She didn’t like to think about that, not least because it reminded her how precarious her own position was. She was going to be one of the last people to leave Kemp’s 1877, no matter how well or badly this expedition turned out, which increasingly felt like being the last person out of a burning building. The road home was long, and it ran through an obstacle course of mountains, deserts, and hostile locals. Home, where Gabriella was waiting for her. Or forgetting about her.
She recalled something her drill instructor used to say: One foot at a time. Which meant, Don’t think too far ahead. Work the problem that’s in front of you. Let other people worry about strategy. So fine: The problem in front of her was Mercy Kemp. Or maybe the problem in front of her was Jesse, who had decided to pay a visit to his San Francisco relations instead of getting on with the search.
He said, “This house is where Phoebe lives. She lives with a woman named Hauser. Abigail Hauser. Have I mentioned her?”
“Obviously not.”
“Abbie is my father’s sister. My aunt.”
“You have a wealthy aunt?”
“Aunt Abbie’s a widow. Mr. Hauser was a partner in Hauser, Schmidt and Odette, a Washoe Valley mining firm. Very wealthy man. He was inspecting a dig near Virginia City when a steam pipe burst and scalded him to death. That was 1866. Aunt Abbie inherited his fortune, but most of it evaporated in the crash of ’73. She still has the house, and she keeps up appearances, but don’t be deceived. She’s only a few pennies better off than the Tenderloin crowd. After my father was killed, this is where I brought Phoebe.”
“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but if your father was related to a wealthy family, how come he was working as a bouncer in a whorehouse?”
“My father and Aunt Abbie weren’t on speaking terms back then. But my father sent us up here for visits, sometimes for as much as a month at a time. It was his way of showing us that life that wasn’t always hard and unforgiving. Aunt Abbie tried to give us an education, which I didn’t always appreciate. But she has a big library, and I took advantage of it.”
“Which I guess explains why your grammar is better than most of the local hires. You always did seem a little too polished for somebody who was raised on skid row.”
“My father didn’t neglect our education. We were raised decently enough.”
“I’m not trying to insult anyone.”
“Abigail Hauser is a Christian woman. A little stiff, but forward thinking and kind at heart. She has principles. I’ve told her a little about you—try not to shock her.”
* * *
Jesse drove the buggy up to the front of the house and set the brake, and Elizabeth managed to climb down without snagging her ridiculous clothing on anything. She watched as he walked to the door and raised his fist to knock. It was hard to read his mood. Catch him at the right moment and he was one big human emoji, all joy or rage. But right now his face was blank. He knocked five times. A minute or more went by. Elizabeth adjusted her hat and tried to appreciate the breeze, which was blissfully free of the reek of the city below.
An Asian woman with a duster in her hand, presumably not Mrs. Hauser, opened the door. She gave Jesse a wide-eyed look.
“Hello, Soo Yee,” Jesse said.
Soo Yee’s pleasure at recognizing him evolved into what appeared to be equal parts fear and awe. “Jesse, Jesse, come in,” she said, giving Elizabeth a sidelong glance: You too, whoever you are.
The entrance hall was cool and quiet, rich with sunlight filtered through panes of opalescent glass. A crystal vase holding cut flowers stood on a side table. Soo Yee was a small woman, and the sound of her footsteps on the oaken floor made Elizabeth think of water dripping from a palm leaf. “I’ll tell Mrs. Hauser you’re here,” she said, disappearing down a shadowed hallway. Moments later Jesse’s aunt emerged from a deeper part of the house.
“Aunt Abbie,” Jesse said. Some complicated mix of emotions put a burr in his voice, though he was trying not to let it show. “I apologize for not telling you I was coming. There wasn’t time to write.”
Abigail Hauser was tall and lean. She wore a black bombazine dress and appeared to be in her forties, not young by the standards of 1877, but there was a liveliness and wariness in her eyes that Elizabeth immediately liked. “Jesse,” she said, embracing him. “It’s a surprise to see you, but a most welcome one. And you brought a friend!”
“This is Elizabeth DePaul. Elizabeth, my aunt, Abigail Hauser.”
“Right,” Elizabeth managed. “It’s, uh, nice to meet you.” No doubt failing some important test of etiquette, though Aunt Abbie gave her a genuine-seeming smile.
“This is the woman you wrote about in your letters?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m very pleased indeed to meet you, Miss DePaul. A woman from the twenty-first century! I’m not sure I know what to say … I feel quite out of place.”
“I’m the one who’s out of place. You can call me Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth. I’m Abbie. Come into the parlor and sit down.”
Abbie led them to a smaller room crowded with chairs and ornate sideboards. “Jesse, I know you’ll want to see Phoebe. She’s in her room, practicing her violin exercises. Soo Yee can fetch her.”
“No,” Jesse said, “I’ll see Phoebe soon enough. I’m sorry if that sounds unsociable, but it can’t be helped. As for Soo Yee, I want you to send her down to the city.”
“What for?”
“To fetch Sonny Lau.”
There was a silence. Abbie said, “Are things as bad as that?”
“Well, I don’t know. They might be. You didn’t tell me in your letters that Roscoe Candy is alive.”
“No,” Abbie said, “I didn’t. We knew, of course. But I was reluctant to trouble you about it.”
“Has he been a problem?”
“It was only last year that he emerged from the shadows. I have friends who watch the property market, and they noticed him making purchases in the less respectable parts of the city, just as he was accustomed to do before you shot him. Then Sonny Lau sent word that Candy was back in the Tenderloin, living in a low house with his band of thugs. He seldom appears in public, and no new murders have been attributed to him. If he knows anything about Phoebe, we’ve had no sign of it. Had there been even a hint of trouble, of course I would have contacted you at once.”
“How did he survive, Aunt Abbie? He was gut-shot—pardon me for saying so.”
“You needn’t apologize for speaking plainly, least of all on this subject. I don’t know how he survived. Lesser wounds have killed better men. A cruel joke on the part of nature, I suppose.” Abbie took a bell from a side table and rang it. Soo Yee appeared a moment later. “Soo Yee, will you ask Randal to drive you into town, please? We need to speak to your brother.”
“You want me to find Sonny?”
“Yes, please.”
“And bring him back?”
“Yes. And I gather it’s urgent. So go on now. Quickly, please.”
Soo Yee hurried away. Jesse looked at his aunt and cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps I’ll see Phoebe now.”
“Go on. You know how to find her room, I imagine, even after all these years. Jesse?”
Jesse turned back.
“Are we in danger?”
“I wouldn’t bring danger down on you. You know that, Aunt Abbie. I’ve always kept this house apart from the other aspects of my life.”
And from me, Elizabeth thought.
Abbie said, “Are you in danger?”
“Not yet,” he said.
* * *
Elizabeth listened to Jesse’s footsteps as he mounted the stairs. There was a briefly audible bar or two of violin music, which must have been Jesse opening the door to his sister’s room. Then silence.
Which left Elizabeth and Abbie in the parlor trying not to stare at each other. Elizabeth thought she ought to say something polite, but the best she could come up with was, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.”