Gold Mountain (10 page)

“I don’t deny it. But in this case I mean every word.”

I knew I wasn’t the refined lady he thought I was, but I found the idea of spending the day in this rugged Irishman’s company to be a very attractive prospect. The last time I’d shared the company of a young man who admired me seemed a lifetime ago, a young Marine officer stationed in China who had monopolized me for several weeks before duty called him away. We’d written for a while following his departure, but with separation the interest faded on both our parts and then last summer I had ended up trapped in Pekin with other things on my mind, not the least being survival. I hadn’t thought about that young Marine in quite a while but now wondered if he still served in the military, if he ever tried to find out what became of me, or if he had found another girl and never gave me a thought.

“I’d like that very much, Colin. Union Square is one place I haven’t visited yet.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I live with my sister and her husband on Grove Street, but why don’t we plan to meet at 920? I’ll need to spend some time with Miss Cameron first.”

We agreed on a late morning hour, but before he stepped down the street, he turned back to me to say, “I was wondering something else, if it’s not too bold.”

“What?”

“What does Qing mean?” He stumbled over the name, which must be said properly as two syllables with appropriate emphasis.

“
Shee-ung
,” I corrected with a smile. “Said one way it is the color for deep blue. Said another way and it means clear or pure. Many years ago I was given the name by one of the Chinese members of our congregation and it stuck.”

“It’s your eyes, of course,” Colin observed simply. “Even I can figure that out.” He smiled enigmatically when he spoke, making me wonder which meaning of the name he saw in my eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Dinah.” After he stepped away down the street, I took my standard shortcuts home.

When I mentioned Colin O’Connor to Ruth—doing so casually during our afternoon shopping trip—she ceased her scrutiny of a bolt of deep blue silk and stared at me.

“You met a young man who’s taking you to lunch and with whom you will be spending the better part of a day and you’re just now telling me? You’re not supposed to make your sister wait for that kind of news. Really, Dinah, I don’t recall you being this secretive before.” Her muted outrage made me laugh.

“I am not secretive. I’m telling you now, aren’t I? I could have slipped off tomorrow and left you in the dark about the whole thing. Maybe I put off telling you because I knew you would make exactly this kind of fuss about it. It’s not a proposal, Ruthie, just an invitation to show me the city.”

“But you like him?”

“I hardly know him.”

“But you like what you know?”

“Yes.”

“Is he handsome?”

“Yes. No. I mean not handsome in a storybook hero way, but he’s tall and strong and he has very fine eyes. Very fine.”

“He’s Irish by the sound of it.”

“Half. His mother’s German.”

“No surprise there. I believe half of San Francisco’s police force and fire department are Irish. I don’t suppose he’s Protestant.”

“Truthfully, Ruth, that subject never came up.”

“Well, he might convert for you.”

I could see her mental wheels turning and said sharply, “I’m having lunch with Colin O’Connor, not marrying him.”

“Yet.” When she spoke, I glared at her so long that she was forced to amend, “Or ever, perhaps. I know. Still—” She caught my eye and deliberately made a display of picking up the bolt of silk once more. “What about this color for your gown? It’s almost a perfect match to your eyes.”

My sister purposefully dropped the subject, but I didn’t miss the calculating gleam that remained in her eyes for the rest of the afternoon. We might not have talked about Colin O’Connor, but he definitely accompanied us all the way home.

Martin joined us earlier than anticipated that evening, and after making the requisite admiring comments about the fabrics for Ruth’s and my evening gowns sat down in the parlor after supper to read the paper—not surprisingly in Martin’s case
The
Chronicle
, an old-line publication of everything Republican and conservative. I had deduced early on that my brother-in-law did not have a progressive bone in his body.

Busy with kitchen clean-up duties, I was pleased to note that Ruth had drifted into the front parlor to spend time with her husband. Sometimes I worried about being an interloper in the marriage, although Ruth and Martin both assured me that had I not been visiting, Ruth would have been alone more often than not because of the demands of Martin’s job so my presence was welcome and not intrusive at all. I thought that was likely true but still felt they might prefer some casual time together without me being part of the tableau or the conversation.

With the last dish dried, I took a final look at the kitchen to be sure it met Ruth’s standards—I was content with a certain lazy order but not my sister, who liked everything in its place and refused to believe that a new baby would make a difference to her innate need for orderliness—when Martin appeared in the kitchen doorway.

An odd look on his face made me exclaim involuntarily, “Is something wrong? Is it Ruth?” He shook his head.

“No, nothing’s wrong, but you have company in the parlor.” Martin’s expression indicated I’d become a stranger.

“Really? Someone from the home—from 920?”

“I don’t think that’s likely. He said his name is Mr. Pandora.”

Now it was my turn to stare. “Jake Pandora?”

“He didn’t give me a first name. Just Pandora. Would this be Mr. Pandora from the Pandora Transport Line?”

“Yes, I would imagine so.”

“With whom you must have had some contact.” Disapproval in his voice but no surprise.

“Martin, you needn’t beat around the bush. Yes, I had contact with Mr. Pandora, and yes, I know you forbade me to visit his office, but I can’t imagine it surprises you to know that I ignored you. I’m sorry, but Ruth will be the first to tell you that forbidding me to do something has the same effect on me that waving a red cloth has on a bull.”

“Ruth doesn’t have to tell me that, Dinah. I’ve known it for years. Shall I tell Mr. Pandora that you’re available?”

“I’ll tell him, thank you.” My immediate thought was that he had come to share something about Mae Tao. “Is he in the parlor?”

“He’s in the hallway. I wasn’t sure about leaving him alone with Ruth. He has a look about him—”

“Yes, I know.” I brushed past Martin and stepped out of the kitchen into the hallway, caught up once more in the absolute perfection of Jake Pandora’s face as he raised his head to watch my approach. “Mr. Pandora, what a surprise,” I told him, coming forward and extending my hand. “I never expected to see you again.” He gave a wry twist to his mouth as he touched my hand briefly with his.

“I am well aware of that, Miss Hudson. You were very clear about your opinion of my morals at our last meeting, but as you can see, here I am.” He looked briefly at the apron I still wore. “I’ve interrupted your supper.”

“No, just supper clean-up. You’ve met my brother-in-law, Martin Shandling, but please meet my sister.”

Pandora followed me into the front room and to me it seemed that the man suddenly felt awkward and out of place, desperately wishing himself anywhere but in the Shandling parlor on Grove Street. He was dressed much as he had been at our first meeting: dark trousers, dark collarless shirt, and dark jacket. Not that any of that mattered when you had the classical good looks of Greek statuary.

My sister did her best not to stare during the introduction and then we all four stood in a silent and uncertain circle until Jake Pandora addressed me brusquely.

“I’d like to follow up on our earlier conversation.” He looked at Martin and Ruth deliberately before adding, “Privately.”

Martin started to sputter something, but Ruth took his arm, saying sweetly, “Of course, Mr. Pandora,” and pulled her husband from the room as he glared back at us.

“We’ll be in the breakfast room if you need us, Dinah,” concluding with a meaningful look at Pandora, “Very close. Right next door in the breakfast room.” Apparently he thought I might have forgotten exactly where the breakfast room was located. When it was just the two of us, I sat down and motioned Pandora to do the same.

“You’ll have to forgive him. Martin takes his duty as the male protector of the family very seriously.”

“Clearly. Rest assured that your virtue is safe with me, Miss Hudson.”

More’s the pity, I surprised myself by thinking but said nothing, only waited expectantly for Pandora to speak. I knew from the odd look on his face that he had something he wanted to say, and that the words must come at his own pace and in his own time. I bit my lip to keep from blurting out the obvious question about Mae Tao and remained quiet.

“I was wrong.” Whatever I expected to hear from the man, it was not an admission of error, no matter that his tone held little humility or apology. When I still did not speak, he continued, “After your visit, I thought it would be worth my while to check my facts. I figured you were just the kind of woman”—interfering busybody of a woman, he might as well have said—“to report the Pandora Two to the Port and Immigration authorities and not be quiet until you got someone to investigate. A bulldog of a woman who wouldn’t let a subject drop until you got what you wanted.”

“Thank you,” I commented, keeping my tone purposefully mild but wanting to smack him. His tone left no doubt about his opinion of female bulldogs. Then one corner of his mouth twitched, and I realized he knew what I was thinking and was enjoying my reaction.

“I won’t go into details, but I made my own inquiries and you were right. If you feel compelled to go to the immigration officials, feel free to do so. The Two brought in a load of Chinese girls in April and probably more on other occasions, all without my knowledge or approval.”

I sat back in my chair and watched his face as he spoke, saw his chin lift as if he wanted to do battle with someone and caught the shadow of shame in his eyes as his gaze met mine directly. His regret and his grief—not too strong a word for what I read on his face—couldn’t have been more obvious if he fell onto his knees and began to weep. Oddly, his words made me want to comfort him, to assure him that no great harm had been done and so give him back the defiant pride that I knew usually must characterize his demeanor. But, of course, I couldn’t do that. Great harm had undoubtedly been done, and there was no way to ease the knowledge. I, who bore my own guilt for Mae Tao and for other trespasses equally as shameful, understood that truth only too well.

“I don’t doubt that, Mr. Pandora, anymore than I doubt that you have taken the necessary measures to be certain the practice doesn’t continue. Since you’ve conducted your own investigation, reporting the incident to immigration so many weeks after the fact seems redundant.” This time it was his turn to search my face, looking, I believe, for mockery or disdain or disgust.

Finally he said, “Thank you,” the words grudging but sincere. I couldn’t decide if he was uncomfortable saying thank-you to a woman or simply unused to saying thank you in general. Either way, the words were a concession.

“In your inquiries, Mr. Pandora, were you able to track down the destination of the girls who arrived in April?”

“I’m working on it.”

I thought of Suey Wah’s wrenching story and wondered again if she might possibly have a connection with Mae Tao. “So am I,” I told him. “Perhaps we should pool our knowledge and our resources.”

I knew his first inclination was an emphatic
no
but perhaps past experience had taught him to think twice before dismissing me because he said instead, “All right. What and who do you know?”

When he spoke those words, Suey Wah’s little face came clearly to mind, but I hesitated. This man was still a stranger and how did I know what his real motives were? I didn’t think I had misread his apology, but I couldn’t look into his head or heart and what if his motives had nothing to do with finding Mae Tao and everything to do with discovering who knew about his company’s illegal trafficking in humans? I wouldn’t reveal Suey Wah just yet, not until I had assured myself that Jake Pandora’s intentions were honest and honorable.

“I have only a little information right now, but I think I may have discovered an eye witness to my missing girl’s arrival. I’ll know more by the weekend. What have you found out?”

He shrugged. “Not a lot yet, but like you I have some contacts I still need to talk to.”

I almost laughed at his response because our mutual distrust was obvious in our carefully worded replies. For no reason I could name, I believe he realized the same and found a similar humor in each of us circling the other like two prizefighters just out of their corners.

“As I said, I’ll know more by the weekend,” I repeated. “How about you?”

“It’s possible.”

“Then what if we plan to meet at your office on Saturday and talk further then.” He weighed the suggestion carefully before agreeing, looking for a veiled motive on my part or some undefined danger embedded in the plan.