But I’ll have to tell Mrs. Sump, and I don’t have one particle of faith that it won’t get blamed on me.
Later
I haven’t found the suitcase or told Mrs. Sump yet. There is so much to do! I had to leave off writing to start unpacking the trunks. Tonight Mr. Sump has bought tickets to Enrico Caruso in Carmen. They’re to dine out at the Palace Hotel beforehand and go to Delmonico’s after, which is just about the fanciest restaurant in town. Well, didn’t that set Mrs. Sump to rights. She is now proclaiming what a fine and generous man he is.
Such a flurry now, for all of San Francisco society will be there and Mrs. Sump must wear her gold gown and her pearls.
Oh, diary, you should see her bedroom. A thick Turkey rug on the floor and you never saw such an enormous mirror. Her bed is the size of three or four of my bed at home. There are four posts sticking up that make a cage above the bed. There are supposed to be draperies that hang over it, but they haven’t arrived yet. (You can imagine how she felt about that.) Porcelain vases almost as tall as I am and full of peacock feathers. She is unhappy because the marble mantel ordered from Italy has not been installed. It’s propped against the wall. Chinese vases, Turkey carpet, Italian mantel, French drapes — if you stood in the middle of the room and twirled, you’d get yourself a walloping trip ’round the world.
If I had this room, I would leave it almost bare and maybe just have a few things, white and blue and gray. Then I’d have a little armchair right by the window so I could just look out the window at the view. A breeze has sprung up and pushed the fog away. I have never seen anything like this blue bay and soft hills.
I wouldn’t like to live in a mansion. But I would like a little house with a view of all that blue.
My own room is in the attic. It is small and spare, but I didn’t expect any better. There’re two more beds in it, so I’ll have to share. There is a view of the chimneys.
There was another argument when Lily said she had a headache and would not take tea with them. Mrs. Sump said she couldn’t stay in her room and sulk, this was their home now. Mr. Sump told Mrs. Sump to let the poor child alone and bade me to bring her a cold cloth for her forehead and her tea on a tray. So that’s what I did.
Here’s what happened just now. I need to set it down just as I heard it so I can study it later. I don’t know what to think.
I brought the tea tray into the study. Mr. Sump had the green case on the desk and was unlocking it. He waited, his hands on the lid, until I’d left the room.
So I waited outside in the hall to listen. Just for a moment, I decided. I was dying to know what was in the case.
It isn’t jewelry. It’s money. Cash money.
“I was terrified the whole journey,” Mrs. Sump said. “I could have been murdered in cold blood.”
“But you weren’t.”
“I don’t understand why I couldn’t wire the money.”
I heard sounds of footsteps and then something opening. Something clanged.
“Sometimes in business, my dear, it is better not to have a record of things.”
“I did as you asked, Chester.” I heard the clatter of a teacup. “I don’t have to understand it, but I do follow your orders. And tell me this: Why does that Jewell character have the cheek to call on us? What did he do for you?”
“Never mind. He did his job and he’s been paid handsomely for it,” Mr. Sump said. “He had certain skills I required. We won’t see him again.”
Now I needed to hear this. Curiosity pushed me down the hall and next door to the reception room. There are double doors in the study that lead to the reception room, I guess so they can be thrown open if the Sumps throw a big party. I stole inside and while Mrs. Sump was talking I cracked open those doors. I could see right to the desk where Mr. Sump sat.
My heart was a hammer. Bang!Bang!Bang!
He was writing something in a book.
Mrs. Sump asked if he was listening to her.
He still said nothing.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rising.
“The secret to success in business,” he said, blowing on the ink and then snapping the book closed, “is two sets of books.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“That’s all right, my dear. You don’t have to.”
He rose and went to the fireplace. There was paneling along the sides, all carved images of leaves and fruit and flowers. It had been painted in gold. His back was to me and he must have pressed something, because the paneling slid up and disappeared into the wall.
Mrs. Sump looked up from the tea table. “Whatever are you doing?”
“I had them conceal the safe.”
“How clever! What is the combination? I should put my jewels in it.”
I was closer to Mr. Sump and I only heard him say:
“My precious flower.”
Which was odd, because I never heard him call her anything nicer than “my dear,” and even that he said in a businesslike way.
She asked for the combination again and he just said she never pays attention to him. He took out a large strongbox and brought it to the desk. Then he reached for his pocket watch. I couldn’t see what he did — there must have been a key on the chain — because he unlocked the strongbox and then put the bundles of cash and some papers and the book inside.
“Here it is, my dear. What you brought will finance our life here for several years. It took me two years of planning to buy up that one square block. Now Philadelphia will have its department store on Spruce Street, and I will have my money, and you will have your society life. Crandall leaves tomorrow to finalize the last deal.”
“I’m sure you’re very clever,” Mrs. Sump said. “Tea?”
Spruce. That’s where the tavern is! Could that be the “last deal”? My head was spinning with it all.
Mrs. Sump sipped her tea and said she hopes his poker days are over and he said yes, but if there’s an advantage to be had in business he’ll seize it, no matter how. And for her to stop questioning him about business matters. Sometimes he needs men like Mr. Jewell in his employ. They are useful, and that is that.
“I thought those types were behind us,” Mrs. Sump said, and he laughed. “You’re joking, Olive. San Francisco is full of them,” he said. “They’re running the town! It’s glorious. Wide open city. And that’s why we’re going to just get richer.”
I don’t care what she said next because my head was already buzzing with all those words, and I’m still trying to sort it out.
Mr. Sump paid Andrew Jewell? What did Mr. Sump mean when he said he did his job? And he had certain skills. . . . And his poker days are behind him. . . .
And the look on Andrew Jewell’s face when he was turned away at the door.
It is too much for my head to sort out. But I will.
I want to see what is in that book.
I’m in the kitchen, which is three times the size of our old apartment, with rooms running off it for the housekeeper and the butler, and there’s a butler’s pantry to lay out plates and things that leads to the dining room and there’s a food pantry, too, that’s already been stocked, so that’s good. I’ll have to make some kind of breakfast tomorrow so I need to look into the larder and figure out the stove, which isn’t a problem. I am used to a big kitchen. Mrs. Sump said of course she didn’t expect me to act as cook, but a breakfast of eggs and ham and toast and corned beef and porridge would be acceptable.
I had my own tea sitting at the big long servant’s table, just me and cheese and bread and tea. It is lovely how food in your belly can make you feel better about almost anything. My head is clearer now to think.
Except what do I know of business deals?
I do know about ledgers. Mama kept a ledger for the tavern and showed me how it worked, how you write amounts in columns, what money you take in and what money you pay out. We only had one ledger, however.
The bell will ring in a moment summoning me to get the tea t
hings in either Lily’s room or the study.
When I unpacked Lily’s trunk I took a nightgown so I’d have something for tonight. She has six. I took the one with the tear at the hem, so I could say that I took it for mending if I get caught. One handkerchief, because she has at least ten, her initials embroidered on them, and not by her, I’ll tell you, because the stitches are so neat. I’ve seen her embroidery.
I don’t have a day off until next week. Tomorrow I’ll need a uniform. I’ll have to tell Mrs. Sump that I need clothes, but I’m not looking forward to that conversation. She’ll have to advance me money. She will certainly blame me — she could fire me, with the temper she’s in. As much as I don’t want to be here, I want even less to land back home in disgrace, fired on my first real day.
And now I have to find out what Mr. Sump knows and I do not about the sale of the tavern.
We lost the tavern.
Papa gambled it away.
His fault.
But what if someone . . . pushed him?
Right here is where a knock came at the kitchen door, so loud it made me jump. That is the spill of the tea here that I circled. Next to it is the name JAKE, for me to remember.
I opened the door. A dark-haired boy in a cap stood outside with a carton in his arms. “Delivery,” he said, as if it wasn’t obvious by the greens sticking out. He followed me inside and put the carton down on the counter but didn’t leave.
He said something about how he’d been walking by this house every day, and how fast it went up. That’s the way of it in San Francisco, he said. The quicker the better — it was the talk of Nob Hill. Had I seen City Hall yet? Now there’s a building, though they say that bribes and payoffs got it built.
I didn’t answer, because the rush of words didn’t leave me much room.
“Heard all the servants quit and went over to the Langley house on Clay.” The boy shook his head. “Hoo boy, what a dustup. Then the workmen up and quit, too.”
“You seem to know the business of this house very well,” I said in my most prim voice.
“Aw, not really. It’s not like I’m a snoop, if that’s what you’re saying. I’ve been here with deliveries while the cook built up the larder. Mrs. Pyle — she was a good sort, and what a cook! Gave me a ham biscuit once. She told me what’s what the very day she left, how Mr. Langley himself knocked on the back door and offered them double their salaries to leave. And they had no loyalty built up to Sump, you see. They’d only been here for two weeks, setting up the household. And in that time they saw what it would be like, working here, so they left. They didn’t like your boss much.”
Nor do I, but I’ll keep that to myself.
“Don’t worry, though, I’m sure he’s not as bad as all that,” he said, because I guess I looked worried.
He asked me where I was from and I told him Philadelphia and then he whistled and said he’s a born and bred Californian and never been east of Oakland.
I didn’t want to be seen standing there chatting with a delivery boy. But then I thought maybe I need him to help me. I do have a little bit of money Mama gave me back in Philadelphia, ten dollars, and with that I could buy a uniform I’m sure, it being so plain. I could buy a few things to tide me over. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to tell Mrs. Sump I lost my suitcase. I asked him if there was a seamstress nearby.
“’Course there is, this is San Francisco, greatest city west of Chicago. Plenty of ’em. But why don’t you try a department store for ready-made things? First off there’s City of Paris down by Union Square. You don’t know where that is, do you?”
“We passed it on the way. I haven’t seen much of the city.”
“All right, then.” He plucked a package of carrots wrapped in brown paper out of the box and then fished a stubby pencil out of his pocket.
“You’re here, see? On Sacramento Street.” He drew thick lines on the paper, sketching quickly. “This here is California Street — that’s where you might have seen the big mansions, Crocker and Huntington, and the new Fairmont Hotel. If you walk down that street, straight down, and then turn right on Powell, you’ll be at Union Square. Or you could catch the cable car from here for a corking ride down the hill. The Powell Street line will take you right to the square, and then if you look straight across you’ll see the City of Paris department store right here.” He grinned. “Might be too expensive for the likes of us, but there’s plenty of other stores. There’s a place on Mason Street for more working folk, I can give you the address.” He wrote it down on the paper.
He gave me another look and unwrapped more clean space on the paper. “Look here, it’s not hard to get around once you get a few facts straight. San Francisco is all up and down, it’s true, but we’ve got water on nearly all sides, so you can almost always figure out where you are — if you climb to the top of the nearest hill,” he added, grinning.
He drew more quick lines. “Here’s the ocean — that’s as far west as you can get. See this rectangle? That’s Golden Gate Park — runs all the way out to the Pacific. You can take the streetcar out there and wade in the ocean — jiminy, it’s cold. See this sort of squarish space? The Presidio, where the Army is. It goes down to the bay. You could walk it in a morning if you wanted to. This big wide street here is Van Ness. It starts at the bay and runs right up like this. Here’s City Hall, and here’s Chinatown. And this here’s the Barbary Coast, you don’t want to venture there. On this side is Telegraph Hill and here’s Russian Hill, where I live. Not too far from here.” He smiled at my confused face. “You’ll get it. On your days off, you can explore.”
“I only have one day off.”
“Me too. I work at Jennardi’s as a delivery boy most days after school, and then hauling crates of whiskey down at Hotaling’s on Saturdays. Say, you wouldn’t have a night off tonight, would you? Because down at Mechanics’ Pavilion they’re having a roller-skating contest. You wouldn’t be going just with me,” he said quickly, “if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m going with my sister and brother and cousins — a big group. You’ll be well chaperoned. Should be a shindig. And for once it isn’t damp and chilly. Feels like the first day of spring out there.”
I couldn’t for the life of me imagine going to Mrs. Sump and asking if I could go rollerskating on my first night here. I laughed, and the boy looked hurt.
“I think it’s a bit early to be asking for a night off, don’t you?” I pointed out to him. “I don’t want to get my ears boxed on my first day.”
“Well, that depends,” Jake said with a genial grin. “You might consider it breaking in a new boss, letting ’em know what they’re in for.” He pointed to the tea tray. “And if you’re the only one here, roller skates might help you with chores.”
I laughed, thinking of skating on the polished, elegant floor, bringing the tea tray to the study. “That would be a sight,” I said. “I don’t know how to roller-skate, or ice-skate, either. I’d smash the tea set before I got across the kitchen.”
“That’s why you have to come with us tonight. All you need is practice.”
We grinned at each other, and then I felt awkward, like he might think I was forward, or flirting with him. There’s no telling what he was thinking. So I busied myself taking the things out of the carton.
He edged toward the door. “I’m sure we’ll meet again. I do the deliveries, like I said. I’m Jake Jennardi, by the way. Yeah, my family owns the store. We’re right down the hill on Broadway.”
I knew he was waiting for me to supply my name, but I hesitated. I didn’t like how familiar he was.
“Aw, that’s all right. You want to wait for a proper introduction I reckon. You’ll find we’re a bit more informal here.” I stiffened, thinking he was making fun, but he touched his fingers to his cap and whistled as he headed for the door. “Well, I can wait. Good-bye, Philadelphia.”
Couldn’t help smiling at that while I folded up his map and tucked it between your pages, diary.
8 P.M.
Lily refused to go to the opera. Another scene. Mrs. Sump said it was the perfect opportunity for her debut into society. Mrs. Sump doesn’t care about some Italian singer, but everyone will be there and they must be, too.
But Lily said her headache was worse. I don’t blame her — if I had that woman yammering at me like that, my head would pound, too.
I’ve laid out Mrs. Sump’s nightclothes and I’ve checked on Lily, knocking on her door and hearing her say she’s fine and she’s going to bed.
Mr. Sump stopped me outside in the hall, saying he wanted to make sure I could find everything and apologizing for not having other servants tonight and my having to do everything.
And of course I curtsied and said I was fine, sir.
That’s when he said to me that he would appreciate my telling him if any communication arrived for Lily at any time, because he would like to examine it first, being her father. He must have seen the reluctance on my face, because he said he is the head of the house and even though I wait on Miss Sump I take orders from him.
“I’ve been a benefactor to your family, Minette,” he said. “I was happy to be able to extend a hand of generosity to an unfortunate circumstance so that a worthy family would not slide into poverty and disgrace. It’s not that I expect thanks” — and here he paused, diary, so that I could dip into a small curtsy and thank him — “but I do expect loyalty.”
Was that what my father was, an unfortunate circumstance? Not a person?
“I’m prepared to be loyal to you both, sir,” I said, which wasn’t much of an answer and by the scowl on his face he knew it.
Midnight
I am waiting up for the Sumps to return. She could want some tea, she said, and help getting into her nightclothes. With all those buttons and clasps, I’m sure she’s right. I am so tired. I have to be up at five to start the fires in the rooms.
Earlier in the evening I knocked on Lily’s door to collect her tea tray and she wasn’t there. When I looked out the window I saw her walking quickly down the hill toward the house. I imagine she wanted some fresh air for her headache, and who could blame her? I took the tea tray and fixed up her bed again and then laid out her nightclothes.
A City Tossed and Broken Page 4