A Race to Splendor (28 page)

“Well, aren’t you competing?” J.D. declared.

Amelia hesitated. “I suppose we are—now. And it’s sad, really. I’d love to review these ideas with her. She’s absolutely brilliant with this type of design, and totally conversant with reinforced concrete as a building material, which is why I thought of building a fire-resistant
beaux-arts
structure would be so perfect at Taylor and Jackson. I also thought this would offer us a wonderful opportunity to incorporate all those principals of coherent neighborhood planning that she and I learned at L’École
.
”

J.D. regarded Amelia intently. “So are you telling me, Amelia, that you’re ready to abandon Charlie Hunter’s vision at Taylor and Jackson streets?”

“What my grandfather built was a jewel in its day. But he’d be the first to agree that it’s a new century. San Francisco has a larger view of itself now, a view he fought for all his life. This newest incarnation of the Bay View offers us a chance to be part of this wonderful esthetic and—”

“Let’s do it,” he said, cutting her short. “That is, if I like the full-scale drawings you produce.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, indicating that he was either laughing at Amelia’s unbridled enthusiasm or joining in with it.

Amelia hesitated and then asked the question she couldn’t ignore.

“And your present funds are sufficient for this noble experiment?”

“I have the funds in hand to pay for first-rate renderings,” he replied. “Shall we leave it at that?” His air of joviality disappeared at the mention of money. “And now I have a question for you.”

“Yes?”

“If we use poured concrete instead of wood as our primary material, does it enhance—or negate—our chances of opening our doors on or before the anniversary of the disaster?”

Amelia heaved a sigh. “You are still obsessed about beating the Fairmont, aren’t you?”

“Yes… I’m afraid I am.”

She felt herself smiling. “Well, it might surprise you to learn… now, so am I!” She rose from her seat. “We have six months. Normally, I’d say it’s impossible, but with the use of poured concrete as our principle building material, I’d say our chances are fifty-fifty, depending on unexpected events.”

And they both knew that the unexpected was bound to come in the person of one Ezra Kemp.

***

Amelia immediately got down to the business of creating full-scale drawings of her entirely new concept for the venerable Bay View Hotel.

Meanwhile, James Hopper and the
San Francisco Call
had a field day playing up the “horse race” between the two hotels both vying to open on the first anniversary of the quake and fire. Amelia could only imagine Julia’s reaction when she read the most recent headline.

RIVAL
FEMALE
ARCHITECTS
REBUILD
CITY
!

Even so, not an hour passed when Amelia didn’t think of Julia Morgan and her staff working at the Merchant Exchange Building, five blocks down California Street. A few days after their conference in Thayer’s tent, Amelia sent word to her client that she was ready to unveil for him her detailed sketches of her creation.

J.D. collected her and the rolled-up drawings stashed in her portmanteau
in the Winton and they drove out to the Cliff House a second time for their afternoon conference about the Bay View’s future.

“More tea, ma’am?” the waiter inquired.

“Yes, thank you,” Amelia replied, patting the valise under the table with the toe of her shoe just to confirm its precious cargo was there. “It’s delicious.”

Her host sat across from her, his figure framed by the large window with potted palms at either side and overlooking the spectacular view. Violin and piano music wafted in the background, its lilting sound recalling for Amelia a sense of being in Paris. Reality told her, however, that she was sitting having tea with J.D. Thayer and was anxious to know whether he’d cobbled together enough funds to proceed with the new Bay View’s construction.

That is, if he approved of the designs she’d brought to their meeting.

The lavish table was covered in snowy linen, heavy silver plate, and, she judged, nearly enough sweets to feed the remaining refugees at the U.S. Presidio. Her eye roved appreciatively around the elegant expanse of the room, taking in the beautiful paneled walls that gave the space its sense of grandeur. Thank God the fire never got this far west, she thought.

She took a sip from her delicate teacup and set it in its saucer. “Isn’t it wonderful to see visitors coming to San Francisco again?” she asked, indicating the packed room and wondering when they could get down to business.

“It will be even more wonderful when they check into the Bay View come April.”

Amelia laughed and wondered if J.D. Thayer was a mind reader. He was as anxious about this new project as she was. “Well, we’d better get started building it, don’t you think?”

“Exactly,” J.D. said. He was staring at her with intense concentration. “Are you ready to unveil your masterpiece?”

She reached into her portmanteau and handed him a clutch of furled drawings about half the dimension of full-sized building plans.

J.D. nodded at a waiter to remove his teacup, saucer, and plate of sandwiches to one side, and her employer smoothed out the schematics she’d provided. For several long minutes he stared at the rendering of a classical facade. He peered at the elevations, and then the side views. Finally, he raised his gaze to meet hers and rendered his opinion.

“I love it.”

“You do?” she said on the breath she’d been holding.

“This is absolutely beautiful, Amelia.”

“
Really?
” she said, looking up from her scone with undisguised pleasure.

“You seem surprised.”

“Relieved is more like it. I think I mentioned that there’s a small hotel in Paris on the Rue Jacob that was my inspiration.
I
love
it—but others might not share my passion.”

Etienne had been too frugal to ever want to spend a night in that jewel of a place, but she’d vowed to herself she would lodge there on her next trip to France. That building was only three stories high, with a handsome carriage court entrance, complete with a magnificent wrought iron fence. Molded embellishments were affixed above the windows and entranceway. A fountain stood in the center and flower beds with stone cherubs peeking from the foliage bordered the field of slate paving stones that led to the porticoed entrance. She’d adored it at first sight.

“Well, looking at what you’ve created here certainly makes me want to visit Paris one day because
this
is one of the loveliest things I’ve ever seen.” J.D. pointed to the detailed drawing of a front elevation flanked by Corinthian columns and anchored by a graceful fan of low stairs that led to the hotel’s entry. “I’m excited to build this
hotel.”

“Really?” she repeated, staggered by his openly expressed enthusiasm. “Oh my Lord, that’s wonderful! I love everything about it too.”

“Well, you designed it,” he said, his all-too-charming smile in evidence once more. Then he grew somber. “Are you certain we can obtain the supplies we’ll need?”

“Sand, water, and gravel to make poured concrete are plentiful. And steel rods from suppliers I know of back east, who helped with the Fairmont, are a lot less likely to cause you misery than Ezra Kemp and his cronies supplying you lumber. The terra-cotta cladding on the upper two floors and the scrolled embellishments affixed above the windows and doors comes from a plant near Sacramento that’s in full production. We can obtain the marble or granite for the stairways and floors—depending on price, of course—from New Hampshire.”

“We’ll need some lumber for the foundations and molds, won’t we?”

“True, but it will be nothing like building an entire hotel out of wood.”

“That’s music to my ears.”

“And, as promised, the structure will be relatively fire resistant, so your insurance premiums should be less.”

“Even better.”

“We’ll install emergency water systems… hoses… all the things the old hotel lacked. How’s your cistern?”

“A lot of burned rubble landed on the old one,” J.D. answered resignedly, “but we’ll get to it, and a while back I bought the lot behind me. It was available and it was cheap since there’s so much rubble from the collapse of the house that was on it. I thought we could dig an additional cistern there as well.”

“Where the old woman lived who buried her dog on the day of the quake?” An involuntary shudder skimmed down Amelia’s spine as a host of disturbing memories assaulted her.

J.D. nodded. “That’s the one. I don’t remember very much after I located Angus at the Presidio and we came back to find you that day, but I vaguely recall your misadventure next door. Didn’t she brandish a weapon at you or something?”

“She shot straight at me, but I ducked.” She had a vision of the old woman screaming while waving the gun in her face, then saw in her mind’s eye the dog’s corpse, wrapped in a blanket, about to be laid into a traveling trunk. She could almost hear the incessant clamor of the fire brigades and smell the acrid scent of smoke that lingered for weeks. And could she ever forget the vacant stares of the damaged souls who never recovered their wits or the awful vision of Ling Lee’s arm…

It seemed astonishing that she and J.D. Thayer could be sitting at the posh Cliff House, sipping tea, and recalling those ghastly events with such seeming casualness.

“J.D.?”

He set the drawing aside. “What?”

“Do you ever have… moments when thoughts about April eighteenth come back and—”

She fell silent, at a loss to describe the scenes of remembered horror that still lingered during her waking hours—and in her dreams.

“Yes.”

“You
do
?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’m not mad when these unexpected bits of memory come crashing in and my palms perspire and I can’t catch my breath?”

“If you are mad, then so am I and half of San Francisco too, I expect.”

Relieved to see he understood, she ducked her head and hastened to change the topic. “With all that charred debris laying about, can you get to your own cistern?”

“I think so, and relatively soon. I had Loy’s men clear much of that area at night this week. We can enlarge the old well without too much trouble, I believe, and connect it to the new cistern we’ll build on the old lady’s property, once we remove the rest of the rubble. Again.”

“Then we should have all the water we need, plus the new back lot will provide for a lovely lower garden by the time we’re finished.” She pulled her father’s watch from her pocket. “Goodness, look at the time! Can you give me a lift back? I must run if I’m going to get back to the Ferry Building and catch the boat. I’m seeing my Aunt Margaret in Oakland this weekend.”

“By the way,” he said, signaling to the waiter for the check, “I’ll want my site supervisor to move to the Bay View as soon as we have a roof over our heads so there can always be someone on hand for deliveries. Also, I’d rather no one know my business at the Fairmont.”

She was startled by his proposal, for she just assumed she’d continue living in her basement cell. When she hesitated, J.D. added, “I assure you that you’ll have your own room. With a lock,” he concluded pointedly. “I want it completely understood that
you
are to supervise every aspect of the construction. I want the building I see in these drawings and nothing less. Hartland Law told me how you handled those thugs sent by the mayor’s office who attempted to extort more jobs for their cronies. I want that same, stalwart vigilance on my project.”

“So you’ve checked me out with your competitor?”

“Of course I did. Who knows what trouble we might run into as we proceed? I needed to be sure you could handle unpleasant encounters with the likes of Spitz.”

“And Ezra Kemp.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes… him and any other of his cronies, including my father, who might prefer I not offer
them
any competition.”

“You mean other new hotels are on the drawing boards?”

“This group always has plans afoot,” he replied obliquely.

“And we thought the Fairmont was your chief rival,” she said with a rueful smile.

“The Law brothers are gentlemen. We’ll have a race to the finish, to be sure, but I don’t think they’d blow up my building to win.”

His gaze returned to the drawings, and he appeared to be drinking them in.

“Now that I’ve seen your designs, Amelia, I’m pleased you suggested reinforced concrete. It solves a host of difficulties. And the lines of the hotel are magnificent.” He rolled up the sketches and rested them in his lap. “I think your work is first rate.”

His bald, unequivocal compliment took her breath away.