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September 9th, 1912 San Francisco
PAGE squinted in the sudden bright light and wobbled a little as her heels sank into some thick grass. She blinked rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust to the sun shining in them. Her mind was slower to adapt. It had been ten in the evening a moment ago, and it should still be that, or thereabouts.
Whirling around, a bit unsteady on her feet, she took in the well-kept grass, the multicolored banks of flowers, and the variety of trees. They’d landed in a park. She turned around again, but she didn’t see any of the others. Where’s Matt?
She’d had enough experience of being separated from him when they Traveled—but it shouldn’t have happened, not when they’d been in physical contact when they left two thousand two. Maybe the difference was because they’d Traveled a whole ten years in one hop. But if there had been one thing they had been able to rely on, it had been arriving at the same part of the day-night cycle they’d left from. Not this time though. Matt said he was sure that he had fixed the professor’s device properly.
Something clicked in her brain, and she looked down at her own watch—which told her it was ten in the morning on the ninth of September. In nineteen hundred twelve. Which would be a Monday. They’d landed almost one hundred years off course.
Checking her latitude and longitude, she swiftly calculated her position—the city of San Francisco in the state of California—and it looked like she’d landed in Golden Gate Park.
Orienting herself in time and space helped. She started thinking more clearly. Matt might have materialized on the opposite coast, in Chickadee where they were supposed to have arrived. She flipped to the locator screen and her mental gears froze. Page saw no blip and no red bar. Meaning no Matt in this time anywhere, or any of the others. Something had gone terribly wrong. She needed her brain to begin processing better.
There were any number of problems she should be dealing with right away. She started by focusing on one thing at a time. Her watch. Digital watches would be an anachronism here in the early twentieth century. She slipped the band off her wrist and held it for a moment—there was no one near to see, and some sort of shrubbery shielded her from view. Where is Matt?
She’d already oriented herself and had no need of the watch to keep track of her own location—and since none of her fellow Travelers were in this same time, the locator app was useless. The cash she carried had been printed decades in the future, and all those bills would also be useless to her. She needed money she could spend. She’d have to make getting to the bank her top priority, whatever that took—the nearest branch might be hundreds of miles away—her watch would know.
Page flipped to the resources screen and found there was a branch of her bank in the San Francisco of this era. She memorized the address, then generated the trust access code for today’s date and memorized the twelve-digit alphanumeric before stuffing the watch into her jeans pocket—she’d gotten all she needed from it. Then she stepped out into the clearing to observe the people in the park. Jeans.
Seeing a group of young men wearing light suits broadly striped in tan and red with straw boaters on their heads, and a couple of women with the multilayered full-length skirts and short tunics of the period—and those monstrous hats—Page realized that her own apparel would not be considered appropriate. There was nothing she could do about that until she had money to go shopping though.
Wherever Matt was, he’d be trying to locate her, and the professor’s device would pinpoint her spatiotemporal coordinates. They’d tested that, but that didn’t mean he could Travel to her. That watch had clearly failed to work properly, so she couldn’t rely on his being able to get to her. She’d have to begin heading back to the twenty-first century on her own. But first the bank.
She needed directions, but those conventionally attired ladies would likely snub their noses at her—the young men, on the other hand, looked outgoing and friendly. They would surely help her. One was already running toward her. He came and grabbed her arm—he must’ve thought she was having a dizzy spell or something, when it was just that these high heels weren’t suited to walking in the park.
“Say, miss. You look as if you’d like some company.”
Page smiled. He seemed eager to help her out—he might even give her a ride to the bank. Unfortunately, those two formidable-looking women who’d been walking nearby were swiftly bearing down on them. One of those ladies folded up her parasol and whacked the arm of the young man who’d grabbed Page, forcing him to let go. She used it again to hit him over the head, knocking his hat to the ground.
“Shame on you, you young scoundrel. Can’t you see she’s a lady?”
The man glared at his parasol-wielding attacker while reaching down for his hat. “The ‘lady’ wasn’t objecting.”
The woman who had hit him raised her weapon as if she was about to hit him again, and the young man ran across the grass back to the friends he had left. The other woman glared at his retreating form and muttered, “Disgraceful.”
The first woman unfurled her parasol again and held it out to share its shade with Page, and the other lady looked her up and down with an appraising eye before making introductions. “My name is Margaret, and my violent friend is Nancy.”
“I’m Page. I don’t suppose you’d be able to help me with some directions?” It would be a long slog to make her way a hundred years into the future, three years at a time. She’d need plenty of funds.
“Just as I thought. You must’ve come from one of those artist colonies up the coast. But surely you know that, whatever you might get away with wearing on those communes, such apparel will only get you into trouble here.”
“Yes, of course. But I need to go to the bank before I can shop for another outfit. If you could—”
“Wearing pants is daring enough, but blue jeans—I suppose that’s some kind of statement. Support for the working classes or something? Which I applaud, of course, but anyone with any discernment can see you’ve got money. The quality material and the superior cut of those jeans could come straight from Paris—though I have a difficult time believing even the French would design something so form-fitting as to be positively indecent.”
When Page could finally get a word in, she tried again. “I don’t have money. But I will, after I get to the bank. Then I’ll buy more appropriate clothes.” And fashionable garments as well. Thankfully, any money she got from the trust stipend would remain valid tender as she Traveled forward in time. She’d have to remember to set up a proper account before rushing on.
Nancy smiled in sympathy, but Margaret shook her head. “You simply can’t go walking into a bank looking like that. You must be feeling dizzy to even think such a thing—that would be the sun.”
Margaret shifted her own parasol to share some of her shade with Page, who was beginning to resent being treated like a delicate flower. “I appreciate the advice but, like I said, I have to visit the bank—to get money—before I can go shopping.”
“Nonsense. Nancy and I will take you to a little boutique we frequent and buy you an outfit to wear to your bank.” She must’ve seen the look of distaste on Page’s face. “Not a loan to be paid back, simply a gift. What’s the point of having money if you don’t use it to do some good?”
Page sighed. “I need to get to the American International State Bank on Montgomery Street.”
“Certainly. That’s in the financial district. They are relative newcomers—not being one of the banks that moved in decades ago to take advantage of the gold rush. They came in following the great earthquake, to help with the rebuilding.”
Page looked around the park. “Which way is the financial district?”
Margaret took her by one arm, and Nancy took the other, and they started marching her across the grass. “We’ll take the cable car—they’re such fun—up Market Street to Union Square to get you those clothes we promised. Once you’re properly attired, we can continue on to Montgomery Street and your bank. Or maybe you’d like to come to our house for a bite to eat first?”
Page shook her head. “I just arrived, and I need to settle my finances first, and rent a room. Maybe, if it doesn’t take too long at the bank, I could come visit you afterwards.” She knew she’d require sustenance after dealing with the bank manager.
Margaret nodded. “By the time we’ve shopped, and you’ve finished with your bank, it’ll probably be just time for afternoon tea. We’d be delighted. Our house is on Nob Hill—we’ll point it out for you when we pass by.”
Nancy scowled at her friend. “Your house, Margaret, not ours.”
“Not that nonsense again, dear.” She turned to Page. “You live off a trust fund, don’t you? So does Nancy, though she gets around that.”
“Thanks to you.” Nancy looked at Page as they stalked across the park. “Margaret became my trustee after her father passed.”
“One of your trustees, dear. There’s always that dusty old lawyer, but we took care of him.”
Page had to ask. “Took care of him?”
Margaret smiled. “I got him to increase her allowance under the trust. Told him she’d have a better chance of catching a husband if she could afford to run a proper household on her own. He agreed—then once it couldn’t be changed without my agreement, Nancy moved in with me. Now she can spend her money however she wants.”
“I see.”
“Now, about ‘renting a room’—I’m sure you can do better than that. I don’t know how much you get and I don’t want to pry, but as a woman on her own you need a house with a staff, preferably. There are a few higher-class hotels though. A nice suite, with the hotel providing service, might be alright.”
It was all a little overwhelming, but at least her companions weren’t badgering her with questions—Page could just let them keep making their assumptions and didn’t have to think up clever evasions. I can go to nineteen hundred fifteen as soon as I have money. If Matt could not get to her, then—although she didn’t have any inkling when or where he might be—she’d have to go to him.
She was still in a bit of a daze as they all reached the cable car station. The ride went by in a flurry of impressions as they dinged their way north and east through different sections of the city, until Margaret and Nancy were helping her down to a fashionable little shop. That perked her up a bit.
To get out of the sun and away from all the stimulation of the novel sights and sounds was refreshing. Perusing the selection of short tunics and hobble skirts was fun. But she drew the line at corsets, or even a girdle—she felt she was slim enough not to torture herself to achieve a tiny waistline.
What really scandalized the saleswoman, not to mention Page’s two companions, was her issue with hats. “But you have to have a hat.”
Page shook her head. “God gave me this glorious head of hair—why would I want to hide it with a hat? Especially one of these fashionable monstrosities.” The saleswoman made as if to faint, and Page accepted a hat. I don’t have to actually wear it.
When the three women walked to Montgomery Street, Page was wearing her hat. The one they had chosen, over her strenuous objections, looked like a multilayered chocolate cake with little red roses on the rim. When they all approached the modest five-story brick edifice that was the bank, Page sighed in relief.
She turned to her two new friends. “Thank you for all your help. And this wonderful outfit.” Minus the hat. “But you’ve already gone to enough trouble on my account. I think you can safely leave me here in the hands of my bankers.”
Margaret reached over and patted her hand. “If you say so, dear.” She pressed a card with some ornate calligraphy into Page’s palm. “I’m not sure you paid attention when we pointed out the house. This has our address, and if you do decide to come to tea, we’d be pleased.”
Page smiled. “Thank you. And I expect I’ll take you up on that offer.” In addition to the food, hopefully the two women would be a good source of data for her dissertation.
After all, she had come back in time in the first place to study the courtship rituals of the twentieth century. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Setting things up with the bank would probably take a few days—enough time to collect some good information before moving forward.
Page kept nodding at the two women until they were gone. Thinking about researching dating customs reminded her that Matt wasn’t there—to help with her observations. She would just have to make do without him.
With that thought, she steeled herself and went into the bank—the hardwood floors gleamed, along with well-polished counters, but the Spartan atmosphere was a distinct departure from the grandeur of the main branch in New York City. Or at least as it would be eighty-five years from now.
Every eye in the place turned to stare at Page as she strode across the lobby, casting her own glances around until her gaze lit on a tall, thin bespectacled man who’d just stepped out from a back office. He looked like a banker. Indeed, he might almost have been a twin to Mr. Hemmings, her banker in the future. She nodded at him.
The man moved rapidly to meet her, looking at her left hand before addressing her. “How may I be of assistance, miss?”
“I’m a Travelers’ Trust recipient, and I’m here for the yearly stipend.”
“Travelers’ Trust, miss? I can’t say I’m familiar with that.”
Page sighed. The professor had set up the trust in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Perhaps this branch was simply too new. “Your bank not only administers the trust, but you’re trustees as well. If you call the main branch in New York, I’m sure they can give you all the information.”
The banker blinked rapidly. “Call? On the telephone?”
Page sighed again. “Yes. You do have a phone? Surely they’re not that new?”
“Of course we have a telephone—it’s a most useful instrument—but to call all the way to New York? Someday, maybe soon, we’ll be able to talk to people that distant, but to contact the main branch I’ll have to use the telegraph.”
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
Nodding to himself, he left her standing there—in the middle of the lobby—while he walked back to a large open-air room behind the teller windows.
Page sauntered over to the side where she could see what he was doing. At one table a clerk sat with a telegraph machine, already tapping away with the banker looking over his shoulder. Hopefully all this rigmarole would not take too long—she was looking forward to tea.
There was a single chair in front of a desk off to one side, where another customer sat talking to another bank employee. With no other obvious place to sit, Page stood there tapping her toe impatiently. Until she realized she was copying the sound of the telegraph.
Several minutes later, the banker returned with his lips pursed. “Allow me to introduce myself. Mr. Pitt, at your service.”
“Call me Page.”
“Miss Page, I’m afraid this branch is not yet set up to confirm the eligibility of applicants for receiving the Travelers’ Trust stipend. Now, you could go to the main branch in New York City, or—”
Page cut him off. “I can’t take the time—”
And Mr. Pitt had the audacity to talk right back over her. “Or. Given the likely time-sensitive situation you may be in, the main branch suggests another process to confirm your eligibility. If you provide me the first four digits of today’s access code, they’ll give me further instructions.”
“4YT8. But they really shouldn’t be confirming with only a partial—”
Mr. Pitt held up a hand to forestall her. “That’s not for official confirmation. They simply desire reassurance before proceeding.”
Before she could ask what he meant by that, the man had scurried back to the telegraph room. She didn’t check her watch, but it felt like forever before he returned with a clerk trailing behind him.
“Miss Page, they’ve asked me to send them a secured package with your specific request for stipend funds along with the full access code for today’s date—and a copy of an impression of your thumb mark.”
The banker exuded an air of embarrassment. “I am afraid it’s a requirement of the trust. For identification purposes, so we don’t deliver your money to the wrong person—as if we would—and also for the future, should you wish to keep your funds in an account with the bank. We wouldn’t usually go to this extreme ourselves, but as I said—”
Page began nodding before he finished his spiel and cut him off. “It’s a requirement of the terms of the trust. I understand, Mr. Pitt. It’s alright, but I’d like to sit down somewhere while we take care of all this.”
“Of course. We’ll go to my office. I’m afraid we will have to use an ink pad to transfer an impression of your thumb mark onto a card.”
“I don’t suppose I have much choice.” She knew they didn’t have premoistened towelettes back this far, but she supposed she could wash her thumb off somewhere, somehow before she went to Margaret and Nancy’s house for tea. If she finished her business here soon enough.
“Once they’ve confirmed your eligibility, they’ll send the funds you request to us, and you can set up an account if you’d like. In the meantime, they have authorized me to extend you a small loan while you wait.”
Page sighed. She didn’t want to go into debt. If she had to, she supposed she could impose on Margaret’s hospitality for a few days. “I can get by for a couple of days until my money arrives.”
Mr. Pitt goggled at her. “I’m afraid it will take a train at least five days to deliver your information to New York. Then there’s the processing time needed by the main branch before they send your funds by train back here. It will take two weeks or more.”
Page felt a little faint. “I suppose I’ll have to be grateful for your loan, Mr. Pitt. I hope it will be sufficient.”
“I’m afraid our cash reserves are rather limited. This poor city—having just gotten past an epidemic of bubonic plague, they then had to have this Great Earthquake. They’ve had so much rebuilding to do—of course, we’ve been happy to help with that, but it is a strain.”
“Alright, I understand. I’m sure I’ll make do—but let’s go ahead and get my stipend request on its way. I don’t want to wait any longer than I have to.”
It looked like she’d have plenty of time to do her research after all. But by the time two whole weeks had passed, Page would surely be eager to move on, hopefully getting closer to Matt. Where, and when, is he?