A Race to Splendor (3 page)

If it came to it, he’d
buy
the damn hotel furniture from the chit, though from the way Amelia Bradshaw tilted her chin with a look of iron determination, he suddenly doubted if much would dissuade her from challenging his claims of ownership. Nothing, it would seem—not even her father’s bluster—appeared to daunt her.

“May I remind you gentlemen I have written proof on my side. Besides the will, which I have just been shown by Grandfather’s—and now
my
—lawyer, I also possess a number of letters written to me while I was in France by Charles Hunter that relate how, in front of witnesses here at the hotel, my grandfather declared that he wanted
me
to oversee all operations as soon as I returned from abroad.” She turned to face J.D. once again. “After all, I am a grown woman with a degree in architecture, as you so kindly pointed out, Mr. Thayer, and perfectly able to take on these responsibilities. Let us not forget, gentlemen, times are changing—and so are our laws. It’s 1906, for pity’s sake!”

“Things haven’t changed to the degree where females rule the roost, eh, J.D.?” Kemp retorted. “Especially
unmarried
females like Miss Bradshaw here.”

She shot back, “Four western states have already granted women the vote.”

“Not yet California, thank the good Lord!” J.D. replied mildly.

He assumed his rejoinder would get a rise out of her and was not disappointed. Her eyes flashed with incandescent fervor and no small degree of irritation. She strode over to the desk looking anything but a naïve spinster longing for compliments.

“It’s a new century, Mr. Thayer, and we ‘females,’ as you put it, are quite capable of seeing to our own affairs. My grandfather understood this perfectly. Why can’t you?”

J.D. paused to consider his next words carefully. “I’ve nothing but respect for you and your grandfather, Miss Bradshaw, but Charles was mortally ill and—”

“As inconvenient as it may be for you three,” she interrupted, “I presently speak and act as the true owner of this hotel.” She turned toward Bradshaw. “I’m home now, Father, and you’d best start adjusting to the fact that
I’m
in charge from here on out.”

“
You
in charge?” bellowed Bradshaw. “We’ll just see about this!”

Following this outburst, he clapped a hand to his mouth and lurched from the room, apparently to be sick in the water closet down the hall.

“Miss Bradshaw,” J.D. began, “surely we can come to some understanding—”

“The understanding you all must come to is that when my mother’s divorce from Father becomes final—”

“
Divorce?
”

Thayer and his partner had pronounced the word simultaneously.

“Ah, more bad news for you, I fear,” she said. “As my mother tearfully explained before I left Paris, she filed for divorce from my father on the basis of desertion by reason of habitual drunkenness here in San Francisco prior to departing for Europe. One day very soon, she will legally be beyond the reach of my father’s schemes. Or yours. And therefore, so am
I
. Meanwhile, your gambling club is closed before it opens. You don’t own one joist or crossbeam of this hotel.”

“But what about the twenty thousand dollars still owed me on that new building out there?” Kemp protested.

Amelia smiled sweetly, but J.D. saw the steel in her jaw. “Perhaps you should consult with that lawyer of yours, Mr. Kemp. I’m sure he’d be happy to advise you.”

J.D. dug into his vest pocket and swiftly laid out several small strips of paper. “Is this your father’s handwriting?” Amelia drew closer to the desk and peered down.

“Those may be his IOUs, but as I said before, Mr. Thayer, the Bay View Hotel and its assets were never his to wager. They aren’t worth the paper they’re written on.”

“You can’t just ignore—”

Amelia held up a hand. “Ah… but I have a plan to reconfigure that space you built so shoddily, shore it up properly, and then turn it into additional hotel rooms. Thus, as our profits increase, I’m sure we can come to some equitable arrangement to pay you back for the cost of your materials.”

She was a clever woman, he’d allow her that, but the only compensation he’d accept was clear title to the Bay View Hotel. J.D. Thayer had dreamed, schemed, and even scammed a bit to gain the upper hand with his two unreliable partners. No one hundred-ten-pound female, however talented, attractive, and self-possessed, was going to wrest
this
particular prize from his grasp.

Chapter 2

Ten days later, Amelia sat quietly in a courtroom with John Damler, an attorney specializing in real estate law who had been hastily recommended over the telephone by Julia Morgan, her college friend from the engineering department at the University of California at Berkeley. Amelia and her lawyer awaited Judge Haggerty’s pronouncements at a preliminary hearing into the matter of Charles Hunter’s will and the ownership of the Bay View Hotel.

Damler had done his level best to get the preliminary hearing to show cause before another judge of his own choosing, but had been out-maneuvered by Thayer and Kemp’s cronies in city government.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. During the entire proceedings, J.D. Thayer lounged in a chair at a table to her left, positioned in front of the wooden railing that separated the two combatants from the rest of the courtroom. From the corner of her eye, she saw he appeared the ever-so-reputable businessman and had the air of a person without a care in the world. Today on his six-foot frame, he sported a dark, three-quarter-length coat and matching trousers, gray vest, and pointed-toe boots. He was perfectly groomed from his trim black mustache to the lustrous shine on his footwear. His tanned skin looked even darker against his starched white shirtfront and winged collar. Tall, dark, and handsome, to be sure.

Tall, dark, and dangerous, you mean…
a voice echoed in her head.

Despite Thayer’s clever legal maneuvering, Amelia was pleased that her attorney had been impressed by the raft of letters she submitted in evidence to the court. They’d been posted to Paris by her late grandfather and bolstered her case rather well, she thought—especially the last one sent immediately prior to his second stroke. Charlie Hunter had penned:

As we both know, your father has the Irish disease and your mother has neither the temperament nor a head for business. Your da’s been drinking more than ever while you’ve been gone and I have now determined that the Bay View will only be safe in your hands. But never fear, Melly. You and I will see to it that poor Victoria will always be cared for, wherever that wastrel son-in-law of mine ends his days.

The missives, as well as her grandfather’s newly drawn and duly witnessed Last Will and Testament, seemed irrefutable evidence, Amelia thought. The judge was bound to see that Charles Hunter’s wishes had been utterly thwarted by her father and his smarmy partners, and their recent machinations were therefore invalid.

Even so, a voice of warning rang in her head. J.D. Thayer was unscrupulous, perhaps, but she had to admit that the man was impeccably attired and carried himself like a gentleman, which is more than could be said for Judge Haggerty.

In Amelia’s opinion, the judge they’d been assigned was a glib, overbearing blowhard whose pronouncements in the courtroom, thus far, sounded like nothing so much as the declarations of a snake-oil salesman. What worried her the most—in addition to the fact Haggerty was obviously a political appointee—were the legal issues of female separate property and the archaic tradition of male guardianship under California law—and its interpretation from the bench.

Just as Amelia stole another glance in Thayer’s direction, her adversary shifted his weight, turned his head, and stared at her with a faint smile creasing his lips. He inclined his head in a polite gesture of recognition, an action that only served to infuriate Amelia even more.

During the lengthy hiatus waiting for the judge to appear, Thayer hadn’t deigned even to look at her, and here he was, making a grand show of manners!

Playing the victor was more likely
, fumed Amelia. It disturbed her that the fellow appeared so cocksure of himself. His glance might even have been construed flirtatious, if she hadn’t been painfully schooled in the ways a man might appear to be showing a lady deference when, in fact, he only used that ploy to secure something
else
he desired.

Yes, J.D. Thayer was a handsome devil, in the same way Etienne had been a vastly attractive creature. Amelia certainly knew enough by now not to trust that either one of them had her best interests at heart.

Curiously, J.D.’s portly partner, Ezra Kemp, had not come to court at all, and her father’s whereabouts remained a mystery. After their confrontation at the Bay View on the day of her homecoming, Henry Bradshaw had bolted out the door and had not been heard of since, taking refuge at some dive on the Barbary Coast, no doubt.

Blast them all to Hades!

Amelia twisted in her chair to see if the bailiff had returned to the courtroom. When would Judge Haggerty get off his derrière and do what was expected of him? Her pulse quickened at the sight of the court officer who burst through a side door and strode to the front of the chamber.

“All rise,” barked the bailiff as the judge entered through a paneled opening behind the bench. The black-robed justice took his place while the bailiff intoned, “Be seated.”

Judge Haggerty cleared his throat and gestured to the documents spread before him.

“The court finds the letters in Miss Bradshaw’s possession merely to be the expression of a loving grandfather’s vague sentiments toward his only grandchild.” The jurist picked up an official-looking document. “This purported Last Will and Testament of Charles Hunter was signed with an ‘X,’ which might, under certain circumstances, be considered acceptable by this court. However,” he continued, scowling in Amelia’s direction, “it was made immediately prior to death and attested to by a Miss Edith Pratt—his private nurse and Miss Bradshaw’s longtime school friend—and by one Grady O’Neill, a hotel employee who owes his livelihood to Miss Bradshaw’s continuing good will.”

Amelia shot a look of outrage at Thayer and bent to her right to whisper to her attorney. “I knew
nothing
of the new will before I returned to San Francisco! It was made while I was still abroad. How could I have influenced its outcome or told anyone else to do such a thing?”

Damler swiftly patted her hand as if he feared she would violate courtroom decorum with an angry outburst. He nodded toward the judge, indicating they should give him their full attention.

“And even if it
were
Charles McQuinty Hunter’s intent to leave his estate solely to the petitioner,” intoned Judge Haggerty, “her father, Henry Bradshaw, had a perfect right to guide female family members as to the management and control of their property. This he did when his wife was sole heir, and in my opinion,” he added with a grimace from the bench, “the role of fathers’ inalienable rights to guide their unmarried children are still valid under California law, despite any newfangled pronouncements by the State Legislature.”

So much for the new California Code affecting the rights of women!

Amelia turned to look at her lawyer, unable to mask her ire at these pronouncements from the bench. The judge’s words proved too much even for the staid John Damler. Her attorney rose to his feet with a forefinger raised to the ceiling.

“A point of order, your Honor. Mrs. Henry Bradshaw is
divorcing
her husband on grounds of habitual drunkenness and mismanagement of her funds. Furthermore, Miss Bradshaw is not a child, but a mature woman of thirty and therefore in no need of guardianship, especially by a known drunkard. Mr. Bradshaw has, as these letters reveal, shown no steady guidance whatsoever. Rather, he constantly indulged in strong spirits while sacrificing the Bay View Hotel in an all-night poker match with Mr. Thayer when Charles Hunter’s true heir—my client sitting here—was en route from abroad where she’d been studying architecture.”

Haggerty’s frown deepened, but her lawyer drew a deep breath and continued stating his client’s case.

“Since by virtue of Miss Bradshaw’s traveling on the high seas from Europe and across the country by train during the period Charles Hunter changed his will, my client could not possibly have exerted undue influence on her grandfather to change his will in her favor, and thus it would seem, your honor, that Mr. Bradshaw’s actions are therefore invalid and—”

“Are you proposing to take my place on this bench, Mr. Damler?” Haggerty asked, slamming the palm of his hand on top of Charlie Hunter’s disputed will. “For you certainly appear to be offering the court your own, misguided legal conclusions.”

The judge turned his sour expression on Amelia. “It is not this court’s business regarding the Bradshaws’ divorce proceedings, of which any decent Christian court takes a dim view, by the way. Nor is it the court’s purview how well Mr. Bradshaw does or doesn’t hold his liquor. The new Civil Code,” he added with undisguised disdain for the recent laws defining a female’s separate property, “would perhaps apply to Miss Bradshaw
if
the new will was witnessed by disinterested parties—but it was not.”

Damler brazenly interrupted. “But, Your Honor, Miss Bradshaw hadn’t spoken to or conducted written correspondence with the witnesses to the new will and could not, therefore, have exerted any undue influence over them, despite her acquaintance with them in years past. And if you are ruling out the new will, what of the mother’s separate property rights as the
former heir
, under the new code
?
Is Victoria Bradshaw not,
de facto
, now entitled under current California law, the management and control of her separate property, nullifying her husband’s reckless actions?”

The judge looked startled and J.D. shifted in his seat.

Haggerty’s eyes had become slits and his bushy brows drew together as he declared, “Mrs. Henry Bradshaw is not a plaintiff before this court. If you will look around you, Mr. Damler, Victoria Bradshaw isn’t even
in
these chambers.” He smiled faintly in Thayer’s direction. “In my opinion, Mrs. Bradshaw has deserted her husband and fled our beloved land, forfeiting her rights under the laws of this state and nation. Therefore, it is clear to me that Mr. Bradshaw’s legal rights as a father and guardian of an
unmarried
female allow him to proceed any way he wishes—his recklessness notwithstanding.”

“May I say, your Honor,” Damler countered, “that in this new century, I had hoped to have the court affirm, under the new Civil Code, that an intelligent, highly educated woman architect like Miss Bradshaw would be deemed as far more capable than a man known in the community to be a hopeless drunkard, hazarding the Hunter family legacy in an imprudent game of
chance
!”

Judge Haggerty was rumored to be an officer of the court installed by the notoriously corrupt Mayor Schmitz, along with Schmitz’s enforcer, Abe Reuf, and their political circle downtown—which included Ezra Kemp. Even so, the jurist appeared mildly discomforted by Damler’s impassioned declarations. Haggerty shuffled the documents for a few moments and cleared his throat a second time.

“Nevertheless, counselor, I find that these letters—notarized and attested to by no one—are
not
the legal equivalent of a Last Will and Testament. Secondly, in
my
judgment, this document purported to be Mr. Hunter’s new
will meets the test of ‘undue influence’ since it was drawn up when Mr. Hunter could barely move or speak clearly, and signed by witnesses who are obviously partisan to the sole beneficiary, Miss Bradshaw. Furthermore,” Judge Haggerty declared with a glare in Amelia’s direction, “legal
precedence
in this state confirms what this court deems is the
proper
guardianship roles of fathers and husbands. Notwithstanding the new Civil Code, society would fall into chaos if the court didn’t adhere to this hallowed principal of hearth and home! Case dismissed.”

Amelia ducked her head, her cheeks hot with indignation as she strove to control her emotions. She couldn’t bear to look across the courtroom at J.D. Thayer or imagine the relief that must have washed over him. He had bested her this day and unquestioningly was glad of it. No matter that her parents and his had once been friends. No matter that she had lost her grandfather, the dearest person in her life, and had been robbed of a precious legacy by such outrageous double-dealing. She doubted anything pulled on the man’s conscience.

Outside the courthouse, her attorney appeared as upset as she by the outcome of the hearing.

“It’s simply wrong-headed,” John Damler fumed as they walked down the courthouse steps. “We could appeal, Miss Bradshaw, but I fear Thayer and especially Kemp, with his political connections, will put this case before the same political hacks with the same hidebound views, wherever we might file in this state.”

“You’re probably right. And besides, I can ill afford any more California justice.”

Her words were tinged with defiance when, in fact, she yearned to simply weep as a child. Once she paid her legal fees, she was virtually out of funds except for the pittance she had remaining from her trip home from France. All she wanted at the moment was to get as far away as possible from Judge Haggerty’s courtroom so she could rage to the heavens or pound a fist against a wall. Indeed, suppressed fury was the only emotion she would allow herself, for if she accepted the truth that the Bay View Hotel no longer belonged to her family, she feared she would behave like a madwoman.