Adam's Daughter Part 4

At the line's end, she wanted to ride again. They boarded another car that took them to Chinatown, and rode another down to the North Beach Wharf and back up again, through the neighborhoods of Russian and Telegraph Hills. Standing behind Elizabeth, Adam saw that she was shivering. He folded her into his arms and she leaned back against him. He closed his eyes, losing himself in her flowing hair.

When he finally looked at his watch, it was one a.m. Somehow, he had to finish his work. They got off the cable car on Market. He explained that he was a reporter and had to complete his story on the hotel opening.

"You don't seem surprised," Adam said.

"That you work for a living? I may be spoiled, Mr. Bryant, but unlike my parents I'm not a sn.o.b." She smiled. "Can I see where you work?"

Her question brought him back to earth. This woman in a dirty newspaper office? The thought was absurd, this silvery creature entering his life where the reality was smudged newsprint, rented suits, and a bare apartment South of the Slot? Suddenly he saw the folly of the whole evening. He was a fool.

For the first time in his life, he was feeling doubt, a wavering in his one true faith -- himself. It was rising like a foul taste in his throat. He grabbed Elizabeth's hand.

"Come with me," he said.

In the city room, the men on the desk gawked at Elizabeth as she sat waiting for Adam to finish his story. Then, Adam led Elizabeth on a tour of the newspaper. They waited until the first edition came off the press, and Adam gave one to Elizabeth. His account of the hotel opening was the lead story. She read it carefully.

Outside, she paused. "Your story is very good," she said. "Why isn't your name on it?"

"None of the stories have names. That's just the way it's done," he said.

"Well, your name should be all over this paper. Adam Bryant. In letters as big as..." she pointed up at the gilt letters on the Times building. "As big as that."

He laughed but then quickly sobered. He looked at his watch. It was nearly four.

"The gala's over now," he said. "Where do I take you?"

She sighed. "To my aunt's, I guess."

Adam found a taxi and Elizabeth gave the driver directions to an address on Broadway in Pacific Heights. Elizabeth sat quietly in the crook of Adam's arm.

"Tired?"

"No," she said. "I don't want the night to end."

"It's almost sunrise."

She smiled. "Then let's watch it."

Adam gave the driver new directions to go to the Palace of Fine Arts. The taxi left them in a small park on the eastern edge of the Presidio. In the foggy predawn light, an imposing colonnade loomed over a duck pond. The palace was the remaining structure from the 1915 International Exposition. It was Adam's favorite place in the city, a place where the cacophony of modern life was drowned out by the echoes of the past.

They sat on the gra.s.s, saying nothing. They stared up at the colonnade, watching the architectural details emerge as the sky lightened from gray to rose.

"You come here often, don't you," she said finally.

"How did you know?"

"Your face. It's like you're in church," she said.

He looked up at the columns. "I came here for the exposition. I was only fifteen, but it left a big impression on me. The whole bay front was filled with these wonderful buildings and sights. The city had come back from the earthquake. Everyone was so optimistic about the future. It made me think that anything was possible."

"And you still think that?"

He looked at her. "Yes, I do."

She laughed softly. "You're a dreamer."

"I guess so."

"What do you dream of?"

It seemed suddenly strange to be sitting in the park with a girl he barely knew, talking of things as misty as dreams. He felt vulnerable. It was a long time before he answered.

"I dream of having power and money," he said slowly. He paused. "And a family."

He waited for her to laugh but she didn't. "How do you plan to make your dreams real?" she asked.

"Newspapers," he said. "I'll run one someday. Then own one. Then two, then three. I'm saving money. I have ideas."

He began to talk faster now, and she watched his face. "There's so much opportunity now," he went on. "This state is growing so fast. And I could open a newspaper in every city. I see a whole chain of them, strung out across California. And maybe more in other states. Powerful newspapers. But good and fair newspapers. Not like they're run now. Not newspapers controlled by politicians or criminals or rich b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out to screw the poor. Newspapers controlled only by me."

His eyes came back to her. "And my sons after me."

He had to look away. He didn't know what it was about her that made him to talk this way. He had never expressed such thoughts before. But then his thoughts had never been so crystallized as they now were.

"You are so sure of yourself," she said.

She lay back on the gra.s.s, staring up at the colonnade. It was nearly light and the figures atop the columns were now visible. They were Grecian women, standing with their backs outward, seeming to stare down into the tops of the columns.

"What do you think they are doing?" Elizabeth asked, pointing.

"Some people say they are crying."

"Why?"

"They are supposed to represent art weeping at the impossibility of achieving dreams."

Elizabeth glanced at him. "A lesson in humility, perhaps, for us mere humans, Mr. Bryant?"

Adam smiled. "I like to think of them simply as beautiful women who have some wonderful secret that I don't get. Maybe if I keep coming here someday I'll get it."

"Do you always get what you want?" she asked.

He leaned over and looked at her. Her hair was a tangle of red against the green gra.s.s and the pearly morning light made her skin look translucent. He kissed her gently.

"Yes," he said. "I'm a lucky man."

CHAPTER FIVE.

Adam stood outside the Tudor mansion, staring up at the windows. It was raining lightly, and his coat and hat were damp from the walk up the hill. He had been standing outside the house for several minutes, working up his courage to ring the bell, thinking about last night.

He had stayed with Elizabeth in the park until nearly seven. They had talked about many things, yet nothing in particular that he could now recall. They had laughed...he had laughed, as he never had before, the feeling of lightness foreign to him. And he had kissed her, again and again and again.

When he had walked Elizabeth back up the hill to the mansion on Broadway, the streets of Pacific Heights had been empty except for a few domestic workers slipping into back doors. Adam and Elizabeth had lingered on the porch, holding each other. She asked him to come back that afternoon. Then with a weary smile, she went inside.

He had gone back to his room, bathed and waited. It was Sunday, his day off, and he had nothing to do. So he lay on his bed, thinking about Elizabeth...beautiful, rich Elizabeth.

He drew in a breath went up to the porch and rang the bell.

When the maid answered he said he had come to see Miss Ingram. He was told to wait in the foyer. He was staring up at the chandelier when Elizabeth appeared at the top of the staircase.

"Adam! I knew you'd come!"

She came down the stairs. She was wearing a simple blue dress sashed low on the hips, and her hair was loose, pulled back from her face. "Come into the library," she said.

She closed the doors behind them. Adam stood in the middle of the room, his eyes traveling over the paintings, soft Persian rugs, and shelves of books. Elizabeth took his hat. "You're soaked," she said. "Come sit by the fire,"

As he sat down next to her on the sofa, Adam felt suddenly awkward. Why had it been so easy to talk to her last night and now?

"I had a wonderful time last night," Elizabeth said. "I barely got a wink of sleep. I must look a fright."

"You look beautiful," Adam said.

"My mother was furious. She wanted to know what the gray smudges were on my dress." She smiled. "I told her I spent the night on a park bench wrapped in newspapers."

There was another pause and Elizabeth grew serious. "When I woke up this morning I felt like I had dreamed the whole thing. You're different than the silly boys I've met, the other men --"

"Not really," Adam said.

"But you are." She rose suddenly. "You have dreams, things you want to do. You're not just sitting in college with your nose in a book or lolling about on a boat. The way you talked about your newspapers. It was so exciting."

She faced him. "I envy your pa.s.sion," she said softly.

He was taken aback. Never would he have used that word about himself.

"I envy men," Elizabeth said. "Their freedom to do things, to build, to achieve." She came back and sat near Adam. "I wish I could help you build your empire."

Before Adam could reply, the doors opened and Charles Ingram was standing there.

"Father," Elizabeth said, "you remember Mr. Bryant, from the party last night?"

Charles Ingram came into the room. Adam got to his feet and extended his hand. Ingram gave it a perfunctory shake and uttered a small greeting. There was a long silence as Ingram eyed Adam and Elizabeth. "Would you mind giving us a few moments alone, Elizabeth?" he said.

Elizabeth looked at Adam but didn't move.

"Elizabeth, do as I say," Ingram said softly but evenly.

With a final look at Adam, she turned and left the room quickly.

Ingram turned to Adam. "Are you responsible for keeping my daughter out all night?" Ingram asked.

"I was with her, yes," Adam said.

Ingram's gaze was icy. "How old are you, sir?"

"I'm twenty-six."

"Then you surely should know better." Ingram paused. "You know, I could have charges brought against you for corrupting a minor."

"Sir, Elizabeth seems old enough to --"

"Mind your words, young man."

"I was only going to say that she seems old enough to think for herself, make sound choices."

"And you, Mr. Bryant, are one of her sound choices?"

Adam said nothing.

"I think not," Ingram said. "I'll try not to insult you, Mr. Bryant. As I told you last night, I've seen a variety of men trying to get near my daughter. And they all want only one thing."

"You know nothing about me," Adam said.

"I haven't gotten where I am by not being a good judge of character, Mr. Bryant. I've found if you want to know a man, all you need to know is what he wants. I know that you work for a newspaper so I can guess you make perhaps two thousand dollars per year." His eyes swept over Adam's damp suit. "Can you look me in the eye, Mr. Bryant, and tell me you aren't interested in my daughter's money?"

Adam stared at him.

"You may very well be a man of character," Ingram said. "But I can't take a chance. I have a fortune to protect, a daughter to protect. You have nothing to offer a girl like Elizabeth." He paused. "She's very impressionable, given to romantic whims. I must therefore count on you to behave as a gentleman and make no further attempts to see her."

Inside, Adam was raging with anger, but he kept his composure. "I won't be brushed off like this," he said.

Ingram sighed and went to his desk. He pulled out a leather book and flipped it open. "How much will it take, Mr. Bryant?" he said, picking up a pen.

Adam's face began to burn with humiliation. "I don't want your money," he said.

Ingram gave him a final look then closed the checkbook. "In that case, we have nothing else to say." He pushed a table buzzer. The maid appeared at the door. "Charlotte, would you show Mr. Bryant out, please?"

Adam paused then picked up his hat. Without looking at Ingram he went swiftly out into the foyer. The heavy front door closed behind him with a soft finality. Adam stood on the porch for a moment, his face still burning. He put on his hat, turned up the collar of his coat, and stepped out into the street. He paused for a moment to look up at the upstairs windows of the mansion then started back down the hill in the light rain.

CHAPTER SIX.