Chapter 11
The first thing Rose did the next morning was to take Deke’s advice and hire Jake back. She still had her doubts, but she’d keep a close eye on him.
In the days that followed, she threw herself into the daunting task of improving and expanding the River Queen. She took care of the easy things first, like removing the obscene pictures behind the bar. They needed to be replaced, and when Mason offered to loan her a few “more tasteful” portraits from the Egyptian, she gladly accepted. “Until I can get to San Francisco to buy my own.”
She worked hard at the hotel all day, but Lucy came first in her life, so when night came, she went home and let Jake run the place. So far, he seemed to be doing a good job. Even so, she remained vigilant so he wouldn’t rob her blind.
Other than their daily buggy ride from home and back, she didn’t see much of Drucilla, who had thrown herself into her housekeeping responsibilities with joyful zeal. Since women were scarce in Sacramento, Rose had warned her she’d have trouble finding maids, but Drucilla easily found the answer. She visited the third floor and hired two of the younger girls, both of them happy to leave the oldest profession.
After checking the hotel’s inventory, Drucilla found the entire supply of linens and towels in such deplorable condition she ordered everything new from San Francisco. The bathrooms at each end of the hall which had been, as she put it, “too disgusting to discuss,” now sparkled with cleanliness. To Rose’s relief, nothing upset Drucilla, not even the drunken, disorderly behavior she daily witnessed among the River Queen’s regular clientele. She did her job, did not complain, and kept her opinions to herself. Only once, after seeing a particularly disheveled and rowdy customer tossed out on the street, did she cast a skeptical glance at Rose and remark, “What a shame. There goes my knight in shining armor. Do you suppose he’ll sober up by morning so we can tie the knot?”
Rose had little time to devote to her sister-in-law’s skeptical attitude toward romance. Her biggest concern was what to do about the wretched condition of the River Queen’s one and only restaurant until one day Mason stopped by with exciting news. “I’ve found that French chef you wanted, the one who’s a friend of Pierre. He has just arrived from San Francisco.”
Ever since she’d eaten that fabulous meal at Le Chantecler, she’d dreamed of a similar restaurant for the River Queen. “That’s wonderful, Mason. Who is he, and when can I see him?”
Next morning, Monsieur Gaston Bernier presented himself in Rose’s office. Of medium height and slim, thirty-five or so, he fulfilled her image of a gallant Frenchman when he bowed and with a flourish kissed her hand. “Madame Peterson, I presume?”
Oh, my. His dark, snappy eyes and flirtatious smile made her heart flutter, but only for a moment. She must get serious. “You’re the chef who worked with Pierre? And you’re from Paris? Please do sit down.”
She had prepared a list of questions but had hardly started to ask them when Monsieur Bernier made it clear who would be in charge of the interview, and it wasn’t her. He told her of his greatest successes: his steak au poivre, his blanquette de veau. At the end, with an arrogant lift of his chin, he declared in his charming French accent, “In Paris, I worked only in the finest of restaurants. Some of my dishes are famous. My coquilles St-Jacques?”—he kissed his fingers and tossed his hand in the air—“Superb! In the spirit of adventure, I ’ave come to America to, shall we say, seek new worlds to conquer. You need to know I will not lower my standards. I must inspect your kitchen and the entire restaurant at length before making a commitment.”
Despite his arrogance, she immediately knew she must have him. But oh, dear God! What would he say when he laid eyes on River Queen’s restaurant as it was now with its greasy stoves, rough plank tables, and worst of all, fat Gus in his sweaty headband and dirty apron. Well, she’d do the best she could. She stood and put on a confident smile. “I want you to see our restaurant but hope you’ll keep in mind it’s about to be renovated and currently doesn’t look…uh…quite what I know you would like.”
He stood and bowed. “Lead the way, madame.”
When they arrived at the restaurant, her worries were confirmed. Monsieur Bernier took one look through the door, flinched, and wrinkled his nose. “This is the best you ’ave?”
Before she could answer, Tim Delahunty walked up. In the few days he’d been at the River Queen, he’d pitched into his job with endless energy and enthusiasm. Already he’d begun to draw plans for remodeling the restaurant. Rose introduced him. “Monsieur Bernier, this is my man in charge of the remodeling.”
Tim must have noted the sour look on the French chef’s face. After a quick glance at Rose, he declared in his booming voice, “Wait till you see the plans!” He slung a friendly arm around Bernier’s shoulders. “Come with me, my friend. We’ll take in the kitchen first. We’re just getting started. Want any changes? We’ll be glad to oblige.”
If the chef was offended by Tim’s over friendly behavior, he showed no signs of it. Rose trailed silently behind as the two toured the entire restaurant with Tim urging Monsieur Bernier to ignore the shoddy present and look at the glowing future when the River Queen Restaurant would be transformed into “The best damn restaurant in town, and that includes Le Chantecler at the Egyptian.”
By now, the Frenchman’s sour expression had disappeared. He beamed with interest. “But that name! It won’t do. Mon Dieu! You cannot call a first class French restaurant by a name as common as ‘The River Queen Restaurant.’”
Rose thought fast and took advantage of the opportunity. “But that will be up to you, monsieur. If you stay, you will be the one to pick a new name. I give you my word, whatever you choose, we shall honor it.”
Gaston Bernier’s eyes lit. Although he said nothing more, Rose could see she’d found just the right thing to say.
When they finished the tour and had walked through the saloon, they encountered Drucilla headed down the staircase, hair flying in all directions, a harried expression on her face. “Some of our guests are like pigs!” she exclaimed.
She was about to move on when Rose stopped her at the bottom of the stairs. “Drucilla, I would like you to meet Gaston Bernier, who might be our first French chef.” She turned to Bernier. “Monsieur, may I introduce Miss Drucilla Peterson, my sister-in-law and the hotel’s housekeeper?”
Drucilla stuck out her arm and blurted a hasty, “Bonjour, monsieur! Ravi de faire votre connaissance.”
Obviously she’d planned on a fast handshake and get-away, but before she could move on, the Frenchman uttered, “Enchanté,” and with a gracious bow, kissed the back of Drucilla’s hand. Rising up, he inquired, “Vous parlez francais, mademoiselle?”
“Un peu.”
“Vous avez de beaux yeux.”
“Mes yeux sont ordinaires, et n’ont rien de special.”
“Ah non! Vous etes une femme magnifique!”
Drucilla rolled her eyes, uttered a quick, “I must go,” and hurried away.
Bernier looked after her. “Charming!”
“Yes, isn’t she?” Really? Rose couldn’t believe anyone could find her blunt sister-in-law charming, but then, he was looking at her through a man’s eyes, seeing something that had somehow escaped her attention.
Before the chef departed, she made herself clear with her final words. “The job is yours if you want it, Monsieur Bernier. What do you think? Would you like to work here?”
He frowned, as if in deep thought. “Perhaps… Yes, I will indeed consider it. You will ’ave my answer tomorrow.”
“Thank you, monsieur. I shall be anxiously waiting to hear from you.” Not true. She wasn’t anxious at all. Thanks to buoyant Tim Delahunty and his infectious optimism, she had no doubt that Gaston Bernier was going to be the new French chef at the River Queen. And maybe a bit of thanks to Drucilla? Whatever she’d said in French must have impressed him.
Later, Rose caught up with her sister-in-law in the hallway. “What was all that French about?”
Drucilla gave an impatient shrug. “It was nothing. The man’s a flirt. He told me I had beautiful eyes.”
“And what did you say?”
“I informed him I had ordinary eyes and there was nothing special about them.”
“And then what did he say?”
“He said I was a beautiful woman. Me. Can you believe that? I let him know he was being ridiculous.”
“Perhaps he meant it.”
Drucilla burst out laughing. “Of course, he didn’t mean it, but what if he did? I’m not the least bit interested in finding a man, as you very well know. And besides, he’s shorter than I am.”
“Only an inch or so.”
“Ha! Be it an inch or a foot, I will never have a man I can’t look up to.”
She stalked off with her nose in the air, leaving Rose shaking her head. What a shame. Why did Drucilla have to be so bull-headed? But still…
Despite all the nonsense, she’d sensed a spark between her obstinate sister-in-law and the arrogant French chef.
* * * *
Rose’s biggest problem hung over her like a dark cloud. Over a week had gone by since she’d told Ben she would end prostitution at the River Queen. Ben remained adamant that the River Queen’s ladies of the night must go. Every day when she got home, he asked in his caustic voice, “Are they gone yet?” So far, she’d held him off by explaining she’d been so busy she hadn’t had time to deal with the situation. Up to now, Ben replied with a grunt and said nothing more. That wouldn’t last, though. “He’s running out of patience,” she told Dulcee one evening when she’d gone to visit. “You know how he is. He won’t bend.”
“Ben’s right for all the wrong reasons,” came Dulcee’s surprising reply. “He says prostitution is a sin. I say the fate of those poor girls is where the sin lies. They might look like they’re having a fine time, but they live a life of degradation, and don’t tell me otherwise. They never last long. If they don’t die from some disease, they soon lose their looks and end up on the streets, hungry and destitute.”
Dulcee’s wise words strengthened Rose’s resolve. If she wanted to do the right thing, as well as keep the peace with her in-laws, she’d have to take action, and soon.
But how? More than once, Tillie dropped by Rose’s office. Hand on hip, in her usual cheeky manner, she’d inquire, “Made up your mind yet? What will you do after Cherry’s baby is born?”
All Rose could do was reply, “I’m not sure yet.” What a dilemma. She was getting pressured by both sides and kept putting off her final decision. Occasionally, early in the day when no men were around, she visited the third floor to see how Cherry was doing. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel in the least uncomfortable, mainly because in the cold morning light, the third floor dwellers of the River Queen didn’t look so much like tarts, harlots, and whores as much as they looked like ordinary women, relaxing in their wrappers, sipping their coffee, engaging in gossip and friendly conversation. They were all concerned about Cherry. “She cries a lot,” Tillie said. “Stays in her room all the time. She needs you to cheer her up, Mrs. Peterson.”
On Rose’s latest visit to Cherry’s tiny room, she’d found the girl lying on the bed, her eyes red from crying. “But why the tears, Cherry? You know you can stay. I promised I wouldn’t throw you out, and I assure you I won’t.”
Cherry turned her face to the wall. “It’s not that, Mrs. Peterson. You’ve been very kind. It’s just…”
“Just what? You know you can tell me anything.”
Cherry turned toward her, her face a mask of despair. “I didn’t want to do this in the first place…”
She went on to describe how, as a child, her father had beaten and abused her. “He did things to me a father ought not to do.” Finally she ran away. Then, even worse, she, a naïve girl of fourteen, with no place to go and starving, fell into the hands of a depraved individual who forced her into this life of sin. A tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t want to give my baby up. Tillie and the other girls say I have to if I want to keep working, but I love it already, be it a he or a she, and I don’t know how I can do it. Sometimes I think I’ll kill myself so I can get out of this misery.”
Rose hated to be honest but had no choice. “I must confess I haven’t given a thought to the fate of your baby. I will think about it, though. I promise. And maybe…well, maybe I can come up with something.”
“Oh, would you? I would be much obliged if you could.”
“I shall do my very best.”
On her way down the staircase, Rose met Drucilla on the second floor landing. “What’s the matter?” her sister-in-law inquired. “You look troubled.”
“I am troubled.” Rose described how the thought of Cherry’s plight hung heavy on her mind. She put herself in Cherry’s place. What would she have done under the same circumstances? Could she have given up her own child at birth? No! How horrible if she’d lost her precious Lucy. The trouble was, she still had no idea what to do, and it wasn’t just Cherry, it was all the third-floor girls. “Why can’t I make up my mind, Drucilla?”
“Well, you certainly ought to. If you’re waiting for a sign from God, that’s not likely to happen.”
“I suppose not.” Shaking her head, Rose continued down the staircase. What was she waiting for? Why couldn’t she make up her mind? How nice it would be if somehow she did get a sign from God.
Hardly the day went by that she didn’t see Mason. He never declared he was courting her but always seemed to be around, bringing small gifts, offering invitations to dinner. One day he took her for a drive and showed her the nearly completed house he was building. Situated on a rise overlooking the river, it resembled an English mansion, at least three stories high, with quaint turrets and massive chimneys.
“Pretty fancy,” she declared. “You’ll be lord of the manor in a place like this.”
He got a teasing smile on his face. “Then I shall need a lady of the manor, won’t I?”
So of course he was courting her and was only holding back because of her status as a new and supposedly grieving widow. Occasionally, she was struck by the irony of it all. Mason Talbot had made her a widow. Now he wanted to marry her himself? How very strange, but she had no time to sort it all out, and besides, why should she? The day might come when she would indeed seriously consider becoming Mrs. Mason Talbot. Meantime, each of her days was so busy she had no time to think about what might or might not happen in the future. Mostly she turned down Mason’s invitations because she needed time with her daughter. Every morning when she left the farm, she got a pang of guilt, but it never lasted. Coralee might have her faults, but she remained the loving, caring grandmother Lucy adored. She couldn’t have been in better hands.
Rose had been so busy she’d hardly seen Deke, and she missed him. The day workmen finished the new ice cellar, she hastened to invite him to come take a look. Built directly back of the hotel, the cellar had a large trap door for lowering blocks of ice, a wooden staircase, and plenty of space for the storage of beer. “What do you think?” she asked Deke after they’d descended the staircase and stood in the good-sized cellar.
He looked around and nodded with approval. “Plenty of room. You did a good job.”
“Tim Delahunty did it all. Designed it and hired the workmen to do the digging. He’s truly a godsend.”
Deke’s gaze swept her critically. “How are you doing? I’ve hardly seen you.”
“I’m doing fine.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” In the dim light of the cellar, he studied her with eyes both sharp and shrewd. “You’ve made some big changes in your life. Are you happy? Has it been worthwhile?”
How perceptive of him. Certainly no one else had asked how she truly felt about the momentous decision she’d made. Actually, she’d been so busy she hadn’t taken a moment to question herself, but now that she thought about it? Despite all the difficulties, a mounting wave of satisfaction flowed through her. “I’m glad you asked. I’m doing what I want to do, and I love it. There’s problems…one after another, it seems, but at the end of the day when I go home all tired, I get this…this…”
“Feeling of a job well done?”
“Yes! That’s it. I’ve accomplished something. Because of me, the River Queen is a better hotel than it was the day before.” She touched his arm. “It’s all thanks to you.”
“And how is that?”
“Remember what you said about courage? You got me to see what I really wanted in this world. That’s why I got brave and stood up for myself.”
“Ah, Rose.” He stepped closer. His hands gripped her shoulders. “You’re quite the girl.”
In the dimness of the cellar, she felt, more than saw, the warmth and tenderness of his gaze. “Deke, I…”
He pulled her close and bent to kiss her. Her heart jolted, and she leaned toward him, eager for his kiss. When his lips pressed against hers, then gently covered her mouth, she wanted more, but after one long, passionate moment, he broke off and thrust her away. “Don’t worry, that was a friendship kiss.”
“I know. Of course it was.” But it wasn’t. She hadn’t missed the tremor in his voice or the searing, devouring way his mouth had moved over hers. Friendship kiss, my foot. But the moment was past. Best to let it go. She stepped away and gestured toward the empty depths of her ice cellar. “Will you sell me some ice?”
He laughed, and she heard the relief in his voice. “If you like, a whole cellar full.”
“Fine, then. I shall aim to have the coldest beer in town.”
Her knees felt a little wobbly as they climbed back up the stairs. What had happened? How could it be that a casual kiss from the man she’d always felt sorry for had sent tiny shivers down her spine? Ridiculous. He was just plain Deke, good friend and nothing more. Besides, she already had a suitor. Mason Talbot—rich, handsome, successful. Every woman’s dream. She knew he loved her. If she gave him a sign, he’d propose in a second. What a fool she’d be if she threw him away.
* * * *
It was late. Deke sat on the steps of the ice house long after he should have been in bed. Soon Mitch joined him, asking, “Why are you up so late?”
“Can’t sleep.”
“Neither can I.” Mitch sank down beside him. “We’re a long way from home, aren’t we?” He looked upward, taking in the millions of stars in the sky. “Did you ever think those are the same stars that shine over Amalie Station?”
“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Mitch.”
“I think about it a lot. Here we are, thousands of miles from home, and I ask myself, was it worth it?”
Deke laughed with irony. “You tell me. You never found a speck of gold. You’re living over a stable in back of an ice house. You spend your days delivering ice.”
“But making a fortune doing it. We’re getting rich, Deke. Did you stop to think about that? We began this business at the right time, and we’re just getting started.” Mitch paused for a wistful sigh. “I like it here. The river, the mountains; it’s beautiful country. I’d like to stay, only… Too bad there aren’t any women around.” He tipped his head toward the saloons down the street. “Well, except those women.”
“That’ll change, Mitch. Already this Gold Rush has begun to run its course. Give Sacramento another ten years—no, five years—and it’ll be a city of solid citizens where you can go to church and find all the virtuous women you want.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ve got Rose Peterson.” Mitch looked over at his friend. “Right?”
“Sure, right.” Hearing her name gave Deke a stab in his heart. One little slip was all, so why was he torturing himself? But damn, why had he kissed her? All right, he knew the reason. No woman he’d ever met could hold a candle to Mrs. Rose Peterson. And when she’d stood there in the ice cellar, holding her chin high, telling him in her soft voice how proud she was of herself, and how he’d helped her, he’d had to touch her, kiss her. It wouldn’t happen again. She didn’t love him. Considered him a helpful friend. Down-and-out Deke, the crippled farmhand. He would never beg, never plead. The last thing he wanted was for her to discover how he truly felt about her.
Ever since he’d kissed her, he’d played the scene over and over in his head. The intimate feel of her breasts when she’d pressed against him, the softness of her mouth, the sweet smell of her. Was it perfume Mason gave her? Damn. She made him feel things he’d never felt for another woman. Call it love, he supposed. All he knew was, he wanted her so bad he could hardly act like a normal man around her. He’d do it, though. Do it if it killed him. Despite the eager way she kissed him today, he’d seen her around town, riding with that lowlife, Mason Talbot, in his fancy phaeton. Incredible as it seemed, she had feelings for that cold-blooded murderer, and as long as she did, he would not interfere.
Deke stood and stretched. “Let’s turn in. Big day tomorrow.”
Mitch stood too. “We’re going to get richer, and that’s what counts, right?” He clapped Deke on the shoulder. “Don’t get yourself in a twist over the widow. There’s no finer man in the world than you, Deke. If she can’t see that, the hell with her.”