Chapter 22
Sacramento City
May 1854
Isabelle knelt on the grass by her aunt’s grave, a bouquet of wild lupine in her arms. She laid the pale yellow and purple flowers beside the dried ones she’d brought here last week. Then she’d kissed her fingers and held them against the cool marble stone.
Aunt Emeline rested beside her husband in City Cemetery, her grave marked with a simple epitaph.
EMELINE LABRIE
LOVING WIFE, FAITHFUL SERVANT, DAUGHTER OF GOD
APRIL 1797–FEBRUARY 1854
The words pierced Isabelle’s heart again. Three months had passed since Aunt Emeline had gone home, but it seemed like years. The anchor in Isabelle’s life had been cut loose, and she felt like a ship lost at sea, drifting through a storm.
When she was younger, she used to watch other families with wonder until God brought a family to love her too. Her aunt and uncle had cared deeply for her well-being and for her dreams. For almost a decade, she had belonged.
The trinket box that Aunt Emeline had given her was hidden in the room under her desk at the hotel, and she wore two keys around her neck now—one for the lockbox with revenue from the hotel and the other for her aunt’s box. That key was a consistent reminder of her aunt, but she still couldn’t bear to open her gift. Nor could she visit the cottage on the knoll above the cemetery, even though Nicolas and Sing Ye had invited her to dine with them.
Soon, she’d told them. Soon, she could step into the cottage, knowing that the woman she’d loved was gone. And soon, she hoped, she’d be able to press forward confidently in this world on her own.
Her guardian was gone now, but she couldn’t continue drifting. She would have to find strength to stand on her own feet and face whatever was next, knowing the God of Aunt Emeline and Uncle William—the God who sent His son—was with her too.
Standing, she wiped the tears from her eyes and began to walk back between the scrubs and iron fences and the mishmash of wooden and marble tombstones. The spring sun was welcome relief from the doldrums caused by the winter’s rain. The storms had come swiftly into California and were already gone.
Still Ross hadn’t returned home.
She’d received two more letters from him in the past months, a repetition of his previous words. He’d found gold. He couldn’t wait to marry her in the spring.
But April had passed, and she’d begun to wonder if perhaps there was another woman in Marysville vying for his attention. Ironic, given he already had two women waiting for him in Sacramento.
She walked through the cemetery’s gatehouse, and wind rustled the branches of a lone tree as she neared the street. Several blocks ahead, the Sacramento River bent toward the busy wharf. She could see the twin stacks of one of the steamboats that brought supplies and Argonauts alike from San Francisco. The paddle wheels on the sides of the boat churned the water, lapping it against the banks. A steady rhythm between man and nature.
She and Fanny had slipped into a comfortable rhythm as well, working together to accommodate their guests at the Golden. In lieu of a friendship, they’d developed a polite camaraderie, never stepping back into the mire of what had or had not happened between Isabelle and Ross. After Aunt Emeline died, Fanny stopped asking questions about the past, and Isabelle was grateful that she didn’t have to answer the inquiries. She was quite content just sipping tea together each morning, reading the papers, knowing that Fanny would be gone soon.
She’d finally told Fanny that she received word that Ross was in Marysville, but instead of going to find him, the woman opted to stay in the city. Fanny had said she preferred to wait and enjoy the fruits of Ross’s labor when he returned.
When Isabelle reached Fourth Street, she turned right. Lorinda Washburn, the only dressmaker in Sacramento, lived in a small house on this street, and as Isabelle passed her window, she saw Fanny inside, being fitted, it seemed, for a new wardrobe.
Fanny had no money to pay for clothing, but she’d still been visiting Lorinda about once a week, placing orders that she wouldn’t be able to redeem until Ross returned. Reality didn’t seem to daunt her. Fanny was convinced that Ross would take back the hotel, and she was preparing to take her place as hostess.
Sighing, Isabelle walked into the lobby. If Ross were able to buy back his half, she’d transfer the entire ownership of the hotel to him. No matter the arrangement, she couldn’t work alongside him and Fanny.
Stephan was helping Janette in the kitchen, preparing for dinner. He had retrieved a box from the steamboat that arrived this morning—a buttery queso chanco from Chile, chocolate from Domingo Ghirardelli’s company in San Francisco, and almonds from Spain. Janette was focused on her preparations of a torta caprese for dessert, a chocolate almond cake powdered with sugar.
“Have you seen Fanny?” Janette asked, her dress and hair powdered with sugar as well.
Isabelle nodded. “She’ll be back soon.”
“She’s been gone all morning.”
Janette complained more often these days about Fanny’s long absences, and Isabelle couldn’t blame her. The person who labored the least among them was living in the best rooms, seeming to do what she pleased. If Ross wasn’t planning to return, Fanny needed to go find him.
The lobby bell chimed, and Isabelle hurried to the next room. As she moved through the dining room, she pressed her hands against the chignon she’d twisted at the nape of her neck, checking the loose curls that fell on each side of her head. Then she straightened her gray day skirt and white blouse.
When she rounded the corner, she saw the back of a man dressed in a blue flannel shirt, jean trousers, and high boots pulled up almost to his knees. The typical attire of a miner. But then she stopped in the archway. Frozen. She knew the shape of those shoulders, the dark-blond hair that had grown long over his collar.
Nine months after walking out of the Golden, Ross had returned.
She stepped back, poised to run away, but it was too late. He spun on the heels of his boots, his lips breaking into a smile. Then he rushed across the lobby to her, arms outstretched.
Before she could speak, he wrapped her in his arms. Kissed her lips.
Stunned, she stepped away, her stomach ill. She’d rehearsed this moment for months, and yet she couldn’t seem to remember what she’d intended to say to the man in front of her.
He was grinning, oblivious to her reluctance. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it back before April,” he said. “Did you get my letters?”
She nodded slowly.
“I felt like I was close to something big, and boy, was I.” He dug into the pocket of his coat and removed a buckskin pouch. Inside was a small nugget of gold. “I wanted to surprise you.”
He handed the gold to her, and she stared down at her hand, her palm open. “I can’t accept this.”
His grin faded. “But I found it for you.”
She held the nugget out toward him. “I’m sure your wife will appreciate it.”
He lowered the bag in his hands, studying her face instead of the gold. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No.”
“I thought you would be faithful, no matter how long I was gone.”
She curled her fingers over the nugget. “And I thought you were an honest man.”
He shook his head. “You’re not making sense.”
“You asked me to marry you, Ross.”
“And it’s something I intend to do. This afternoon, if possible.”
“You might want to speak to your wife about it first.” Outside the window, she saw Fanny strolling slowly up the walkway, a white parasol propped up over her head to ward off the sun. “She’s been waiting for months for you and your gold.”
Moments later, Fanny opened the door. When she saw Ross, she shrieked and rushed toward him, flinging her arms around him. As she clung to his neck, Ross looked over at Isabelle. She saw the shock in his gaze. Dismay.
Fanny had been telling the truth. And it seemed he hadn’t ever intended to make good on his promises to the woman he’d left behind.
“How I’ve missed you,” Fanny said, stepping back, though her hands remained on his shoulders.
He dropped back against the counter. “I’ve—I’ve missed you too.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” She took a breath. “I didn’t think you would ever come back.”
She kissed him and then let go, giggling when she realized that Isabelle was in the room too. Her gaze fell to the nugget in Isabelle’s hands.
“Look what Ross brought for you,” Isabelle said, holding it out.
Fanny squealed as she reached for it. “You did find gold.”
His smile was strained. “Of course I did.”
She examined the piece. “How much more did you find?”
“Plenty, but it’s all in dust,” he said, speaking as if every word pained him.
Fanny smiled up at him again. “Now we can buy back your hotel.”
Reaching for Ross’s hand, Fanny led him around Isabelle, back toward the rooms where she’d been staying. Isabelle slipped over to her refuge behind the counter. She thought about hiding upstairs in her room, locking herself in until Mr. and Mrs. Kirtland left the hotel, but she wouldn’t be able to hide for long. Instead, she tried to busy herself by writing a letter to a shop in San Francisco.
An hour later, after taking a bath and changing into the clothes of a businessman, Ross returned to the lobby. “Fanny is packing,” he said. “Can we talk upstairs?”
They walked up to the third floor, to the sitting area in the center of the lodging rooms. He sat on one of the damask-covered chairs, and she leaned back against the wall beside the window.
Ross was one of the most handsome men she’d ever known, but any affection between them was gone. “You should have told me you were married.”
He shifted on the seat. “Fanny and I never should have married. We had completely different dreams.”
“I heard her father paid you an ample sum as a dowry,” she said, crossing her arms. “Must have helped with your journey west.”
“I’d wanted to come to California since the first time I heard about the gold.”
“And you needed his money to do it.”
He glanced toward the window before looking back at her. “I planned to send for Fanny, before I met you and Emeline.”
“You used my aunt and me, like you used Fanny and her father,” she said, refusing to accept the blame for his indiscretion.
“That’s not true.”
She glanced across the room at the elegant furnishings and Oriental rug that she and Ross had acquired in their first year as partners. “You never ran a hotel before this one, did you?”
“No,” he admitted, “but I think we did a fine job managing this one together.”
She couldn’t disagree, but she didn’t need his assistance in running the hotel any longer. “How much is your nugget worth?”
“Not enough to buy back my partnership in the hotel.”
She brushed her hands over the curtain. “It’s better that way.”
“I suppose it is.”
That nugget of his wouldn’t last long at California prices, but she hoped he would use it wisely, much more wisely than he’d treated the women in his life. “Perhaps you and Fanny could invest in another establishment?”
His eyebrows climbed. “And compete against you?”
“There’s plenty of business to go around.”
Ross stood up. “I never meant for you to find out about Fanny.”
“I would have found out at some point,” she said. “Much better to do so now than after we married.”
“I wish—” he started, but she stopped him.
“Fanny wants to make you happy.”
He shook his head. “She wants to make herself happy.”
Isabelle moved toward the top of the stairs. “I suppose, in one way or another, we all want happiness.”
Ross stepped toward her, his gaze intense. Her stomach fluttered the way it did when he first told her that he loved her—and she hated herself for it. He had deceived her, wronged her, and yet she still felt her resolve flitting away.
“You’re right, Isabelle,” he said quietly. “We both deserve to be happy too.”
She reached for the polished newel post, willing herself to be strong.
“I’ll divorce her,” Ross declared. “Then we can marry.”
Stunned, she tried to process his words. “You would put her out?”
“No. I’d buy her passage to New York,” he said. “She’ll find a wealthy man to marry there.”
Fanny had come to California like so many, with great expectations about the happiness they thought gold could buy. She’d envisioned an affluent husband and a lavish hotel to call her own. A life of riches and grandeur without the hard work.
But even if Fanny agreed to return east—and even if Ross truly loved Isabelle—she would never again consider marrying him, not even to fill the vacancy left in her heart.
She longed to be with someone who would cherish love and integrity more than money, who would choose to do right, even if it cost him a dream. Someone who would guard her secret with his life and would love her for who she was, not who she pretended to be.
“I need someone who will be faithful,” she told him. Like Uncle William had been to Aunt Emeline.
“I’ll be faithful to you,” he said, trying to reassure her, but she shook her head.
He searched her face one more time, as if he might find a way to influence her otherwise, but she’d made up her mind.
“Can Fanny and I spend the night here?” Ross asked as he followed her down the steps.
It would be hard to find a decent place to stay in a city already bursting at the seams, but she didn’t want to prolong this disaster any longer.
“Just until tomorrow.”
He nodded. “We’ll be out at daylight.”
Ross left the hotel as customers streamed inside for dinner. She hoped he was searching for a temporary place to live, but with gold lining his pockets, the gambling tables would be a persuasive distraction. She hadn’t suspected it before, but it seemed that Ross liked to gamble after all.
After helping Stephan serve dinner, she checked on Fanny. The woman was sitting on the made bed, her trunk open in front of her, a crumpled handkerchief in her hands.
Fanny didn’t look over at her. “Ross said he doesn’t have enough gold to buy back his share of the hotel.”
“That’s true,” Isabelle said, sitting in the rocking chair by the window. “There’s typically more money to be had in providing goods and services to gold seekers than in actually finding gold.”
Fanny blew her nose into the handkerchief. “You could loan us the money, Isabelle. We’ll pay you back.”
“I can’t go into partnership with Ross again.”
Fanny dabbed at her swollen eyes and then dropped the handkerchief back into her lap. “Then partner with me. We could continue operating the hotel together.”
She considered the woman’s words. It was never her intent to work alone, but a business partnership was a precarious affair, even with someone you trusted. While Fanny firmly appreciated the finer things in life, she didn’t want to work to provide hospitality to their guests. A partnership with her, Isabelle feared, would mean Fanny and Ross would continue living right in these rooms, enjoying the food and safety in this hotel, with Fanny too preoccupied to help in the kitchen or upstairs in the guest rooms.
And if a boy like Micah ever came into the hotel again, she felt certain Fanny would be the first one to alert Rodney that they had a runaway.
She took a deep breath. “I can’t partner with either of you, Fanny.”
Fanny sat up straighter, her tears drying. “I know you two were lovers.”
Isabelle cringed. “I didn’t know Ross was married.”
“I wrote him every month,” Fanny said. “Surely you must have suspected.”
“He said the letters were from his sister.”
She snorted, turning the handkerchief. “I’m willing to overlook what you’ve done in the past, if you will help us with our future.”
“What I’ve done . . .” Isabelle’s voice trailed off.
“I believe the people of Sacramento deserve to know the truth about the proprietor of the Golden Hotel.”
Isabelle stared at the woman, appalled at her threat.
“What will they say when they discover you had an affair with a married man?” Fanny asked, the tears gone.
Aunt Emeline would say it didn’t matter what people thought because the past didn’t define her. She too was a daughter of God. Fanny’s attempt to slander her wouldn’t change who she was—or who she wanted to be.
She rocked back and forth in the chair. “I can choose to forgive Ross, but I can’t overlook what he’s done to both of us.”
“Ross said we have to leave in the morning.”
“You need to begin again as husband and wife.”
Fanny’s eyes narrowed. “It’s selfish of you to put us out like this.”
“I’m not putting you out. Ross has enough money to provide for you. I’m certain he will find work at another hotel soon.”
Fanny stood up, brushing the wrinkles from her dress as she walked toward the door. “Is there any food left from dinner?”
“I believe so.”
She leaned against the doorpost, seeming to prop herself up against it. “Ross and I are going to start a grand hotel together. One much finer than the Golden.”
“Then I shall come have dinner at your place.”
She would miss having the companionship of another woman, but she was relieved that this ordeal was almost over. Perhaps with Ross and Fanny out of her hotel, starting their life together, she might be able to begin dreaming again on her own.