A Matter of Marriage (17 page)

“No,
of course it doesn’t, but you can’t raise a wall against him, as if he never
existed. He lived, and he’ll go on living in your heart if you let him. Do you
have a photograph of Danny? One we could put up?”

He
stood. “I don’t have anything. Nothing was left.”

“There
must be something. Perhaps his grandparents have a toy that he played with. Or
maybe they have a photograph you don’t know about.”

“The
Ellingsons hold me responsible for the deaths of their only daughter and
grandchild. I wasn’t even allowed to attend the funerals. If the Ellingsons saved
any kind of memento, I’m the last person they would give it to. Nothing I could
ever do would change their feelings about me.” And nothing they would do could
ever change his feelings about them.

“Perhaps
if I contacted them on your behalf.”

“No.
I don’t want your help, Julia. You can’t fix this. Or me.” She had no
connection to his old life, and he intended to keep it that way. “I should not
have married again. I don’t deserve to start over.”

He
turned from her stunned gaze, strode back to his room, and shut the door.

*   *   *

Four
days later, Julia was working behind the registration desk, spelling Chalmers
while he ate his midday meal. Theo usually filled in for him, more versatile
than any of the other bellboys, but both he and Tilden were currently escorting
a family of six and their luggage to their rooms.

She
turned to the wall of pigeon holes and checked that the keys had been placed in
their correct slots. The lobby was quiet, and she took her time with the simple
task. Every so often, she rubbed her eyes, tired from too many nights spent
lying awake, her thoughts like a whirlpool. They swirled from her hotel
responsibilities to her faceless assailant patiently awaiting his next
opportunity to Tyler Wolff and his implied threats to Alex and his withdrawal from
her.

Her
heart ached for her husband. He blamed himself for the loss of his wife and son,
and he was punishing himself. Starting his life over with her, finding the
possibility of happiness, must seem to him like a betrayal of his family—a
selfish act. He was so used to suffering alone, not even able to grieve with
others at the funerals of Elizabeth and Danny. Julia couldn’t comprehend the
kind of power his in-laws must have in their church and community to be able to
deny Alex the final good-bye he had needed to say to his loved ones.

Before
his admission, she had thought she understood his sadness, but she’d been very wrong.
He had been keeping much more of himself, his emotions, and his past locked
inside.

After
he’d unburdened himself, she had thought they would grow closer as a couple,
but she’d been wrong. Though he continued to watch over her, escorting her
whenever she did her rounds or left the hotel, he rarely touched her. Their
stolen kiss in the park had not been repeated. It now seemed like a dream.

Julia
missed his touch, more than she ever thought possible. Last night, as she lay
awake, she had seriously considered slipping into Alex’s room and climbing into
bed with him, to be close to him, offer him comfort, and show him he was no
longer alone. But she’d been too afraid to act on it. In his current frame of
mind, he probably wouldn’t have welcomed her, and that would have hurt and
humiliated her.

“Thank
you, Mrs. MacLean.”

She
whirled to find her desk clerk standing behind her. “Mr. Chalmers! I didn’t
expect you back so soon.”

He
pulled his watch from his waistcoat pocket and clicked it open. “I was gone
twenty-eight minutes.”

“My
goodness, where did the time go?” she said, amazed to have been so lost in her
thoughts. “I’ll leave you to your work then. Awaiting me is a stack of
restaurant expenses to go through.”

As
she came around the desk, a tall, spare man wearing a dark plaid frock suit and
carrying a brown leather case marched across the Rotunda. His nose was sharply
hooked, reminding her of a hawk. She elected to leave the man to Mr. Chalmers,
but then she overheard him speaking to her clerk.

“Good
afternoon. I am looking for Mrs. Julia Fairbanks MacLean,” he said in a
no-nonsense manner. “Please direct me to her.”

“Mrs.
MacLean is just there.”

She
turned to see Chalmers pointing at her.

“Much
obliged.” The man approached her. “Mrs. MacLean, is it?”

“Yes,
what can I do for you?”

“Kenneth
Atkins, First California Bank. I am here on a matter of urgent business. Is there
somewhere we could speak privately?”

She
suppressed a puzzled frown, as well as a wrinkling of her nose. He smelled of
money, as if he, personally, had counted the bank’s assets that morning.

“Of
course. My office is just around here.” As she preceded the bank
representative, Alex entered the lobby from the Garden Patio. She stopped and
beckoned him over. “Alex, this is Mr. Kenneth Atkins. He’s from First
California Bank, where I do the hotel banking. Mr. Atkins, this is my husband,
Alexander MacLean.”

“Mr.
MacLean.” The banker looked down his nose at Alex’s work attire and eyed his
scar warily, but he shook hands with him. “Congratulations on your recent
marriage. I read the notice in the newspaper. Are you managing the Hotel Grand
Victoria now?”

“No,
the hotel is my wife’s domain.”

“I
see.”

Julia
heard the disapproval in the banker’s voice, but his opinion was no different
than most men’s, so she didn’t bother to challenge him. She loved how easily
Alex spoke of her position, completely accepting of it. “Mr. Atkins wishes to
speak to me on an urgent matter. Would you join us?”

“Happy
to.”

They
filed into the office. She perched on the edge of her chair while Alex shut the
door and leaned against it. He folded his powerful arms over his broad chest.
The banker cast him another wary look, then seated himself across from her, his
leather case lying flat on his lap.

“Mrs.
MacLean, I won’t waste your time with trivial small talk. As I’m sure you know,
the legal agreement between First California and your father included a clause
protecting the bank should the borrower die before the term of the loan expired
or the loan has been paid off.”

No,
she didn’t know. “I’m afraid I was not aware of that clause. What does it say?”

“It
spells out First California’s option of calling in the loan. We have decided to
exercise that option. Full payment is due next Thursday, one week from today.”

She
nearly fell off her chair. The room spun, and Julia thought she might be sick.
Suddenly Alex was beside her, his hand on her shoulder. When the room finally
righted itself, she found her voice. “But that’s nearly eighty thousand
dollars.”

“Seventy-nine
thousand four hundred twenty-three dollars and twenty-eight cents, as of today.
A considerable sum, and one we are no longer prepared to carry.”

“But
we’ve never been late on a payment. How can you do this?”

“Mrs.
MacLean, this is obviously a shock to you, but if you had read the loan
document, you would have known this was a possibility.”

She
should have known, but she had been too wrapped up in her efforts to take over
the hotel’s management and find herself a husband.

Alex
squeezed her shoulder. “What if she applies to have the loan extended?”

“Despite
the hotel’s timely payment record, First California’s board of directors feels
that immediate repayment is the best course of action. We are still suffering
the effects of the Panic of Ninety-three, and we’d like to get out from under
them. In addition, the board does not believe a woman can be trusted to run an
enterprise as large as the Hotel Grand Victoria.”

“Why,
the narrow-minded—” She broke off when Alex squeezed her shoulder again, but
she fisted her hands in her lap. The men running First California Bank wanted a
man in charge of the hotel. Just because she wouldn’t play by their idea of the
rules, they were going to force her out one way or another.

“Mr.
Atkins,” Alex said, “your news has shocked both my wife and me. As you can see,
she is especially distressed. There must be a solution the board will accept. A
smaller loan maybe. Or larger payments.”

“The
board has made its decision.” He unbuckled the flap of his case, pulled out a
single sheet of paper, and laid it on her desk. “Next Thursday’s date is
underlined, as well as the amount due.”

“But
I can’t pay that,” she said, looking at him and the paper through the blur of
unshed tears. “The Panic hit us, too.”

He
latched his case. “I’m sorry.”

She
leaped up. “No, you’re not. You could care less about my feelings and what
losing the Hotel Grand Victoria will mean to me and everyone who works here.
You’re not sorry. Not one bit.”

The
banker stood, his chin high. “Good day to you, Mrs. MacLean, Mr. MacLean.” He
walked out.

The
moment the door closed behind him, she collapsed back into her chair, her head
in her hands. She was going to lose the hotel. After everything she had done,
including marrying a perfect stranger, she was going to lose her home.

“Oh,
Alex, what am I going to do?”

He
turned her chair, knelt in front of her, and took her hands in his. “We’ll
think of something. There’s time.”

“A
week? But that’s nothing.”

“It’s
about five days more than you had when you needed to find a husband.”

A
short, unexpected laugh popped out from between her sniffles. “It is, isn’t it?”
She leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder, relieved to have him
touching her again.

He
rubbed her back, and she made a little sighing noise as his comfort and support
seeped into her. She didn’t want to move, but then she felt herself being
pushed away.

He
cleared his throat. Twice. “You had better get busy. I suggest you look for
another bank to take over your loan.” With that, he got up and left the office.

She
slumped in her chair, wishing he were still with her. Whenever he stood by her,
giving her his support, she felt anything was possible. But he had walked out,
leaving her with the responsibility of saving the hotel. She supposed she
couldn’t blame him. From the beginning, she had made it clear he wasn’t to
interfere with her work. The Hotel Grand Victoria belonged to her.

Imagining
the hotel in someone else’s hands, Julia fought off her tears and reached into
her bottom drawer. She pulled out the
San Diego City Directory
and
turned to the page marked “Banks.” One of them would certainly see the
potential of financing a resort as renowned as the Hotel Grand Victoria.
Wouldn’t they?

Seated
alone at the breakfast table, listening to Alex dress in his room, Julia pushed
her half-finished plate away. After yesterday’s lack of success with the banks
she had contacted, her scrambled eggs, toast, and even the fresh-squeezed
orange juice tasted like paper. The life she had planned was spiraling away
from her. No bank in San Diego, Los Angeles, or San Francisco was willing to
loan her the money she needed to pay First California.

The
last bank officer she’d spoken to had summed it up for her by saying, “Mrs.
MacLean, few banking institutions will risk such a large amount of money with
economic conditions at their current level. And they will never risk it on a
woman.”

The
only bright spot in her morning thus far had been the delivery of the hotel’s architectural
plans. She looked forward to presenting them to Alex. She hoped they would
cheer him up and bring back the man she thought she had married.

Hearing
his door open, she scooted her chair back and stood to greet him. He was
dressed in his old work clothes, though Dr. Dolan had not yet permitted him to
take up a hammer or saw. She had spoken to the doctor herself about Alex’s
state of health, as well as the subject of childbirth and its inherent risks.
She had begun thinking about what she had said to Alex, how important it is to
remember the precious moments he’d had with Danny. Yes, the pain of losing his
son, and her pain of losing Lily, had been devastating, but what if Danny and
Lily had never existed?

“Morning,”
he said, a wary look on his clean-shaven face.

“Good
morning.” She twisted her fingers together, feeling an unaccustomed shyness
with him. Yesterday in her office, he had held her hands and comforted her, but
since then, he had only reluctantly taken her arm as they walked together.

He
stopped a good five feet away. His gaze skimmed over her white shirtwaist and
pale blue skirt, then settled on her fidgety hands before moving up to her
face. “What’s going on?”

She
stilled her fingers, disappointed that he continued to keep his distance. She
supposed she could take charge of matters by marching up to him and giving him a
good-morning kiss, but could she possibly compel herself to initiate such
intimacy between them? She chewed her bottom lip.

“There’s
obviously something on your mind,” he said.

She
sighed, unable to make the first move. “Yes, two things, in fact. One, there’s
no need for you to accompany me downstairs and on my rounds this morning. I’m
going to stay in my office and contact the largest and richest banks in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, and wherever else I can think of.”

“Sounds
like a good idea.” He pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “I can do your
rounds for you. And since Dr. Dolan won’t let me work, I was thinking I’d
inspect the building for areas needing attention.”

“That’s
a wonderful idea. I’d appreciate having your trained eye look over the
woodwork. However, I think you might enjoy doing something else first.” Feeling
like a little girl about to present a secret gift to someone special, she
grinned. “The second thing on my mind is a surprise for you.”

His
head tipped to one side. “Oh yeah?”

She
went to the sitting room closet and brought out the long roll of papers.

Interest
flared in his eyes. “Are those the Reid brothers’ plans?”

“Yes.
Mrs. Russell, my head housekeeper, delivered them earlier. They were in a
storeroom with the old registers.” Hugging the plans to her chest, she carried
them to the coffee table and carefully set them down. “You can indulge your
architectural interest in the Hotel Grand Victoria to your heart’s content.”

Alex
didn’t move, just stared at the roll of papers.

Her
smile waned. “Don’t you want to see them? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“No,
I mean, yes, I do want to see them, and I am pleased. It’s just that … I’m a
carpenter now, not an architect.”

She
didn’t understand his reluctance. From the day of his arrival, he had been
interested in the hotel. He had admired it, asked questions about it, and
explored it. Had he seen enough?

Trying
to keep her disappointment to herself, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “I
need to go. You don’t have to look at them if you don’t want to. Just leave
them be. I’ll return them to Mrs. Russell later.” She started for the door.

“Julia,
I—”

“Don’t
worry,” she interrupted with a wave of her hand. “Finding them wasn’t any
trouble.” She strode to the parlor table and grabbed her key. “I’ll see you
later. Don’t look for me at lunch, though. If I’m hungry, I’ll order something
from the kitchen.”

He
said nothing, and she didn’t turn around.

She
let herself out, struggling to hold her emotions in check. Apparently Alex’s
interest in the building’s architecture had faded. Maybe he wanted to punish
himself more by taking to the road again, locking his memories of her away and
moving on. She told herself she ought to be glad he might be leaving. That was
what she had planned to have happen since the day Mr. Byrnes read her father’s
will to her.

But
Julia knew she didn’t want Alex to go. She wanted him in her future.

*   *   *

Shortly
after one o’clock, Alex stepped into the hotel’s bar. The room smelled of good
liquor, cigarettes, cigars, and pipe tobacco. It was a fitting place to try and
forget how much he knew he had disappointed Julia with his lukewarm reaction to
her surprise. The sudden appearance of the hotel’s plans had caught him off
guard, even scaring him. He hadn’t looked at real architectural plans in years,
and he wasn’t sure how he would feel if he studied these.

He
still didn’t know.

For
an hour, he had sat on the sofa, staring at the rolled-up papers. How could he
enjoy looking at someone else’s work when he could no longer do that same work,
work he had once loved?

Settling
himself on a tall stool at the bar, he glanced around. A bearded man dressed in
a dapper frock suit sat alone three stools away from him, nursing a beer. At
the far end of the room, eight men dressed in hunting jackets and tall boots
were seated at tables that had been pushed together.

One
fellow exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke and slapped his nearest companion on the
back. “Harvey, don’t lie. That rabbit jumped out at you so quick you nearly
shot yourself instead of him.”

The
group erupted in laughter and more backslapping. Harvey laughed as loudly as
the rest.

Alex
turned to the bar.

“Afternoon,
Mr. MacLean.” The bartender, an older man with a waxed handlebar mustache as
wide as his face, wiped his hands on a towel. “Welcome. I haven’t seen you in
here except during Mrs. MacLean’s rounds.”

“I’m
doing her rounds today, and this is my last stop.” He had also inspected
sections of the hotel’s exterior for damage from the sun and salt air.

“Then
you’ve worked up a thirst. What can I get you?”

“Beer,
please.”

“Coming
right up.”

“No
rush.”

With
plenty of time to spare, Alex admired the room’s clean lines and masculine
decor, then ran his fingers over the handcrafted mahogany bar. It was a work of
art, though he doubted many of the bar’s patrons ever thought twice about it. A
pencil and several sheets of hotel stationery lay in front of the empty seat
next to him. A previous customer had apparently been writing a letter.

Alex
picked up the pencil. For something to do, he began drawing aimlessly—lines,
squares, and cubes.

“Here
you go.” The bartender placed a tall, brimming glass of beer on the bar.

“Thanks.”
Alex took a deep swallow. “Mmm.”

“Only
the best at the Hotel Grand Victoria.”

“So
I’ve been told.”

A
roar of laughter went up from the hunters.

Alex
tipped his chin toward them. “Did I miss a hunting party?”

“Yeah,
over on North Island. It happens pretty regular. The guests hunt rabbits and
whatever else they can find in the brush over there. Then the kitchen chefs
cook it up for them. Any extras go on the menu’s evening specials.”

“Not
a bad deal.” With the pencil in one hand and his glass in the other, Alex drank
again, enjoying the beer’s slightly bitter taste.

The
bartender strolled away when the bearded man sitting alone signaled for a
refill.

Alex
scribbled while he drank, paying no mind to what he was putting on paper. Out
of nowhere, a memory of himself and Danny flowed into his head. They were
sitting together at a child’s small table in the nursery, both of them drawing
on paper. Danny made artful scrawls that Alex incorporated into the façade of
building. His son had laughed with delight.

Alex
smiled at the memory, enjoying it, surprised not to feel himself engulfed by
pain.

The
hunters continued to rehash the glory of their kills and the disappointment of
their near misses.

“Hey,
you have real talent.”

Alex
glanced over to see the bearded patron now sitting on the stool beside him.

The
man pointed at the stationery. “Are you an architect?”

Alex
stared at the paper, amazed to discover that a building had emerged from the
geometric shapes he’d been absently sketching. The drawing mixed a decorative
colonial Spanish design with the style of an Indian pueblo he’d seen in the New Mexico Territory. “Uh, no, carpenter.”

“You’re
probably a heck of a carpenter, but with some architectural training, I suspect
you’d be a real asset to San Diego’s building community.” The man stuck out his
hand. “Liam Howard.”

“Alex
MacLean.” They shook hands. “Are you staying at the hotel, Liam?”

“Not
me, no. I’m only a ferry trip away. I live in San Diego. Originally, I’m from New Jersey. Today I’m meeting some friends who’re visiting from Chicago. They’re upstairs
readying themselves for our outing. I decided to wait in here, which I haven’t
minded a bit. Good beer and good company.”

“How
true.” Alex tapped his glass against Liam Howard’s and they both drank. “What
line of business are you in, Liam?”

“Building,
as you might have guessed. San Diego is growing fast, and that means
opportunity.”

“So
I’ve heard.” Alex remembered Julia saying something similar. With their living
situation up in the air, he considered the opportunities a growing San Diego could offer him. If Julia didn’t get a new loan, she would either lose the hotel
or have to sell it immediately. In either case, they would have to find another
place to live.

Liam
nodded. “I can tell you understand what I mean. In San Diego, there are no
limits to what can be accomplished.”

“I
like that.” If Julia did find another bank to loan them the money, he’d be
working for her, and that wouldn’t go down nearly as smoothly as this beer was.
Working for a capable and proficient woman was one thing, working for his wife
was another. He didn’t want to be dependent on her for his wages. Besides that,
being married to the boss would put him in a difficult position with the other
employees. He’d be better off working at a job away from the hotel. “Liam, I
might be looking for some carpentry or construction work pretty soon. May I
look you up?”

“By
all means. I’m always in need of a good man, though you really ought to think
about architecture.” He lifted his glass in the direction of Alex’s drawing,
then glanced at the bartender, who waved at someone entering the room.

Alex
peered over his shoulder and met Theo’s gaze. The bellboy made his way to
Alex’s side.

“Mr.
MacLean, sorry to interrupt, but I was instructed to tell you your wife needs
to run an errand.”

“Thanks,
Theo. I’ll be right there.” He slid off the stool. “Wish I could stay and chat,
Liam, but my wife is waiting. It was good to meet you.” He started away from
the bar.

“Wait!”
Liam called after him. “What about your drawing?”

Alex
glanced back at what had begun as nothing more than the scribbles of a man in
need of a drink and distraction. Those scribbles had turned into the rough
design of a new building, something he had never expected he’d be able to do
again.

He
stepped back to the bar, picked up the sheet of stationery, carefully folded it
several times, and slid it into his pants pocket. “Thanks. Maybe I do have a
future in architecture.”

He
followed Theo out of the bar, his step lighter than when he had entered. He
felt a bit like his old self again. His talent and ability hadn’t been lost
forever. They’d only been lying dormant. He had thought about Danny without
suffering stabs of pain. The sweet memory had made him smile and want to
remember more of the happy times they’d enjoyed together.

Alex
found himself wanting to share his news with Julia. Having her in his life was
undoubtedly the reason for the headway he’d made. He imagined himself taking
her in his arms, spinning her around, and telling her how she and Danny had
helped him design again. She would smile and hug him back and …