Calico Palace (64 page)

“I’m learning,” Dwight said tersely.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. Marny knew what he was thinking. The two banks that had survived the fire had been small buildings of brick reinforced with iron. Many people were voicing doubts that a large building, with several floors and many rooms, could be made fireproof.

Dwight said, “Size doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m not worried,” Marny answered. “You’re good at your work, Dwight. I’m not concerned about people who say you can’t do it.”

“‘You can’t do it!’” he echoed. Restlessly he walked to the window and stood by her, looking out. “‘You can’t do it!’” he repeated angrily. “Like my father back in New York.”

“Oh dear,” Marny exclaimed with wry humor. “Was that your trouble? You’ve never told me about your father.”

“You’ve never asked me,” said Dwight.

Marny spoke quietly. “Dwight, I don’t ask my friends what they did before I met them. Most people like to talk about themselves. But some don’t. So, I don’t ask. But I do wonder.”

“You don’t say anything about wondering,” he remarked smiling.

“No, but I wonder about the people who came out from the States before the gold rush. People like you. Those who came here after the gold news got around, they’re simple to understand. But those of us who came before then—we all had our own reasons, and they’re different reasons with each one of us. Why would Hiram Boyd ship as a sailor to come around the Horn? Why would you leave New York and go to live in Honolulu, out at the end of the world?” She laughed shortly. “You don’t have to tell me, Dwight.”

“I’ve just told you,” he answered. “Family trouble.”

Marny thought of her own family. “Did they nag you and boss you?”

“Not exactly,” said Dwight. “But I was the black sheep. We were three brothers. I was the one who was never going to amount to anything. I wouldn’t take good advice. My father had a store. A good one, started by his father. He wanted to open some branches. He wanted the three of us to join him. The others were enthusiastic. I wasn’t. I wanted to be a builder and I wanted to take my own risks. They couldn’t understand why I wanted to try anything so chancy when I could go into the good old family business and be safe.”

“Some people like to gamble,” said Marny. “Some don’t.”

He nodded. “And I guess they’ll never get together. Anyway, I came out here to the Pacific so I could do what I wanted.”

“And not have to listen to any more good advice,” she added.

“Exactly,” he said. He went on, “I didn’t run away and hide. They know where I am. My father writes to me now and then, asking if I haven’t had adventures enough and why don’t I come back to civilization.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” she asked.

“Oh, some day,” said Dwight. “But not yet.”

He turned from the window and looked at her with proud affection.

“First,” he said, “I’m going to build a fireproof Calico Palace for you.”

“For me,” she said softly.

“Yes, Marny dear,” he answered. He smiled confidently. “For you.”

Marny smiled back at him. Dwight meant what he said. Or at least he thought he did. He thought he was going to build that Calico Palace for her. But she was not the reason. He was going to build it for his father.

—For his father, she thought, and his brothers. He’ll not go back to them until he has a fireproof building like a scalp on his belt. Maybe several fireproof buildings. If he can do it in San Francisco he can do it in New York. He’ll show them.

—And as soon as he has those scalps on his belt, he’ll leave me just where I am, and go back to his father.

—Well, that’s all right, she reflected. It’s all right, so long as he doesn’t know I know it. A man so often complains about a woman, She doesn’t understand me. Let him say it. Never, never let him guess you understand him so well.

Dwight cleared the lot for the Calico Palace and laid a foundation of wrought stone from China. He promised Norman and the Blackbeards that they could open the public room as soon as he had finished the first story, and use the small rooms behind it as living quarters. When he had finished the second story Marny could join them and open her parlor.

With the Calico Palace under way, Dwight turned his attention to Hiram’s bank. (The name of the bank was still Eustis and Boyd, but Mr. Eustis was a bashful man, excellent at the work he did at his desk in a corner, but so quiet that the customers seldom knew he was there. Hiram’s big jovial presence so filled up the place that except on formal documents the treasure house on Montgomery Street had no other name than “Hiram’s bank.”)

Early in June the first floor of the Calico Palace was ready. Norman moved in, and opened the public room. Rosabel stayed with Kendra and helped her with the cooking.

“Do you like this work?” Kendra asked her. “I mean, do you like it as well as playing the piano?”

“I like playing the piano better than anything,” said Rosabel. “But I like cooking too.”

They were working in their iron kitchen. The fire gave them a welcome warmth, for outdoors the wind was whistling through clouds of chilly June fog. Kendra had put a pork roast into the oven and was now boiling onions, while Rosabel sat by the table peeling potatoes. After a short silence Rosabel said,

“Norman told Marny the Calico Palace was doing fine. Just that one room so far, but it’s full all the time.”

Kendra said she was glad of this. After another minute or two Rosabel added,

“Norman wants me to come back and play the piano in the public room.”

“I’ll miss you,” said Kendra. “You’re a lot of help.”

“I hate the public room,” said Rosabel. “Getting pinched by every Tom-Dick-and-Harry down from the mines. At least in Marny’s parlor they have some manners. I’m not going.”

“I don’t blame you,” Kendra said positively.

“Besides,” said Rosabel, “I like learning how to cook. I sure do wish I could cook like you, Kendra.”

Kendra stirred the onions. “You’re learning. But it does take practice. I’m afraid you won’t have much time for cooking when Marny opens her parlor.”

Rosabel dropped the paring knife with a clatter. “I’m not going back to Marny’s parlor,” she announced.

Kendra went to the table. She put her hand on Rosabel’s shoulder. “If you want to help me make cakes and rolls,” she said, “I’ll be glad to teach you.”

“I don’t want to go back to the Calico Palace at all!” exclaimed Rosabel. Curling an ankle around a leg of her chair, she looked up at Kendra, her eyes wide and dark and appealing under their black velvet eyebrows. “I’m tired of living like that!” she said. “Nothing to count on. Nothing to look forward to. Nobody giving a damn what becomes of me. I want to be married like other people.”

Rosabel sounded suddenly so alone and helpless. Kendra felt a rush of sympathy. She stroked Rosabel’s puckered forehead. “Rosabel,” she said gently, “I’m going to speak the truth, even if it hurts you. You’d better give up hoping for Norman. I don’t think he’s ever going to marry you.”

Rosabel’s soft little mouth set in a new hard line. She spoke clearly. “I don’t want to marry Norman,” she said.

“Oh, I’m glad of that,” Kendra answered with relief. “There are so many others. A pretty girl like you, you’ll have all the proposals you want.”

“I don’t want any more proposals,” snapped Rosabel. Forgetting the unpeeled potatoes, she stood up.

“Then what do you want?” Kendra asked in astonishment.

“I want to marry Mr. Fenway,” said Rosabel, and she put her head on Kendra’s shoulder and began to cry softly.

R
OSABEL REACHED INSIDE HER
dress and took out a letter.

“Ralph Watson brought this over today,” she said, still with a little choke in her voice. “It’s from Mr. Fenway. Read it.”

The letter was addressed to Miss Rosabel Fitzgerald. Kendra wondered if this was her real name, and doubted it. Not at all sure what to expect, she began to read.

On expensive paper, the letter was written painstakingly, with many flourishes. It was evidently a letter composed in advance, altered, polished, made as fine as possible, and at last, copied with care.

San Francisco

June 12, 1850

Dear Miss Rosabel,

This epistle brings you a respectful offer of marriage. Though thronged by admirers more worthy than myself, you will, I beg, do me the honor of considering my proposal.

For some time it has been my pleasure to observe your beauty and talent, and the smiles that brighten the hearts of those around you. Many times you have made my spirit glad. When I was a child back in New Bedford, Massachusetts, my mother had a piano and she played it like you. She looked like you too, black curly hair and big dark eyes like yours, and she had your good cheer and sweet disposition. My father was a seagoing man and when he was away my mother would pass the time playing the piano by the hour and I used to sit and listen and the music made me happy. I thought nobody could play the piano like my mother until I heard you.

Miss Rosabel, I believe I can provide for you very comfortably. Chase and I are doing a good business in the mercantile line. Besides the store, I own four lots bringing in good rents. I also have a fair sum in cash, safely put away.

I take the privilege, Miss Rosabel, of laying my heart, hand, and fortune at your feet.

Yours with deep regard,

Silas Fenway.

Kendra looked up. Rosabel stood waiting, eyes wide, lips parted.

“Isn’t it the most beautiful letter you ever read?” Rosabel asked. She sounded awestruck.

Kendra felt a catch in her throat. “He means every word of it,” she said. “Have you answered it yet?”

Rosabel shook her head. “I—I don’t know if I can,” she returned. “I mean, I’m scared to try. He sounds so educated. I’m not educated like that.”

“Why don’t you send him word to come and see you here?” asked Kendra. “Then you can tell him you accept his offer.”

“Oh no!” Rosabel exclaimed. “He wrote to me. I ought to write back.”

She spoke with conviction, but with dread of the task. Kendra thought she understood why Rosabel had shown her the letter.

“Do you want me to help you, Rosabel?” she asked.

Rosabel’s reply had a touching eagerness. “Oh Kendra! Would you?”

“I’ll be glad to. This evening after dinner, when Marny has gone down to her card table, we’ll write the letter. Tomorrow when Dwight goes out you can ask him to take it to Mr. Fenway.”

“Oh you
are
so good!” exclaimed Rosabel. “I wish I could make up a beautiful letter. But I can’t, I know I can’t.”

“Nobody can do everything,” Kendra reminded her. “I wish I could play the piano like you. All I can do is tinkle tunes. You have real talent.”

“Silas told me the other day I had real talent,” Rosabel answered happily.

That evening Kendra composed a reply to Mr. Fenway. It was more flowery than she herself would have liked, but Rosabel wanted some fancy words and Kendra put them in. Rosabel copied the letter in her slow awkward handwriting, and the next morning Dwight took it with him. They did not tell him what was in it. Dwight assumed that he was delivering an order for dress goods.

About two hours later Mr. Fenway called at the hotel. Kendra and Rosabel were in the kitchen preparing the midday lunch when they heard a knock on the iron door. Rosabel started, with a quick smile as if she had already guessed who the caller was, and Kendra went to open the door. There stood Mr. Fenway, more carefully dressed than she had ever seen him, with a black silk cravat tied under his Adam’s apple, and a high beaver hat in his hand. He bowed low.

“Good morning, madam. I was told that this is where I could find Miss Rosabel.”

Before Kendra could answer she heard Rosabel’s voice behind her. “Here I am, Silas!”

A smile appeared on Mr. Fenway’s long narrow face. He bowed to Rosabel, and stepping over the threshold he said to Kendra, “I suppose Miss Rosabel has told you, she has made me the happiest of men?”

“Yes,” said Kendra, “and I’m happy for you both.”

Mr. Fenway gravely thanked her. He said he had come to ask Miss Rosabel to go out with him. They had many agreeable matters to talk over. Rosabel breathlessly asked if Kendra would mind preparing lunch alone.

“Not at all,” said Kendra. “Go with Mr. Fenway. May I tell Marny the good news?”

“Oh yes,” Rosabel exclaimed, and hurried off to put on her bonnet and shawl.

Marny heard the news over a game of solitaire. Her mouth popped open in astonishment. “Angels and ministers of grace defend us,” she murmured.

Kendra said thoughtfully, “She really wants to marry him, Marny.”

Marny considered. She nodded slowly. “Yes, I can see that she would. She’s tired of knocking about, and he’s prosperous and can keep her well. But Mr. Fenway—why does
he
want to marry
her
?”

“He says she reminds him of his mother.”

Slowly, Marny put down the cards she had been holding. She gave Kendra a long green stare. Then, abruptly, she burst out laughing.

“Kendra,” she said, “Kendra, this is the craziest gold rush I ever got mixed up in.”

They did not see Rosabel until afternoon. When she did come in she was in a hurry. She wanted only to change into a better dress. She said Mr. Fenway was going to take her to dinner at Delmonico’s. Then they would go to the Olympic Amphitheater on Kearny Street to see the Spanish Ballet and Opera Troupe.

Mr. Fenway called for her, and they set out for the restaurant and the Olympic Amphitheater. Kendra had gone to bed on her floor-mattress, and was nearly asleep when she heard the key in the lock. She raised herself on an elbow, and heard Mr. Fenway’s voice outside as he told Rosabel good night. By the cloudy moonlight she saw Rosabel come in.

“How was the show?” Kendra asked.

“It was grand!” sighed Rosabel. “The most beautiful show I ever saw. And such lovely singing! Do you mind if I light the candle?”

“Go ahead,” said Kendra, and Rosabel struck a match. By the light Kendra could see her face, full of joy.

“Oh, it was beautiful,” Rosabel sighed again.

Rosabel was fortunate to have seen the show that night. At eight o’clock the next morning the firebells clanged over the town again. Before noon the Olympic Amphitheater, and with it ten squares of the city, were in ruins.