“That was awfully smart of him.”
Isabelle folded up the paper. “He was a keen businessman.”
“You and your aunt could start up another mercantile.”
She took a long sip of her tea. “I much prefer running a hotel.”
“But what will you do when Ross returns?” Fanny asked, shifting on her seat.
Isabelle lowered her cup. She’d kept hoping Ross would return like he’d promised, so he could discuss the future with his wife.
“What do you mean?” Isabelle asked gingerly.
“Where will you go?”
“I’m not going anywhere. The proprietor of the hotel needs to live here.”
Fanny’s eyes grew wide. “I thought Ross would take over the Golden again when he returns.”
Isabelle poured the remaining tea into her cup. It had become clearer as the weeks passed that Fanny envisioned herself the owner and proprietor of this hotel one day, alongside Ross. While Isabelle enjoyed the daily company of another woman, Fanny had begun acting much less like someone working for room and board and more like a paying guest at her leisure.
Isabelle sipped the tea. “I guess we’ll be able to resolve all this very soon.”
“But I don’t want you to have to leave.”
“Considering that my aunt owns this place, you don’t have to worry about that.”
Fanny fidgeted again in her chair. “I can’t help but wonder—”
Isabelle braced herself. “What is it?”
“Were you and Ross ever ...” Fanny took a deep breath. “Doesn’t it seem strange for a married man and an unmarried woman to partner together in a business venture?”
“Are you talking about my aunt’s partnership or are you talking about me?”
Fanny glanced down at her cup before meeting her gaze again. “Were you and Ross ever more than business partners?”
Fanny had attempted to ask this question several times now, and each time Isabelle had been able to evade answering. Ross should be the one talking to his wife about the choices he made after he left for California, not her. The numbness in her heart and mind had dissipated, and she was furious at him for making her clean up his mess.
As she contemplated her response, Isabelle looked out at the storm once more. This time, she saw Sing Ye stumbling along the boardwalk, holding an umbrella out in front of her like a warrior preparing to fight the rain.
Another welcome interruption to prolong this conversation.
“Excuse me,” she said to Fanny, standing up. Sing Ye rarely came to the hotel, and she never came this early in the morning.
Isabelle hurried across to the lobby.
Sing Ye shook off her umbrella outside the door and left it under the awning. When she stepped into the room, her hands trembled as she brushed the water off the jade-colored silk on hertangzhuangjacket, splattering the rug.
She and Nicolas had married two weeks ago, but Nicolas agreed that Sing Ye should continue helping Aunt Emeline during her final days. Isabelle visited her aunt every evening for at least an hour after dinner so that Sing Ye could spend time with her new husband. When she had visited last night, Aunt Emeline never woke from her sleep.
Isabelle stepped toward her. “What happened?”
“She was in pain for most of the night,” Sing Ye said. “Now she’s asking for you.”
“Did you send for the doctor?”
“Yes, but the messenger said he can’t come until this afternoon.”
