Grace Cathedral
Saturday, April 17, 1954
Twenty until 2 in the afternoon
Nick was standing on the sidewalk next to the curb along California Street, just outside the church and off to one side. He'd decided he was too... nervous... to do anything else.
He looked at his watch. It was 1:40. The guests were beginning to arrive. A growing stream of folks were being dropped off by cabs or making their way along California Street and then up the steps and into the cathedral through the big doors where they were being seated by the small group of ushers, all of whom were private detectives who worked for Nick and Carter. And Pam.
Staying out of everyone's way seemed to be the best bet, so Nick amused himself by watching the guests who were mostly ignoring him. After all, as one of his great aunts had once said about a fallen woman from the Barbary Coast, he "wasn't nice to know."
Taking out his pack of Camels, he lit one up and took a long drag. As he exhaled, he watched Carlo Martinelli step out into the bright sunlight and cover his eyes as he looked around. Spying Nick, Carlo jogged down the steps, deftly dodging the guests who were going up, and then headed along the sidewalk to where Nick was standing and smoking. Carlo nervously grinned as he said, "Hey, Nick."
Carlo was a good friend and ex-fireman who worked with Carter doing arson investigations.
Nick liked the guy even though he hadn't always. He asked, "How's it going in there?"
Carlo took him by the elbow. "Can you come inside and have a look at something?"
Nick flicked his cigarette over to the curb and followed Carlo as the two of them got in line with the other guests to make their way into the cathedral.
. . .
"Oh," said Nick as his heart sank. The pews on the right side of the church (facing the altar) were mostly empty whereas the ones on the left were filling up. One hundred and fifty guests weren't going to pack the cathedral by any means. But it was looking as if most of the guests invited for his father's side hadn't shown up. The few that were dotting the seats appeared to be older men and their wives. Those would be his father's business associates. The guests who were missing were the ones who'd been missing for Janet's funeral—Nick's aunts, uncles, and cousins, all of whom lived not much more than twenty miles to the south in Atherton and Hillsborough. It looked like Nick and his father were going to be the only members of the Williams clan present for the wedding.
"Kinda like the funeral, huh?" whispered Carlo in Nick's ear.
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry, Nick. Really, I am."
They were standing on the far side of the church from the door where everyone was walking in. Robert appeared behind them from seemingly out of nowhere. "I was just coming to get you," he said.
Nick turned around. "Any ideas?"
Offering a hopeful smile, Robert said, "We could shuffle everyone around and move them all forward and have them fill in on both sides. Tell them we want the bride and groom to be able to see them and since they're so old..."
Nick guffawed at that. He started to kiss Robert, but then remembered where he was. Instead, he patted the kid on the cheek and said, "Perfect. You're the best, Robert."
. . .
Carter finally found Nick standing on one side of the cathedral talking to Robert and Carlo. He strode up, trying to keep his rising frustration in check, and asked, "What are we going to do about your father's side of the aisle?"
Nick looked up at him and smiled. That and his shining chocolate milk brown eyes melted away Carter's bubbling exasperation in half a second. He'd intended to find Nick and give his husband a real earful about his disappearing and leaving everyone else in the lurch, but when he said, "Robert's taking care of it," and smiled and showed off the dimple in his chin, Carter couldn't get upset.
The truth was that he'd just spent a very long time not only helping Dr. Williams get dressed (he had arthritis—which was news to Carter and would probably be to Nick, too), but he'd also had to corral Marnie's male cousins who'd been getting drunk in the great room.
They'd gone through two cases of Lucky beer. Carter shuddered just thinking about anyone drinking that swill (he and Nick would only drink Burgermeister—Burgie—if they could get it). Then the animals had helped themselves to the bottles of liquor in the dining room, one of which was a brandy that dated back to the 1890s.
By the time Dr. Williams was finally presentable, they could hear a lot of laughing and hollering coming up from the ground floor of the house. Then Theresa, one of Marnie's cousins, had shown up at the bedroom door and insisted that Carter go downstairs and do what he could to break things up. Otherwise there was going to be hell to pay.
For his part, Carter didn't understand why he had to be the one to take care of the guys, but he didn't complain and did the job. It had taken a while, but he'd finally gotten them all straightened out and paired up with their respective wives and sent them over to the church.
He'd then rushed back up to the big bedroom and retrieved Dr. Williams. He walked the old man down the stairs and over to a small room just off the main part of the cathedral. It was the same place where the two of them, along with Nick, had duked things out during Janet's funeral last May.
When they got there, they found the bishop waiting. He'd told Carter he would "take charge" of Dr. Williams who'd harrumphed at that phrase but had also told Carter he would be fine and that he wanted to talk to the bishop in private.
Then Carter ran back over to the house (all the while wondering why he, not even a member of the family, was doing all the work) and told Marnie the coast was clear for her mother to walk over and wait in the little parlor where brides could wait until it was time to walk down the aisle. By then, it was 1:30 and Carter was ready to find Nick and give him a piece of his mind.
But... that smile and those eyes and that dimple... that made all his frustration melt away.
. . .
As soon as her daughter got the word that everyone was ready, Leticia Rose Wilson (née Goff), took a deep breath and said a little prayer to herself.
It seemed that she'd been waiting for close to twenty years for that day to come. And it had. It finally had.
To be sure, there had been some bumps along the way.
As she picked up the bridal bouquet from the side table where it was resting, she remembered the first time she became aware that Dr. Parnell Robert Williams, M.D., might be in the market for a second wife.
It had happened after she'd learned through Marnie, her dear daughter, all about the events surrounding the tragic death of Janet, Parnell's only daughter.
Poor Janet had been murdered by a man who'd done something to the engine of her car so it wouldn't stop. She'd crashed just outside the Broadway Tunnel and hadn't made it through the night.
The man who'd fiddled with her car was the paramour of Parnell's secretary and love interest.
It had been a terrible tragedy, no doubt, but it brought Dr. Williams to her attention.
Truth be told, Leticia had been in a bit of a haze for a number of years. That all ended, however, when she and Marnie were forced to move to Eureka Valley after their previous landlord had kicked them out to make way for road construction that was going right through the building they'd lived in for some years.
With nowhere to go, young Nicholas had graciously offered to buy a house for them on Collingwood Street. It was a wonderful spot in a marvelous neighborhood. In no time at all, Leticia had met all the leading matrons and was beginning to do what she'd always done best: organize things.
Her first task had been to introduce Nicholas to the neighborhood and make it clear to everyone, far and wide, how lucky they were to have a charitable millionaire (and Nicholas was nothing, if not that) living in their midst. Whatever his proclivities might be, and whatever the nature of his relations with Carter Jones, the leading lights of Eureka Valley needed to know it was better to have Nicholas as a friend than an enemy.
That little project had been sewn up in no time, so, naturally, Leticia had turned her eyes to bigger things and had realized Parnell was ripe for the picking.
As she looked at herself in the full-length mirror and waited for the musical cue, she thought about that one day when the idea of how to approach him—storm the castle, so to speak—had come to her. She knew, from talking with Marnie who'd been talking with Carter, that Parnell did have an interest in philanthropy. He was the head of one of San Francisco's leading Forty-niner families. Her ability to organize things (such as fundraisers) and his interest in philanthropy along with his need to maintain a certain social standing would be her way in.
So, on a warm day last fall, she'd had her hair done and, borrowing a nice sum from her daughter's growing savings, she'd found a perfect outfit at City of Paris.
Arriving by taxicab, she'd presented herself at the front door of 1198 Sacramento. And that was when she'd first met Zelda, Parnell's housekeeper for many years.
Leticia admired Zelda. She truly did. She recognized a kindred spirit in the indomitable woman. Zelda was loyal to Parnell. She was also obviously in love with the man, her employer. Leticia knew it was going to take a lot of cunning to get past the bulldog and into the house to meet its master.
At first, Zelda would only take messages. But there was never any reply. Not for the first few weeks.
Leticia had dropped hints, subtle at first, with her dear daughter. She would ask about Nicholas one day. Then about Carter the next. Then she would ask about Nicholas and his poor father and how the man was faring, following the death of his only daughter.
This went on for some time while Leticia continued to send notes to Parnell while also calling him on the telephone. Each time, she was reassured by Zelda that her messages were being delivered. Each time, she'd sweetly thanked the loyal housekeeper. And, each time, she'd suspected her letters and messages would never be delivered. But she continued with her efforts. On a number of fronts.
Then, one day in October, Parnell telephoned her at the Collingwood house out of the blue. He mentioned how he'd heard about her from Carter and understood she was Marnie's mother. Carter spoke highly of both Marnie and her mother. Parnell understood Leticia had been attempting to reach him for some time. He wondered how he might be of some service to her.
Leticia, of course, was ready.
In the intervening month or so, she hadn't been waiting for the phone to ring. Along with her notes to Nob Hill and her hints to Marnie, she'd been busy in other ways. She'd been volunteering here and organizing there and making herself known beyond the confines of Eureka Valley.
One attended a luncheon and partook in lovely conversations. Before one knew it, an invitation arrived by telephone or in the mail. Leticia knew well enough, from the old days, never to decline any invitation, particularly for those intimate gatherings where clubwomen gathered over bridge and mah jong tables. These gatherings were the secret heartbeat of the city by the bay, something few men knew about or understood.
In these private sancta, embossed calling cards were given out. Invitations for luncheon gatherings and dinner parties were offered. Leticia never declined. She showed up promptly (never too early and never too late), always brought a lovely hostess gift (a bit of nicely carved piece of jade from Chinatown wrapped in a red box with a ribbon would make the recipient a friend for life), and helped clean up if her hostess didn't have help in the kitchen (which was, fortunately, quite rare).
As Marnie commented on her dress and her hair and how lovely she looked, Leticia reminded herself that she hadn't wasted a single moment sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. She knew it would. And so it had.
When that October day finally arrived, Leticia had sailed forth to Nob Hill (courtesy of a DeSoto taxicab driver whom she'd tipped handsomely) and began her siege of not only Parnell Williams and Zelda the Indomitable, but also all of San Francisco society. And, by Christmas, her plans had all come to fruition. Parnell had proposed. She had accepted. And they were to wed.
While thinking about that glorious Christmas morning and then what happened afterwards, Leticia asked Marnie for a handkerchief. She could feel a tear coming and she didn't want her makeup to run. Dabbing the side of her eye with the piece of lace, she thought about how everything had fallen to pieces since then.
Leticia had been distracted. She'd become difficult to both friends and family. She'd begun to turn down social invitations for fear she might say the wrong thing or do something unforgiveable.
She sniffed a little.
Marnie hugged her from behind.
She patted her daughter's hand on her shoulder.
Why had she fallen apart? Why had she'd become so jittery about getting married?
Since Christmas, she'd asked herself that question a thousand times. It was only when she and Parnell were flying to Las Vegas on Wednesday that she finally realized why her finely-tuned social-climbing machine had ground to a halt.
She was in love.
And she'd never been in love before.
But everything that everyone had said in every one of those silly novels and movies had been right.
She'd lost her appetite. She'd become irritable and difficult. She'd even started fretting (Leticia Rose Wilson never fretted!).
And then the plane landed in Las Vegas and Parnell, being the gentleman she knew him to be, had made arrangements for them to return on the very same plane.
And then... through some miracle... her dear, darling Marnie and her wonderful Nicholas and stalwart Carter... they pulled together what she didn't think would be even remotely possible.
She took a deep breath as she heard the organist (an odd man by the name of Victor Orange) play a Bach fugue she loved so much. As the tones of the melody rang out through the cathedral, she heard Marnie say, "Come on, Mother. It's time."
. . .
Parnell Williams stood next to his son and watched as his soon-to-be stepdaughter walked up the aisle towards the altar.
A young girl of 4 or 5 was walking in front of Marnie and tossing about what looked to be rose petals. The child had a big smile on her bright face and appeared to be enjoying herself as much as anything.
Parnell felt a sudden sadness as she watched the girl get closer and closer. He was sure he was wrong, but she very much resembled Janet at that age.
Janet had been a happy child. She had never known Alexandra and, for the first few years of her life, believed Zelda to be her mother. She'd laughed and played and made a nuisance of herself. Zelda had tried to keep his daughter in check, but she refused to be tamed.
As the girl smiled at the guests she passed by, basket in hand, and threw out the flowers, Parnell wished he'd been a better father. He knew he wasn't. He also knew it was too late to do anything about that fact. His regret was deep and never seemed to leave him.
Except when he was with Leticia.
She was like a bright light in his life. In her presence, he'd begun to feel something akin to happiness. Much to his surprise, he fell in love with her and, during every day since they'd first met in October, he'd fallen more and more in love with her.
Just as Parnell felt himself sink to another low point, the organist began to play the opening notes of the processional. The assembled guests rose and turned to watch the bride make her way forward. Parnell took a deep breath and reminded himself to focus his attention on Leticia.
Today was a day for joy and for celebration.
His long nightmare was over. And he noticed that, as the young girl turned to the left and scampered away, she looked nothing at all like Janet. She had red hair and freckles. It must have been a trick of the light in the cathedral that fooled him into believing the two could ever resemble each other.
Finally, Marnie took her place across from Nicholas and then, as if by magic, Leticia was standing next to him, looking resplendent in a shimmering dress. Not white, of course, but a lovely shade, nonetheless.
The bishop began to speak.
Parnell tried to follow along but couldn't. All he could see or hear was his Leticia.
Suddenly, he felt Nicholas push the ring into his hand. He watched himself, as if from far away, as he said the right words and placed the ring on Leticia's fingers. Suddenly, they were walking down the aisle and across the courtyard and, before he knew it, he came to the sudden realization that they were married.
And, just as he'd thought...
The nightmare was over.
The clouds parted.
The sun was shining.
He was even laughing, something he hadn't done much of for the past 30 or so years.
He found himself looking fondly at his bride as they danced while the band played a song Leticia had picked out and which he'd heard before but couldn't name.
A love he'd thought he'd never find was real. She was flesh and blood and lips and hair and looking at him in a way no other woman had ever done.
He was home, at long last, in her arms and he knew that the promise of a life that was sweet and sure was being fulfilled as they glided around the floor and looked only at each other.