Scott knew of George West and his reputation in winemaking. The man had traveled to California in 1849 to stake his claim as so many others did during the beginning of the Gold Rush. As the Rush faded, his vision of wealth turned toward the San Joaquin Valley's rich soil and the growing of grapes. Settling down in Stockton, he imported from Europe, by way of Boston, forty grape varieties that eventually propagated the surrounding vineyards. Over the next ten years, George West prospered, which permitted him to expand his winery named El Pinal.
Scott wrote to the gentleman soon after he and Kinsey returned from Boston. Their friendship was immediate. Even though Scott was almost thirty years younger than West, he discovered they had much in common including the bond of being “Bay Staters”.
Through their continued correspondence, Scott learned of West’s successful pioneering in viticulture and his love for the San Joaquin Valley. Scott shared his thoughts on investing in a small vineyard to better understand the business so the dream of owning a winery could someday become a reality. Their exchange of letters helped him stay focused through the never-ending river of legal paperwork flowing out of Philadelphia.
A recent letter extended a gracious invitation to visit his family at El Pinal once Fletcher Garrett’s estate was settled. West’s letter also suggested a possible business opportunity Scott might be interested in and promised details during their visit. Encouraged by the news, Scott made arrangements for them to spend the evening in Stockton. The next morning, he and Kinsey would travel to El Pinal and finally meet Mr. George West and learn more.
During this time, Scott had shared little information with Kinsey regarding his correspondence with West to avoid her disappointment due to setbacks. Now that he was certain there would be no further interference from Philadelphia - or Boston - they could relax. Checking into the hotel, Scott looked forward to a fine meal and conversations with his cousin.
“Your bags, sir?”
“I have only one, however…” Scott shifted his eyes to Kinsey.
The front desk clerk smiled and signaled for additional bellboys.
Later, Scott found himself in a setting reminiscent of their previous cross-country travels - sitting in a hotel lobby with a growling stomach waiting for Kinsey. Checking his pocket watch, he sighed. ‘I knew the dinner reservation needed to be later. Midnight, no doubt, would have worked.’
As Scott closed the engraved lid of his watch, Kinsey arrived. He observed her maneuvering around hotel guests mingling in the lobby; returning polite smiles to a few young gentlemen’s nods and slight bows. ‘ Johnny's request to fend off the “grape-crushin' casanovas” may be more of a challenge than I anticipated.’
Scott rose, smiling. “Chapter four. Page nineteen. A proper young lady makes note of the time so as not to keep a gentleman waiting past the allotted tardiness of fifteen minutes.”
“Every part of the dress should harmonize entirely with the other parts, where each color or shade suits the wearer's style completely, and where there is perfect neatness in each detail. Chapter two. Page thirty-five. Any well-bred gentleman knows perfection takes time. Besides, man shall not live by bread alone.”
“The stomach is the way to an Englishman's heart.”
“If that’s the case, start praying for me now. I am doomed to be an old maid.”
As Scott offered his arm to escort his cousin to the dining room, he noticed disappointed expressions on a few young men. ‘I don’t believe assistance from the good Lord above will be necessary, Kinsey Rose.’
Scott headed off the customary debate on ordering a bottle of champagne by requesting two glasses of wine with dinner. Glancing over the top of his menu, he made an observation. “The pouty lip is not harmonizing with the other parts, colors, and shades of your evening attire. The champagne will be present during our last night in Stockton to celebrate a successful visit.”
“Very well.”
‘Crisis averted.’ He held his own private celebration by ordering a thick steak - medium rare.
During their meal, Kinsey made inquiries regarding Mr. West. Scott eagerly shared the information he had gathered and his thoughts on how they should proceed.
“You talked to Johnny.”
‘It appears we’re finished discussing George West.’ Scott slowly cut up the remains of his steak. “I did.”
“I saw you talking to him this morning from my bedroom window.”
Nodding, he continued to carve his steak. “You did.” The dissecting of his meal carried on in hopes Kinsey would change the subject.
Kinsey raised an eyebrow. “A proper young lady would be highly impressed with your attention to detail when cutting a steak. I was unaware bite-size pieces could be reduced to sawdust.”
Scott signaled defeat by resting his fork and knife on the sides of his plate. “Johnny and I talked briefly.”
“He’s angry.”
“If so, he’s hiding it well - a rare occurrence for my brother. He stated he’s giving you time to think.”
“Yes, we discussed it in length.”
While deciding how to mention Johnny was giving her time but not giving her up, a loud “pop” sounded directly behind Scott. He was uncertain what surprised him more - the startling noise or the fact his hand had reached for his absent sidearm. Turning around he discovered a waiter with a champagne bottle. Frowning, his first thought was...‘Kinsey!’
“My apologies, sir!”
“It’s fine but we didn’t order champagne.”
“Compliments of the man sitting at the table to the far left. Shall I pour?”
As glasses were filled, Scott’s brow furrowed as he scrutinized the indicated hotel guest. “Kinsey, do you know the gentleman?”
“No, I assumed you did. We should certainly thank him!”
Scott rose. “Wait. Stay here. I’ll express our gratitude.” Taking a step away from the table he turned with an additional request. “One glass.” Holding up his index finger for emphasis. “One.”
Scott was hoping his mind would make a connection to the past as he approached the man’s table. “I understand it’s you I need to thank for the unexpected addition to our meal. Have we met, sir?”
Rising from his seat the man extended his hand. “Patrick Culhane and no, we have not met, Mr…”
“Lancer. Scott Lancer.” Shaking the man’s hand he guessed his age to be in the late thirties.
“I hope you don’t think me too forward, Mr. Lancer. You see, I travel frequently...too frequently. Tonight I am missing my wife and if she was here we would be sharing a bottle of champagne. You and yours caught my eye and, well...my desire to purchase a bottle of bubbles has been satisfied. Please enjoy.”
Scott grinned. “The young lady is my cousin. However, you could not have selected a more enthusiastic recipient. She sends her gratitude. Would you please join us for a glass?”
“As tempting as your offer sounds, I must decline. I have a train to catch taking me to my next destination. Mr. Lancer, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Safe travels, Mr. Culhane. And again, thank you. A generous gesture, indeed.”
Returning to the table, Scott examined the bottle. “It appears what I consider ‘one glass’ is quite different from yours.”
Escorting Kinsey to her room while listening to her sleepy sing-songy “goodnight,” he knew any further adventures this evening would be taking place in her dreams. Not ready to retire himself, Scott patted his suit coat breast pocket confirming he still had the cigar he’d purchased before their evening meal.
Stepping outside of the hotel, Scott prepared the smoke and struck a match. Gazing across the street at the few pedestrians enjoying an evening stroll, he spied a familiar face emerging from the telegraph office - Mr. Culhane. Scott puffed on his cigar and smiled. ‘Sending his wife a telegram before leaving Stockton.’ He hoped he’d never be put in a situation which would keep him away from a wife and children.
His smile dissolved to a confused frown as Patrick Culhane turned right and walked down the street. ‘Odd. The train station is in the opposite direction. And where is his luggage?’ Scott, sensing fatigue himself, decided he’d misunderstood the expressed time of the man’s departure.
Extinguishing his cigar, Scott climbed the steps of the hotel. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
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