Adam's Daughter Part 3

"Bryant, do you have a dress coat?" Bickford asked.

"A dress coat?"

"I thought not," Bickford said with a grunt. "Well, here's some money. Go over to Tilton's and rent yourself a dinner jacket. You're going to cover the opening of the Mark Hopkins tonight." He smiled at Lilith then at Adam. "We'll have a grand time."

CHAPTER FOUR.

It rose nineteen stories, a brick monolith on the crest of n.o.b Hill where the rail baron Mark Hopkins's mansion had stood before the earthquake.

Every inch of it glittered with the most dazzling decor and furnis.h.i.+ngs the outrageous five-million-dollar price could buy. Yet beneath the splendor of the Mark Hopkins Hotel was a skeleton of metal braces engineered to withstand any fire or earthquake. It was an ingenious building. Steel and silk. The perfect melding of the city's gold-leaf sense of history with the most modern disaster-proof engineering.

The gala opening was the biggest social event of the season, a dinner dance for fifteen-hundred with thousands turned away.

It was like an elaborately ch.o.r.eographed ballet for the senses that left Adam awed. He sat at the Bickfords' table in the Peac.o.c.k Court, trying to forget that Bickford had picked up the ten-dollar-a-plate cost. Adam had never tasted food so wonderful in his life or seen such sights.

For entertainment, beautiful models swirled across the dance floor in the latest fas.h.i.+ons, picked up by colored spotlights. And the air was heavy with the scent of perfume, projected through the ventilating system.

After dinner, as he stood in the lobby waiting for Lilith to return from the powder room, Adam watched the parade of wealthy guests waltz by in a kaleidoscope of color and jewels. The sounds of laughter and music mingled with the gentle gurgling of a nearby fountain. He was slightly dizzy, satiated with food, wine and sensation. And he felt oddly charged, as if the night held out some strange promise.

Lilith returned and gave him an appraising smile. "Even in that terrible suit, you are the most handsome man here."

"What is wrong with my suit?" Adam asked.

"It's rented, darling. You need custom clothes. It's the only way. You'll look better once I get you to a good tailor." She took his arm. "Let's go dance."

In the Peac.o.c.k Court, Eddie Harkness's orchestra was playing the new Gershwin song, "Someone to Watch Over Me." While they danced, Lilith hummed along in Adam's ear, which he found annoying. He found many things Lilith did annoying, especially her little condescending asides, such as the remark about his clothes.

More than anything, he disliked her a.s.sumed air of owners.h.i.+p of him. But he was beginning to understand what motivated her. She was, at her core, an ambitious woman. Marriage to Adam Bryant was certainly below her but she understood that Adam had the potential to be the savior of the ailing Times. More than anything, Lilith Bickford wanted to make the leap from middle-strata society to the city's gilded upper circle. And she was quite willing to take a temporary step down to do so.

Adam moved Lilith around the dance floor, his feeling of contentment dissipating. It was a special night and he wished suddenly that he were dancing with someone else. Some girl who could, with the press of her body against his, stir him inside, give him that sudden flood of...

A woman's laugh floated above the music. Adam glanced over Lilith's shoulder.

She was sitting at a table, one hand on her hip, the other reaching up to cup the chin of a perturbed-looking young man. She laughed again, said something to the man, and he walked away. She was very young and very beautiful.

Adam maneuvered Lilith closer to the girl's table, but the song ended. The orchestra suddenly struck up a fast tune, "Black Bottom." A few brave couples attempted the new dance craze, looking awkward in their evening clothes.

"Looks like fun," Adam said to Lilith. "Want to try?"

"Oh, Adam, G.o.d, no. Let's sit down."

They went back to the table. Adam heard the throaty laugh again and then saw the girl. She was dancing, holding her silver beaded gown above her knees, much to the delight of her partner. She moved gracefully across the floor, more in response to some free-form idea of ballet than the prescriptions of the faddish dance. And she laughed -- at her partner's red face, at her own missteps, at the faces of everyone staring at her.

Like all the other men Adam watched her, transfixed. She had cream-colored skin and flaming red hair, not cut short in a bob like most of the young women but pulled into a chignon at the back of her long neck. She was very tall, and she had a voluptuous figure that even her fas.h.i.+onable gown, with its tight boyish bodice, could not hide.

"That girl is inebriated," Mrs. Bickford said.

Adam let the remark pa.s.s. Most of the guests had flasks concealed in breast pockets or handbags, some even sipping gin from demita.s.se cups, but somehow he didn't think the girl was drunk. She just looked very happy.

The song ended and a slow one began. The dance floor quickly filled with couples. The girl disappeared into the crowd. Adam excused himself from the table. He walked around the perimeter of the ballroom, searching for the girl in the silver gown. Finally, he saw her, at the far end dancing with a different man. Adam ventured closer and leaned against a pillar, watching her. Her eyes, large and alert, flitted across the room over her partner's shoulder. She saw Adam staring at her. She stared back. He thought she smiled.

Adam went over and tapped the man on the shoulder. The man moved away and Adam paused, astonished by the girl's beauty. Her eyes were pale green, like light jade, and damp strands of red hair clung to her forehead.

She slowly raised her arms and smiled. "Well?" she said.

He took her into his arms and they danced. He was not a graceful dancer; he had never had the chance to learn. Yet he found he could move her effortlessly, as if she were a wisp of wind. He drew her closer and became lost in the sensation of her, the gentle brush of her body against his and her wonderful smell of nothing but skin.

She was the one who finally pulled away. The music had stopped. They stared at each other for a moment. The music began again and they danced, but this time she looked him in the eyes.

"You know, I was quite happy dancing with that other fellow before you cut in," she said.

"Then you shouldn't have smiled at me."

"I didn't."

"Shall I take you back to your table?"

She stared at him then laid her cheek against his. "No," she said.

When the song ended, Adam pulled away reluctantly. "There's something I have to take care of," he said.

"Then you'll have to take me back to my table, after all."

Adam followed her to a table, where a finely dressed couple and an elderly woman waited. They eyed him with interest as he approached.

"Mother, Father," she began, "this is..." She turned to Adam. "My goodness, I don't know who you are!"

Adam saw the disapproving look pa.s.s over the man's face. He quickly introduced himself.

"Charles Ingram," the man said stiffly. "This is my wife Anne and her sister Mrs. Carter."

The music began again and the red-haired girl looked at him expectantly. Adam wanted to stay but he had to get back to the Bickfords. He began to say his goodbyes.

"You are coming back, aren't you?" the girl said. "We'd like you to join us, Adam."

Adam saw the cool expressions harden. He smiled. "Yes, I'd like that..." He was going to use her first name but realized he didn't know it.

"Elizabeth," she said, laughing.

Adam quickly made his way back to the Bickfords' table, his stomach tightening as he realized what he was about to do. He wasn't an impulsive man; he could not think of one genuinely spontaneous act he had committed in his entire life, except the day he told Joe Davenport he wanted to be a reporter. Yet tonight, for the moment at least, he wanted to be a different man, to feel outside himself. He wanted to be with Elizabeth Ingram.

The Bickfords looked up expectantly when he returned. "Where have you been?" Lilith demanded.

"Phoning some details in," Adam said, pulling a small notebook out of his jacket.

Bickford nodded his approval.

"Listen," Adam said, "It's getting late. And I still have work to do here. I hate to be rude, but I'm afraid the party's over for me."

"No problem, Adam. We understand," Bickford said. "I think Catherine and I are ready to call it a night anyway."

He rose and held out his wife's chair. Adam noticed Lilith made no move to leave.

"You should go, too," he said, touching her arm.

"I'm not ready to leave."

"Lilith, I really have a lot to do. I still have to interview the manager and the chef."

"I'll help."

"Lilith, let him do his job," Bickford said. "Come on home with us."

She sighed. "All right. The evening's been a bore anyway."

He walked the family out to the lobby. Then he went quickly back to the Peac.o.c.k Court, making his way to the Ingrams' table. Elizabeth was not there but her father rose when Adam approached and coolly invited him to sit down. Adam took a chair and waited. If the icy gazes of the women were meant to intimidate him he was not going to allow it.

"You are not from this area, are you, sir?" Adam began politely.

Ingram was surprised. "No, my wife, daughter, and I are from Atlanta. We are visiting Elizabeth's aunt," he said, nodding to the elderly woman. He paused. "How did you know that? Surely our accents are not that p.r.o.nounced."

"No, sir. But I know this city's best families."

"Oh?" said Mrs. Ingram with a slight smile.

"I'm a reporter," Adam said.

The woman's smile faded. There was a long silence. "Interesting line of work," Ingram said finally. Another long pause. "Where did you meet Elizabeth?"

"On the dance floor," Adam said.

The aunt let out a sigh. Mrs. Ingram closed her eyes.

Ingram cleared his throat. "Young man," he began, "I hope you don't take offense at what I am about to say. It is no reflection on you. In fact, it is more a reflection, I fear, on my inadequacies as a father." He paused. "Elizabeth is a...very impetuous child. She has a habit of..." He looked toward his wife, who looked pained. "A habit of inappropriate behavior, and taking up with strangers."

"Sir, I have no intention of --"

"Yes, I know," Ingram said. "No one ever does."

Adam saw Elizabeth making her way back to the table.

"She is only sixteen," Ingram said.

Adam did not have time to reply. Elizabeth sat down next to him and smiled. He stared at her, stunned.

Good lord, a child. No, a woman. She's a woman. I felt it.

Elizabeth's gaze traveled from Adam to her father. She grabbed Adam's hand. "Let's dance," she said, pulling him onto the dance floor.

"What was my father saying to you?" she asked.

"That you are only sixteen," Adam said.

"Warning you, in other words."

"Just being protective of you, I suspect."

"Of me! Oh, no. Of my money. You see, Mr. Bryant, my family is worth ten million dollars. And someday it will be mine." Adam stopped in mid-step. Her eyes bored into his. "When I tell a man that," she said, "he always does one of two things. Runs like h.e.l.l or tries to seduce me. Which will it be, Mr. Bryant?"

Adam was still struggling to regain his composure. "I think you are spoiled and should be spanked."

"And what if I liked that?"

Adam stared at her then laughed. She laughed, too, and they began to dance again. When the song ended, she looked at him. "Let's go," she said.

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

She took his hand and led him to the entrance. Outside, she stood for a moment in the courtyard amid the bustle of livery men helping departing guests into sedans. The evening air was chilled and misty but she stood bare-armed, breathing deeply, her silver gown floating around her ankles.

"Oh, the cold! It feels so good! It's always so d.a.m.n hot in Atlanta." She turned to Adam. "Show me San Francisco."

Adam knew he had only about three dollars on him. How in the world was he going to dazzle a pampered heiress?

"I've never been on one of those," she said, pointing to a cable car on California Street.

She started toward it and Adam had to run to keep up. She climbed onto the sideboard. The two other male pa.s.sengers stared; a woman riding the sideboard was prohibited but the brakeman took one look at Elizabeth and, with a wink at Adam, let her stay where she was. Adam followed, fis.h.i.+ng in his pocket for the nickel fare. The car started down a steep hill.

"Your parents," Adam began, "won't they --"

"They're used to it," she said.

The wind was charging up from the bay. "It's cold. Let's ride inside," Adam said.

"No, no! This is lovely!" Elizabeth clung to the rail, her gown fanning out behind her and her red hair spilling from its chignon.

Below them, a fog was advancing over the waterfront, slowly snuffing out the glimmering lights of the bay.

"It's so beautiful," she said.

"Yes, it is," he said.