Chapter 11
San Francisco, California
It had been two weeks since Bess’s funeral, and life had taken on a natural rhythm as Sam had taught me to prepare basic recipes for the restaurant.
Between meals, Hazel and Johnnie helped with the chores, and then we spent an hour or so on schoolwork with Father before they were allowed time to play.
Father’s strength continued to improve, and he was able to spend longer periods of time out of bed. He still tired easily, but his spirits were high, and that was all that mattered.
Sam and Paddy worked on the San Francisco Hotel and Restaurant between meals, but Sam came back to Bess’s Place to make sure I had enough help to serve.
He’d hired extra men to get the new building ready in record time and told me that they were just a few weeks away from being done.
I wasn’t sure if he’d taken out a loan, and I wouldn’t ask.
Father was resting and Sam and Paddy were at the new hotel as I stood on the porch of Bess’s Place, watching people passing by on Montgomery Street.
Across from me was the brothel and hotel Sadie owned.
She didn’t serve meals, so many of the men crossed the street from one building to the next when it was time to eat.
Hazel had a copy of Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales open on a table and was reading out loud to Johnnie. The book was illustrated, and they loved to look at the pictures as Hazel read.
Cole exited Sadie’s place, like he did at this time on most days. I’d been watching, trying to learn his schedule, hoping to speak to him.
My pulse sped at the idea of approaching him now, but I might not get another opportunity.
“I’ll be gone for a few minutes,” I said to Hazel and Johnnie. “Don’t leave this room until I return.”
Even though I rarely left them, they didn’t seem concerned.
Closing the door behind me, I glanced up and down the street to make sure there were no threats—and that Sam wasn’t nearby.
The morning was quieter than usual, and no one seemed to notice or care about my presence on the street.
Cole had his hands in his pockets and his face turned down, as if deep in thought. I didn’t want to draw too much attention, but I also didn’t want to stray far from Bess’s Place, knowing I wasn’t safe without the protection of its walls around me.
Crossing the street, I watched, hoping Cole would notice me.
Finally, he lifted his gaze and paused when he saw me approaching.
I wasn’t even sure what I was going to ask or what he could tell me, but I needed to know more about him and Bess.
“Miss Adams,” he said, pulling his hands out of his pocket and crossing his arms. “Now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”
My heart was beating so fast, I was afraid it would burst out of my chest. “May I have a word with you, Mr. Goodman?”
He scratched his head and looked across the street at Bess’s Place.
“I can’t decide if I want Sam Kendal in a rage or not.
” He lifted an eyebrow and then smiled. “Who cares about Sam? I got Jim on my side, and Sam can’t touch me.
” He moved closer, as if we were going to have an intimate conversation. “What can I do for you, pretty lady?”
I stiffened, my instincts telling me to pull back, though I had approached him.
Wagons drove by on the street behind me, and people passed, their curious glances sent in our direction.
“I want to ask you about Bess,” I said.
His expression didn’t change, but he let out a long breath and nodded. “I’m sure Sam has filled your head with nonsense about me and Bess.”
“He hasn’t told me much. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
He came a little closer. “How about you and me go into Sadie’s and get something to drink? This conversation will be a lot more enjoyable if we have a little fun first.”
I stepped back, shaking my head. “I just want to know about you and Bess. Nothing more.”
He ran his hand down my arm. “I’m afraid it’s gonna cost you.”
“I know you were supposed to meet the night she died,” I said, my voice stiff with indifference as I pulled my arm back from his touch. “I don’t think Sam knew that, though. Did she meet you? Did you poison her?”
I knew he hadn’t, but I needed to get him talking.
Cole crossed his arms, a little more respect in his gaze.
Finally, he shook his head. “Usually, I went to see Bess at her place when Sam wasn’t around, but that day—the day you walked in on us in the kitchen—she suggested we meet down at the docks close to sunrise.
She said she wanted to run away to Sacramento with me.
I went down there and purchased passage for us to take the ferry across the bay, but she never showed up.
” He worked his jaw back and forth for a minute, and I could see he was genuinely upset.
“When I was on my way to confront her, I ran into Paddy, and he told me he was going for the doctor.”
I had no reason not to believe Cole, and I suspected that Bess had arranged the fake meeting, knowing that Cole was going to do something foolish that night.
Something that would cause a fire that would kill her and condemn Sam.
And she probably knew that by the time Cole realized she wasn’t going to show, she would already be dead.
“So, you see, Miss Adams,” he said, pain in his voice, “I was the victim that night. Not only did the woman I love deceive me, but she also died, and I don’t think my life will ever be the same.”
I wasn’t sure what Cole and Bess’s relationship entailed, or why Sam disliked him so much, but I didn’t doubt that Cole really cared for her. Grief hung around him like a dark cloud, and when he let his guard down, as he was doing now, I could see it was raw and devastating.
“Bess told me you want to be a writer.”
His eyes sharpened as he lifted his gaze to my face, but he didn’t say anything.
“Go to Sacramento and write that book, Mr. Goodman. Get out of San Francisco and start over. You owe it to yourself and to Bess to live the life you’ve always wanted. Nothing good will come from being in Jim’s gang. You know that, and so do I.”
He studied me for a moment, looking like he was going to say something, but hesitated.
I needed to get back to the children, so, without another word, I left Cole on the street and returned to Bess’s Place, glancing over my shoulder as I opened the front door.
Cole was still standing where I’d left him, but he was looking into the distance. Slowly, he put his hands back in his pockets and kept walking down the street.
Later that evening, after supper had been served, I stood at the counter with Sam washing dishes, but my thoughts weren’t far from my conversation with Cole. I wasn’t surprised by what he had told me, but it still made me sad for Bess.
Sam glanced at me from time to time, a question in his eyes, as Father sat at the table reading Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens to the children and Paddy.
Sam had been quieter than normal today, and I hoped he hadn’t learned that I’d spoken to Cole, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if someone had seen us and told him.
At the moment, however, I had more important things to worry about, like whether Father would defy the doctor’s prognosis to go to the mines.
“I think that will about do it for tonight,” Father said as he finished reading chapter eight, tearing me out of my thoughts.
“But what happens to Oliver now that he’s in London?” Hazel asked, her blue eyes wide.
“You’ll have to wait and see.” Father’s face lit with excitement and anticipation. He loved drawing out curiosity in children, his own daughter especially. “After we get all our work done tomorrow, we’ll read the next chapter.”
“But I don’t want to wait.” Hazel pouted. “Tomorrow is an awful long time away.”
“Good fiction is a reward after a hard day’s work.” Father patted Hazel and Johnnie on the head. “It will make the work go faster and the story more enjoyable.”
“It’s time for bed.” I put the last plate on the stack and closed the cupboard.
Hazel moaned in complaint, and I saw a bit of rebellion in Johnnie’s eyes, but he didn’t say a word. No matter how much I tried, he still refused to speak.
“Wash your face and hands, and I’ll come in to say good night,” I told the children.
“Come on, Johnnie.” Hazel grabbed his hand. “I’ll make up a story about what happens next to Oliver when we’re in bed. I think he’ll find a kitty.”
He smiled—a rare occurrence that was happening more often.
“I’ve been thinking,” Father said as he put his hands on his thighs, “I shouldn’t get that big bed all to myself anymore.”
“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” I told him.
“I can take one of the bunks upstairs. I’ll help Paddy keep an eye on things.
Makes me feel like I’m worth my keep. And then you and Hazel can share the big bed.
I hate that you’re sleeping on the floor and doing all this hard work during the day.
I can manage those stairs. There’s no need for me to take the bed any longer. ”
“Father—”
“I think it’s a good idea, too,” Sam said as he hung the towel on a drying hook near the stove. “There’s an extra bunk up there tonight, Mr. Adams. Paddy could use the help.”
“It looks like I won’t have a choice if you two gang up on me,” I said.
Father grinned. “Sam and I already talked about it.”
I glanced at Sam, and I suspected that he was trying to make my father feel like he was contributing. For that, and so many other things, I was grateful.
Sam dipped his head and said, “I have some work to do in the shed.” He left through the back door without saying another word.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen, surprised at his sudden departure, wondering at his mood.
“G-g-good night.” Paddy nodded at us and then left through the front room, leaving Father and me alone.
“I’m happy they’re both gone.” Father patted the stool next to him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you alone, Ally.”