for sounding so churlish.
“Miss Bradshaw, I…”
Amelia felt herself stiffen. She glanced at her arm encased loosely in his grasp. He released her but remained silent, his expression unreadable.
“What is it, Mr. Thayer?”
“I was wondering how you were faring in your… in your new…”
“Circumstances?” she filled in. “I’m working hard. I’m looking after my aunt who used to live with us at the Bay View. And I’m worried about my father. Have you seen him?”
“I? No, not I. The barman sees him in the storeroom occasionally.”
“Oh.”
An intense awkwardness bloomed between them.
“Miss Bradshaw…”
J.D. took her gloved hand in his, and the familiarity of the gesture, coupled with his having seized her forearm to halt her in her tracks a few minutes earlier, somehow infuriated her.
“I must be on my way, Mr. Thayer,” she announced abruptly, pulling her hand away.
“The ferry to Oakland won’t leave for another hour. Won’t you to allow me to buy you dinner after such a long day of toil?”
She was flabbergasted by his invitation. She studied his face and detected the faintest curve of his lips beneath his jet-black mustache.
“You are mocking me, Mr. Thayer, and such an approach is unlikely to persuade me to take anything you say to me seriously.”
“But I am serious, Miss Bradshaw,” he replied. “I would very much like to have supper with you. There are a few loose ends concerning the Bay View we need to discuss.”
“Loose ends? Such as what?”
“Well, for one thing, you mentioned on that day you burst into my office—”
“My grandfather’s office!” she interrupted.
“—that day you noted that part of the gambling annex needs to be shored up for safety’s sake. Perhaps you, Miss Morgan, and I could discuss ways to ameliorate—”
“Ah… so your conscience is pricking you ever so slightly and you intend, by throwing me a bone, I’ll just quietly accept the fact that you propositioned a known drunk into an all-night poker contest and thus swindled the Bay View away from my mother and me.”
J.D. paused a moment and Amelia guessed she’d managed to challenge his scruples—that is, if he had any.
“My intentions are rather more mundane,” he replied at last. “I agree with you that the construction work was shoddy. I’d like to remedy the problems if I can. And besides, I think I’d enjoy your company of an evening.”
He had ignored her insult and appeared, instead, actually to be flirting with her!
“And Miss Lee?” Amelia asked, gazing at him steadily. “Would she be joining us?’
Thayer’s eyes narrowed, but he did not reply.
“I think not, Mr. Thayer,” Amelia said, securing her sketchbook more tightly under her arm. “I’m not interested in assisting you with your structural problems at your club, and I won’t have supper with you at Tadich’s this evening. Good night, sir.”
And without further exchange, she hurried on her way, praying Julia wouldn’t notice she was five minutes late—or ever find out that she’d turned down a potential commission.
***
In the waning hours of the fogless spring night, a sharp vibration rippled beneath the redwood planking on the ninth floor of 456 Montgomery Street.
Startled, Amelia lifted her head from her arms, which were braced against the slanted drawing board, and tried to remember, in her just-wakened stupor, where she was. To gain her bearings, she focused on the large sketch of a floor plan she’d been working on for hours, its precise, black outlines vivid against the ivory-colored vellum.
It’s my drawing of the library. I’m still at the office…
After a few more seconds of soothing quiet, she pushed her wire-rimmed drafting spectacles lower on her nose and peered through the windows across the room. The sky was a pale gray wash. It would soon be dawn.
A few blocks away, the Ferry Building stood rooted at the edge of the congested shoreline. Ships’ masts bobbed on
“Miss Bradshaw, I…”
Amelia felt herself stiffen. She glanced at her arm encased loosely in his grasp. He released her but remained silent, his expression unreadable.
“What is it, Mr. Thayer?”
“I was wondering how you were faring in your… in your new…”
“Circumstances?” she filled in. “I’m working hard. I’m looking after my aunt who used to live with us at the Bay View. And I’m worried about my father. Have you seen him?”
“I? No, not I. The barman sees him in the storeroom occasionally.”
“Oh.”
An intense awkwardness bloomed between them.
“Miss Bradshaw…”
J.D. took her gloved hand in his, and the familiarity of the gesture, coupled with his having seized her forearm to halt her in her tracks a few minutes earlier, somehow infuriated her.
“I must be on my way, Mr. Thayer,” she announced abruptly, pulling her hand away.
“The ferry to Oakland won’t leave for another hour. Won’t you to allow me to buy you dinner after such a long day of toil?”
She was flabbergasted by his invitation. She studied his face and detected the faintest curve of his lips beneath his jet-black mustache.
“You are mocking me, Mr. Thayer, and such an approach is unlikely to persuade me to take anything you say to me seriously.”
“But I am serious, Miss Bradshaw,” he replied. “I would very much like to have supper with you. There are a few loose ends concerning the Bay View we need to discuss.”
“Loose ends? Such as what?”
“Well, for one thing, you mentioned on that day you burst into my office—”
“My grandfather’s office!” she interrupted.
“—that day you noted that part of the gambling annex needs to be shored up for safety’s sake. Perhaps you, Miss Morgan, and I could discuss ways to ameliorate—”
“Ah… so your conscience is pricking you ever so slightly and you intend, by throwing me a bone, I’ll just quietly accept the fact that you propositioned a known drunk into an all-night poker contest and thus swindled the Bay View away from my mother and me.”
J.D. paused a moment and Amelia guessed she’d managed to challenge his scruples—that is, if he had any.
“My intentions are rather more mundane,” he replied at last. “I agree with you that the construction work was shoddy. I’d like to remedy the problems if I can. And besides, I think I’d enjoy your company of an evening.”
He had ignored her insult and appeared, instead, actually to be flirting with her!
“And Miss Lee?” Amelia asked, gazing at him steadily. “Would she be joining us?’
Thayer’s eyes narrowed, but he did not reply.
“I think not, Mr. Thayer,” Amelia said, securing her sketchbook more tightly under her arm. “I’m not interested in assisting you with your structural problems at your club, and I won’t have supper with you at Tadich’s this evening. Good night, sir.”
And without further exchange, she hurried on her way, praying Julia wouldn’t notice she was five minutes late—or ever find out that she’d turned down a potential commission.
***
In the waning hours of the fogless spring night, a sharp vibration rippled beneath the redwood planking on the ninth floor of 456 Montgomery Street.
Startled, Amelia lifted her head from her arms, which were braced against the slanted drawing board, and tried to remember, in her just-wakened stupor, where she was. To gain her bearings, she focused on the large sketch of a floor plan she’d been working on for hours, its precise, black outlines vivid against the ivory-colored vellum.
It’s my drawing of the library. I’m still at the office…
After a few more seconds of soothing quiet, she pushed her wire-rimmed drafting spectacles lower on her nose and peered through the windows across the room. The sky was a pale gray wash. It would soon be dawn.
A few blocks away, the Ferry Building stood rooted at the edge of the congested shoreline. Ships’ masts bobbed on
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