Chapter 10
Beneath sparkling crystal chandeliers, sitting at a linen-covered table set with delicate china and the finest of silverware, Rose couldn’t stop marveling at the magnificence of Le Chantecler. On a stage at one end, backed by a full band, a famous group of Tyrolean singers entertained the diners throughout dinner. Pierre, the French chef, “imported direct from Paris,” served up such culinary delights that at the end of the meal Rose sat back and exclaimed, “That was the best meal I ever had.” It was true. Turtle soup, lobster salad, oysters from Oregon, a quail pâté cooked in Malaga wine—she’d never had such a fabulous meal in all her life.
Mason proudly proclaimed, “You have your choice of every variety of fish, flesh, and fowl which the country affords.” This was food she couldn’t even have imagined those months on the wagon train, all of it served with faultless precision by waiters in formal evening wear. She couldn’t help but compare this elegant restaurant to the sad debacle at the River Queen.
She took the last bite of her French pastry with the incredibly light meringue. “Do you suppose it’s possible I could find a French chef for the River Queen? Not now, of course, but after I get it cleaned up and remodeled.”
“Very possible. Pierre has a friend, another French chef who’s just left France. He’ll be arriving soon and will be looking for employment.”
“Is he from Paris?”
“Lived there all his life.”
“Perfect.” She wanted to clap her hands but refrained. “Please do get in touch with him. A French restaurant would be my dream.” She thought of Gus with his dirty apron and surly face. What would she do with him? Another problem she must put aside till later.
“Glad you enjoyed the dinner.” In his perfectly cut dinner jacket and white bow tie, Mason looked as if he belonged here. After lighting an after-dinner cigar, he waxed eloquent about the delights of Sacramento’s leading hotel. “When you stroll down the street, you see block after block of hotels and gambling houses, all of an inferior nature until you reach the Egyptian. It’s superior in every way.”
After they left the restaurant, he gave her a tour of the three-storied building. With its imposing façade and a terrace that overlooked the river, the Egyptian appeared to contain practically every luxury a hotel could have. That included a billiards room and reading room which, according to Mason, “Provides an admirable retreat for a gentleman who might wish to retire and peruse his newspaper or try his hand at dominoes or checkers.” Rose wondered what the ladies were supposed to do but politely didn’t ask.
They moved on to what was obviously Mason’s pride and joy: an art gallery that housed his special collection of Renaissance art. “I don’t let everyone in here,” he said as he unlocked the door to a small room on the first floor. “This town is full of rubes who wouldn’t know how to spell ‘Renaissance,’ let alone appreciate the art form.” The room was unfurnished except for an upholstered bench situated in the middle. Paintings of various sizes hung on the surrounding walls. Mason motioned proudly at the largest picture in the room, a gilt-framed portrait of a young boy dressed in medieval clothing. “It’s a Raphael, titled ‘Portrait of a Young Boy.’ It’s priceless, actually.” His chest puffed with pride. “This is only the beginning. I aim to have the most prestigious art collection in Sacramento. Are you interested in art, my dear?”
He sounded a bit condescending, no doubt assuming she knew nothing. Thanks to Drucilla, her art-loving sister-in-law, she did. “I’ve seen copies of Raphael’s paintings. His ‘Portrait of a Young Man’ is quite remarkable.” She flashed him a look of genuine delight. “How exciting to see an original painting by one of the great artists of the world.”
Mason couldn’t quite cover his surprise and looked properly impressed. Suddenly he frowned. “I love my art collection, but it’s a big responsibility. Less than two years ago, the Egyptian and every other hotel in this area burned to the ground.”
“And they rebuilt so quickly? That’s hard to believe.”
“Not when money is involved. What with thousands of miners waiting to be relieved of the gold in their pockets, new gambling saloons sprang up practically overnight.”
“Then I must be extra careful, and thank you for the warning.” An unsettling thought struck her. “What caused the fire?”
“No one knows for sure. An overturned lamp, perhaps. The whole row of hotels went up in a gigantic blaze in no time. No wonder, considering they were constructed mostly of canvas and flimsy wood.”
“What about the River Queen?”
“It, too, was made of wood, so it went up with the rest. Your husband bought it right after it had been rebuilt, this time more sensibly of brick.”
“Then I have nothing to worry about?”
“Hopefully not, but you never know. The threat of another fire always exists. And then there’s… That’s enough. I don’t wish to alarm you.”
“You have already,” she said with a laugh. “And then there’s what? Now you’ve got to tell me. You can’t keep me in suspense.”
Mason frowned thoughtfully. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my hotel sits next to a rather large river.”
“You mean…?”
“I mean the Sacramento River has been known on occasion to overflow its banks.”
“I hadn’t thought, but surely… It doesn’t go far over its banks, does it? Are we safe on J Street? The Egyptian is on the river, but the River Queen is at least two blocks away.”
Mason reached across the table and took her hand. “I apologize for even bringing the subject up. I assure you, we’re perfectly safe here. Let’s enjoy the evening and forget such unpleasantness as fires and floods.”
“If you say so.” She made a note to herself to learn more. After only a day, she was beginning to feel a special affection for the River Queen. It might be in a muddle of disorder, but now it was her muddle of disorder, and if it was in danger, she needed to know.
Later, when Mason brought her home, he swung her down from the carriage as he’d done before. Again, he held her hands tight and wouldn’t let go. “Ah, Rose, I’m having a difficult time remembering you’re still in mourning.”
Now was the time to remind him she most certainly was in mourning and politely back off, but he’d been so generous—showed her such a lovely evening—that the least she could do to repay him was to let him go ahead and kiss her. Perhaps this time she’d feel something, maybe even enjoy it. His arms encircled her and pulled her close. She relaxed and sank into his embrace. His lips captured hers and pressed eagerly. She waited for the thrill, but it didn’t happen. All she wanted to do was break away. When he finally lifted his lips, he was breathing hard and trembling. “You’re a beautiful woman, my dear. Is that my perfume you’re wearing?”
“Yes, it is, Mason. The Eau de Cologne Impériale. It’s very nice.” She very much wanted to go inside and wished he would let her go, but next she knew, he was wanting to kiss her again. She placed a firm palm on his chest. “Not tonight.”
He backed away. “Is it too soon?”
“Yes, too soon, I’m afraid.” She’d included a note of sadness in her voice, as if the mere reminder of Emmet deepened her great sorrow. “Good night, Mason, and thank you for a lovely evening.” Before he could answer, she spun on her heel and hastened into the house, trying to keep from running. What was wrong with her? Why was she pretending a grief she didn’t feel? Why did she continue to reject Mason Talbot? He was a great catch by any woman’s standard, but for some unfathomable reason, she wasn’t interested.
Finding Ben and Coralee still up and sitting in the parlor, Rose poked her head in. “Hello, I’m home.” She decided to be honest. “I’m late because I had dinner with Mason Talbot.” If they objected, they’d surely speak up.
“That’s nice,” Coralee said, hardly raising her head from her knitting.
Ben spoke up. “Did you get rid of them?”
“You mean…?”
“I mean the whores.”
Rose got a tight feeling in her chest. “Uh…no, not yet. Of course, they’re going to go, but it will take a little time. I mean, I can’t just throw them out on the street.”
Ben studied her a moment, his eyes sharp and inquiring. “I don’t see why not.”
“Don’t worry, they’re going soon. I’m tired, so good night.” Rose hastily left the parlor and headed for the kitchen. What had gotten into her? She’d let Mason kiss her when she really didn’t want him to. Just now, she’d practically lied to Ben. What had happened to her resolve to be brave and strong? Tonight she’d been weak and indecisive with both Mason and Ben. Of course, she hadn’t told Ben an out-and-out lie because she really did plan to “get rid of the whores,” as he so crudely put it. What she’d failed to explain was she now realized those so-called whores were human beings, too. She wasn’t going to treat them like so much trash no matter what he said.
Deke would not have been proud of her tonight. Why she should care what some down-and-out Australian would think of her, she didn’t know, but for some reason, she did.
Drucilla was in the kitchen. “How did your day go?” she asked. “Will you go back tomorrow?”
How nice to have a friendly family member to talk to. Rose described her second day at the River Queen, including a description of the deplorable state of the hotel rooms and how she must quickly find a dependable housekeeper. As she talked, Drucilla’s face slowly lit. When she finished, her sister-in-law clapped her hands and gleefully declared, “That’s it! Forget about the school. I’m your new housekeeper.”
“You?” Rose asked in a skeptical voice. “First off, I doubt Ben and Coralee would approve.”
“I don’t care if they approve or not. Don’t you see? It’s the perfect job for me. You know how neat I am. You know I believe in a place for everything and everything in its place. What better qualifications for a housekeeper? That job is just what I was hoping for but didn’t know quite what it was.”
Rose wasn’t so sure. “But I thought you wanted to teach French. That would make much more sense than you working at the River Queen. I don’t think you’d like it.”
“And why not?”
“Because…” Rose hated to be so honest, but she must speak the truth. “You’re accustomed to gentlemen with good manners, but men are different at the River Queen. You have no idea how rough and disorderly some of them are. They spit on the floor. They get drunk and get into fist fights and brawls. Sometimes some drunken fool will pull a gun and shoot someone. They make lewd and vulgar remarks to the women who work there, who themselves, by the way, aren’t all that genteel.”
“What you’re trying to say is they’re prostitutes. I know that. I don’t care about that.” Drucilla set her jaw in a stubborn line. “I want that job, Rose. Nobody could do it better than I could. What do you say?”
“Well…” Rose had her reservations, but never before had she seen her unadventurous sister-in-law with such an eager gleam in her eye. Why not at least let her give it try? “Even though your ma and pa won’t like it?”
“You let me worry about that.”
“All right then, you’re hired.” Although reluctant, Rose was struck by a positive thought. “Here’s something to think about. You’ll be working with men, surrounded by men, all kinds of them, so who knows? You might meet your knight in shining armor.”
“Thank you, thank you!” With uncharacteristic abandon, Drucilla got up and literally danced around the table to give Rose a hug. “You won’t be sorry. No knight in shining armor, though. That’s never going to happen.”
* * * *
To Rose’s surprise, her in-laws didn’t put up much of a fuss when Drucilla announced she was going to be the new housekeeper at the River Queen. “Probably thanks to you, Rose,” Drucilla told her privately. “They’re still so shocked over what you did, I could announce I was going to be a hootchy-kootchy dancer in the circus, and they wouldn’t be surprised.”
Next morning, Rose drove the horse and buggy to the River Queen, a talkative passenger by her side. Drucilla kept asking questions. Which project would Rose tackle first? If she was going to remodel the restaurant, how would she go about it when she knew nothing about construction, let alone architecture? The same with the lobby she planned to remodel and the women’s ordinary. Where would she put it? And what about the ice cellar? Would she just dig a hole in the ground, or was there more to it than that? What about the nude pictures behind the bar? Would she replace them with pictures more tasteful? If so, where would she find them? On and on she went until by the time Rose reached the stable behind the hotel, and turned the buggy over to the stableboy, all those questions struck home. She’d been so proud of herself, in such a state of delight that she’d successfully acquired the hotel that she hadn’t looked beyond that. Now the reality was sinking in. She couldn’t possibly do it all by herself.
Once inside, Drucilla, self-sufficient as always, announced she didn’t need Rose to show her around. She’d inspect the rooms herself and go from there. Rose went to her office and sat at her desk for a while, doing nothing but gazing into space, contemplating the daunting task ahead. How could she make her hotel one of the best, if not the best hotel and saloon in all of Sacramento? Where could she find enough help?
After a brief knock, the door partly opened and Jake Grunion stuck his head in. “Are you busy, Mrs. Peterson?”
“Uh, no, Mr. Grunion. Please do come in.”
He entered, hat in hand, and stood at the desk in front of her. “I’ve come to ask for my job back.”
“Really?” She didn’t try to conceal her surprise. “Seems the last time we talked, you could hardly wait to get out of here.”
Jake nervously licked his lips. “I got to thinking. I like it here at the River Queen. If you give me my job back, I’ll see to it you get the books whenever you want to see them. There won’t be nothing wrong with them, either.”
“No more skimming?”
He had the decency to hang his head. “No more, I promise.” He looked her in the eye. “And besides that, you need me. You can’t run this place by yourself, Mrs. Peterson. Nobody knows what this hotel needs more than I do.”
“Why do you want to come back? Can’t you get a job at another hotel?”
“Sure I can, but there’s no hotel like the River Queen.” Jake’s mouth curved into an unconscious smile. “She’s something special.”
“I’ll think about it, Jake. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll let you know.
After he left, she sat wondering if she’d done the right thing. Maybe she hadn’t been tough enough, should have told him straight out he could never come back. Meantime, she’d better get practical. First off, it was time to visit the bank.
At Wells Fargo she picked up the checks she’d ordered, with her very own name on them. It was a new experience. “I shall be making some rather extensive renovations,” she told the clerk. “Is there a limit?”
“You can write as many checks as you please, as long as you have money in your account.”
Twenty thousand dollars! And all she had to do was fill out a little piece of paper to get her hands on it. Her mind swirled with the possibilities. With that kind of money, the River Queen would look as good as the Egyptian, maybe better. But how would she go about it? And what about Jake? Her mind was foundering. Maybe if she talked to Deke, he would at least help her think straight.
On her way back to the hotel, she stopped off at the ice house where she found Deke standing in a wagon full of ice, holding a pair of tongs. As she watched, he hooked a large block of ice and effortlessly tossed it onto the dock below. For a moment, she couldn’t take her eyes off his well-muscled frame as he moved gracefully, making what must be a heavy burden look like he was lifting cobwebs. Hard to believe this was the same man who’d looked so weak and pathetic when he was on crutches. She called up to him, “Where did you get all that ice?”
He stopped when he saw her and broke into a pleased smile. “Rose? Nice to see you. The ice comes from high in the mountains. Mitch and I chopped out the first couple of loads ourselves. Now we’ve hired a few down-and-out miners to do it for us.”
“So you must be doing well.”
“We’re getting by.” Deke threw down the tongs and waved toward the front steps of the ice house. “Come sit down. What’s with the River Queen?”
She settled herself on the steps. “Jake wants to come back. He says I can trust him now. Says he’s learned his lesson.”
Deke let out a low whistle. “That puts me in mind of a roustabout I once hired for Amalie Station. I soon found out he was stealing me blind, making off with my newborn lambs.”
“What’s a roustabout?”
“He does lots of things, like cleaning up the shearing sheds.”
She’d never really asked what he did in Australia. “You owned some sheep?”
“Sixty thousand, give or take.”
“Really! That’s a lot of sheep.”
He shrugged as if it were nothing. “There are lots of stations bigger than Amalie.”
So Deke was a land owner? How wrong she’d been. One of her mother’s favorite sayings was, “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” yet that’s what she’d done with Deke when she saw him as a down-and-out loser because of his crutches and the way he looked. And he, unpretentious man that he was, had never told her otherwise. She had lots to think about, and she’d deal with it later. “So of course you got rid of him.”
“Hell no. If I’d let him go, he’d have been free to steal even more lambs, so I kept him on. He never stole from me again, I saw to that. There’s a saying, ‘It’s better to deal with the devil you know than the devil you don’t know.’ Do you get my meaning?”
“That settles it. I’ll rehire him.” Rose sighed. “Jake can handle all the ordinary, everyday things, but that doesn’t solve all my problems. I’m not sure how to start. There’s so much to do, and I must confess, I’m not sure how to go about it. There’s the cellar that needs to be dug. The dining room and that awful-looking lobby must be completely designed and remodeled. Then there’s the women’s ordinary I want to build, and then—”
“Stop.” Deke held up his hand. “You can’t do all of that by yourself and neither can Jake.”
“You’re so right. I’m beginning to realize that. Running a hotel is one thing, but renovating and remodeling? That’s another matter entirely and I’m not sure—”
“You need help and I’ve got just the man for you. Name’s Tim Delahunty. He’s an Irishman from New York. Worked as an architect and built buildings. Right now, he’s chopping ice for me, one of those down-and-out miners I was telling you about. He worked the diggings for a while, but never found so much as an ounce of gold. Then caught pneumonia and nearly died. Now all he wants is to make enough money to get home to his family. I’m not sure he’d say yes, but I could ask.”
“Would you?” Relieved, she continued, “You’re a good friend, Deke. It seems you always come through for me.”
A wry smile played at the corners of his mouth. “At your service, Mrs. Peterson. Always glad to help a grieving widow.”
Was her less-than-deep grief for her husband that obvious? She stifled an impulse to giggle. “You know me too well.”
His smile disappeared. “Well enough. So tell me, how was your dinner last night with the great Mason Talbot?”
She ignored his sarcasm. “It went beautifully, thank you. The food was wonderful. I was so impressed I plan to open a French restaurant at the River Queen. Mason knows of a French chef who’s absolutely fabulous.” She could stop right there, but couldn’t resist a playful urge to annoy him. “Mason was the perfect host, so thoughtful and generous. He’s a wonderful person, and I really can’t understand why you don’t like him.”
For once, Deke lost the amiable expression she was accustomed to. For a long moment he sat silent. “He killed your husband, Rose.”
She could have sworn he’d uttered those last words through clenched teeth. “I know all that. I don’t want to sound disloyal to Emmet, but you know the circumstances even better than I. My husband brought it all on himself, and that’s the truth of it. Mason isn’t to blame, and I wish you could see that.”
For the longest time, Deke simply stared at her until his continued scrutiny caused her to ask, “Aren’t you going to say something?”
Finally he spoke. “I don’t want to hear another word about Mason Talbot, not now, not ever.”
She had planned a further argument, but the gritty firmness in Deke’s voice stopped her cold. For the first time, she saw a side to her friend from Australia she’d never seen before. He wasn’t all light-hearted and friendly as she’d thought. He had a deeper side, too, but right now she couldn’t figure it out.
He was wrong about Mason, though. She would continue to see him, despite Deke’s low opinion of the man.
That afternoon, upon Deke’s recommendation, Rose summoned Tim Delahunty to her office. A tall man with a full head of curly dark hair, he possessed a jovial laugh and friendly, outgoing nature. Only his pallid face and thin appearance disclosed how he’d toiled at the diggings and barely survived. “I should never have left New York,” he told Rose. “Left my wife and three kids so I could rush to the gold fields and get rich. What a fool. Now all I want is to make enough money to get back to New York.”
Rose liked the man but had a concern. “If I hire you to oversee the renovation of the River Queen, would you run out on me the minute you had enough money and head for home?”
“Absolutely not. I’d stay till the job was done. I’m a man of my word, Mrs. Peterson. What have I left but my honor?”
She believed him and hired him on the spot.
After Tim left Rose’s office, such an overwhelming sense of apprehension suddenly ran through her that a knot formed in her stomach, and she had to breathe deep and sit back in her chair. Dear Lord, what had she done? Not long ago, she was Mrs. Emmet Peterson, wife, mother, and that was all. Now she was Rose Peterson, owner of a notorious, run-down hotel and saloon that she, with little experience, without the least idea of what she was doing, planned to turn into a luxury hotel better than the Egyptian. She wasn’t at all sure she could do it, but she’d burned her bridges behind her, and by God, she’d give it a try.