend also wrote my firm—sorry I forgot to bring the letter—that Miss Lucy is fond of birds and knows something about them.”
“She’ll be interested in your parakeets,” Mr. Bryant said to his wife, “and she’ll enjoy the swimming pool.”
“Let’s hope so. We old people might be dull company for her. She sounds like a delightful girl, Mr. Dorn.”
The lawyer said, “From everything I’ve learned so far, she sounds like a charming girl, and a girl of considerable character.”
Marshall Bryant looked gratified, while his wife looked so eager that Vicki felt almost afraid for her. How every detail which Mr. Dorn was able to supply increased their desire to meet their granddaughter! How disappointed they would be if Lucy were not all they wanted her to be, or if—Heaven forbid—Dorn could not locate their granddaughter after all.
As they were rising from the dining table Mrs. Bryant reminded the lawyer about the silver ring. “If you want another look at it, it’s in the safe, too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Bryant. I will examine it again. It will be interesting to learn whether Lucy Rowe still has the silver ring which is twin to yours.”
“Now, young man, how soon are you going back to San Francisco?” Mr. Bryant pressed him. “How about this week?”
The lawyer was inclined to wait until the next week, in order to be sure that Lucy Rowe was back in San Francisco. He offered to telegraph her employers and friends there to learn if and when she had returned. This was reasonable, the Bryants had to agree, but they were disappointed about the delay.
“I am sorry about the delay, too,” said the lawyer, “but let us make haste slowly. Let’s be a little cautious and discreet. There is a large inheritance involved here, you are well known, and if any false moves were made, they’d invite a lot of publicity—newspaper stories, pictures in the paper, and so forth.”
Mr. Bryant made a gesture of distaste, while Mrs. Bryant pretended to shudder. There was a moment’s awkwardness. The lawyer turned to Vicki and said:
“I understand that you—ah—were of service to Mr. Bryant yesterday when he was taken ill.”
“Not at all,” said Vicki. “I’m just sorry Mr. Bryant didn’t feel well enough to enjoy his flight on the Electra. Mr. Dorn, when you fly out to the West Coast do you go on the Electra, via Chicago?”
She said it only to make conversation, thinking someday Dorn might be one of her passengers. But suddenly his expression changed. She was surprised at the odd look on his face. Was he thinking of something else?
Mrs. Bryant said, “I believe, Mr. Dorn, you told us your mother still lives in Chicago?”
“Yes, I sometimes go home week ends to see her. Very occasionally.”
“Of course. Well—I think my husband is waiting to see you.”
“Oh, yes. Will you excuse me, Mrs. Bryant? Miss—ah—” He had forgotten her name. The young lawyer followed Mr. Bryant into the library.
Vicki felt that it was time to say good-by to her hostess. But Mrs. Bryant led her back into the room with the parakeets. By now the sun had moved to the far end of the room, and the birds were asleep. Mrs. Bryant took Vicki’s hand.
“I hope all this talk about our granddaughter wasn’t dull for you.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Bryant! I couldn’t help thinking ‘Suppose it were my grandparents whom I’d never seen, who were looking for me—’”
“You’re sympathetic, Vicki. I wonder—You’re going to be in San Francisco often?” Vicki nodded. “Then I wonder whether I could ask you to do me a great favor—but only if it won’t take too much of your time.”
Vicki said, and meant it, that if the favor had anything to do with Lucy, she would be only too happy to give it her free time.
Mrs. Bryant smiled. “Then I wish very much that you’d see whether you can learn anything further about our granddaughter. While I have every confidence in Mr. Dorn and his careful, discreet approach, this delay is very hard. Even another week or ten days seem such a long time to wait.”
“I’ll be in San Francisco day after tomorrow,” Vicki said.
“Wonderful. If Lucy is back by then, won’t you try to telephone her and give her my love? All I have is her last address in Sutro Heights in the suburbs, it’s five years old—I think Mr. Dorn mentioned that she had moved in with friends in the city, in order to be nearer her place of employment. I wish I had thought to write down that firm name, but we are leaving everything, all the details, to Mr. Dorn.”
“Do you think Mr. Dorn will consider that I’m interfering? I wouldn’t want to cause any—any complications for him.”
“I don’t see how you could.” Mrs. Bryant went to her desk for Lucy’s last address, and copied it for Vicki. “It might be more tactful, though, not to let Mr. Dorn know that you are taking part.” Vicki agreed. “And let’s not mention it to my husband, either,” Mrs. Bryant said with a gleam of mischief. “Here’s the address, my dear. Thank you very, very much.”
“Don’t say that yet, Mrs. Bryant. First, let’s see what I can do.”
Sh
e thanked Mrs. Bryant for her hospitality, and said good-by. Mrs. Bryant walked to the front door with Vicki, and stood looking after her as she went down the marble steps. She looked so hopeful and yet afraid to hope that Vicki thought:
“I’m going to do everything I can to help those two old people.”
CHAPTER IV
A Puzzling Discovery
“I don’t even want to hear anyone suggest that we go sightseeing around San Francisco today,” said Jean Cox from the other twin bed, on Monday morning. “I want to stay right here in our nice hotel room and sleep.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest sightseeing—not yet, anyway,” said Vicki, at the mirror.
“Then why are you up and dressed so early? After those week-end runs we put in, why aren’t you unconscious, too?”
On Saturday their crew had flown from New York to Chicago, stayed overnight in Chicago, and on Sunday had flown on from Chicago to San Francisco. Now they were to have a day in San Francisco to rest. Vicki figured she would rest later and look for Lucy Rowe first. She told Jean her plans.
“Well”—Jean yawned and stretched under the covers—“all I can say is that a frail-looking, dreamy-looking little blonde like you has more stamina than some of us husky people.”
Vicki grinned. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“Just go away, my love, and let me sleep.”
They arranged to be in touch later in the day. Vicki softly let herself out into the hotel corridor and went downstairs to the busy lobby. Part of the fun of being a flight stewardess was living all over the United States, and staying at the pleasant hotels where the airline put up their crews. Along with her breakfast Vicki enjoyed a magnificent view of San Francisco’s hills.
Ever since talking with Mrs. Bryant, Vicki had kept Lucy Rowe’s old address safely in her purse. Now she took it out. At the hotel desk she asked for directions to Sutro Heights. Vicki made her way there—riding up and down steep hills—walking down a long wooden stairway from one street level to another. She climbed past a cliff-top park with white-painted statues, high above beach and ocean.
“San Franciscans certainly have their ups and downs,” Vicki thought, puffing. “But what views!” On three sides she looked down over the blue Pacific. The air was sea-fresh, cool, springlike. Vicki was so enchanted that she almost forgot about the address in her purse.
It led her to a modest, leafy street and an unpretentious cottage. There were a yard and an attempt at flower beds; children’s toys littered the porch. When Vicki rang the doorbell, a pleasant young woman in shirt and jeans came to the door. She looked not much older than Vicki, or than Lucy’s age, twenty-one.
“I’m looking for Lucy Rowe,” said Vicki, and introduced herself. She was careful not to mention the Bryants, not to intrude on the lawyer’s province. She said she understood that the Rowes lived here, or used to. “I wonder whether you could tell me what Lucy Rowe’s address is now?”
“My goodness, I should be able to! Lucy and I went to high school together; we’re old neighbors, too. After her mother died my family bought their house. This house. Come in, Miss Barr. I’m Jill Joseph. Come in, don’t mind the boys—”
The living room seemed to be overrun with very small boys and puppies. Young Mrs. Joseph shooed the whole group outdoors, and she and Vicki sat down to talk.
“I haven’t any address for Lucy at the moment,” Mrs. Joseph said, “because she’s away. Lucy is a darling. Are you a friend of hers?”
“I’m a friend of a friend of hers,” Vicki said. “An elderly lady who hasn’t heard from Lucy, or had any news of her, since Eleanor—Mrs. Rowe died.”
“Why, that was five years ago!”
“Would you fill me in?” Vicki asked.
Jill Joseph nodded. “Five years ago Lucy and I still had another year to go in high school. Then she lost her mother. This house was quite a lot of work for Lucy and her father—you know how full the last year of high school is, and Mr. Rowe worked hard at—” She named a large San Francisco department store. “So Lucy and her father moved to a small apartment near here, and we bought their house.”
“I see. What sort of work did Mr. Rowe do?”
“For a long time he worked at any job the department store gave him. The Rowes never had an easy time of it financially.” The neighbor hesitated. “It was hard on Lucy’s mother; she seemed to be used to more than the Rowes could afford. A lot of us wondered about Eleanor Rowe. Not that she ever complained—
“Anyway,” the young woman went on briskly, “Lucy’s father finally worked himself up to be head of the store’s delivery service, I think it was.”
“What was Jack Rowe like?” Vicki asked.
“Nice. The most devoted husband and father you ever saw. He would have made a good doctor; he was so kind and patient and gentle.”
So this was the son-in-law the Bryants had considered unworthy of their daughter, Vicki thought.
“Lucy’s mother was nice, too,” the neighbor said, “though she was quiet and sort of sad, sometimes. She worried about what would become of Lucy. Lucy used to try to laugh her out of it.… My goodness, I’m chattering!”
“Won’t you tell me more about Lucy?” Vicki said. “I’m not even sure what she looks like.”
“Well, she’s taller than you are, and slim—but she’s strong. Good at all sports, and she knows a lot about naturelore.” Mr. Dorn had reported that, Vicki recalled. “Brown hair, brown eyes, only sometimes they look hazel,” Mrs. Joseph said. “She—she’s active and friendly. Isn’t it hard to describe someone you know? The chief thing about Lucy is that she’s a nice person, and it shows.”
“Does she miss her mother very much?” Vicki asked. “And her father?”
“Yes, terribly. Lucy’s such a loyal and warmhearted person. She always befriends lost dogs, and hungry cats, and people who need her.”
It was out of lonesomeness and a need to be with people, the neighbor said, that after her father died in an auto accident two years ago Lucy moved into downtown San Francisco to live with another girl and the girl’s mother. Also, Lucy wanted to be nearer her job. After graduation from high school she had taken an intensive three-months’ business course, and had been working as a secretary ever since—nearly four years by now.
“Can you tell me the name and address of her employer? And of the girl and her mother?” Vicki asked.
“Yes, I’ll write them down for you. But you won’t be able to see Mary and Mrs. Scott. They’ve gone off on a trip. Lucy is away, too.”
So Dorn had learned, Vicki reminded herself. She asked:
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“She wasn’t sure herself, when she called me up to say good-by. Why don’t you ask at the women’s hotel where she’s been living? Maybe she left word. It’s the Hotel Alcott.”
“The women’s hotel?” Vicki felt confused. “I thought Lucy had been living with Mary and Mrs. Scott?”
“Well, she did until recently. I’m not sure how recently. Lucy and I aren’t in constant touch.” Jill Joseph explained that the Scotts’ household was a small one, and Lucy had felt she was crowding them.
Vicki could not remember whether Mr. Dorn had reported where Lucy lived. She’d had the impression, and perhaps the Bryants did, too, that Lucy lived with the girl and her mother with whom she was now traveling. Well, Vicki thought, she’d clear up this point.
“If I telephone Lucy’s employer,” Vicki asked, “couldn’t they tell me when she’ll be back?”
“I think she gave up her job at the Interstate Insurance Company, though you can ask them.”
“Gave up her job?” Dorn had not reported this. “Why?”
“Something about a new job. The kids were having a squabble, and I couldn’t get it straight over the telephone.”
“You mean Lucy sta
rts on a new job when she comes back from her trip with the Scotts?”
“Lucy isn’t traveling with Mary and Mrs. Scott. And I think traveling is part of her new job.”
This news did not tally with Mr. Dorn’s report, or more accurately, it went beyond the lawyer’s report. Well, it was possible Lucy had been away during the period that Dorn was looking for her, and then had returned to give up her job and take a new one. Then, too, Jill Joseph admitted she didn’t have all the facts straight.
“I’ll inquire at the Hotel Alcott,” Vicki said, “and at the Interstate Insurance Company.”
“Try telephoning the Scotts, too. Perhaps they are back now and have heard from Lucy.”
Vicki and Jill Joseph chatted a while longer. Vicki gathered that Lucy’s life was rather bleak. Even though she had friends and one or two not important beaux, she missed her family and home, and felt alone. Evenings after work she often kept herself busy taking college courses, and attending church choir practice.
“I guess the Reverend Mr. Hall has done more than anyone to help Lucy feel less alone,” Mrs. Joseph said. “He’s a wonderful man. He knew her parents, and he’s known Lucy all her life. He used to be in charge of a church here in Sutro Heights, but he’s been transferred to Russian Hill. I’ll give you his address, too.”
A few minutes later Vicki thanked Jill Joseph and said good-by to her. “You’ve been a great help. More than you know.”
“Anything I can do for Lucy—well, she needs all the help and love her friends can give her.”
How wonderful it was going to be for Lucy, Vicki thought as she traveled back to the center of town, to discover that her grandparents cared for her. What a happy change in her life there would be.
On the way Vicki stopped at a drugstore and called the Scotts from a telephone booth. Their telephone rang repeatedly without answer. Vicki then called the Interstate Insurance Company and talked to the personnel manager.
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