A-Splendid-Ruin(18)

I sat. “It’s only that, with my mother . . . I’m afraid I’ve grown used to worrying.”

“Well, we’ll have no more of that.” He took his seat again with a dramatic flair, a trait reflected, more boldly, in his daughter. “I’m here to see that those days are over.”

I took a bite of the eggs, which were buttery and soft and so delicious it was all I could do not to shovel them into my mouth. When I’d swallowed, I said, “What is your business, Uncle Jonny?”

“Construction. Sullivan Building, to be precise. We’ve built several of the buildings you’ve seen downtown. Many office buildings. A few stores.”

“Government buildings?”

His brow furrowed. “We built city hall, yes. Why?”

“Someone mentioned it yesterday when Goldie and I were in town.”

He seemed honestly perplexed. “Who? What did they say?”

“Some man on the street. Nothing really. Something about contracts.” All I could see was how my explanation would lead to the Palace Bar, and my instincts, as well as Goldie’s reaction yesterday, told me to change the subject. Quickly, I said, “You were telling me why you disliked Mr. Older of the Bulletin.”

My uncle paused. Those pale eyes of his were a little too probing, and I looked down at my food and busily stirred my eggs with my fork.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes, of course. Mostly I dislike him because Older is an enemy of our good mayor Schmitz and Schmitz’s right-hand man, Abe Ruef.”

Again I remembered yesterday, the man at my uncle’s table. Abe Ruef, Goldie had said. “Nothing in this city gets done without him.” “I see.”

“Older has been trying to rile up public sentiment to investigate this fairy tale he imagines of corruption in city government, but no one wants such a thing. The mayor gets things done, and Ruef too. The city is growing; we don’t need a bunch of blown-up scandals and investigations and trials slowing things down.”

Uncle Jonny’s words came quickly, clipped. I had the impression that, in his enthusiasm, he’d forgotten he was speaking to me. “Older’s not pro-business, and we need someone who is. Not someone who thinks a city beautification plan drawn by some garden planner out of Chicago is the best thing for San Francisco. We can be the queen of the West without all that. Who’s going to stop us? Seattle? Ha! Putting in all those boulevards and statues will only slow us down. The only good thing the plan does is get rid of Chinatown.”

I perked up, remembering the Chinese writing on the shop windows, the embroidered silks reflecting the light. “What happens to it?”

Uncle Jonny shrugged. “Who cares? It’s taking up valuable land. The best locations in town. Imagine what could be there if it was gone. Hotels like the Fairmont for one—you’ve seen it, haven’t you, going up just down the street?”

I nodded.

“If we could get the Chinese out . . . Well, just think of it! We’re running out of good building sites. Prime rental properties. There’s money to be made, no doubt about it.” He cleared his throat. “The city should give it to the rest of us, for the good of everyone. I’ve got a new project myself, on one of the last good lots left—or I will have, as soon as the architect accepts my commission. But no, proper city growth isn’t what Older wants to talk about. All he cares about are his graft hobgoblins.”

My uncle cleared his throat. “Pardon me, my dear, I do tend to get carried away. You’ve just arrived; you can’t know any of these people. As you may guess, it’s somewhat of an important topic for me.”

“I’m interested, truly. If San Francisco is to be my home, I think I should know about it.”

“Such complications are best left to men.” His voice changed from businesslike to regretful as he raised another subject. “I am sorry you’ve not yet had an opportunity to meet your aunt. She is often poorly. I’m sure Goldie has told you.”

“Oh, but I have met her. Yesterday. We had tea together.”

Uncle Jonny’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Tea?”

“When Goldie and I came back from shopping.”

“Goldie was there as well?”

“She’d already gone upstairs. It was only me and Aunt Florence, at least until Shin came with the laudanum.”

My uncle sat back in his chair, looking oddly stumped. “I heard nothing of this.”

I buttered a piece of toast and dipped it into a pool of sagging tomato. “We had a very pleasant time.”

“Did you? What did you talk about?”

“Mama, mostly. Has she told you anything about my mother?”

Uncle Jonny shook his head. “When we met, she told me her parents were dead. She said nothing about a sister. I was very surprised to find she had one.”

“You only discovered it when my mother sent the letter?”

He frowned. “The letter?”

“Goldie said Mama had sent one and that was how you knew I existed.”

“Oh. Oh, yes of course. The letter.” My uncle tapped his well-manicured fingers on the newspaper as if the action aided his recollection. “It was addressed to your aunt, and she told me what was in it and that she wished to send for you. I’d forgotten all about it.”