at her dress, the blue silk gleaming under the light. “Yes. I make all of my own clothes.”
Miss Cameron lowered her satchel to the floor. “What of your family? Would they object to your leaving Sacramento, Miss King? And are you . . . attached to anyone here?” The missionary glanced between her and Mr. McKinley. “Pardon me for being indiscreet, but I do not wish to hire another teacher only to lose her in a few months.”
Mr. McKinley stepped back, as if Miss Cameron’s implication caught him off guard.
A sour taste rushed into Elizabeth’s mouth. “No. I am not attached.” Most certainly not to this cretin. “And I am the youngest of seven children. All of my siblings are grown and married with families of their own. My mother is quite busy with charity fundraisers, and I believe she would be relieved to see me otherwise occupied. As you already know, two of my siblings reside in San Francisco, so I am familiar with the city.”
“And your father?”
A shade dropped over Elizabeth’s heart. “He passed when I was young. But he taught me the importance of doing good and putting others’ needs before my own.” If only she’d clung to that. She set her jaw. I’ll make you proud yet, Papa.
Mr. McKinley nodded. “Miss King’s father was a well-respected physician. I’m told he often donated his time to help the city’s underprivileged.”
“It seems he passed a legacy to his children.” Miss Cameron’s brows rose as she focused on Elizabeth. “Your brother treated one of my girls after she had a mishap with a cable car, even though his hospital refuses Chinese patients.” She adjusted her hat, resetting the pearl-topped pin holding it in place. “It appears the Mission may have more reasons to be indebted to the King family in the near future.”
Elizabeth’s spirits lifted like a leaf swirled on an updraft. “I can come?”
“I’ll need to speak to the board, but I don’t expect any objections. How soon could you start?”
Elizabeth dug her fingers into the folds of her skirt to keep from clapping her hands like a child. “As soon as you have need of me.”
Chapter 3
3
Charles stepped away, giving Miss Cameron and Miss King privacy to discuss their plans. He’d clearly misjudged the young woman. Here she stood, committing a year of her life to God’s service in one of the darkest sections of San Francisco. Did she understand what she was volunteering for? The Presbyterian Mission was no ladies’ academy. She’d be teaching prostitutes and maltreated waifs. He shook his head. Likely as not, Miss King would be the one receiving an education.
The women concluded their discussion and walked toward the children. Miss Cameron collected them and departed with hearty farewells to Charles and Miss King.
Charles took a deep breath, the day’s obligations weighing on his shoulders like the heavy hay bales he used to heft into his father’s barn years ago. A night’s sleep before returning to the city would be welcome, indeed. The firm’s secretary had made reservations for him at the Heritage Hotel. The sumptuous accommodations would be a nice change.
He glanced at Miss King as she fastened a wool cloak over her slight shoulders. His client shouldn’t return home unescorted, especially with those blue eyes shining like an overly excited child. His heart jumped at the sight of her flushed cheeks. “May I see you home?” He offered the crook of his arm with a flourish, praying the gesture displayed the admirable presentation his uncle desired of him.
She pulled the garment close, as if to shield herself from his attention. “My friend has a cab waiting outside.”
Charles dropped his elbow, unsettled by the disappointment brewing in his gut. He’d just met the woman, why did he already feel a sense of responsibility toward her?
Miss King adjusted a tiny hat atop her sleek blonde hair. He could almost feel the smooth strands under his fingers. He shook away the thought, burying his hand in his coat pocket.
As he walked her to the door, Charles considered the future she’d chosen—a path that led her straight to the city he now called home. Would he be seeing more of her? He cleared his throat. “I admire your fervor, Miss King, but I hope you haven’t allowed your feelings to sweep you into a situation you may regret.”
Miss King’s brows drew low over her eyes. “What do you know of regret?”
“More than you can imagine.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could reel them back. His sister never strayed far from his thoughts. Remember why you’re here. “There is no need to rush your decision.”
“Endless equivocation is more your area of expertise, Mr. McKinley. I assure you, I am quite resolute.” Her eyes flashed. “My family’s situation has changed, as you well know. I understand this teaching position will not undo our loss of income, but at least it will prevent me from being a further drain on my mother’s meager resources.”
“I told you, there are ways—”
“More investments?” She sighed. “You expect us to entrust our remaining savings to your untried expertise? After what happened under your uncle’s supervision?”
He bit down a retort. She had every reason not to trust him—the numbers in Uncle Silas’s reports had left unanswered questions in Charles’s mind as well. “I understand.” He reached out and touched her arm, a second wave of protectiveness sweeping over him, perhaps a result of Josephine’s memory. “I live not far from the Mission. If you should need anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
The expression in her blue eyes softened. “I appreciate your concern. But I can watch over myself. And if anything happens, my brother and sister will be nearby.” She moved toward the door.
“Of course.” He pressed the derby onto his head and touched the brim, a hollowness opening in his chest. “Sometimes even brothers and sisters aren’t enough to keep the world at bay.”
She cast a steadfast glance across her shoulder. “Then it’s a good thing I can take care of myself.”
***
Elizabeth hurried down the sidewalk, regretting the falsehood she’d told Charles McKinley. Something about the man triggered unwelcome flutters in her chest. Gooseflesh spread down her arms as she considered his strong shoulders and easy smile. She’d not even shaken off the sensation of Tobias’s touch and now a handsome attorney turned her head? What would become of her? Lord, help me.
Let him believe her decision was triggered by her family’s economic situation. She couldn’t bear for him—or anyone else—to know the truth.
She hustled down the sidewalk, determined to be out of sight before the lawyer noticed no cab awaited her. Elizabeth ducked into a shadowed alley, easing between wooden crates and cans of refuse lining the back doors of businesses. The sun had long disappeared from the evening sky. Pulling the cloak tight about her shoulders, Elizabeth walked as fast as her stiff shoes allowed.
A man stepped out of one of the narrow doorways, light spilling out around his bulky form. “Miss? You lost?”
She jerked back a step. “No. I—I’m just taking a shortcut. I turned down the wrong street.” Her throat
