perhaps she could redeem herself in the second.
The voices grew louder as Miss Cameron and Mr. McKinley approached the doorway. Elizabeth steeled herself, her back as taut as piano wire. She stepped out of the shadows and into their path.
Mr. McKinley’s eyes widened. “Miss King—I didn’t know you were still here. Did you need something else?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes, however briefly. “I’d like a word with Miss Cameron, if she has a moment.” Elizabeth turned to the dignified woman, the missionary’s plumed hat making her appear even taller than the young attorney.
The oldest of the Chinese girls took the hands of the two smallest and led them to a nearby bench.
The lawyer gestured to Elizabeth. “Miss Cameron, allow me to present Miss Elizabeth King. She’s the daughter of one of my clients. I was . . . delighted . . . to encounter her here this evening.”
Miss Cameron took Elizabeth’s hand and shook it warmly. “A pleasure, Miss King.”
“Actually, we’ve met before.” A fluttering took up residence in Elizabeth’s stomach. “In San Francisco—last year, at my brother’s wedding.” Elizabeth spotted confusion in the woman’s eyes. “Dr. Robert King and his wife, Abby?”
Miss Cameron’s face brightened like a gas lamp turned on high. “Abby and Robert, of course! Abby is a dear friend to the Mission. I’m afraid I was unable to stay long enough to make everyone’s acquaintance that day. You’re Robert’s sister? And Ruby’s?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth swallowed, her throat as dry as day-old toast. Was she really going to do this here, in front of Silas McKinley’s nephew? She reached deep within, drawing from a well of inner strength she’d thought lost months before. “I was quite moved by your words—your stories.” She cleared her throat in a vain attempt to steady her voice, “If you were sincere about needing teachers, I’d like to offer my services.”
Mr. McKinley’s jaw dropped.
A wide smile crossed Miss Cameron’s face. “I was in earnest. Our English teacher recently left to marry one of the trustees, and we’ve been without a sewing or music instructor for far too long. What subject interests you?”
Not music. Elizabeth bit her lip. “I graduated from one of the finest schools in Sacramento, but I do not hold a teaching certificate.”
“Our girls don’t care about such formalities. What matters is the heart.”
“I took high marks in English and composition. And I’m told I sew quite well. My sister Ruby taught me everything I know. She’s the truly gifted one.”
Miss Cameron touched the lace trimming Elizabeth’s sleeve. “Did you make this? It’s exquisite.”
Elizabeth glanced down 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