Kit nodded. "I know and I'm sorry. I never meant to be gone so long, but it was quite an eventful day. I was so excited that I nearly woke you up. I just had to tell you what had happened."
Flushing a bit, knowing that part of Kit's day had been spent in Sloate's office, Freddy forced herself to be calm and merely said, "Oh?"
"Yes. I don't want to bore you with everything, but I was offered a position. A real, honest-to-goodness legal position!"
"Heath offered you a position?"
Kit's expression grew sullen. "No, Aunt Freddy."
"Then why did he want you to—"
"Please, let me tell you my news."
Freddy considered her niece carefully. She seemed to be hiding something, or maybe it was just youthful confusion. "Well?"
"I know you have reservations about me, Aunt Freddy. But please let's wait and see. I am going to be an assistant to an attorney. He's a wonderful man. I actually was allowed to watch him at work. He invited me to observe him in the middle of a case. It was wonderful! He was wonderful!"
"What is the name of the paragon?" Freddy demanded.
She saw Kit look down at the floor, as if afraid to speak. Her red hair, which had not yet been pinned up, fell forward over her shoulders. Freddy momentarily envied the youthful image. It seemed only yesterday that she had been that age. Kit looked as though she were a young girl about to receive her comeuppance for some naughty deed. Perhaps a cookie taken without permission or a china cup accidentally broken.
For a moment, Freddy forgot herself all together. The ache in her knees reminded her that time had taken its toll. The young beauty before her, so full of guarded excitement, reminded her that the years ahead would be given over to other, more capable, hands. Freddy's reign would not last forever.
Kit finally found her voice. "He really is a very nice man." She looked up to meet Freddy's stern gaze. The action brought Freddy back to the matter at hand.
"Come now, child!" Freddy said. "Who is he?"
"Aunt Freddy," Kit said softly, "it's Mr. Earl Rogers."
The shock could not have been greater if the name had been Satan. In an instant, Freddy knew it would have to be as Heath said. Having Kit work for that man, alone, would be enough to ruin them both socially.
Gathering her thoughts, Freddy said, "Sit, my dear." She guided Kit to the window bench and gently urged her down.
"What is it?" Kit said, her voice revealing concern.
"I regret very much what I have to say," Freddy began. "But you must believe I have only your best interests at heart. I have thought all this through, and my decision is firm. I must send you back to New York." There. She'd said the words—there was no turning back.
Kit looked up at her, a dumbfounded expression on her face. When she opened her mouth, Freddy put up a hand. "I must tell you the signs are very clear."
"What signs?"
"Many. I consulted with Madame Zindorf yesterday—"
"You what?"
"Now watch your tone of voice, girl!"
Her niece's cheeks flushed. "You spoke to a fraud about me?"
"Madame Zindorf is not a fraud, young lady. She is one of the finest mystics in this city!"
"Oh, Aunt Freddy." Now Kit's voice was tinged with disappointment. "We can't have someone read tea leaves or palms in order to tell us what the future holds. Those things are of the devil, and you mustn't toy with them."
Freddy reddened. How dare Kit presume to preach to her elders! "You are a child and you speak as a child. I have known the benefit of Madame Zindorf for years. Why, she once even contacted my departed husband. Jasper himself told me to continue to consult with her."
"But don't you see?" Kit protested. "She would say such a thing because she stands to benefit. She makes money on keeping you tied to her."
Freddy's mind was made up. "I am firm on this. I cannot allow you to keep on pursuing a legal career and live under this roof. Especially working for the likes of Mr. Earl Rogers! No, never. I will not continue to provide you with home and income here in Los Angeles. I will send you a monthly stipend if you will return to New York and take a teaching position there, as you once had opportunity."
"But, Aunt Freddy—"
"No, child," Freddy said quickly. Fearing she might hesitate if she allowed Kit to speak, she went on, "That is my decision in this matter. I will not have any further discussion."
She watched her niece's face change from incredulity to wretchedness. Her heart ached but she remained steadfast, even as Kit stood, her eyes brimming with tears.
When Kit spoke, it was as if her voice came from a deep, abandoned well. "If that is your desire," she said, and quickly fled the room.
Freddy took a step toward her, then stopped. She noticed her hand was raised toward the door of the library. Slowly, she put it down.
Chapter Nine
KIT THREW HERSELF on the bed, burying her head in a pillow. She pounded the mattress with her fist.
Oh, dear God, why is this happening? Am I a plaything to be thrown between people? I'm sorry, God, I just don't understand!
She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned to see Corazón.
"What is it, Miss Shannon?" she said softly.
"Oh, Corazón," Kit said, and without thinking anything of it, she hugged her maid. There was no social distinction now, only the warmth of a friend, her only friend. Kit did not speak for a long time, and Corazón did not once move or ask what the matter was. It was as if they understood each other without any words.
Kit finally pulled away. "I tried to reason with Aunt Freddy, but she has that Madame Zindorf taking her money and telling her to send me away. Of course she wants me to go. She probably fears I'll see how she's taking advantage of poor Aunt Freddy. How can I not speak my mind?"
"Sí, Madame Zindorf, she is bad for your aunt. I no like her," Corazón said, lowering her face. "She frighten me with her ways."
Kit squeezed the younger woman's hand. "I'm sure I would not like her either, but God wouldn't have us be afraid of her." Kit sighed and shook her head. "I just don't know what to do. Aunt Freddy is insisting I go back to New York and be a teacher, but things are just now starting to work out. Mr. Rogers has offered me a job in his law office."
"I no want you to go," Corazón admitted. "I like very much that we are friends."
"As do I. I've had so few friends in my life," Kit admitted. "I just hate feeling confused. I don't know what to do about this." She didn't know why she was bothering to tell Corazón, for there was nothing her maid could do. It was one thing to share a burden, but Kit knew Corazón didn't have influence with Aunt Freddy or anyone else that could help. But she did offer a reminder.
"Our heavenly Father will help you," Corazón said. "And I will light for you a candle."
Kit held Corazon's hand tightly. "Yes, thank you." Corazón was right. Times of distress were not times to give up praying. "Will you pray with me now?" she said.
"Oh," Corazón said, "I only pray the rosary."
"I know," Kit said, remembering her training at the hands of the nuns, "but my papa taught me that prayer is a conversation with God, just like we're doing now."
"Es verdad? I mean, this is true?"
"Quite true," said Kit. "Just close your eyes and I'll show you how it is done."
Bowing her head, Kit began to pray. "I'm completely spent, Lord. I've tried to work this out in my own strength. I know you will fight for me. I know you will give me the strength to face my future and the wisdom needed to make choices for that future. Please guide me, Father. I wish only to do your will. Amen."
Kit opened her eyes and met Corazon's hesitant glance. The maid shook her head. "It is not my way. It seems very strange."
"Maybe in time you'll feel more comfortable with praying on your own. God is there all the time, no matter what. I remember times when there was no food in the cupboard and my papa was off preaching. Mama would tell me to pray for provision, and lo and behold, Papa would come r
iding home with saddlebags full of supplies given to him by people along the way."
"I did not know you were poor. I thought you always live like this."
"Oh no. There were some very lean times, even when my parents were alive."
Corazón seemed to fully understand. "My family is very poor. This job is important to me. I make money to give my mother, and it helps because my father, he no make good money. He work at whatever he can do with his hands. It never pay so good. But Mama, she is smart. She care for the children and make food that seems to come out of nowhere. She trade for things, and we always have clothes and blankets."
Corazón spoke with such love that Kit's heart ached. "You must be very loved. Your parents sound wonderful."
"Oh sí. They are."
It was then Kit heard a distant noise, something oddly mechanical, with a loud bang every now and then. She wondered if someone was shooting a gun. Then it stopped.
A few minutes later, however, there was a thumping sound at her window. The two women turned to each other with shrugs.
"I will see," Corazón said, going to the window. She pulled back the curtain and gazed out. "For you, I think."
Curious, Kit joined her and looked down.
There below in the yard stood a smiling Ted Fox. He waved at her to come down. He was dressed in a huge tan jacket that came down past his knees, heavy gloves, and strange goggles perched on top of his head. But it was the smile that intrigued her most of all. It started on his lips but seemed to light up his entire face.
"But what—" she began, then stopped when Ted put a finger to his lips. He waved at her again, conspiratorially.
Why was this? Kit wondered. And then she remembered Aunt Freddy's warnings about him. Well, despite that, she was intensely interested in Ted Fox. Though he was engaged to another woman and apparently had a less than honorable past, Kit had thought about him frequently since she'd made his brief acquaintance. Of all of the men she had met in what Freddy called "polite society," he was the only one who stood out. There was something different about him, something that made him seem out of place among the elite of the city. Just as she was out of place. Her one snippet of conversation with him had given her the impression of a man looking for something more than what was accepted. And she could certainly relate to that.
She nodded at Ted, grabbed a hat, and told Corazón, "I'm going out."
———
"Mr. Fox," she said. "This is a surprise."
He smiled, and Kit felt something stir inside her. She stifled it quickly and reminded herself again that he was engaged to the icy Miss Wynn. She had no desire to disturb that young woman's arrangements. No doubt heads would roll if Miss Wynn failed to get what she wanted. Hadn't Aunt Freddy said so? In view of this thought, Kit resolved to be strong. She would not allow any feelings for him to take root. That would only ensure further disaster, and Kit's social status, which already hung by a thread, would definitely be ruined.
Ted said, "I was sitting at home, noticing the sun coming out bright and clear, and said to myself, it's too nice a day to go sit in a stuffy bank. It's a day to look at the ocean. Have you been to the shore yet, Miss Shannon?"
"No, I—"
"And that's what I said to myself, too. Here is a visitor from the East, and I'll just wager she hasn't seen the Pacific up close. Tell me, Miss Shannon, have you ridden in a horseless carriage?"
"Why, no."
He leaned toward her and whispered, "I happen to have one down the road. Would you like to take a ride?"
The timing of the request seemed perfect. She had to get out, away from this house, away from Aunt Freddy. She needed time to think.
But this was Ted Fox, and she felt compelled to ask, "What about Miss Wynn?"
His face turned somber. "Ah, the lovely Elinor is in San Francisco with her mother, shopping for the latest trinkets from the Far East." He smiled again and added, "She won't mind."
Kit heard herself say, "Why not?" Something inside her warned that this was not the best choice she'd made since arriving in Los Angeles. The air of danger built as Ted took her arm and guided her down a path toward a buggy that looked like it had everything except a horse. It was painted a stately green with large spoked wheels at the back and smaller ones in the front. It was not the first time Kit had seen a gas-powered auto, but it would be her first time to ride in one.
Ted reached onto the seat and removed another riding jacket, holding it up for her. "You'll look lovely," he said.
She laughed as she slipped her arms inside the heavy coat, which reached down to her ankles and covered her entire dress.
"Charming," she said.
"Now beekeeper netting," Ted said. He pulled a length of fine mesh from the seat and laid it over her hat, tying it under her chin. "To protect your hair from dust," he explained.
At last he produced a pair of goggles like his own. He placed the lenses over her eyes and fastened the straps for her. The world was suddenly tinted orange. The goggle straps also helped secure the beekeeper get-up to her head.
"I feel like a mummy," she said.
"Ah, but there's life in you, Miss Kit Shannon," Ted answered.
"And I'd like to keep it. You sure this thing is safe?"
Ted laughed, took her arm, and helped her up onto the seat. "She's a Duryea," he said proudly. "Safe and secure. Isn't she a beaut?"
"She's something all right," Kit said as she avoided the metal shaft sticking straight up off of the floor, culminating in a circular wheel with a knob. The steering mechanism, Kit decided. Could that control this entire contrivance? At least the seat was comfortable.
Ted was in the rear, turning something or another, and then she heard an explosion, like a gunshot. The entire carriage began to vibrate and expel a chugging noise that was loud and insistent.
In a second Ted hopped up next to her, placed his goggles over his face, and shouted, "Are you ready?"
"Shall I pray?"
"No need! You're with Ted Fox, master of the machine!"
Another gunshot-like pop issued from the rear of the auto.
"I'll pray," Kit said.
Ted pushed and pulled a gear next to his leg, and the clamorous vehicle began to move.
It was a bumpy, loud, dusty, exhilarating ride. The sputtering contraption moved along at a rapid clip—about the speed of a cantering horse, Kit thought—and Ted seemed perfectly at home, his white teeth smiling through an increasingly dirty face. What must she look like? Kit wondered. But it was such wonderful fun she didn't care. The earlier hurt of the morning was, at least momentarily, relieved.
They couldn't talk above the noise, so Kit contented herself to take in the scenery. Spreading pepper trees and blossoming magnolias, which lined the streets of the city's outskirts, soon gave way to fields of scrubby brush interrupted by orchards and a few agricultural enterprises. So much food grown here! Kit thought. Nothing like that back in New York City. Would she really have to return East? The thought was simply unbearable. How could I have come all this way, only to give up now? She thought of something she'd read—something Teddy Roosevelt had said. "It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed."
Is that what I'm doing? Am I failing to try?
But what other alternative was there? Kit could hardly go out and find proper quarters for herself. She might have a job, but Rogers himself said the pay would be minimal. How could she hope to pay rent and buy food? The situation wasn't a matter of not trying to succeed. It was a matter of the odds being stacked against her before she'd even gotten started.
The air had a distinctive smell to it, drawing Kit away from her mournful thoughts. This wasn't the smoky industrial odor of her youth or the redolence of crowded tenements—laundry, garbage, horses, sweat—but a clean, fresh, bracing smell. Even with dust and dirt flying around the automobile, Kit felt the air was somehow pristine.
Then the ground around her became a mix of dirt and sand. The air took on a salty essence,
and then she saw it as Ted drove over a ridge—the expansive blueness of the Pacific Ocean, its tiny caps glistening in the sun like jewels. It took her breath away. She had never seen anything so majestically beautiful.
Ted brought the car to a stop on a rise overlooking the sea. The sudden cessation of noise from the gas buggy gave way to the sound of ocean waves rushing to the shore.
"It's incredible!" Kit shouted, leaping from the auto. She removed her goggles, wondering if she looked like a raccoon, and emerged from the coat. She took in a deep breath of sea air.
"The view, yes," said Ted Fox. He knelt and picked up a handful of the sandy dirt, looked at it, then threw it to the wind. "Not the ground." His voice was bitter.
"What's wrong with the ground?"
"You can't grow anything here. But my mother thinks you can. She's been sold a bill of goods. She won't listen to me, only to . . ." He paused.
"Someone trying to take advantage of her?"
There was a sudden flash in his eyes that chilled Kit. He seemed in that instant a man truly capable of doing something dreadful. Deadly? Aunt Freddy had said there was a rumor about his killing a man. Was that mere idle gossip? Kit began to wonder, but then he smiled and she could not deny the spark that flared within her.
"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" Ted said.
"Like what?"
"Like you."
"Oh, then the conversation will be quite short."
"I doubt that sincerely. The word is that you have a crazy notion to practice law."
Kit stiffened. "What's so crazy about it?"
"It isn't done, is it?"
"You mean by a woman?"
"Especially one as attractive as you."
This time his smile failed to move her. "You can drop the blarney, Mr. Fox. Women may have been denied this privilege once, but no more."
"Truly?"
"It may interest you to know that most state codes limit bar admission to 'any white male citizen.' That is changing. Here in California a woman named Clara Shortridge Foltz fought for a woman's lawyer bill, and in 1878 the code was changed to allow any citizen to pass the bar."
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