Lately, she had more reason to go back than ever. She’d finally received two letters from home, one from Bridger, the other from Victoria. She opened Bridger’s first. In it, he told her how well he was feeling, and how she’d done the right thing when she’d run out on her marriage to “that lying scoundrel, Roberto.” Victoria’s letter warmed Belle’s heart. “We all make mistakes,” she wrote. “Come home as soon as you can, back to the loving arms of your family.” At the end of her letter, she wrote, “Bridger is not doing well. He stays in his room all the time now and tries to conceal his pain, but I know he’s suffering more than ever.”
That settled it. She must get home to Savannah as soon as possible.
Early one afternoon, when Belle and Mrs. Hollister were chatting in the drawing room, the doorbell rang. Bertha answered and soon came in to announce, “Miss Ainsworth, there’s a man wants to see you. He says he has a message for you but won’t come in.”
Curious, Belle hastened to the door and found Tony Romano standing on the doorstep, a tentative smile on his face. “Hello, Miss Ainsworth, I’ll bet you’re surprised to see me.”
Flabbergasted would be more like it. She liked Roberto’s younger brother. He’d always been friendly, and she’d never considered him a threat. “What a surprise, Tony. To be honest, you’re about the last person I expected to see. How did you find me?”
“Well, uh…” Tony looked uneasy. “I don’t know exactly. Roberto found you, but I don’t know how.”
Belle remembered her manners. “Won’t you come in?”
“No, thank you, I won’t. I just needed to deliver this message.”
“Then go ahead, Tony, if you’re sure.” She couldn’t imagine what he had to say.
“There’s a big family dinner tonight at Romano’s Fish Grotto, and you’re invited.”
She stared at him, tongue-tied. “I’m invited?”
“Yes, you.”
“But why? Roberto must still be angry at me. I can’t say that I blame him, considering how I ran away like I did.”
Tony nodded in agreement. “He was fit to be tied, and with good reason. I know it sounds crazy, but he’s beyond all that now. He’s not mad anymore. He’s forgiven you, and when he saw you at Meiggs Wharf the other day, he got to thinking what a nice idea it would be if we all got together for dinner at his restaurant. He talked to the family, and they all agreed. They were happy when they found out you hadn’t left the city yet, and really want to see you again. That means everyone, including the kids.”
What should she do? She would love to see Mama and Rosa again, even Gianna, but she hadn’t forgotten Roberto’s arrogance and conceit, and found it hard to believe he’d actually forgiven her. “I’m not sure.” She remembered the other day, and how Tony had acted on the wharf. “If Roberto has forgiven me, why were you so anxious for me to leave the other day?”
“I was mistaken. He was happy to see you, and you don’t have to worry about a thing. And besides, it’s not like Roberto wants to get you off to some dark, secret place by himself. We’ll all be in his restaurant, surrounded by people. What could be safer?”
He had a point. She had nothing to worry about, so why not go? She’d be leaving the city soon, probably forever, and would feel a lot better knowing she’d made amends with the family that had treated her so well. Bruno excepted, of course. “What time?”
“I’ll come get you at seven.”
Back in the drawing room, Belle told Mrs. Hollister about her surprising invitation.
The older woman arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?”
“I wouldn’t if I didn’t think it was safe, but Tony assured me Roberto isn’t angry anymore. I couldn’t care less about seeing him, but Mama and Rosa were especially kind. I’d like to tell them so and say the proper goodbyes.”
Mrs. Hollister gave one of her disdainful sniffs, the kind Belle well remembered from the train. “If you want my opinion, you’re making a mistake.”
“Why do you think so?”
The older woman frowned in thought. “I’m simply going by what you’ve told me about Roberto. He’s a vain, arrogant man, and those kind never forgive.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“Maybe you should bring Yancy with you.”
What a bad idea. Belle would have laughed aloud if Mrs. Hollister hadn’t been so serious. “Yancy wouldn’t be interested. And besides, like you, he’d think I was making a mistake.”
“That’s because maybe you are.”
Was she? For a moment, a chill crossed her heart. Even so, a few second thoughts weren’t enough to change her mind.
* * * *
Belle gave careful thought to what she would wear for her dinner with the Romanos and decided upon the royal-blue gown that was becoming but not too fancy. Tony picked her up at seven. As usual, he was easy to talk to, and by the time they reached Romano’s Fish Grotto, she was chatting away, the last of her uneasiness forgotten. “Big crowd tonight,” Tony remarked as he found a free space among the many horses and carriages parked around the building.
Belle stepped eagerly from the carriage. “I’m so looking forward to seeing your family again.”
A steady murmur of voices greeted her as she stepped inside the large room filled with tables, all of them full. She looked for the Romanos but didn’t see them. “Where—?”
“We’re dining privately.” Tony led the way to the other side of the restaurant to a heavy oak door marked Banquet Room. He opened it and stepped back. “You first, Miss Ainsworth.”
Belle stepped into a dimly lit room almost cavernous in its proportions. At first she couldn’t see much. Squinting, she took a step forward. The room seemed empty. Where was everyone? She heard a clicking noise behind her. Was that a door shutting? She turned to ask Tony, but he wasn’t there, and the door was shut. “Tony!” She grasped the doorknob and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t move. “Tony!” she called louder this time.
“Good evening, Belle. I’m so happy you could join me.”
Roberto’s voice, coming from deep within the room. She turned to look at him, her back pressed defensively against the door. She could see him now—seated at the head of a long banquet table that ran down the center of the room. Her eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light, and she could see several long tables, all of them empty. “Where is everyone?”
“I’ll explain everything,” Roberto replied in a reasonable voice. “No cause for alarm. Come and sit down, Belle.”
What was going on? Where were Mama, Rosa, and all the rest? Hadn’t they arrived yet? She moved closer. At first she hadn’t noticed, but the room seemed to be decorated for a special occasion—a wedding, she guessed, judging from the white crepe paper streamers and wedding bells that hung from the ceiling. Rows of complete settings—plates, silverware, napkins, water and wineglasses—lined each side of the tables, along with large flower arrangements placed in the center.
But wait. Something wasn’t right, and she couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
While she moved toward the table where Roberto was sitting, she took a closer look. Apparently dinner had already been served because the plates were full of food. She looked closer still and nearly gasped aloud. Not fresh food, but withered, dried-looking food that had been sitting on the plates for who knew how long. Some of the water glasses were full, some half full, some empty. Same with the wineglasses. Napkins had been tossed every which way. The haphazard position of some of the knives and forks indicated they’d been thrown down in a hurry. “Roberto, what is this?”
“Come sit down and I’ll explain,” he replied, his tone friendly and reasonable.
She didn’t want to sit next to him. She wanted to leave, but the door was locked, and he wasn’t going to open it. Stay calm. At least he didn’t sound angry. She would listen to what
ever he had to say and then demand he unlock the door so she could get out of here. She walked to the head of the table. There he sat, a slight smile on his face, dressed in a black formal tailcoat and white bow tie—exactly what he would have worn at their wedding. He rose from his seat. “Before you sit down, I want to show you something.” He led her to a long table that stood against the back wall. A beautifully decorated four-tiered wedding cake sat in the middle, complete with black-and-white figures of a bride and groom on the top. A large punch bowl sat on either side of the cake, surrounded by rows of crystal punch cups. A knife decorated with a big white bow lay next to the cake.
Roberto placed a hand on her shoulder. “Can you see what’s written on the bottom layer?”
Belle bent to look closer. Oh, my God. She could hardly believe it, but there it was: “Roberto & Belle” written in pink icing, surrounded by tiny pink and white rosebuds. She raised up and stared at him in astonishment. “This is our wedding dinner?”
“How did you guess?” A small measure of sarcasm had slipped into his voice.
“But this is insane.”
“You think so?” He led her back to the head of the table where two place settings, one of them unused, had been arranged. He pointed to the unused one. “Let me tell you about that night, Belle. This is where you were going to sit. I sat here waiting…and waiting. The guests were getting hungry, so I decided we’d start the dinner. So everyone sat down at the tables, but they kept looking around. ‘Where’s the bride?’ They kept saying it. ‘Where’s the bride?’ Then gradually I saw it on their faces. ‘She’s not coming. Roberto has been jilted. Roberto has been made a fool of.’”
His voice had been low when he started, but it kept rising until now he was almost shouting. She could try to explain, but what could she say? If she told the truth, she’d have to admit she had disliked him on sight and loathed and despised him by the time she left. “Roberto, I’m truly sorry I caused you any pain. It was not my intention. I simply realized the marriage wasn’t going to work, and it would be best for me to leave as quickly as possible.”
“Do you realize…?” He drew in a deep, uneven breath that revealed the fury raging beneath his calm façade. “Here I sat with a roomful of guests. Friends, family, neighbors, my employees, Belle, my employees! Can you understand my humiliation when you didn’t show up?”
Her knees were going weak. “Well, I…”
“Not to mention the money I spent. The band. The flowers. The food. Look around you.” In a wild, uncontrolled gesture, he waved his arm. “‘Spare no expense,’ I said. ‘This is my wedding day.” Shouting, he repeated, “MY WEDDING DAY!”
The last of Roberto’s friendly pretense had dropped away. Looking into his cold, hard eyes, Belle could hardly breathe. Here was a man in a black rage with hatred in his heart. She thought she could control the situation but how foolish. She was helpless, at his mercy. She wouldn’t give up, though, and would try to calm him down. “Let’s sit and talk, shall we?” she suggested in a pleasant tone. “I’ll try to explain.” Although what she could possibly say she had no idea.
His breath coming hard, he replied, “Of course, Belle.” He pulled out the chair from her unused place at the table. “Have a seat.” He sat and faced her. “Better late than never.”
She sank into the chair, ignoring the heavy sarcasm in his last remark. She would try to distract him. “How did you find me?”
He laughed and replied, “That was easy. Remember the day your friend came to get your trunk? My fine nephew, Bruno, hitched a ride on the back of his carriage when he returned home, so I knew where you were staying.”
“But I didn’t stay there long.”
“You think your friend wasn’t easy to follow?” Roberto’s eyes narrowed. “So you live on Nob Hill now? Cavorting with the millionaires? Nice work, Belle.”
Any explanation concerning why she was living on Nob Hill would be worthless, and she wouldn’t even try. In desperation, she slanted a quick glance toward the door.
“Don’t bother,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“What about Tony?”
“He does what I tell him to do.”
So Tony not only knew, his lies were what brought her here. “I can’t believe this.” She looked around the room again. The white crepe streamers were beginning to sag. The flowers had long since wilted and turned brown. The pathetic sight jogged her memory. This was a scene straight from Charles Dickens’s Great Expectations. She’d read the book ages ago but still remembered poor Miss Havisham, the crazy old woman who’d been jilted at the altar. Decades later, she still wore her wedding dress and had left everything the same as on her wedding day, cake and all. But Miss Havisham was a figment of the author’s imagination. Nobody in real life could be that crazy. “Roberto, why haven’t you had this room cleaned up? There must be a reason.”
He smiled and didn’t answer. He picked up an unopened bottle of champagne and gazed at the label. “Veuve Clicquot. Special for our wedding dinner.” His dark eyes narrowed and hardened. “I paid over two hundred dollars for just one bottle.”
Fear gripped her heart. She didn’t know what he was planning, but he did not wish her well. “I’m truly sorry I cost you money and caused all this grief, Roberto.”
“Let’s drink a toast anyway, shall we? For old time’s sake.” Without waiting for an answer, he popped the cork from the Veuve Clicquot, pulled two champagne glasses close, and started pouring. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “The glasses are clean and straight from the kitchen.” When he finished pouring, he handed her a glass. “Drink up. Let’s not waste my two hundred dollars.”
“Thank you.” She took the glass and set it on the table.
Her action seemed to amuse him. He lifted his own glass and took a sip. “It’s not poisoned.”
The last thing she wanted was a glass of champagne, but she’d better go along with whatever he said. “I didn’t think it was.” She lifted the glass and took a sip. The bubbling liquid tickled her palate. It was all she could do to keep from wrinkling her nose.
“Fine then.” He leaned back in his chair, as if he were all relaxed, but she knew he wasn’t. “This is an interesting room,” he said. “Do you know its history?”
She shook her head.
“The restaurant is new, but the banquet room is part of an old saloon called the Golden Spike. It was built back in the gold rush days. From what they tell me, it had a bad reputation. Did you know we’re sitting over the bay?”
“I had no idea.” She was trying to sound relaxed, as if they were having an ordinary conversation, but she couldn’t keep a slight tremor from her voice.
“Seems the Golden Spike was best known for drugging sailors, dropping them through a trapdoor to a waiting boat, and hauling them out to some ship where the captain would pay well for another crewman.” He nodded toward her nearly full glass. “You don’t like the champagne?”
“Of course I do.” She took another sip, a bigger one this time to keep him happy. “Drugging someone is a cruel thing to do,” she said.
“They used a drug called chloral hydrate. A few drops in a glass of beer was all it took. ‘Shanghaied’ they called it. That’s because the poor sod who got drugged often ended up in Shanghai, China. He’d be gone for years, sometimes forever. The original trapdoor still exists. It’s over in the corner. Would you like to see it? I’ve left it just as it was.”
No! She definitely did not want to see the trapdoor, nor even get close. She took another sip of champagne. “I trust you don’t use it anymore.” She’d tried to sound funny and relaxed but heard the fear in her voice.
He chuckled with a dry, cynical sound. “Men still get shanghaied. Not here, of course. I haven’t used the trapdoor yet, but you never know when I might have good reason to get rid of someone.”
The truth dawned. She could threaten, beg
, plead, and present every rational argument she could think of, but nothing she tried would do any good. She’d committed the unforgivable sin of embarrassing and humiliating Roberto Romano, damaged his huge ego, and he would never forgive her. All her own fault. What a fool she’d been to believe Tony’s lies. Why hadn’t she listened to Mrs. Hollister? Why hadn’t she told Yancy? She fastened her gaze on Roberto. “So what are you planning to do? Drop me through that trapdoor?”
“Yes, I am, Belle. Nobody gets the best of Roberto Romano.” He leaned back, sipping his champagne contentedly. “Can’t be helped. You will simply go missing and never be found.”
She couldn’t run, he’d catch her. The walls and door were so thick nobody would hear her if she screamed. The cake knife. At least she could defend herself and go down fighting. On the table, next to the cake. She must get her hands on it. She arose halfway from her chair. Something was wrong. Sweat breaking out on her forehead. Funny feeling in her head. Everything spinning around, light-headed, dizzy. She grabbed the table with both hands. “Roberto…you didn’t…”
“I did.”
The smiling face of Roberto Romano was the last thing she saw before she felt herself falling to the floor and darkness enveloped her.
Chapter 22
Yancy was having dinner with the children when Mrs. O’Brien announced he had a visitor. Mrs. Edith Hollister, who appeared to be quite anxious about something, awaited him in the drawing room. Yancy immediately arose from the table. He couldn’t imagine why that formidable lady had come to see him, but whatever the reason, it couldn’t be good.
Bay City Belle Page 23