Gold Mountain (16 page)

“So you’re off. Well, have a good time.”

“I should stay home with you,” I said, overcome with guilt. “I don’t mind. I’ll just send word to—”

“Nonsense, Dinah. I find sewing to be relaxing and enjoyable. If you stay and attempt the same task, you’ll soon be sighing and pacing and grumbling and that would certainly ruin my pleasure. You’ve brought me good company with Suey Wah, and we’re both quite content. By the way, you look very lovely today, Dinah. Now please go away.” Ruth spoke the last words with another smile and in rusty Chinese said to her companion, “Dinah is going to spend the afternoon with a gentleman friend.”

A flicker of alarm touched Suey Wah’s face as she asked, “You will be careful, Qing, won’t you?”

“Let’s try English,” I suggested gently before continuing slowly, “I will be very careful, little bird. You met the big policeman, the one who helped in your rescue. Officer O’Connor is a strong protector.”

“Yes,” but she did not look entirely convinced.

Ruth, noticing the worry on the child’s face, leaned forward to point at the cloth and say in careful English, “These are very good stitches, Suey Wah. Very good. But the line seems crooked to me. Do you think so?”

Distracted, Suey Wah took time to process the English before peering at the cloth and replying, “Yes, I see. I will try again. I’m sorry.”

Ruth inadvertently slipped into Chinese, “There’s no need to be sorry. You already have a finer stitch than my sister and she never apologizes.”

I could tell Suey Wah intended to rise to my defense until she saw the twinkle in Ruth’s eyes. Realizing my sister was teasing, Suey Wah turned back to her cloth with a quiet comment. “Qing does most things so well that she probably has not had much practice at apologizing.”

“In English,” I reminded the girl, then grinned at my sister, adding, “At least someone appreciates my sterling qualities,” before I departed.

Colin O’Connor had recently stopped by 920 to tell me he had another free day and ask if I was ready for my tour of Nob Hill. I was curious about the mansions there and just as happy to spend more time in the Irishman’s company.

We had arranged to meet on a corner by the mission, a fact that annoyed Ruth enough to make her inquire sharply, “You’re not ashamed of us, are you, Dinah? Or of him? I think it’s time I met this young man of yours.”

“I am not ashamed of either of you,” I answered meekly.

“Then next time he can meet you here at your home like any respectable gentleman caller. The idea of the two of you meeting on a street corner! I won’t embarrass you by telling you how that appears.”

“Ruth!”

“I am not entirely the optimistic innocent you think,” she retorted. “I understand more things than you give me credit for, so tell Mr. O’Connor that next time he is expected to make an appearance on Grove Street because your sister desires to meet him.”

“If there is a next time.”

Ruth gave a dismissive shake of her head at my words. “Of course, there will be a next time. Even without seeing him, I can tell the man’s smitten. I’m not quite sure about you, but there are signs that you may be returning his favor. Just don’t say or do anything rash until you’ve had a chance to meet more of the city’s eligible bachelors. I would like to see you do better than a policeman on the beat.”

“It’s honest, respectable work!” I defended, adding, “and Colin doesn’t intend to be a foot policeman forever.”

“No?”

“No. He’s very ambitious.”

“Well, ambition is sometimes good and sometimes bad. I definitely need to meet this Mr. Colin O’Connor.”

I gave a brief thought to Colin’s ambition when he saw me approaching and turned to greet me, and then spent more time thinking about his smile, his green eyes, and the appeal of broad shoulders that tapered to a slim waist. He wore dark blue trousers with a light blue shirt under a coat of subdued summer plaid that strained slightly across his muscled back. Very man about town with a touch of warrior just below the surface. An appealing combination. The afternoon seemed to brighten considerably when I saw the unabashed admiration in Colin’s eyes as he greeted me, although the sun didn’t change intensity or position. My sister might be right about my favoring him, I thought, and considered the idea objectively. Colin O’Connor did not have Jake Pandora’s physical beauty, but men shouldn’t be so handsome they took your breath away. They should look exactly like this ruggedly masculine policeman.

“You’re looking very fine today, Dinah. Very fine. Not like a visitor to Nob Hill but like someone that belongs there.” His words and tone made me feel suddenly, ridiculously happy and promised a wonderful afternoon.

We rode a cable car part of the way to Nob Hill but disembarked before any mansion was in sight. When Colin led me toward an elegant horse-drawn carriage waiting at a corner, I exclaimed, “Is he waiting for us? What a treat!”

“Leo owes me a favor,” Colin explained, gesturing toward the driver and trying to hide his pleasure at my words. “He’s agreed to take us on a slow tour of the Hill.” My escort assisted me into the cab and then hopped in to sit next to me. I was very conscious of his proximity and the attractive masculine smell of tobacco mixed with something faintly spicy that I guessed he used on his face after shaving. When Leo started the carriage, the jerk of movement caused me to fall against Colin, and he responded to the unexpected contact by kissing me.

I found the experience so pleasant that I participated without reserve before regretfully drawing back to say with a smile, “I think we should concentrate on the scenery.”

“I am,” he replied with no reciprocal smile but shifted away and leaned across me toward the window to point and say in a casual and less intense voice, “The Floods live there and Huntington next to them. Didn’t I tell you the nobs live different from everyone else?”

“You did,” I answered, doing my best to forget about the kiss and match his easy tone, “but different hardly covers it. Look at that front staircase!” After that I turned into a true tourist, awed by the sight of so much splendor and gawking at homes in the same way I might view animals in a special zoo created for my entertainment.

As Colin related the extraordinary tale of the Crockers’ “spite fence,” a barrier Mr. Crocker had erected to punish a stubborn neighbor who would not sell his property to him, I glanced out the window of the creeping cab and caught my breath.

“Who lives there?” I asked.

Colin heard my mild gasp of surprise, followed my pointing finger, and looked at the imposing red-brick residence with distinctive double towers, each with its own small widow’s walk and intricate black wrought-iron railing.

“I don’t know. It’s new. You can tell that by the brick. Maybe it’s vacant or up for sale.”

“No. That man on the walk just exited the front door.”

“Did he?” Colin, after giving me a curious look, leaned farther across me to try to get a better glimpse of the man walking briskly away from the mansion, but by then all he could see was the diminishing, dark-coated back of Jake Pandora. I, on the other hand, had seen Pandora full-faced as the front door closed behind him and he stepped down to the walk from the imposing porch.

Why would Jake Pandora be on Nob Hill, I asked myself, and immediately answered my suspicion with another, more reasonable question. Why shouldn’t he be here? He was a businessman, after all, and might have trade with any of the men who lived in the area. He’d hardly expect Nob Hill nabobs to make an appearance in the narrow alley behind the lowly Broadway Dock. Of course, Jake Pandora would come to them and not the other way around, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, the sighting left me uneasy.

“Did you know that man?” I had almost forgotten about Colin O’Connor, and his voice so close to my cheek startled me.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think so. Someone I met my first day in town.”

“From the expression on your face he must have made an impression.”

I remembered my first look at Jake Pandora as he stood in the doorway of the Pandora Transport Office with the sun behind him giving his perfect face the look of an illumined Greek god. “I suppose he did.”

“I don’t think I like that,” Colin murmured and kissed me again, this time reaching for me and pulling me into a much more intimate embrace. “I don’t think I want any man but me to leave an impression on you,” he whispered, reaching up to wrap a finger around a curl that had escaped from my hat.

I was the one to push away finally, saying in a creditably calm voice, “You are definitely leaving an impression, Colin.”

“An unforgettable one, I hope, at least as unforgettable as that man you saw, whoever he was. I’m not afraid of competition, Dinah. I can hold my own.”

I never imagined otherwise,” I responded calmly, “but I hardly know you well enough to speak with any authority on the subject.” I turned toward Colin with what I hoped was an enigmatic smile but appreciating without any ambiguity the faint, burnished blonde stubble on his cheeks, the masculine, sun-browned complexion, his eyes that showed more hazel than green in the interior of the cab, and his wide mouth that had proved both skillful and satisfying.

Colin tried to read my meaning in my face—was it invitation? regret? relief?—and then gave up with a good-natured shrug. “I don’t always understand you, Dinah, and I believe that’s the way you want it.”

“A woman likes to think she carries a certain mystery about her, Colin. Don’t hold my feminine weakness against me.”

He gave a short laugh. “Much as I might enjoy the discovery, I’ve not found one weak thing about you. I realized the kind of woman you were the moment you pushed me to the side with a scold and climbed down into Wing Chee’s cellar. But don’t ever apologize for it. I’ve discovered a preference for strong-minded women and believe it will be a moment to savor when they finally do capitulate.”

I decided Colin O’Connor had grown just a trifle too sure of himself—that would teach me to enjoy kissing so much—and I sat back against the seat, making a minor fuss of smoothing my skirts and settling my hat before saying sweetly, “
If
they finally capitulate, Colin. It never does for a man to be too sure of himself.”

Unabashed, he settled himself just as comfortably next to me. “That’s how a man wins, Dinah, by knowing what he wants and doing whatever it takes to get it. He can’t hesitate and there’s no room for doubt. How do you think these mansions on Nob Hill got built?”

I recalled the oppressive atmosphere of Wing Chee’s establishment and Suey Wah’s terrible story on board the Pandora Two. At least one—possibly more—of those grand homes had been built on the suffering of children. I didn’t speak my thoughts, however, only commented, “However these mansions got built, they certainly are magnificent.”

Colin, taking a cue from my tone and expression, stuck his head out the window to call to the driver, “We’re done here, Leo. Turn us around and take us to the Poodle Dog. We’ve worked up an appetite.”

At home that evening, I realized how easily and how seamlessly Suey Wah had infiltrated our lives. She was the quietest child I had ever known, whether seated at the table or perched on the sofa by the fire. She missed nothing, however, always watchful with an endearing eagerness to do whatever she was asked.

At meals, Suey Wah observed my sister with particular care and hopped quickly to her feet whenever Ruth indicated she was going to rise from her chair to carry off a dish from the table or bring something from the kitchen.

“Please let me be your legs, Mrs. Ruth,” Suey Wah would plead quietly and convincingly. Didn’t we realize, her tone said, that running errands for Ruth was the highest honor to which one could aspire?

At first, Ruth seemed uncomfortable with the attention, but it so obviously pleased the little girl when she was allowed to help that my sister soon learned to take advantage of the extra set of arms and legs. I knew Suey Wah’s behavior pleased Martin but didn’t realize how fond he had become of the child until one evening after supper as he stood in the parlor doorway observing Suey Wah seated primly on a hassock next to Ruth’s chair with her eyes fixed on Ruth’s knitting needles.

“Doesn’t she ever giggle,” Martin asked me in a low voice, “or run in the hallway or play with dolls or beg to go to the park?”

“I assume you’re inquiring about Suey Wah and not Ruth,” I remarked and when Martin did not smile at my little joke continued, “She’s a little girl who’s seen terrible things, Martin. Sold by her father, then a victim of abuse and squalor, used to beatings and darkness and the very real threat of death. I imagine that right now she is just fearful that this life, which must seem like heaven to her, will be snatched away from her and she is being very, very careful to do everything right.” For the first time I noticed that Martin had something tucked under his arm. “What have you got there?”

“A checkerboard. A child should play games once in a while, and this is all we’ve got in the house.”

I eyed him with unexpected but sincere affection and stepped to the side before saying, “You are absolutely right, Martin, and checkers is just the thing. It will help with her English, too.”

When he approached Suey Wah and began to speak to her, Ruth met my glance across the room, smiling in a way I recalled from an illustration of the Cheshire-Cat in my childhood copy of
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
. I was right all the while, my sister’s expression said, and then she turned to join in the conversation with Suey Wah and her husband.