She shuddered to think what might happen if he did remember.
Years ago, Isabelle used to watch him when he visited the Duvall’s, wondering if he would choose to follow in the way of his brother-in-law and father or if one day he might emancipate the people he owned. But Alden had grown up now, becoming another Master Payne. Apparently, he’d selected California as his residence over the Virginia plantation, and he’d brought the horrific institution of slavery west with him.
No one here suspected that she’d once been enslaved. Her skin—even slathered with the cucumber-and-lemon cream—might be a shade darker than some of the people from the East Coast, but other women’s skin darkened here in the sun. In Virginia, Mrs.Duvall had called her a mulatto—a constant reminder that while her skin was a light olive color, Negro blood ran through her veins. In the Southern states, she would always be considered a slave.
But Aunt Emeline hadn’t called her a slave. She’d called her beloved—helping lighten her skin, purchase a new wardrobe, educate her with a private tutor so she could escape her past. Reinvent herself as a treasured niece. With the power of a new name and wardrobe, Isabelle became a new person. And with the love and care of her adopted uncle and aunt, she thrived.
She wanted to be faithful to help children like Isaac, but she didn’t want Mr.Payne staying in her hotel, didn’t want to hear any stories about his life in Virginia or live with the constant threat of something sparking his recollection. Nor did she want to be reminded about the horror she’d left behind or the memory of the baby she’d held in her arms for a glimpse of a moment before he slipped away.
She unwrapped the string holding together the parcel of flowers, trying to focus on the beauty of the coral chrysanthemums, lavender peonies, and creamy-white iris. She couldn’t allow herself to journey back again in her mind, to the pain buried deeply in the recesses of her heart.
Even if Stephan didn’t know about her past, he shouldn’t have stepped in like that, undermining her authority in front of Alden and his boy.
Finally, she looked back up at him. “I don’t want them staying here.”
“Them?” he asked cautiously. “Or is it just the master you don’t want in the hotel?”
“The master,” she retorted. “I don’t want him or any other slave owner as a guest.”
“But we can do more good if the boy and his master stay right here, under our roof, than if they stay in another hotel.”
She shook her head. “I won’t be an accomplice to the evil.”
“But what if we could overcome the evil?” Stephan lowered his voice. “We could help the boy escape.”
“If he went missing like Micah, Rodney would put us both in jail.”
“We’ll find a way,” he insisted.
She wanted to be faithful like Aunt Emeline, but if her past were exposed, it would ruin everything for her here in Sacramento—her reputation and her business. No one would want to stay in a hotel run by a Negro—a former slave—no matter how elegant the décor or delicious the food. And much worse, Alden might put her back into chains and return her to Victor Duvall.
She shivered. So much had changed in the past nine years, yet it didn’t matter in the eyes of the law how strong or intelligent or capable she was. The color of her skin didn’t even matter. Negro blood lapped inside her veins, flowing down from her mother’s side of the family.
The blood siphoned from her father didn’t count. Men could legally impregnate any of their slaves—married and maiden women alike—in order to add to their chattel. The more slaves to sell, the more money to be had. And somehow, they were able to deny these slaves were also their children. They sold their sons and daughters without grieving the loss.
She picked up two of the mums, slipping the stems into a vase.
But what if Stephan was right? What if she could help the boy in her lobby find freedom? She’d been angry when Fanny accused her of being selfish, but in this case, perhaps it was true. A great opportunity had been set before her—she could not only help a child but also free a Payne slave from the torment of his master.
But what if they sent her back to Virginia in his place?
The vase shook when she shuddered.
It would be worth everything, she told herself, if this boy could be free. Redemption, in a sense, for what she had lost.
Thank God she hadn’t told Ross about her past before he had left Sacramento. She couldn’t allow herself to think he might have used it against her, but if Fanny found out, she might have used the information to her advantage.
She would have to find a way to obtain freedom for this boy while keeping her secret intact.
She pumped water into a pitcher at the sink and added it to the vase before speaking again. “Will you register them for me?”
Stephan nodded.
“They can stay—as long as they obey the rules.”
“Of course.” Stephan stepped toward the door. “We’ll find a way to help the boy.”
After she finished arranging the flowers, Isabelle fled into the rooms vacated by Fanny and Ross. There were no more guests to register for the hotel, and dinner guests wouldn’t begin arriving until five.
