“He went off to Columbia for the season.”
She groaned. Why couldn’t people here stay in one place? “He was handling my aunt’s estate.”
“Oh yes,” Horace said. “He said he stopped by your hotel to request you sign some papers.”
“He didn’t tell me he was leaving town!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Labrie.” Horace tugged on the drawer of a cabinet. “Judah left the papers here for you.”
Horace rifled through a stack of envelopes until he found one with her aunt’s name. Inside were two papers—a handwritten copy of Aunt Emeline’s will, and the deed to the Golden Hotel.
The will was exactly as her aunt had said it would be—the hotel and its assets were hers. The house was for Sing Ye. Aunt Emeline didn’t mention the trinket box or any other assets in her will.
“I just need you to sign the bottom of the will to show you’ve read the document and agree to take over ownership of the hotel.”
As she wrote her name on the paper, the finality of it dropped like an anvil on her chest. Then it seemed to take wings and fly away. Aunt Emeline was gone. Ross was gone. And now the hotel was hers.
Taking a deep breath, Isabelle took the deed in her hand. Then she thanked the young man and turned to take her leave.
Outside the building, she stopped to rest on a bench along the sidewalk, leaning back to savor the warm rays of sunshine on her face, the crisp parchment paper secured by the tips of her gloves. More women were coming to Sacramento, but there was still less than one woman for every ten men, and only a few women were overseeing businesses on their own. But she’d managed the hotel successfully while Ross was gone. She would continue the legacy of the Labrie family here in California—a tradition of working hard, serving others, helping those in need.
She would improve the legacy too. She’d hire more Negro and Chinese women, and with Fanny gone, perhaps she could harbor more runaways. Stephan could help them find passage up to Vancouver Island.
Her heart beat faster at the thought. At the renewed hope for her future.
Mr.Bridges had left Sacramento, resigned to return to Texas without his slave, and as long as she didn’t draw attention to herself, no one would suspect her of using the finest hotel in Sacramento to help former slaves.
She opened her eyes again, ready to face her future firmly on her own. When she looked up the planked street, she saw a man walking toward her, a young Negro boy at his side. The boy was just a few years younger than Micah.
Sighing, she rose to her feet, straightening the ribbon on her hat. Unlike hers, the future of this boy was completely controlled by whoever chose to own him. Her heart saddened at the thought of him being enslaved in their free state.
Before she took a step, her gaze traveled to the gentleman beside the boy. He was a few inches taller than she was and quite distinguished-looking in his black waistcoat and white shirt. His hair was parted neatly in the middle, and his face was clean-shaven—an anomaly in a city where most men grew beards.
When the man met her gaze, her heart seemed to stop. It had been years since she’d seen him, but she knew exactly who was walking toward her. Alden Payne—Mrs.Duvall’s younger brother.
Stunned, she couldn’t seem to move her feet, couldn’t even find her breath. She had expected Ross to return to Sacramento, but she’d never thought she would see anyone from the Payne family again. Never thought any of them would ever leave Virginia.
She fought to breathe so she wouldn’t pass out on the sidewalk. Fought the urge to run.
Had anyone else traveled west with him?
She dropped her head as they passed, gazing down at the deed in her hand. Mr.Payne wasn’t likely to recognize her, but she couldn’t risk it.
Once he and the boy entered the building, Isabelle picked up her heavy skirt with one hand and rushed back to the hotel. Her heart racing, she locked the doors to the lobby and hid the deed under her desk, inside the metal lockbox with her gold and other valuable papers. Then she sat down on her chair, unable to move again.
Finally she was free, untethered in a sense, to begin dreaming again. Why was her past coming back to haunt her now?
Instead of dreaming, all she wanted to do was take the next steamboat out of Sacramento.
But this time, she had no one to help her run.
“How long is Judah going to be in Columbia?” Alden asked Horace. The clerk was at least five years his junior, but he seemed efficient. And trustworthy. Had Judah already given away the apprenticeship, thinking Alden wouldn’t come?
“He’ll be there at least another month. Two at the most.”
“Are you his apprentice?”
“No,” Horace said. “I’m just handling the paperwork while he’s gone. Is he expecting your arrival?”
