A-Splendid-Ruin(33)
“Was that Ellis Farge?” she asked upon reaching me.
“Yes.” How had he disappeared so quickly?
“I can’t believe it! Did you tell him about your sketches?”
“My sketches? Why would I?”
“Papa will be thrilled to hear you’ve met him.”
“It was hardly a meeting,” I said. “We spoke only a moment.”
“Oh, did I interrupt too soon? I’m so sorry.”
“I doubt he’ll remember me tomorrow. Where were you, anyway?”
“Oh”—she waved that away—“I couldn’t bear to wear a rental, so I just walked about a bit to give you a chance to bathe.”
“You missed the spectacle I made of myself.” I told her about the photographer and my misstep, and she let out a little peal of delight.
“You’ll be all over the newspaper tomorrow.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“You’ll make headlines—don’t cringe. You’re becoming the most mentioned girl on the society page.”
“If you say so.”
“Anyway, you’re in a better mood now.”
It was true, I had to admit. Ellis Farge and his restlessness had entirely distracted me from my lack of purpose and the episode with my aunt and my questions.
Goldie and I ate sandwiches and ice cream at one of the restaurants while I tried to ignore the now-and-again glances from those who had undoubtedly seen me in the white bathing costume. More than one man tipped his hat to me with a knowing smile, and when Goldie and I walked past one of the restaurant balconies, someone catcalled and whistled.
Goldie seemed so delighted by the attention that I could not bring myself to be dismayed, but I was relieved when we started back to the streetcar depot. The bathing complex, with its expanse of glass and its twin cupolas decorating an arched roof, flared like its own sun.
Goldie stopped. She put her hand to her eyes to shield them and said, “There’s Mr. Farge again.”
I glanced in the direction she was looking, and yes, he was coming from the building, still in that winter coat.
“May, you must make him remember you. For Papa’s sake. Promise me you will.”
“How am I to do that?”
“You’ll have to seek him out.”
“Goldie—”
I was interrupted by the clanging bell of the streetcar as it dragged, screeching, into the depot, and Goldie and I had to run to catch it.
Of course, Goldie had not forgotten any of it. Almost the moment we sat at breakfast the next morning, she said to Uncle Jonny, “You’ll never guess who May met yesterday at Sutro’s.”
Uncle Jonny barely glanced up from his eggs. “You’re right, I never will. Who was it?”
“Ellis Farge!” she announced.
A suddenly intense interest replaced my uncle’s inattention. “Ellis Farge?”
“Can you believe it?”
His gaze landed on me. “How exactly did May achieve this impossible thing?”
I tried to shrug it away and took a small bite of toast. “I happened upon him.”
“She happened upon him,” Goldie mocked gently.
Uncle Jonny wiped his mouth. “He’s avoiding me. I’m not alone in that, either. He’s shaken off Ruef for months.”
Abe Ruef. The man sitting at the Palace Bar with Uncle Jonny and the widow Dennehy. The man without whom nothing in the city got done.
“It seems like fate that May met him, doesn’t it, Papa? I told her it was a perfect opportunity.”
“He’s my first choice for the Nance building,” Uncle Jonny said thoughtfully. “We’ve been having trouble getting commitments. If they just could see a design . . .”
“Commitments?” I asked.
“Leases,” he provided.
“Ellis Farge’s design of Papa’s new building is bound to be famous. If it’s famous, then everyone will be rushing to lease space. If everyone’s rushing to lease space, it will be a huge success.” Goldie laid it out simply.
“Oh, I see.”
“There’s also that land in Chinatown I’m looking at.” My uncle spoke as if he were thinking out loud. “It may be easier for me to buy it if I can convince the seller I’ll bring in more business than anyone else. A connection with Farge could make that happen too.”
“You will simply have to go to Mr. Farge’s office, May,” Goldie said. “Don’t you think so, Papa?”
“Go to his office?” It was very forward, but I had approached him already, hadn’t I? It wasn’t as if we hadn’t been introduced. In a way.
“Of course. You’re an independent, modern woman, aren’t you?”
Uncle Jonny cautioned, “We cannot ask such a thing of May, my darling.”
“But you just said it would help, and she’s already got Mr. Farge’s attention.”
“Well, yes.” My uncle spoke with obvious reluctance. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, May, my dear, then please don’t give it another thought.”
I owed him so much. I owed them all so much. My meeting with Ellis Farge had been fated, as I’d thought. And I was a modern woman, as Goldie said. Why shouldn’t I go to his office?