Restless Hearts (13 page)

“How is she?” asked Anna when Sarah sat down.

“I think she’s going to be okay. I invited her to come out if she wants more tea, or something to eat.” She paused for a moment. “I was just thinking. Let’s call the pasties pies from now on. It’s so much easier than trying to explain about pasties.”

“The pie that fits in your hand,” said Anna, turning to Melissa. “How does that sound, Missy?”

“I like it.” Melissa turned to Sarah. “How long is that lady going to stay here?”

“I don’t know, Missy.” She exchanged a quick glance with Anna. “But she’s welcome to stay as long as she wants. She needs our help right now.”

Missy nodded. “What’s her name?”

“Adaline.” They all turned to see her standing in the doorway, Sarah’s shawl pulled over her shoulders. “But my friends call me Addie.”

“Then we’ll call you Addie too.” Missy smiled at her. “Would you like to meet Walter?”

Addie fussed over the new baby and declared the meat pie to be excellent. After washing it down with another cup of tea, her fatigue became obvious. “I’m sorry,” she said, fighting to stay awake. “But if you don’t mind, I’ll lie down now.” She gave Sarah a lop-sided smile and walked slowly back to the bedroom, wincing with every step.

The women remained silent for several long minutes after Addie left the room. Finally Anna spoke up. “I like her,” she said with an emphatic nod. “I hope she stays.”

“So do I,” Sarah agreed. “I wonder if she...” She was distracted by a man coming up to the door. Judging by his features and his dress, he was Chilean.

“Now what?” she murmured, opening the door.

“Miss Howard?”

“Yes, I’m Sarah Howard.”

“Bueno.”
The man smiled, revealing dazzling white teeth. “I have delivery for you.”

“Are you sure? I’m not expecting anything.” She stepped outside and looked toward the street, where another man waited in a cart.

“Is from Mr. Jamie,” the man announced, motioning for the man in the cart to start unloading. They threw back a canvas cover, revealing a high-backed rocking chair and a comfortable-looking padded armchair. “You like, no?”

“Yes, I like.” It occurred to Sarah that she’d been too busy to think about Jamie. She showed the men where to position the items and they turned to leave. “Wait,” she said, looking for her bag. “I’ll pay you for the delivery.”

“No,
senorita.
Mr. Jamie paid.” The man’s gaze fell on the plate of pies.

“Then let me offer you one of these,” she said. “These are meat, and the ones with the sugar are apple. Take one of each.” She held out the plate to the second man. “You, too. Help yourself.”

Anna watched the men lick their fingers and gesture back and forth. “They liked them,” she said, stating the obvious. “If we keep this up, pretty soon everyone in San Francisco will know about our pies.” Her eyes danced with excitement. “I wonder if Addie knows how to cook.”

Sarah turned thoughtful as she watched the men drive away. “We need to offer something besides the pies if we’re going to be successful, although they can be our main product.” She wandered into the kitchen and assessed their food supplies.

Anna nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it most of the day while I was working. We need something we can make in large batches. Something we can feed the men who want to sit down. The pies are basically beef stew inside a pastry shell. We can offer the stew with some of your bread, and fruit pies for a sweet. It’s not fancy, but it tastes good and it’s filling.”

Sarah’s gaze fell on one of the bags that had been delivered from
WindSprite
. “Have you ever made baked beans? I haven’t, but it can’t be too difficult. Pork is available. We could offer pork and beans and bread.”

“And coffee.” Anna’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “Let’s be known for our excellent coffee. We can even offer tea. It will remind the men of home.”

Sarah shot a tentative look at Anna. “Speaking of which, the fellow who drove Addie and I home from the hospital said something interesting.” She glanced into the dining area, where Missy was seated in the rocking chair, playing quietly with a doll. “He said that the men rarely get to interact with children, and that Melissa would be a real draw.”

When Anna didn’t respond, she wondered if she had insulted her friend. “Anna?” she said, moving to where the other woman couldn’t avoid looking at her. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.” Anna came back from wherever she’d been. “I was thinking about Walter. About what he would say.” She looked at Sarah, her eyes surprisingly clear. “But he’s not here, and I have to make my own decisions. I think the driver was right.” She gave a short laugh, but Sarah could tell she was deadly serious. “This is about making a living; it’s about our future, and if seeing Missy reminds the miners of home, and brings them to our door, then why not?” She lifted her chin a few degrees. “We can try it for a day or two, and if it makes us uncomfortable, then we get her to stay in the background while we’re serving.” She reached for her makeshift apron and tied it around her waist. “I’m going to get started on a batch of pies for tomorrow while you experiment with the baked beans.”

* * *

Jamie forced himself to listen to the man on the other side of the desk. The businessman had a highly inflated opinion of his own importance; he represented a lot of business for the minting machine, and he knew it. Having to deal with customers like this made him wish he’d never agreed to spearhead his company’s expansion into California. Jamie’s own business philosophy had always been simple: deal with companies who provide the best service. If this man couldn’t see that his company offered an honest, superior service, then he wasn’t sure he wanted his business.

Quite simply, he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with Sarah... to see if the furniture had been delivered, and if she liked it. He smiled at the thought, and the man across the table misinterpreted his expression.

“Aha. So you agree.” He knocked the ash from his cigar and stood up. “Wonderful. I look forward to working with you.” Jamie shook the extended hand and left the office. It didn’t matter that he’d momentarily lost his concentration; nothing had changed in the terms of their agreement.

* * *

His assistant David looked up as Jamie entered the office. “There you are,” he said, searching among the papers on his desk. “Someone dropped off a letter for you.”

Jamie stared uncomprehendingly at the envelope in his hand. San Francisco had been without mail for three months now, due to some sort of a squabble in Panama.

“It was delivered by a chap from New York,” David said. “He just arrived today.”

Jamie smiled when he recognized Aidan’s handwriting. What was his friend up to now? Aidan was the last person he expected to hear from, but it would be good to hear his news. He opened the letter carefully and began to read.

Moments later, he sat down in his chair with a thud. This couldn’t be happening. He carefully folded the letter, re-inserted it in the envelope, and stared blindly out the window. Why did this have to happen now, when his life was going along so well?

He fumbled for the letter, took out the single sheet and read it again, but the message had not changed. Aidan had penned the note hastily, just before a mutual acquaintance was due to board one of the new record-holding clippers. He had no doubt that a letter from his father was also en route, but was probably stuck somewhere in Panama with thousands of other pieces of mail.

Feeling trapped, he rose and strode out through the front office. “Where are you going?” asked his employee.

“Out.” Jamie’s reply was unusually brusque. He went down the shallow flight of steps to the wooden sidewalk and walked toward the bay. He would apologize to David later for his abrupt departure; right now he needed to be outside, away from the confines of his former life.

He was at the water before he realized it and paused to look out over the mass of ships. The number grew every day, bringing more men bent on making a quick fortune. But it wasn’t that easy, as he had already discovered. He raked his fingers through his hair and groaned aloud, uncaring if someone heard him.

He took a deep calming breath and tried to make sense of Aidan’s letter. According to his friend, Lettie had calmly announced that Jamie had gone ahead to establish a home for the two of them, and that she was to follow as soon as she could organize passage. He opened the letter again and checked, but there was no mention of the fact that she was on her way. A reprieve, but a small one, knowing Lettie.

He should have known that she was capable of something like this. According to Aidan, she’d blithely made the announcement at a society wedding, where both her family and his were in attendance, along with the most prominent businessmen in New York. Eyebrows may have been raised at the unconventional arrangement, but their marriage had been expected; society would forgive.

He laughed, but it was a harsh, mirthless sound. He could imagine her, tossing her head in that imperious manner, her laughter almost genuine as she informed the gathering that he was impatient for her to join him.

“I was there,” Aidan’s letter informed him. “I heard the speech, and believe me, if I hadn’t known better, I would have believed her.”

Jamie gritted his teeth. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Did Letitia’s father actually believe her? Would he let her come? The notion was ridiculous and unlikely. That’s what made it so brilliant. Because sadly, he knew that Letitia wasn’t above telling her father that he’d compromised her... even though it was the farthest thing from the truth.

He had only himself to blame. Letitia Wilkerson always got what she wanted, and she’d made it clear that she wanted him. He’d been fooling himself to think that he’d escaped by simply telling her he didn’t want to marry her.

The multitude of masts in the harbor were a visual representation of the way he felt in his heart. A dark, tangled mess that threatened to choke the life out of him.

He fumbled in his pocket for one of his cheroots and lit it with a trembling hand. The scent blew away on the breeze, and he was transported back to the deck of
WindSprite,
standing there with Sarah as the ship drew closer to California. His heart constricted at the thought of her. The way her gaze softened as she looked into his eyes, the way her hair whipped around her face in the ocean breeze. The way she cared about everyone she met. Even that prostitute last night had almost been the recipient of her caring nature.

He loved her. It was as simple as that. He had no idea when he’d come to that realization. Perhaps it had come about slowly, during that long voyage when he’d seen her every day, and come to know her fiercely independent nature.

Fear gripped his heart with a cold hand. How would Sarah respond if she heard about Letitia’s claims? And yet how could she possibly know? In all likelihood, Letitia had only been posturing... putting on a show so that he would come back to refute what she said. He couldn’t imagine her subjecting herself to the long, possibly dangerous voyage.

He exhaled slowly, allowing his thoughts to crystallize. Under no conditions would he marry Letitia. She may excel at manipulation, but her powers ended there. He studied the glowing end of his cigarillo and realized that a visit to Sarah wasn’t a good idea tonight. She’d become too adept at sensing his emotions and he didn’t want to give her any indication of how badly Aidan’s letter had upset him.

He almost smiled as he visualized the future. He loved Sarah, and if she would have him, he would marry her... once she was ready.

* * *

“So what do you think?” Sarah tried to read Anna’s expression as she tasted the beans.

“I don’t know.” Anna tried another spoonful. “They lack something, but I don’t know what it is.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sarah admired the cooling pies. “At least we’ve got those right.” She nibbled on what they’d started calling pastry bites. Anna had shown her how to cut the leftover pastry into strips, then twist it and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar before baking, making a tasty bite with a cup of tea. “When I think back on that first day we experimented... back on the ship.” She stopped speaking. “Wait a minute. I’ll bet Lucy has a recipe for baked beans. She can tell us what’s missing.”

“Of course! And here’s another idea. We’ll call them Boston baked beans. Our customers will love that.”

Sarah chuckled. “Anna Taylor, are you sure you weren’t a salesman in your former life?”

“Maybe I was,” said Anna thoughtfully. “Maybe I was.” She piled the pastry bites on a small plate and motioned toward the teapot warming on the stove. “Let’s go into the other room and have a cup of tea.”

“I’ll bring Walter,” offered Sarah, picking up the sleeping child. “And you can try out the rocking chair.”

* * *

Anna watched her with knowing eyes. “I thought maybe we’d see Jamie today. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since the furniture was delivered.”

Sarah shrugged. She’d been thinking the same thing. “He must be busy,” she said unconvincingly. “I might stop by his office tomorrow on my way back from Lucy’s.”