Christmas Pie Read online

  All at once, he decided to try another tack. Take some time. Perhaps it would be amusing to expend a little effort on this one. He’d noticed Polly before. In fact, he noticed her every time he walked past the type-writing room in his place of business.

  Always well-groomed in simple dark skirts and prim white shirtwaists, she was the only type-writer in his law firm’s employ who didn’t giggle and simper every time he braved the gauntlet of type-writers to fetch a brief or relay an assignment. She possessed a dignity and air of self-possession that captured his attention at work and did so now as well.

  Trying on politeness as he might try on a new hat, James smiled, cocked his head, and asked, “And do you have any siblings, Miss MacNamara, or is it just the two of you ladies?”

  He saw Polly gulp, and smiled. Although he seldom had need to, James Drayton could slather on the charm when he chose to.

  “I—I have an older brother, Mr. Drayton. He is at present in the United States navy.”

  James wondered why she wouldn’t look at him. As a rule, ladies were fluttering their lashes at him by this time. Not Polly. At the moment, she sat like a queen, her attention firmly fixed outside. Giving another push to open her up, he said, “A seafaring man, is he? And does he enjoy life at sea”

  Polly swallowed again, the only sign she gave that his presence affected her at all. James had the impression of sadness when her shoulders slumped, but she straightened again immediately, and he experienced a reaction he’d never felt to a woman before. All at once he wanted to lighten her burden, whatever it was. How odd.

  “My brother Stephen’s present assignment is as Chief Petty Officer on the U.S.S. China Seas.”

  “Oh. Oh, my goodness.”

  Now James understood the fleeting moment of dejection which had weighted Polly’s shoulders. The U.S.S. China Seas, after having participated heroically in the glorious Battle of Manila Bay last year, had been on its way home to port when it seemed to have vanished from the ocean. The ship had been reported missing last month. Although the war with Spain was officially over and had been for some time, rumors abounded that it was a rogue Spanish vessel which was to blame for the noble China Sea’s disappearance.

  James had read all about it in the Chronicle. He paid attention to such things because his father’s business, the Pacific-Orient Freight Shipping Lines, often crossed sea lanes with naval vessels.

  A grim smile twitched his mouth when he thought about his father. The old man would be perfectly astounded if he ever discovered James kept track of the family business, if only via the newspaper.

  “I’m very sorry, Miss MacNamara.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was strong, but James detected an undercurrent of pain.

  Glancing over, he discovered Polly sitting with her hands stuffed into her coat pockets, as though she’d hidden her courage in there and was now groping for it. She looked pensive and awfully appealing. That seemed strange to him, too.

  She was different from the other women in his orbit. James had no illusions about himself. He knew he was good-looking, and he knew he possessed enough wealth to attract designing women. In truth, designing women were the only ones he knew. They threw themselves at his feet so often, he’d become quite cynical about the fair sex. Polly, with her aspect of cool indifference, was a mystery. James loved a mystery.

  The heavy San Francisco air had changed in the last couple of minutes. Instead of spitting raindrops, the sky began to disgorge small wet snowflakes. They swirled in windy eddies and shone in the light of the gas street lamps like ribbons of tiny, glittering pearls. The thick weather seemed to capture light from his new Benz Landaulet-Coupé’s carriage lamps and fling it back into the motorcar.

  “By God, they were right. Look at that, Miss MacNamara. It’s truly snowing.” James leaned forward so he could view the phenomenon more clearly. When he peeked at Polly, he saw her watching, too, her eyes as bright as stars.

  “I believe you’re right, Mr. Drayton. How unusual. Why, it looks almost magical.”

  Filtered buttery lamplight played glancing, dancing games with Polly’s features and, watching her, James thought she looked almost magical. He felt something in his chest soften.

  She was such a pretty thing, and possessed a grace at seeming odds with her employment as a type-writer. Suddenly it seemed a shame she had to work so hard at such a tedious occupation.

  “Do you miss your brother, Miss MacNamara?”

  She turned and James realized that she was surprised he’d ask such a question. He felt his mouth quirk again. He’d worked hard for his reputation as a devil-may-care ladies’ man. This was the first time he’d had occasion to rue his success. However, he discovered he didn’t want this lovely creature to fear him.

  After a pause, Polly said, “Yes, I do, Mr. Drayton. Stephen is very dear to both Mother and me, and we miss him. I wish he were here in San Francisco with us, particularly as the holidays approach.”

  James had a feeling she wanted to say more, but he saw her full lower lip tremble slightly and she closed her mouth in a hurry and turned away. With a pang, he realized she didn’t want him to witness her sorrow.

  Sifting through the empty social clichés one could use in situations like this, James ultimately settled on one he deemed the least offensive. “Well, I certainly hope you’ll both see him soon, Miss MacNamara.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Maybe he’ll be home for Christmas.”

  As though she appreciated his trite words, she shot him the tiniest of smiles. “I hope so. I wish for it every day.”

  Struggling to think of something else to say to prolong the conversation, James said, “Isn’t Chief Petty Officer a high rank for someone your brother’s age? At least, what his age must be.” He felt silly.

  For the first time since she entered his carriage, though, Polly’s smile seemed genuine, and James guessed he hadn’t been silly after all. “Oh, yes. Stephen is a very hard-working young man. He had planned to go to Annapolis until . . .” Her voice trailed off and she looked flustered.

  “Until what, Miss MacNamara?” James was surprised to hear the gentleness in his voice.

  Polly took a deep breath and said, “Until the accident that took our father’s life and left our mother an invalid. He was unable to support the family and attend school, too, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  As though to ward off his sympathy, Polly said quickly, “He still longed to go to sea, however, so he enlisted. He does love the life. And he supported us quite well until . . .”

  She stopped speaking and James entertained the fancy that she believed she’d said too much. It took less imagination than he possessed to understand that she felt uncomfortable talking about her personal life with her employer. Especially an employer who’d gone to such lengths to create an image of himself as authoritative and unapproachable. And wicked.

  Silence settled between them, broken by the splatter of wet snowdrops against the carriage hood and the motorcar’s loud engine. James shot peeks at Polly from time to time, always to find her staring out the window to her right. She didn’t seem to want to look at him, a circumstance he thought both charming and unfortunate.

  “What kind of accident was it, Miss MacNamara?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment, then heaved a deep sigh. “A shipping accident, Mr. Drayton. My father was an importer of Oriental silks and porcelains. Mother and Father had gone to China and were on their way back home with a shipment of goods my father planned to market in the United States. A boiler blew up as the ship neared the dock. My father was not the only person to lose his life. My mother, fortunately, was not killed, but she has been in a wheelchair ever since.”

  James shook his head, dismayed. Polly’s recitation stirred a faint memory, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “That’s a real tragedy for your family, Miss MacNamara. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Er, what about insurance? Was you
r father’s shipment not insured?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know, Mr. Drayton. My mother doesn’t like to talk about it.”

  “I see.” Although James was far from satisfied, he guessed he wasn’t going to wring any further information out of his companion this evening.

  “We’re approaching my house, Mr. Drayton. It’s the one with the light in the window.”

  “I’ll see you to the door, Miss MacNamara.”

  “Oh! Please. You don’t have to do that. It’s just up the sidewalk.”

  James pulled his horseless carriage across the muddy street and up to the sidewalk. It was an expert maneuver, but Polly would have appreciated it more if he’d not threatened to see her to her door. Not that there was anything wrong with her door—or her entire house, if it came to that. But this was James Drayton, her employer, and she found it unsettling that he should be showing her courtesies.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Miss MacNamara.” James hopped out of his side and slogged to Polly’s door, opened it and took her hand214

  Oh, dear. Although she was somewhat reticent, Polly was generally self-confident. Right now, however, she felt completely inadequate. She said, “Thank you,” and didn’t mean it.

  As they walked up the sidewalk, she stuffed her package of combs into her pocket and tugged off the gloves he’d given her. “Here, Mr. Drayton. Thank you for lending these to me.”

  “Don’t be silly, Miss MacNamara. Keep them. You’ll need them again tomorrow.”

  But Polly, who had never taken charity in her life, had no intention of starting now. “No, Mr. Drayton. Thank you, but I can’t accept them.”

  Although he didn’t look happy about it, James took his gloves. Polly was glad. It was embarrassing enough, having him drive her home and then walk her up to the door of her inelegant, albeit trim, abode.

  One of a long block of tall, thin wood-frame structures, the MacNamara residence stood cheek by jowl with neighbors on either side. The area had been elegant once, but that was long before Polly and her mother came to live here. Now it existed in the shriveled heart of San Francisco, a reminder of the city’s bygone, booming youth.

  Before she got to the front porch, the door swung open and Polly saw her mother outlined against the warm background of the gas lighting inside. As always happened when she glimpsed her mother, Polly felt a mingling of love and sadness well up in her. She hurried the last several feet and ran up the steep steps to the small porch.

  “I’m sorry, Mother. Were you worried about me?”

  Mrs. MacNamara smiled indulgently at her daughter. “Why, no, Polly. You’re right on time. I only thought I heard a motorcar and wanted to see it.”

  Of course. Such a conveyance was a luxury seldom seen in this neighborhood. Fingering the coin in her pocket, Polly wished for her mother’s sake their life wasn’t quite so hard. The odd old coin felt warm to her fingers and she experienced a surge of unexpected comfort.

  “You were right, Mother. Mr. Drayton happened to drive by as I was walking down Grant, and he offered me a ride home.”

  “Mr. Drayton?” Polly’s mother sounded every bit as surprised as Polly had been by James’s timely arrival.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t suppose you can even see him with me in the way.”

  Polly stepped aside, revealing James standing at the foot of the narrow staircase, smiling up at the two of them. Her breath caught when she looked at him. Oh, my, he was a handsome man. This evening he appeared different than he did in the office; why, he looked almost friendly.

  James took the six steps quickly. “How do you do, Mrs. MacNamara?” In spite of the weather, he removed his hat and extended a hand.

  Polly, who had never seen James Drayton be polite, was taken aback by the gracious, easy manner he exhibited with her mother.

  “I’m quite well, Mr. Drayton. Thank you very much for seeing to my daughter’s welfare this evening. I don’t like to have her out walking in Chinatown these dark chilly evenings.”

  Her mother’s hand looked awfully delicate as it grasped James’s large, firm palm. As she watched, Polly wished again things could be different. If only they knew Stephen was safe. If only their circumstances weren’t quite so straitened. Polly was proud that she could earn her keep, but she couldn’t help wishing her mother could be better off. Her mother had once been accustomed to luxury. It had been very hard on Mrs. MacNamara when their fortunes plummeted.

  “It was my pleasure, Mrs. MacNamara. I often have business in Chinatown in the evenings. Perhaps your daughter would consent to allow me to see her home more often.”

  He didn’t look at Polly until she cried, “Oh, no!” Then she felt like a fool when he turned his exquisite smile upon her. “Oh—I mean—Oh, please, Mr. Drayton. You don’t have to do that.”

  With a deep, slow laugh that sent hot shivers rioting up her spine, James said, “Of course, I don’t have to, Miss MacNamara. It would be my pleasure.”

  Before Polly could utter another idiotic disclaimer, her mother broke in. “How very kind of you, Mr. Drayton. We owe you two debts now.”

  Polly frowned and felt a lick of annoyance. She worked hard for her wages and didn’t appreciate being made to feel indebted.

  James lifted a brow. “Two debts, ma’am?”

  “Yes. We owe you thanks for bringing Polly home, and we owe you our eternal gratitude for allowing her to work at your law firm. Her income is most handy.”

  Handy? Polly stared at her mother. Her income might well be all they had, if Stephen did not return.

  “That’s no debt at all, Mrs. MacNamara. Miss MacNamara earns her income at the law firm. She’s the best type-writer we have in our employ.”

  He gave Polly another warm smile, making her cheeks catch fire. Although she appreciated his acknowledgment of her superior skills—and they were superior—she wished he’d go away.

  “Won’t you come inside and take tea with us, Mr. Drayton?” Lillian waved an elegant hand in the direction of the doorway. Polly wanted to die.

  For the space of a heartbeat, it looked as though James was going to take her mother up on the invitation. But all at once he paused, pulled out a handsome gold pocket watch and frowned at it.

  At last he said, “Although nothing would give me greater pleasure, ladies, I’m afraid I almost forgot an appointment. I’m late now. But I would be happy to take tea with you another day if you’ll have me.”

  Another devastating smile nearly made Polly faint dead away on her mother’s front porch.

  “Well, good night, then, Mr. Drayton. Thank you again for bringing my Polly home to me.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Drayton.” Polly discovered her vocal chords weren’t happy about being called upon to work. Her voice sounded shaky. Small wonder. She felt shaky.

  She held out her hand, once again bare, for James to shake. To her utter horror, he not only shook it, but lifted her fingers to his lips and placed a demure kiss upon them. It was all she could do to keep from snatching her hand away and hiding it behind her back.

  “Good night, Mr. Drayton.”

  “Good night, Miss MacNamara.” James smiled warmly, and looked supremely confident as he turned and strode back to his motorcar.

  Polly’s heart had taken to swooping like a disoriented sparrow in her ribcage when she pushed her mother’s wheelchair back through the door of their home. Good heavens.

  “My, what a nice man your employer is, Polly. And you never told me how handsome he is, either.”