A Race to Splendor (38 page)

“Yes, of course,” Amelia replied, amazed by how swiftly the pair decided to vacate the lobby.

Emma linked her arm with Matilda’s and whisked her through the throng, disappearing among the swirling chiffon and dark-coated celebrants. Amelia didn’t wait for them to turn the corner and disappear from view before beginning to fret over the news that Kemp could easily set his bullyboys on J.D. to beat him once again—or worse.

Her sudden fears were mollified somewhat by the recollection that—though Matilda Kemp may have worried about a contretemps between her father and J.D.—the object of J.D.’s “courting” didn’t seem particularly overwrought concerning her supposed suitor’s apparent decision to end their almost-engagement.

Suddenly her spirits rose. It would seem J.D. had unilaterally called a halt to his spurious courtship of Miss Kemp, a conclusion she found extremely gratifying.

Perhaps her employer was neither a cad nor a cardsharp.

What a lovely thought.

She and J.D. would certainly have to behave themselves until the Bay View Hotel was completed and had opened its doors. But after that, who knew what might evolve? Amelia’s life had taken so many strange twists since she’d returned from Paris, she had given up trying to predict the future at all.

It was just a matter of being careful, that’s all.

Amelia turned and beheld J.D. Thayer, roguishly handsome in full evening dress. He smiled warmly and extended his hand, which the architect shook primly.

His ebony hair was neatly trimmed, as were his mustache and sideburns. On his tanned face there was no trace of the beating he’d received weeks earlier. One would hardly suspect he was doing manual labor each day along side his construction crew.

“Turn around,” he said. “Let me have a look at you.” For a full five seconds, he took in her festive costume. “My, my,” he said after another long pause. He eyed the modest ostrich feather she’d tucked in her hair. “May I say you look lovely this evening, Miss Bradshaw?” he added formally. “The picture of Parisian fashion, I might add.”

She attempted to maintain her aplomb under the close scrutiny of several curious onlookers, including James Hopper. “How kind of you to say so, Mr. Thayer.”

J.D. leaned still closer. “I was expecting to escort you here myself, but you ran out before I was dressed.”

“I thought it advisable to arrive separately. I wasn’t absolutely sure you’d turn up.”

“Ah… I almost didn’t, but then it would have been lovely to walk in here with you on my arm.”

“J.D.!” she admonished. Then she asked in a low voice, “This celebration isn’t too painful for you?”

“It smarts only slightly. I’m just relieved you and I are alive to enjoy it.”

“My sentiments exactly.” She inclined her head and whispered in his ear, “Miss Kemp and Miss Stivers said to expect another ‘visit’ from Ezra sometime soon, and that Miss Kemp is—in her friend Emma’s words—perfectly amenable to your recent decision.”

“I am sure that she is,” J.D. replied cryptically. His glance swept the room, though he didn’t elaborate any further.

“Kemp’s in the smoking lounge,” she informed him. “You know, J.D., those two women were awfully nice, but they seemed frightened little mice, especially Matilda.”

“They should be. Ezra Kemp doesn’t give a damn about their well-being.”

“How terrible for them.”

J.D. gave her a somber look. “I expect that all of us must all watch out for trouble in the next little while. Meanwhile, my dear Miss Bradshaw, may I ask for this dance?”

“Is that wise?”

“Probably not, but let’s anyway.”

And so it was that on the first anniversary of the 1906 cataclysmic earthquake and fire, James Diaz Thayer and his architect, Amelia Hunter Bradshaw, entered the glittering ballroom and became the talk of the festivities as one of the handsomest couples to celebrate the opening of the Fairmont Hotel and the rebirth of San Francisco.

A few minutes before one a.m., J.D. walked Amelia home, kissed her soundly, and, once her bedroom door closed and its new lock secured, walked back to the all-night celebration continuing at the Fairmont.

***

“So what’ll it be, Thayer? The mutton or the veal?”

“Neither, Kemp. I want to talk to you.” The hotel restaurant was full of noisy diners enjoying a full-course supper served all night “on the house.”

“Really? What about? I heard your Chinks had their heads bashed a while back.”

“And how did you hear that?”

“Oh, it gets around. You know what a small town San Francisco is.”

“Ezra, your little game fools no one, especially me. I know you sent those goons. They killed two people this time—including a defenseless child—and maimed scores of others, so this is no joke.”

“You think anyone cares if there are two fewer Chinks in this town?”

J.D. abruptly stood up, ignoring the fact that his impulsive move might stir interest among their fellow diners.

“Sit down!” Kemp hissed. Lowering his voice even more, he muttered, “Thayer, I am giving you official notice that I will recommend that the board of directors of the Committee of Fifty call their initial loan for the first hotel you rebuilt on that property.”

J.D. reclaimed his seat. If Kemp figured this was his principal card to play, J.D. was home free, for the bastard apparently had no idea of the money and gems he and Amelia had found in the buried trunk. Thayer had no need of the Committee’s largesse any longer. He merely had to liquidate some of the found booty to get his hotel built, then open its doors and pay off his present expenses along with the earlier loans. The fees of paying guests would serve as a cushion and Kemp would no longer have any hold over him.

“And what makes you think that the board would vote with you on calling the old loan?” J.D. inquired calmly. “They can barely tolerate your uncouth presence as it is and will cut you dead as soon as they no longer need your lumber.” He leaned forward and stared hard at Kemp. “Do you really think that board will vote your way just because you demand it? You have a lot to learn, Ezra, about the ways of the idle rich.”

“They won’t be pleased to learn you’re violating the law and going against the hiring halls, employing Chinks who steal an honest man’s wages.”

“Honest men like Joe Kavanaugh, Dick Spitz, and Jake Kelly who killed innocent people while working for
you
?” J.D. narrowed his eyes. “Why, I expect Burns and those government men would advise our local authorities that you could be held as an accessory to murder.”

“As I said, nobody cares if a couple of Chinese are killed on a job.”

“But you must know by now, men like my father despise attempts at unionizing working men and don’t think labor laws apply to
them
.
Trust me, sending Mark Desso from the hiring hall to do your bidding won’t endear you to the likes of Big Jim Thayer.”

“You can’t prove my men were part of the… unpleasantness that night. I happen to know your buddy James Hopper and his photographer weren’t there that night.”

“That doesn’t matter. I have plenty of proof.”

“
What?
” Kemp scoffed.

Again, J.D. rose from his chair, this time determined to depart. “That’s just the question you should be worried about, Kemp.”

Ezra grabbed his sleeve. “Just a minute! It’s that Bradshaw woman, isn’t it? She told you she saw my men? Well, she’s lying! No one will believe
her
!” He lowered his voice, spitting out his words. “I’ve heard it said you’re paying that architect of yours for more services than just her building plans.”

J.D. clapped his hand on Kemp’s and removed it forcibly from his jacket. “I suggest that you inform Kelly, Spitz, and Kavanaugh that I have twenty-four-hour lookouts posted everywhere,” he said under his breath. “If my men see anymore of your spies in the neighborhood, they have orders to shoot such trespassers on sight.”

Then, J.D. turned his back on his host and strode past the Fairmont’s busy maître d’.

***

The morning following the Fairmont’s grand opening, work on the hotel proceeded uneventfully. Both J.D. and Amelia were swamped with pressing duties, leaving few moments for communication between them. Seven-year-old Foo’s absence was painfully apparent, and there was little banter around their dining table. Loy kept to himself and Shou Shou’s mournful expression was heartbreaking to behold. As for Amelia, she excused herself as soon as they finished eating supper and went to her chamber, turning the newly installed bolt on her door. The gesture was as much to keep herself from seeking comfort in J.D.’s arms as from any expectation J.D. would come knocking at her door after midnight.

The next day, after breakfast, Amelia stood by the entrance to J.D.’s downstairs office and rapped sharply on the half-open door.

“Two of the Pigati boys didn’t show up,” she announced from the threshold. “I just can’t believe it. They’ve been so loyal up to now.”

“They’re still loyal. I’ve posted them on the third floor inside scaffolding.”

“We’re not ready to put the slate on, yet,” Amelia protested.

As it had turned out, there were no wooden shingles to be had in all of San Francisco—other than those supplied by Kemp Lumber Company. However, miracle of miracles, the slate that had been ordered months before and assumed lost or stolen en route to the Port of San Francisco had just turned up at the docks. The roof would now be covered in the expensive material that was fire resistant and enhanced the
beaux-arts
motif of the overall design.

“Nico and Roman are on guard duty.” J.D. rapidly moved the beads on his abacus and made notations on the sheet of paper in front of him. “There aren’t any other lookouts to hire this week.”

“And you didn’t tell
me
?” Amelia demanded. “Their supervisor?”

“That’s right.” J.D. didn’t look up from his papers.

“Don’t you think you should explain why?”

His eyes remained focused on his desk. “I merely felt it a wise precaution.”

Amelia was flabbergasted by J.D.’s cold, almost impersonal tone.

“Do you mind explaining
why
you think it’s wise to keep your construction supervisor in the dark?” she demanded with rising irritation.

He set the abacus aside in frustration. “Because it just
is
! Now will you please allow me to get back to my work?”

Again taken aback by his testiness, Amelia advanced into J.D.’s office.

“No. I won’t, O Mighty Hotel Owner! I want you to tell me right now what danger has prompted you to assign two of my best men to other duties without consulting me?”

“Because I pay their wages.”

Amelia stared across the space that separated them and shook her head.

“J.D. Thayer, don’t you
dare
do this,” she said in a low, angry voice. She marched to the edge of his desk, snatched the papers he’d been making notes on, and crumpled them in her hand. “You may pay their wages, but their safety is
my
concern and they’re under
my
direction, so I’ll ask you not to patronize me, J.D. Not at this late stage. We may have—
briefly
—been lovers, but either you and I are working as full partners to build this hotel or you will find yourself building it by yourself.”

J.D. regarded her for a long moment, appearing to mull something over in his mind. “Quite an Irish temper you’ve got there, miss.”

“Scots-Irish,” she corrected frostily.

He pointed to a straight-back chair. “Sit down.” When she’d reluctantly complied, he said, “I’ve learned that Dick Spitz and Jake Kelly, from the first hotel, were always Kemp’s spies on this site. I imagine, now, Kavanaugh is too and that he told Kemp every single thing that went on here, so Ezra could feel he had the upper hand. He’s been furious ever since I announced that courting his daughter was no longer part of my building plans. Plainly,
his
plan from the beginning—just as you warned me—was to gain financial control of the Bay View by any means necessary. My guess is that he’s assuming I haven’t given into his strong-arm tactics to marry his daughter because—” J.D. paused, and then continued, “…because there might be another woman in my life. And now, I’m fairly sure, he thinks that woman is
you
.”

“Oh.” Chastened, Amelia bit her lower lip. “I see. Either Kavanaugh spied on us on the day I discharged him, which was also the day that you and I found the trunk and we—well, you know—and then the scoundrel tattled to—” She hesitated. “Or Kemp is just guessing that a man and a woman can’t possibly work together in such close proximity without falling into—”

“You aren’t finishing your sentences very well today, Amelia, but you’re a very intelligent woman. And, as it happened, we
couldn’t
work together in such close proximity without… well, could we?”