The young woman stepped out of Zabar’s with two bags of groceries. She turned left and started walking up Broadway again with Marie following closely behind. When she got to 82nd she turned left, walking toward West End. It figures, Marie thought, remembering her own apartment in no-man’s land. About midway down the block she made another left and walked up to a lovely beige-brick mid-century. She turned the key in the lock, opened the door and disappeared from sight. Marie stood in the center of the sidewalk, disappointed. Well, she had an address, just in case.
She walked back to Broadway, thinking about what she’d seen all the way. She wanted to call Jack’s cell and tell him off. Suddenly, overcome with nausea, she moved to the curb and threw up in the gutter.
This has been the first chapter of
Pam of Babylon
Volume I of the Pam of Babylon series
by
Suzanne Jenkins
Nellie
Cynthia Woolf
Nellie Wallace is a young widow with two children. In post civil-war New York, the men are scarce and none want the burden of a wife with children. Her dead husband's family is wealthy, and cruel. Desperate to escape their influence, and eager for a home, a husband, and a stable life for her children, Nellie decides to make a new life in San Francisco as a mail order bride.
Saloon owner Blake Malone is a bachelor and likes it that way. He worked hard for everything he has, but the San Francisco City Council won’t approve his plans to build a family emporium unless he is a family man himself. The solution? A mail order bride from New York who will bring him a ready-made family, stability, and the council's approval.
Blake expects his future wife to care for his home and, other than helping him impress the city council, to stay out of his business. He expects life as usual. What he gets is an unexpected desire to win Nellie's heart, a dangerous threat to his new bride, and a rich benefactor determined to steal his new family out from under him. Blake believed his battle for success a hard one. But he will discover that the battle to win Nellie's heart and keep his family safe is going to take everything he's got.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
First Chapter of Annie
Prologue
April 28, 1865
RAP! RAP! RAP!
If only she could fix her problems with a needle and thread she’d be set. Nellie looked up from the socks she was darning toward the knocking on the front door.
Who could that be? She set aside the socks, straightened her dress, checked her reflection in the mirror on the wall in the hall, patted her blond hair back into place and then answered the door.
“Mrs. Robert Wallace?” asked the soldier in dress uniform who stood at attention on her front porch.
Oh, God. No. Please. No. “Yes,” she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. “I…I’m Mrs. Wallace.”
The young soldier handed her an envelope. “I regret to have to inform you that Lieutenant Robert Wallace was killed at the Battle of Appomattox on April 8, 1865. I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wallace.”
Nellie didn’t know what to say over the lump in her throat. She always knew this could happen—from the first moment Robert joined, to his last farewell eight months before Violet was born.
“I, uh, thank you, Officer…”
“Black, ma’am. Sergeant Black.”
“Thank you for letting me know, Sergeant.” Her grip tightened on the door knob. “I…I have to sit down now.”
“Of course, ma’am. Do you need help?”
Nellie shook her head. “No. Thank you. I’ll be alright.”
The man saluted her, turned and walked down the sidewalk to the waiting carriage.
How many of these calls did he have to make today? Was I the only one? I doubt it. Not in a city the size of New York.
She closed the door and leaned against the wall next to it, her legs no longer able to support her, she slid to the floor. Tears left salty trails on her face, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember crying. Screaming, cursing God, yes, but crying, no. Even though our marriage wasn’t what I’d dreamed it could have been when I was a child, I shall miss him. He had his good side, he was funny and could make her laugh. He was gentle every where except…no I will not think about that now. I endured and have two beautiful children.
How am I to tell Henry his father is dead? Violet was just a baby and didn’t know her daddy but Henry… Her son missed his father something fierce. Robert had doted on Henry. They spent so much time together that Henry cried for days when his father left the last time. And now I have to tell him his father is never coming home. How do I do that?
She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands, took the hanky from her apron pocket and blew her nose. No need to put it off. The task would be difficult enough, without waiting and making it harder. Perhaps she and Henry could grieve together. In any case, she needed to be strong for her son and daughter. She was all they had now.
Taking a deep breath, she mounted the stairs to the play room and her children.
.
Chapter 1
March 4, 1867
As she approached the door to the office of Matchmaker & Co., Nellie Wallace stopped, took the hanky from her reticule, and wiped her suddenly sweaty hands. She wished she had a choice other than this one but with two children to support and no way to do it, she needed a husband. The ad said they were taking applications for wives to men in San Francisco, California. That was fine with her. The farther away from New York and Robert’s parents, the better—as far as she was concerned.
She straightened to her full height of five-feet-seven inches, smoothed her hands down the skirt of her black bombazine dress, and turned the knob to the office door.
“May I help you?” said a red-haired woman behind the desk in the middle of the room. She was attractive and not much older than Nellie’s twenty-eight years. She wore a lovely emerald-green skirt and jacket that looked spectacular. The white blouse with high collar and lace down the front was a wonderful contrast to the vibrancy of the suit.
The room was furnished simply. The desk, a couple of chairs and two file cabinets were the only pieces of furniture. A potbellied stove stood in the corner. The windows on either side of the door, and the window in the door itself, were covered with simple beige curtains.
“Yes, I’m here about the ad for mail-order brides for San Francisco.”
“Ah,” said the woman. “Yes, sit down, please.” She pointed to the straight-backed, wooden chair in front of the desk. “I’m Mrs. Selby. Margaret Selby, proprietor of Matchmaker & Co. and I’ll be helping you today. First tell me a little about yourself.”
After settling herself, she took a deep breath. “I’m Nellie Wallace. I was widowed two years ago. Unfortunately, I don’t have a means of support here in New York. I’m dependent on my in-laws for the roof over our head, but that is all. They do not provide expenses and my savings are about gone. I’ve got enough money to keep us, my children and me, fed and clothed for another year, but I need to find a husband.” She forced a smile. “San Francisco sounds like a wonderful place to me.”
Mrs. Selby cocked her head. “I didn’t describe the city in my ad.”
“It’s clear across the country from New York and that sounds perfect to me. I can’t take the memories or my in-laws anymore Mrs. Selby.” She squared her shoulders. “I want to be gone from here.”
“Call me Margaret.” The woman opened her desk drawer and took out a piece of paper. “What are you looking for in a husband, Mrs. Wallace?”
&nb
sp; “Nellie. I’m Nellie. Well I need a man who is willing to take me and my children. One who is kind, gentle and understanding. Probably qualities that are difficult to come by if my previous experiences are any indication. Most men of my acquaintance are not interested in a woman raising another man’s children.”
“How old are you, Nellie?”
“Twenty-eight. I was married for ten years before Robert had the bad luck to die at Appomattox.”
“I understand. I’m a widow myself. You’re quite lovely and I don’t think I’ll have any problems matching you with a husband. I have a candidate here that I think would be perfect for you, except for one tiny thing.”
Nellie’s heart filled with apprehension. “What would that be?”
“Mr. Malone runs a saloon.”
“A saloon?” Shock brought up her chin and she stared. “What in the world does he need a wife for?”
“Well, Mr. Malone wants to expand his business interests and finds himself in need of a wife in order to be taken seriously by the business council in San Francisco. As a matter of fact, he requested a widow with children. It seems the business he wants to open is an emporium for families and it would be best if he had a family of his own.”
“I see.” Successful, that’s more than I thought I’d ever find. I wasn’t even expecting a business man but a miner or a farmer. “Tell me some more about Mr. Malone.”
“Well, let me see,” she rifled through some folders, chose one and opened it. “He’s a wealthy bachelor, never been married. He owns the saloon and has a home on Russian Hill,” Margaret looked up at Nellie. “It’s apparently a nice part of the city. He is looking for a wife who can serve as a hostess as well as direct the servants in the house.”
Slight apprehension filled Nellie. Servants. She wasn’t used to servants. She did all her own chores. “I’ve only got one servant myself, she does everything, nanny, maid, housekeeper. I do the cooking and together we keep the house spotless. I can’t imagine that instructing someone else how to do it would be that difficult.” Robert and I had dinner parties sometimes, how different could it be?
“That’s the right attitude,” said Margaret with a nod. “Now, Mr. Malone is forty years old. He is six feet tall with black hair and gray eyes. Here is a photograph.”
Nellie accepted a tin type photograph, very new for the day. It was of a terribly handsome man in a dark three-piece suit. If Nellie had been the swooning type, she might have done so upon seeing the picture of Mr. Blake Malone, as it was printed on the bottom of the picture. As it was she had to concentrate not to let her mouth hang open.
She narrowed her eyes, “A man who looks like that should have no problem finding a wife. Why does he need a mail-order bride?”
“One could say the same thing of you. You are quite an attractive woman, Mrs. Wallace.”
“Men don’t want to marry someone like me. I have children. They don’t want to raise another man’s off-spring, at least not here in New York. Not a lot of men are here, because so many were lost in the war or left to find gold. Those that remain can take their pick of the available women.” She shook her head and pulled her reticule higher on her lap. “They don’t need to settle for a woman with a family.”
“Well, Mr. Malone needs an upstanding woman for a wife. Apparently, not a lot of single women of that ilk can be found in San Francisco, so he wrote to me. Do you think you’d be interested in Mr. Malone? I can wire him today.” Margaret leaned forward. “If he’s who you choose, he has already sent money to cover the passage for the woman and any children she may have. You would be leaving on the ship sailing on April first.”
Nellie thought about the idea and decided she needed more time. “In all honesty, I hadn’t expected to be matched today. I’d like to sleep on the matter. I’m almost sure my response will be yes, but I need to make sure.” She scooted forward in her chair. “I’ll return and give you my answer tomorrow.”
“Certainly. I understand perfectly.”
Nellie stood and extended her hand. “Thank you. Until tomorrow.”
Margaret took her hand with a firm grip. “Until tomorrow.”
Nellie thought she’d taken a step in the right direction. She walked out into the bright sunshine of a lovely early spring afternoon. She loved the seasons, and fall was her favorite. Crisp, clean air. Trees in the park changing color, getting ready for winter to come. She would miss it. From what she understood the temperature in California remained pretty constant. No seasons—no spring and no autumn. She’d get used to it, she assured herself.
When she arrived home the children came running.
“Mama! Henry pinch me!” squealed Violet.
Nellie took a deep breath, knowing that her daughter was prone to drama. She asked gently, “Henry. Did you pinch your sister?”
“Yes, Mama.”
He stood there with this head down and his hands clasped behind his back. At the sight of his uplifted face, she was hard-pressed not to cry. He looked so like his father, with his blond hair and big brown eyes.
“Because she wasn’t mindin’ Bertha.”
Bertha was their cook, nursemaid and all-round helper. Nellie didn’t know what she would do without the woman and truly thought of her as a friend not a servant.
“I see. Violet? Were you misbehaving for Bertha?”
She watched her little girl think about it and then shove her thumb in her mouth. A sure sign of guilt.
“Uh huh,” her baby mumbled.
“Why were you being naughty?”
“It wasn’t nothin’, Nellie,” said Bertha, a short, round woman with an abundance of gray hair that she barely kept secure under a white cap. “She was just stealin’ a cookie.”
“Now, Bertha, it was not cookie time and she knows better.” She turned to her daughter. “As punishment, you will not get any cookies at cookie time today. You may have your milk, and you will sit at the table until Henry finishes his cookies and milk.
Lip trembling, Violet started to cry.
“I don’t want to hear it, young lady. Your tears will only get you more punishment, so if you want to stay in your room for the rest of the day, go ahead and cry.” Nellie kept her voice soft. Violet was still a baby in many ways, being only two, but she needed to know the rules and the punishments were real. Setting boundaries was the only way, Nellie could be sure she’d mind.
Violet stopped crying immediately and sniffled. “Henry be in room wit me?”
Nellie snorted and locked her lips together so she would not laugh. She took a deep breath and swallowed before she could answer. “No, Henry will not be playing in your room. If you want to play with Henry, you have to do what I say.”
Violet looked up at her mother, her sweet face total innocence. Her green eyes so like Nellie’s own, it was almost like looking in a mirror. “What you say?”
Nellie smiled and Bertha hooted. Henry just shook his head. She guessed when you’re only two years old, you’re allowed to forget punishments for things that happened so long ago as five minutes.
“Never mind, angel. You go upstairs to your room and play until Mommy comes and gets you. Okay?”
“Okay.” She skipped and hopped and then ran out of the room.
“She’s not going to remember at cookie time,” said Henry sagely as he shook his head.
“I know,” she sighed. “For now, being in her room will have to serve as her punishment.”
“It’s not fair,” pouted Henry.
“I know it’s not but you were two once, too,” she reached out and stroked his hair, uncovering his eyes. She must remember to get his hair cut. “and you got the same punishments or lack of them that she does. You just don’t remember. Now go get a cookie and go play outside.”
He brightened at the prospect of an extra cookie. “Thanks, Mama.” He turned and rushed away toward the kitchen.
“You spoil those children,” Bertha said, with a slight smile.
“No more than you do.” She n
eeded to talk to Bertha, who’d been with Nellie since she was Violet’s age. “Bert, I found a man who wants to marry me. He’s in San Francisco.”
“That’s a long way away, Nellie,” said Bertha, a frown creasing her brow.
That was all that Bertha said, but the statement spoke volumes. Nellie would not leave without Bertha, who had no family. Even though Nellie would give her a good reference there was no guarantee she’d find another position. And…she was family.
“I’ll tell her I’ll accept.” She reached out and clasped Bertha’s hand. “but only if I can bring you. The matchmaker said, he’s a wealthy man and has already sent money for the ship passage for ‘the woman and any children she might have’.”
“That’d be wonderful,” said Bertha with watery eyes. “You’re my family, too, Nellie. The only family I have.”
“Good that’s settled. I’ll go back and see Mrs. Selby tomorrow. In the mean time, we can start packing. The ship leaves for San Francisco on April first.”
“Less than a month away. That’ll cut it close, but I’ll see it’s done,” said Bertha as she hurried off toward the kitchen.
Relief and excitement coursed through Nellie. As long as she had her children and Bertha, she could face anything.
A Touch of Passion (boxed set romance bundle) Page 121