A Race to Splendor (49 page)

“No I don’t,” she replied, pausing to shut the double doors. Turning toward him, she reverently set the deed on a nearby table and cupped his face in both her hands. For a few seconds, she ran the tips of her fingers over the raised scars on his forehead.

“James Diaz Thayer, you madman—I’ll accept you
only
as a co-owner of this establishment—but I want you to put it in writing,” she added with a smile that softened the seriousness of the moment.

“Yes, Amelia,” J.D. replied with mock resignation.

“And will you do something else for me?” she asked sweetly, allowing her arms to fall to her side.

“What?” he replied warily.

“Please,
please
, open that bottle of champagne and then make love to me tonight.”

Amelia could see the relief flooding his eyes now that all their cards were, indeed, finally on the table. It was his turn to raise his hands and frame her face as his lips brushed against hers.

“Your servant,
mademoiselle-signorina
,” he murmured.

“No… my partner,” she corrected in a whisper.

Before he could deepen their kiss, a sudden explosion of colored lights shone through the large windows facing the bay. Startled by the loud blasts, Amelia instinctively ducked her head beneath J.D.’s chin and felt his arms wrap protectively around her torso. They held on to each other, bracing for another blast.

“Oh good Lord!” she exclaimed.

“The fireworks!” they said simultaneously. They both inhaled a steadying breath and then melded together again, this time in a relieved embrace.

“For a second there, it sounded like that horrible dynamite the army used on the first day of the fire,” Amelia murmured against his chest. “I’d totally forgotten that it’s the Fourth of July.”

She could only imagine the ohs and ahs bursting from the lips of their guests downstairs enjoying the pyrotechnics being launched from Fort Mason at the water’s edge. They watched the breathtaking display until the last Roman candle burnt itself out and only the stars lit up the night sky.

J.D. put an arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the big brass bed on the far side of the room.

“My darling Miss Architect… now that we know we aren’t being assaulted by explosions, quakes, or fire, may I have the pleasure of spending our second night together in Sears and Roebuck’s finest?”

In answer, Amelia pressed herself against the full length of his tall frame. “Oh yes… but in future, can we not wait so long between such illicit assignations?”

“Illicit? Why, I intend to make an honest woman of you.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.”

J.D. only smiled and swiftly began to divest her of her evening’s finery, unfastening the tiny row of buttons marching down her back.

“Did you like my gown?” she asked, suddenly feeling bashful as the luxurious fabric fell away from her body.

“You wore this wickedly seductive dress on purpose, didn’t you?” J.D. whispered into her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he began to pull pins from her upswept hairstyle. “You deliberately wanted me to know what I’d be missing if I married poor Matilda.”

“What a mind reader you are,” she marveled, luxuriating in the feeling of her long hair falling against her shoulders while a flood of confidence took hold at the thought of how she’d stood her ground until J.D. had satisfactorily explained his reasons for the planned nuptials that seemed a million years ago.

She slowly turned to face him clad in only her underclothes. J.D.’s gaze surveyed her from toes to forehead as he had that magical night in his makeshift living quarters in the basement.

“So beautiful, Miss Architect… so very lovely you are.”

Then, without further comment, he leaned forward and kissed in turn the tops of each breast mounded above her corset’s French lace trim.

“I thought you didn’t wear these contraptions anymore?” he teased as his hands worked feverishly to free her from her laced stays.

“I don them only when I need to keep my guard up or my dress
on
—as I did tonight.”

“Well, please observe, mademoiselle, how easily I have now breached your line of defense.”

Amelia and J.D. both smiled as the last of her undergarments fell to the floor, joining her silk dress, shift, and petticoats in a frothy pile at their feet. J.D. had his dress shirt off in a trice.

“And now, Monsieur Thayer,” she said, absorbing the sight of his beautiful bronze torso, “would you like me to show you what you
might
have missed?” she asked, boldly reaching for the button on his dress trousers.

“Yes, my dearest Amelia. Please do refresh my memory as to your wicked, wicked ways.”

“And you’ll do the same?” Amelia asked, smiling up at him.

“Of course,” he replied. “Equality in all things, remember?”

Chapter 38

The management of the Bay View had provided complimentary hotel rooms for members of J.D.’s aborted wedding party, along with adjoining suites for Aunt Margaret, Miss Morgan, and Lacy, as well as Miss Cameron, Wing Lee, Connie Thayer, and Angus McClure. J.D. and Amelia were oblivious in their owner’s suite to the merrymaking that lasted well into the wee hours before the guests finally repaired to their rooms.

The following morning, Loy Chen’s crew whisked away the last remnants of the plentiful food and drink that had flowed throughout the celebration, while upstairs, J.D. and Amelia lazed in the big brass bed.

“I realize that I forgot to carry you over the threshold last night, but frankly, darling, I don’t think I have the strength to do it this morning.”

Yawning agreement, Amelia replied, “You’ll have your chance to play the gallant when we stay on the Rue Jacob.”

By lunchtime, the couple finally rose, dressed, and prepared to play host to their many guests.

“What will they think when I appear in this same gown,” Amelia fretted as J.D. did up the buttons on her back.

“Here, put this to good use as a shawl,” he offered, handing her a silk throw that had been spread upon a nearby chaise lounge.

Amelia’s attire was utterly ignored when they appeared downstairs to find Matilda and Emma in a lather of anxiety in the private dining room where a late breakfast was being served.

“I didn’t sleep a wink last night for thinking of what happened with my father last night,” worried Matilda, who seemed on the verge of tears. She squeezed Emma’s hand in an agitated grip. Loy and Shou Shou unobtrusively served cups of strong coffee while Matilda confided that the problems with her father were far less manageable than J.D. tended to portray them.

“You must
believe
me when I tell you that none of us is safe,” she said. “My father has been humiliated in front of the very people whose high regard means everything to him.”

“She’s right,” Emma chimed in. She turned to address Amelia who sat across from her at a table that had been polished to a dazzling sheen. “You probably know now, Miss Bradshaw, that Mr. Kemp threatened to have you killed if Mr. Thayer didn’t do exactly as he wished. I don’t want to frighten you, but that awful Jake Kelly said he meant it.”

“And there’s also Dick Spitz and that dreadful Joe Kavanaugh to consider,” Matilda declared, “and who knows how many other ruffians my father employs? I know it sounds frightfully dramatic, but I tell you, he will stop at nothing to get even for this.”

J.D. turned to Amelia. “All the more reason for you and me to go to France immediately and remove ourselves from harm’s way for a while.”

“What of poor Matilda and Emma?” Amelia demanded. “We can’t just allow them to wander back to Mill Valley and take their chances that Kemp has come to his senses.”

“You two can go to Boston, can’t you, Emma?”

“My parents are saying now, they’ll cut off my allowance if I don’t return to Massachusetts and live with them until I am married,” she replied glumly.

“Well, then,” J.D. said with a glance to Amelia as if to confirm her agreement, “you both can stay
here
.” He smiled at Matilda. “You’ve kept your father’s accounts. Why not keep ours and we’ll find space somewhere in the hotel for you to use as a studio? And you, Emma. You’re a lively young lady. How would you like to earn your keep by serving as one of the hotel’s desk clerks, under the supervision of Grady, whom Amelia and I will promote to overall hotel manager?”

Emma and Matilda exchanged excited glances.

“What a splendid idea, J.D.!” Amelia exclaimed.

“And for everybody’s safety, as of tomorrow, several Pigati cousins will serve as permanent security guards.” Matilda and Emma exchanged relieved glances. “Loy and Shou Shou will be right here to help you two every step of the way, right, Loy?”

Loy smiled broadly, but before he could respond, a tremendous concussion resounded throughout the building.

Matilda emitted a high-pitched scream as the window on the far side of the room exploded, shattering glass in all directions.

“Can’t be fireworks this time,” muttered J.D. bolting in the direction of the deafening sounds.

Black smoke and debris immediately filled the air. Angus appeared at the dining room door, flanked by Aunt Margaret, the Misses Cameron, Morgan, Fiske, and Pratt, along with Wing Lee, who cried out in terror.

“Good God, what was
that
?” Angus shouted.

“It
can’t
be the boilers again,” cried Amelia, anguished. “I stood over the installer’s shoulder for two entire days.”

“It’s not the boilers,” yelled J.D., as a second explosion rent the air. “I think it’s dynamite!”

“Holy Mother of God!” exclaimed Angus. “I believe you’re right!” He ran to another of the shattered windows and peered through the smoke. “There’s rubble all over the garden.”

“You two come with me,” J.D. directed the doctor and Edith, who was already dressed in her nurses uniform, ready to return to work at the Presidio hospital. “Loy, round up all the help you can get and order the staff to man the hoses down in the basement. Amelia, ring for the fire brigade and if you can’t rouse them, run down to Powell Street.”

“What about the guests?” Amelia asked, jumping to her feet and throwing her napkin into her chair. “Aunt Margaret, are you all right?”

“Yes, dear,” her aunt said calmly. The older woman turned to J.D. “What can I do to help?” In a genuine crisis, Margaret Bradshaw Collins, survivor of Donner Pass, was unflappable.

“You, Miss Cameron, Miss Morgan, and Miss Fiske—would you all please station yourselves in the lobby and direct the guests safely out onto the Taylor Street side?” J.D. ordered. “I’m headed down Jackson.”

“Certainly,” Julia Morgan said, taking charge.

“J.D.!” Amelia cried. “Be careful! We don’t know if all the dynamite’s exploded.”

Angus and J.D. dashed through the door that led to the kitchen, while Amelia herded the women toward the lobby.

“Emma and Matilda?”

“Y-yes?” they responded in unison.

Amelia figured it would be best to give the poor, frightened young women a task to keep them busy and their minds off the blast.

“Don’t take the elevators, but go upstairs and knock on every single door on all three floors. Apologize for the inconvenience, but make sure everyone immediately leaves the hotel through the front entrance, away from the explosion. I’ll telephone in the alarm.”

Within minutes, Amelia was relieved to hear the clanging bells of the fire brigade coming up Jackson Street. She ran down the street’s steep incline toward the rear of the hotel just as Angus and J.D. were struggling between them to drag a body away from the smoke and fire. Behind the trio followed Jake Kelly, leaning heavily on Edith’s shoulder. The hulking figure stumbled through the smoke, howling in pain as blood spilled down his face. Dick Spitz trailing behind was in equally bad condition with burns on his face and forearms.

Amelia stood frozen in place, her hands on each side of her face, watching in horror as J.D. and Angus laid their disfigured victim in the street next to the fire engine.

Joe Kavanaugh no longer had any arms.

Nearby, the volunteers battled a small blaze in a storage area adjacent to J.D.’s office. A portion of one wall on the ground level had blown out, revealing sections of twisted steel and concrete, strong materials that had guaranteed that the rest of the building still stood solid as a rock.

Through the drifting haze, Amelia caught a glimpse of her grandfather’s walk-in safe that appeared as impervious to natural and man-made disasters as ever. Beside the safe lay Ezra Kemp, a chunk of concrete the size of a wine barrel resting on his chest.

“Kemp’s dead,” announced J.D. “He must’ve been watching Kelly do the dirty work when a huge section of the wall blew out and fell on him.”

“Oh my God,” murmured Amelia, turning away from the carnage.

“The fools used dynamite as a weapon, but they didn’t know what they were doing,” Angus declared with disgust. He swiftly removed his own shirt and ripped it in pieces to make tourniquets. Glaring at Spitz, he said, “You men are murderous idiots!”

He motioned for the wounded man to sit on the ground beside Jake Kelly while he and Edith attended to Kavanaugh, by far the more seriously wounded of the surviving trio. Joe’s eyes were closed and his chest barely moved.

Meanwhile, the men of the local fire brigade hooked their equipment to the fire hydrants linked to the underground cistern that the Chinese workers had dug and soon doused what remained of the conflagration.

Trembling with relief that the flames had been handily extinguished, Amelia returned to Taylor Street to inform anxious friends and guests that the danger was past. She urged everyone to proceed to the main dining room where Shou Shou and the staff were quick to work up a luncheon buffet, dispensing plenty of coffee, tea, and reassurance that everything at the Bay View would soon return to normal.

When Matilda and Emma reappeared in the lobby, Amelia ushered them into a private suite off the front desk and had a tea tray brought in. J.D. soon joined them, his shirtfront stained with blood.

“I’m so sorry, Matilda,” he said gravely, taking a seat next to the tall, ungainly young woman. “Your father was probably killed instantly when the dynamite went off. Joe Kavanaugh’s wounds were severe and Dr. McClure couldn’t stop the bleeding. He died ten minutes ago.”

“And the others?” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Everyone at the hotel is fine,” J.D. assured her. “Jake Kelly is missing most of his fingers and an ear, and Dick Spitz has burns all over his arms and chest. They both should survive, the doctor says, if gangrene doesn’t set in. At any rate, I don’t think we’ll have much trouble from them anymore. Dr. McClure, Edith, and a policeman drove them to the Presidio in the Winton to be looked after at the army hospital, which is a lot more than they deserve. They’ll both be under arrest before nightfall.” He gave Matilda’s shoulder a kindly squeeze. “The coroner’s just come for your father. Amelia and I will help you see to final arrangements later.”

Matilda began to sob quietly into her hands. “I’m just so thankful you all weren’t
killed
and your beautiful hotel destroyed again!”

Amelia turned to enfold Matilda in her arms. “Well, thank heavens you and Miss Stivers are all right.” She peered over Matilda’s bowed head at Emma. “J.D. and I hope you both will remain here, starting today. Would you like to do that?”

“Most gratefully,” replied Emma, wiping her eyes.

Julia, Lacy, Aunt Margaret, and Donaldina Cameron appeared at the door. Wing Lee clung to their skirts and gazed solemnly at Matilda, who continued to weep softly.

“Can we help in any way?” asked Julia with a look of concern.

Amelia rose from her chair and crossed to the door. “Yes, actually, you can. Would you kindly escort these poor dears into the dining room and let’s all have some lunch.”

Matilda and Emma were led out of the room. Amelia placed her hand lightly on Julia Morgan’s tailored sleeve.

“Thank you, Julia. You are such a good friend.”

“And you as well, my dear.”

J.D. waited for everyone to leave and then shut the door behind them. Amelia hesitated and then held out her arms. He swiftly closed the distance between them and folded her in an embrace. His hair still smelled of smoke.

“I was afraid for a moment that the curse of Charlie Hunter had struck again,” he murmured against her neck, “and that
this
hotel too would come tumbling down.”

Amelia held him to her for a long moment and then leaned back in his arms. How close she’d come in so many ways to losing him, this man she now knew as well as herself. Neither of them was perfect in this strange new world of men and women, working together for common goals. For a split second, she imagined them walking side-by-side along the broad stretch of sand that led toward the Golden Gate straits, each on a separate path, but close enough to hold hands.

“Oh no, darling” she protested with a broad smile. “Don’t you realize that Charlie Hunter is your very own guardian angel?”

“How so?”

“Well, his granddaughter intends to reconfigure the dynamited area to add not only a sculpting studio for Matilda, but also a design studio off the basement where I can put my drafting board. Perhaps several drafting boards eventually—that is, if you agree.”

An unmistakable look of triumph shone in J.D.’s eyes. “Oh, so it’s definite? You and I are back in business together, are we? Does this also mean we’re engaged now?”

“No.” She smiled at him sweetly. “It means that, for a start, we’re full partners. I propose that after we return from France, you run this hotel while I design the next one. We’ll see how that suits us for a while.
Then
, perhaps, we could become engaged.”

J.D. regarded her a moment. “Sounds perfectly reasonable. And one day, married?” He laughed and shook his head. “I never in my life thought I’d hear myself say something like this.”