She picked them up, comparing them to the swatch. “They’re perfect. How much do I owe you?”
He waved his hand. “No charge. It is my honor to support the Mission. Miss Cameron introduced me to my wife. Did you not know?”
A smiled danced across Elizabeth’s face. “No, I didn’t. How wonderful for you.”
“Now I support the Mission in what little ways I can. You need more thread, you come see me.” He patted the tabletop.
Charles paid for the alterations and hurried to catch Elizabeth as she left the shop. “May I walk you home?”
“It’s only three blocks.” She smiled. “But if you’d like . . .”
He took the wicker basket from her arm and fell into step beside her.
“It’s romantic, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Charles jerked alert. “Wait. What is?”
“Lim Sang marrying one of the Mission girls. Donaldina as matchmaker.”
“Oh.” Charles mulled over the statements. It sounded more like an arranged marriage. “I expect it would be difficult for most of the young women who come through the Mission doors to find love after everything they’ve experienced.”
“It speaks well of his character. I’ve witnessed Donaldina’s protective mothering. I don’t believe she’d condone a marriage with someone she didn’t approve.” Elizabeth glanced sideways at him. “Most men seek women of impeccable character and reputation. Would you consider marrying a woman with a past?”
Charles stepped around a market stall. The conversation had veered into dangerous territory. “The girls didn’t choose their situations. They’re innocent of wrongdoing.”
“Many wouldn’t see it that way.”
He considered her words. “I couldn’t love a woman who cast off her virtue by her own free will—that would be far more difficult to ignore.”
Elizabeth stumbled on the cobblestones outside the Mission. He gripped her elbow to steady her, but she took a step back and pressed fingers to her chest as if to catch her breath. “We should probably say good-bye here. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.”
Charles glanced up at the large brick building. “If you wish. Has Donaldina located other legal representation?”
She stood staring at him with those impossibly large eyes. “She has yet to replace you. It’s not easy to find someone.”
“I’ll make some inquiries.” Charles fought the urge to take her hand. Three blocks had not been enough. “Elizabeth, I meant what I said. I’d like for us to be friends. I believe we have much in common.”
“I could use a friend.”
His heart lifted toward his throat. Friends—remember that. “Would you consider accompanying me to the Japanese Gardens this Saturday?”
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped. “I don’t know.”
He rushed ahead. “If you’re concerned about being unescorted, we could invite another—” he caught himself before saying couple. “Invite a friend or two. Or one of your siblings, perhaps? I could see if Henry from work might join us. We’ll make a whole group.”
“Let me think about it.”
Charles’s stomach sank. Was this her way of saying no? “Of course.”
Elizabeth backed toward the safety of the steps. “Thank you for the walk.” Her lips parted, as if searching for more words. She clamped them shut and offered a polite nod instead. Turning, she hurried up the steps and into the door.
***
Elizabeth closed the Mission door and leaned against it, chest aching. If only she could go back and change her past.
“I couldn’t love a woman who cast off her virtue by her own free will.”
She gazed at the stairway leading to the upper floors where the girls slept. Innocents, all. Elizabeth’s stomach churned. Who was I to think I had anything to offer them? She laid a hand on her midsection, her ribs pinching as if someone had drawn her corset laces inches too tight.
A knock sounded behind her, jolting her alert. Elizabeth caught her breath, turned, and opened the door a crack.
Charles stood under the overhang, her shopping basket dangling from his fingers. “I almost walked off with this.”
“I—uh—I . . .” She swallowed hard. “Thank you. Apparently, I also forgot to lock the door.”
His brow crinkled. “Is everything all right?”
She took the basket from his grasp. “Yes. Fine. I just can’t believe I was so foolish.”
Charles tipped his head to one side. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Elizabeth. We all make mistakes.” He tapped the brim of his black derby. “I’ll see you soon.”
She stood in the doorway and watched the young attorney hurry down the sidewalk. He offered a quick wave before crossing the cobblestone street.
Elizabeth closed the door and clicked each lock twice, just to be certain. She leaned her forehead on the cool wood. Yes, we all make mistakes.
***
Charles sat cross-legged on the narrow bed as he flipped through the documents and reports. He opened a notebook and scribbled down a column of figures, but the numbers didn’t add up. According to this list, there should still be plenty of money in the King family’s account. He rubbed his fingers against his pounding temples.
He pulled out the fire insurance map. With a pencil, he marked each of the King investment properties—all well within the burned zone. Most of the structures in this area had received some type of payment from the insurance companies. Charles tapped one of the locations with the pencil. The settlement Spencer wrangled two weeks ago included an adjacent property.
He glanced back at the claim report. “Building heavily damaged in earthquake, fire damage irrelevant. Displacement due to construction on made ground.” How was that possible? The neighboring building would have been on the same type of loose soil, and yet the company had agreed to a settlement.
Charles covered a yawn with the back of his fist. Stretching, he gathered the papers and returned them to the folder. He’d been going over the figures for hours. Perhaps Henry could shed some light on it in the morning. Charles didn’t trust taking this question to Spencer, and asking Uncle Silas would be tantamount to admitting defeat.
He unbuttoned his vest and lay back on the pillow. Somehow, back in his law school days, he’d imagined an attorney’s life would contain more excitement. Charles jammed fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp in an attempt to drive the ache from his head. Would politics be any better, or would someone like his uncle always be standing in the way?
Closing his eyes, Charles let his mind drift, a certain outspoken beauty never far from his thoughts. When he’d returned the basket, something in her countenance disturbed him. Perhaps she found the thought of spending an afternoon in his presence troubling. The sparks between them couldn’t be denied—could they? He rolled to his side, gazing out the window at the city lights sparkling in the clear night. He’d misjudged women before.
With a groan, he pushed himself off the bed and drew down the blind. He’d best get changed before he fell asleep in his clothes. Again.
The discrepancy in the sums plagued his thoughts, even as he pulled off his shirt. If he could prove just one of those buildings was deserving of compensation, it might go a long way toward changing Elizabeth’s poor opinion of him.
17
Elizabeth stood at the window as Yoke Soo played through the hymn a fifth time. A shiver raced through her heart, like a bird breaking free of a dense thicket. “You always play it differently. Why is that?”
Yoke Soo shrugged. “I don’t feel the same as I did a few minutes ago.”
“What’s changed?”
“I’m hungry.”
Elizabeth laughed. How often had she made similar arguments to her tutors? Eventually they’d succeeded in explaining the intricacies of the written music to her, though she still enjoyed playing by ear. “Yoke Soo, the music you play—it’s like a treasure.”
The child bobbed her head. “Yes, Teacher.”
Drawin
g a chair close to the piano, Elizabeth smiled. “If you want someone to be able to find a treasure, what do you do?”
Yoke Soo scrunched her nose. “I can play it for them.” She laid her fingers on the keys.
Elizabeth lifted a hand. “Not right now. Let’s imagine it’s a buried pirate treasure. How would someone find it?”
“A map?” Yoke Soo swung her legs back and forth.
“Right.” Elizabeth picked up the hymnal and let it fall open in her hands, the pages ruffling. “Each of these songs is a treasure. If you want to discover them—just like the person who wrote them—you have to follow the map.”
Yoke Soo fanned the pages. “So many.”
“People have composed music for as long as anyone can remember. These are just a few special ones people wrote for God.”
Yoke Soo swung around, spinning the stool toward Elizabeth. “I have songs.”
“You’ve learned many songs, as best I can tell.”
“No. My own God songs, from here.” She patted the front of her smocked blouse. “Can we write down my songs? Then if someone steals me away—like they almost did with Tien Gum—my songs won’t get lost, too.”
“We won’t let that happen. Miss Cameron is watching out for you. So am I.” A quiver raced through Elizabeth’s stomach. When had this gentle lesson gone awry? Children shouldn’t have to live with such fears. “I can help you write down your songs. But first you must focus on reading music.”
Yoke Soo grasped the hymnal and thrust it onto the rack, turning to the first page. “Teach me.”
Elizabeth leaned against the old instrument. “I will. And then you’ll be able to play every song in the book, whenever you want.”
“Let’s play them all.”
***
Charles wove through the busy lunch crowd at O’Malley’s, aiming for the small table in the back. After the late night and hectic morning, the smell of food set his blood humming.
Henry sat in the rear booth, a chicken leg in one hand, a copy of The Call in the other.
“I thought you’d be here.” Charles grinned. “Where’ve you been all morning?”
His friend gestured at the empty seat with the drumstick. “Join me.”
Charles slid onto the bench, discreetly patting his pocket to check on his billfold. Henry had yet to pay for a meal.
The clerk swiped a napkin across his face before answering. “I’ve been stuck at the Hall of Records. They’re still dealing with all the paperwork lost in the fires. Such a mess. They’ve been processing permits for buildings and property without access to any deeds of ownership. It’s a clerk’s nightmare, let me tell you.”
Charles gave the waitress his order before turning back to his friend. “I’ve got my own records headache, I’m afraid. I need your expertise.”
Henry’s face lengthened as his brows shot up. “My expertise?” He straightened his vest. “I rather like the sound of that. What’ve you got?” He pushed his dishes to the side.
Charles opened the briefcase and withdrew the stack of files. “I’ve been examining the King family’s accounts. In 1894, Dr. William King—under my uncle’s advisement—invested in multiple buildings around the city.” He opened the files and drew out several sheets of paper. “The investments paid out well for a time, but all of these structures were lost in the quake. None received compensation from the fire insurance companies.”
Taking the documents from Charles’s hand, Henry scanned them with a sigh. “Unlucky fellow. He must have been ruined.”
“He passed away a few years ago, but his family was left with nothing. The proceeds should have provided for King’s widow and his grown children.”
“It’s remarkable we didn’t all lose our shirts in the disaster.” He jabbed a finger at the folded newspaper. “Regardless of the complaints we read in the papers, most of the insurance companies have paid in full, whether or not their contracts included earthquake exclusion clauses. But some of the foreign companies, and those less solvent, haven’t been as forthcoming.”
Charles sat back, his chest deflating. There had to be something he could do for Elizabeth’s family. “How was my uncle not ruined? He made sizable investments in the same properties.”
The clerk chuckled. “Your uncle has a sixth sense. He lost some investments, but he came out smelling like a rose. Now the firm is raking money in hand over fist. Do you know how many building permit requests have passed through our doors since the earthquake? I process dozens every day.”
“Building permits? Why are we handling permits?”
“The seal from our office goes a long way toward getting it approved with city hall.”
Charles’s throat tightened. “Mayor Schmitz and attorney Abe Ruef were indicted on something similar last year.”
“For graft. Your uncle’s too smart for such nonsense. Everything’s aboveboard.”
“And representation from McKinley and McClintock doesn’t come cheap.” The three bites of meatloaf sat in Charles’s gut like a cannonball. “He’s filling the coffers.”
“And Mr. McKinley gets to have his hand in what goes where. He’s rebuilding this city, one property at a time.” Henry lifted his glass. “A city built to his specifications—and they’re paying him to do it.”
A chill swept over Charles, like stepping into an icy rain. Should anyone have such power? He frowned and tapped the folders. “But what about this case? How can one building receive compensation and its neighbor be denied? The insurance policies appear identical.”
Henry shrugged. “You’re the attorney. My guess is, it depends on who’s doing the fighting and how much money they’ve got.”
Charles jammed fingers through his hair. “If my uncle has a stake in these buildings, why isn’t he protecting his investments?”
“Have you asked him?”
“Every time I mention the case, he changes the subject.”
Henry took a swig of coffee. “Perhaps he doesn’t want to be reminded of his losses.”
As the server arrived to clear the dishes, Charles returned the paperwork to his satchel. Perhaps it was time to put the case away, as well. Elizabeth was the main reason he’d spent so much energy on it and considering the look on her face when he left yesterday, she wanted nothing to do with him.
So why couldn’t he let it go?
***
Elizabeth ran the broom under the classroom sewing tables, catching the stray threads into a nice pile. “I don’t know, Ruby. He’s nice, but I’m not looking for romance. I want to focus my energy here.”
Her sister folded the long curtain panel she’d been stitching for demonstration. “Why can’t you do both? He’s a handsome fellow, and he’s sympathetic toward the underprivileged. Like you, he’s interested in politics. I can’t imagine someone better suited.”
Elizabeth shook her head and continued sweeping. The one difficulty with inviting your sister to help was enduring an overly helpful sibling.
Ruby opened her sewing basket and jabbed a needle into the silk pincushion. “I think you should accept his invitation. If not to the Japanese Tea Garden, somewhere else. Perhaps you could join Gerald and me at a play or a concert.” She smiled. “Abby still wants to take Robert to the Sutro Baths. Can you imagine us all swimming? It would be fun.”
“I didn’t come to the city for merrymaking and romance. I came to serve.”
“So did I, in case you’ve forgotten.” Ruby folded both arms across her chest. “God had other plans.”
“You always say as much.” Elizabeth blew out a long breath. “I thought His plan was for me to become a concert pianist. That’s what father wanted. He told me to use my gifts.”
Ruby sat on one of the student chairs. “You never told us what happened—why you backed away from your music.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment. Tell Ruby about Tobias? Never. “I needed a change. I came here to serve God. I’m putting everything else behind me.”
“You can’t
live a life of seclusion.”
“Donaldina has made this her life’s mission and never married. Why shouldn’t I do the same?”
Ruby’s pale brows pulled together like so many gathered stitches. She walked to Elizabeth’s side and took her arm. “Gerald and I pray for you every night. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I feel like you’re hiding yourself here. I wish you’d talk to me. Or to someone—Abby or Donaldina.”
Elizabeth bit her lip. “I appreciate the prayers, Ruby, but I know what I’m doing.” She squeezed her sister’s hand and released it. “I’m even playing the piano again. I’m tutoring some of the girls.”
“I’m glad.” Ruby brightened. “I know how you delighted in it. And you’re right—father’s greatest joy was hearing you play. He adored you.” She touched Elizabeth’s face. “How he’d love to see you now.”
The words pierced Elizabeth’s heart. No, he wouldn’t. He’d hate what I’ve become. She glanced around the quiet classroom. Perhaps in time, with effort, she could once again be worthy of his love.
Kum Yong knocked on the door frame.
“Come in.” Some of the tension eased from Elizabeth’s shoulders. Finally, something to distract her sister’s attention.
Kum Yong greeted Ruby with a hug before turning to Elizabeth. “The annual board meeting is coming up—the first in the new building. Miss Cameron wants to make it special.” She brought her hands together in front of her chest. “We were hoping you could help.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth straightened. “Perhaps the girls could sew some banners for the occasion. And the curtains and cushions should be ready by then.”
Kum Yong shook her head. “We’re talking about a concert, Elizabeth. Recitations, songs, poems. Anything you think they’d enjoy.”
Ruby’s eyes danced. “Sounds like fun. Elizabeth, it’s a perfect use of your gifts.”
The hairs on the back of Elizabeth’s neck stood to attention. A concert? “The students would enjoy the diversion. Perhaps Yoke Soo could play the piano. It would be a good incentive for her to keep working at reading sheet music.”
Kum Yong smoothed her white blouse. “Donaldina wants you to play, too.” A grin darted across her face. “She wants the board to know the wonderful talent we have in our teachers.”
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