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“Understood.” He picked up his wineglass and wished for something much stronger.
“You’re awfully solemn,” she said. “I know you were keen on keeping the saloon, but selling it is for the best. You’ll see.”
He wanted to yell at her, but having never yelled at a woman in his life, ever, he signaled for more wine.
As he drove her home after the meal, she linked her arm with his and leaned close. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. McGuire’s always has fine food.”
“They do, but I’m saying thank you for selling the saloon.”
He chuckled bitterly. “I’m not selling the saloon, Natalie.”
She smiled. “Stop teasing.”
He pulled back on the reins and halted the carriage. “Listen to me now. I didn’t go to San Francisco to sell the Union. I’m not going to sell the Union.”
She looked startled. “You’re serious.”
“Just as I’ve always been.”
“But I want you to.”
“I understand that, but I don’t want to. If I sell my source of income, who’s going to pay for all the hats and gowns you care so much about?”
“Papa says you’re one of the richest men in the state. You have stocks and property.”
“And once I go through all that providing for you, then what?”
“A man is supposed to defer to his wife,” she said accusingly. “And make her happy.”
“Then maybe you need to marry someone else, Natalie.”
“I’m the last of my friends to become engaged, the gossips will have a field day if I call it off. Take me home please.”
He set the carriage in motion. They rode the rest of the way in silence.
When they reached her house, he handed her down. “Natalie, I will marry you, care for you, and provide for you, but I will not sell my business for you.”
“Let me know when you have time to accompany me to Vera’s.” And she walked off and left him standing by the carriage.
He waited until she was inside before driving away. He needed a drink.
Sylvia was right about there not being any food left over after dinner. Miner Gabe Horne was short and stocky. He appeared to be only a few years older than Eddy but seemed so shy he wouldn’t hold her gaze more than a second or two. He ate silently but upon leaving said, “Nice to meet you, MissEddy. Good food. Next time, cook more please.”
The other boarder, young August Reynolds, the hotel dishwasher, was a tall, lean beanpole of a man who after eating his fill of the fish, vegetables, and biscuits, said to her, “MissEddy, not even the International Hotel serves food this good. Once word gets around, they’re going to want to hire you.”
“I’m only working for MissSylvia.”
“Good to know because I’ll enjoy coming home each evening to the way you cook.”
Eddy liked the two men. However, the third boarder, Whitman Brown, was another story. He came in after the other two had gone up to their rooms. He was bright-skinned and annoying. “I’m a pretty important man around here,” he announced when she placed his plate on the table in front of him. “I handle all the Colored accounts at one of the banks.”
“That’s nice.”
“I’m also the Baptist preacher here.”
“MissSylvie told me.”
