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September 24th, 1915 San Francisco
PAGE peeled back her glove and checked the date on her watch—precisely three years later than when she’d left, and she’d arrived in the exact same spot. At least her own Travel device was working properly. But where in the world is Matt?
She flipped to the locator screen, but once again there was no blip or bar to indicate the presence of any other Travelers in the present time. So the better question would be when Matt had gotten himself to. Not that she had any way to find out. She’d have to keep skipping three years at a hop until she found him. Even if that meant going a hundred years into the future. But I don’t have to rush about it.
Stepping out from the seclusion of the copse of trees was difficult in the hobble skirt she had adopted in nineteen hundred twelve. She hoped women’s fashions had gotten more practical during the three years she had skipped over, but she didn’t expect it. Her next trip should take her to the end of the war, though, by which time things should’ve improved.
She began walking north through the park, and considered how unnecessary it was to Travel to and from some permanent base as Anya insisted. Page had simply gone for a stroll in the park and found a secluded spot. The scenery had changed so little in three years that the shift in reality had barely been noticeable. If only the trip ten years into the future had gone so smooth.
For now, she ought to focus on making the most of her time in nineteen hundred fifteen. It would be interesting to see what had changed. Margaret and Nancy would help her with what to look for, if they were still here, and Page couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t be. But first she would go to the bank.
Hopefully getting some money from this year’s trust stipend would be quicker than before, but she should get the process started. Waiting for approval would still likely give her plenty of time to get some research done while she was here.
With the tiny steps she had to take, across grass in her curved heels, it seemed to take forever to get to the north end of the park. By that time she wasn’t about to take a packed cable car through the city. It wouldn’t be necessary, thankfully, since her last visit to the bank had left her flush with cash.
So instead, Page bypassed the cable car station and went straight to where a line of cars had parked along the side of the road. Unfortunately they were all empty and unattended—except for one, where a youth sat on the running board and played jacks on the sidewalk.
She walked up to him and held out a dollar bill. “Young man, if you know where to find a cab, fetch the driver. Tell him I want to hire a car and the dollar is his if he’ll take me where I want to go. And I’ll give you a tip if you bring him quick.”
The boy swept up his ball and jacks in a single smooth motion and stood. “This is a cab, miss, and it’s mine. I’ll not only take you where you want to go—for a dollar I’ll drive you around all day.”
Page squinted at the young scamp. Even if this boy had some connection to this car, it could not be his, and he certainly wasn’t a cabbie. However, she was curious to see what he’d do. “Alright, then. It’s a deal.”
His eyes wide, the boy nodded and snatched the bill out of her hand, stuffing it into his pocket before offering her his hand to help her up into the back of the automobile. Once she was safely in her seat, he clambered up behind the wheel and started the engine. “Where’d you want to go first, my lady?”
“Cheeky boy. You haven’t given me your name, and I’d like to know how old you are, if you’re driving a car and supposed to be a cabbie.”
“I’m Willim, miss, and I’m already twelve years old. Do you want to just sit here and talk, or do you want to tell me where to?”
“My name is Page, Willim. And I’d like to go to the American International State Bank in the financial district. That’s—”
“I know where it is. On Montgomery. I tell you I know where everything is in this city.”
With a jerk and a bounce, the car swerved suddenly into the street, barely missing a young couple walking along and cutting off another car. The boy seemed oblivious to it all. He certainly had a future as a cabbie—albeit possibly a very short one.
While he struggled with the gears and the clutch to get up and down the hills, Willim delivered her to the bank without getting in an accident. She wasn’t sure what he might’ve left in their wake, and she did not want to know. He pulled up right in front of the building, and she slid out of the back seat and down to the ground before he made it around to help her. She was beginning to get used to these fool dresses, just in time to leave them behind. She wouldn’t be missing them, even if they were elegantly charming.
Page gave the boy a severe look. “I expect you to be here waiting when I come out. It may be a while. Do you have a book to read?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “A book? I’ve got my jacks.”
Shaking her head, she turned and stepped into the bank. A clerk quickly summoned Mr. Pitt. And she gave thanks that banks didn’t have a high turnover rate—it certainly made things convenient. She expected to meet many different bankers as it was, if she ended up having to go all the way to the twenty-first century to find Matt.
Page planned to take half of the yearly stipend every three years. She could build up her bank account as she advanced through the twentieth century, and hopefully she’d be prepared for the inevitable trouble Matt would involve her in—not to mention the expense of food and lodging and dresses.
Anya certainly wouldn’t need any stipend funds from this century—she was only interested in Traveling farther into the future, toward home. Samantha’s skimpy needs would barely make a dent in the trust the professor had established. There would be enough remaining for Matt if he were wandering in the twentieth century somewhere.
Matt was sufficiently clever to figure out how to use the professor’s watch to access the trust funds if he needed them. She didn’t know where or when he was, or what he might have to do to reach her—but he’d better be hard at work on that problem. I miss him. So he’d best not take too long to find her.
Page turned her attention to Mr. Pitt, who was approaching with the deference due a client with a substantial deposit. “Good morning, Miss Page. It’s good to see you back again, safe and sound.”
She’d told him she traveled a lot, quite truthfully, and apparently he worried. “I’ve come about this year’s stipend—”
The banker held up his hand. “Of course. Now that we have a telephonic connection with the New York branch it will be much simpler than before. A short call to confirm your access and a day or two to process your request and the funds will be added to your account. Will that be satisfactory?”
Page nodded slowly. “I’ll be staying in the city, so I may be back to make a withdrawal, but just taking care of the stipend will be sufficient for today.”
“Of course.” Already leading her back to his office, Mr. Pitt glanced over his shoulder at her. “And a young man left a message for you.”
Page’s pulse quickened. “A letter for me?” Matt had been with her when she’d received a communication across time from Sam—in the form of a letter left in a safe deposit box. “From whom?”
Mr. Pitt shook his head. “No letter. A Mr. Matt left only a verbal message to be passed on.”
Back in the banker’s office, Page grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down her funds request along with the day’s access code. She handed it over with a sigh. “So what’s this message?”
“That he would meet you when you arrived back in town—but that if for some reason he wasn’t here, he wanted you to wait for him. I am afraid that was the entirety of his message.”
While the banker sat behind his desk and began placing a call to New York, Page thought about what Matt’s message meant. He must’ve been in the relative past to have left it. But why hadn’t he left her a letter to explain in detail what had happened to him and where he was? And why isn’t he here?
Then she saw Mr. Pitt was already nodding and writing down the details of the transaction. He replaced the receiver and smiled at her. “Your access has been confirmed, and the money will be credited to your account by the end of the week. Will that be all?”
“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Pitt.”
Striding out of his office and across the lobby to leave the bank, her mind stayed on Matt. They had tested the temporal tuner—which had worked properly—so Matt should know exactly where and when to find her. If he had taken the slow path from the past to reach her, he should be here now, or at least be showing up on her locator screen, but he wasn’t. Could he have been so foolish as to try Traveling to her coordinates with the professor’s watch?
Back on the street, Page was glad that she didn’t need to worry about tracking down a lost chauffeur. Willim was sitting on the running board, sulking.
He brightened, though, when he saw her. “This ground is no good for playing jacks. I expected it to take you a lot longer—I’m glad it didn’t.”
Smiling at the boy indulgently, she climbed into the back seat. “You can read anywhere, you know.”
“Books are boring.”
“I take it you’ve never tried Rudyard Kipling or Jack London. I doubt you’d find them boring.”
She watched him scramble up behind the wheel and start the engine. Then she took Margaret’s card from her reticule and passed it up to the boy. “Can you find this address alright?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Nob Hill, and everyone knows where those ladies live.”
Leaning back as the car rocketed into the street, Page turned her mind from Willim’s driving back to the problem with Matt. If instead of taking the sure slow path to reach her he’d used the professor’s device, he could have ended up anywhere in time and space. Then she realized that she hadn’t asked Mr. Pitt when Matt had left that message, or how.
Supposing Matt had landed in Chickadee, at the right place but in the wrong time—he would’ve seen both when and where she had landed and would’ve started off across the country to meet her. He could have sent that message to the San Francisco branch ahead of him, knowing she’d go there. He might be rushing across the continent toward her right now.
It would explain why he’d asked her to wait if he wasn’t there when she arrived—but it didn’t explain why he wasn’t showing up on her watch. She peeled back her glove and checked the locator app again to see there was still no blip or bar. A red bar ought to light up even if he was on the other side of the globe in the present time, but she knew better than to rely on that. From experience. She would have to trust Matt to do whatever he had to do to get to her—and if he got himself into trouble along the way, he was capable of taking care of himself, mostly. She would do her part by staying in the present.
That would be no hardship. She looked forward to seeing Margaret and Nancy again. During those two weeks she’d spent in nineteen hundred twelve, she’d called on the women three times to hear them talk about various courting couples. Though they’d gone on about other topics as well.
Page had also visited various restaurants where she’d been able to observe people dancing. Though without Matt there to help her, she’d had to content herself with watching and taking notes, when she’d rather have experienced the ritual first-hand.
Willim had struggled with the gears to make his way up the hill, but he’d finally managed—now they were turning past the gates and up the curving road leading to the elegant Georgian mansion that Nancy and Margaret called home. Soon Page would learn what they had been up to during these three years.
When they pulled up before the front entrance, Page alighted and turned back to Willim. “That side road leads to a coach house where you can park the car. And if you come to the back door, I’m sure they will feed you in the kitchen.”
He grinned. “Yes, my lady.”
Page walked up the marble steps and reached to lift the knocker, but the door opened before she was able to. Standing there was the Chinese butler she’d met previously. Except for his face, and a lingering accent, he could’ve been the perfect English butler—he certainly seemed as clever as the fictional Jeeves. Were he not gainfully employed, Page could see him becoming a criminal mastermind in San Francisco’s underworld.
He essayed a slight bow at her. “Miss Page, I’m sure the Misses Margaret and Nancy will be pleased that you’ve come to visit after so long a time.”
“You’re looking well, Mr. Chiang. My chauffeur went to park in the coach house, and I told him he’d be welcomed in the kitchen. I hope that’s alright.”
“Certainly, miss. And you’re too kind.”
He turned and she followed him down the main hall to a cozy room where Margaret and Nancy were enjoying their morning tea. Chiang announced her in ringing tones, though she was standing right behind him, waving at the two women.
Margaret smiled and nodded at an empty chair across from herself and Nancy. “Dear Page, where in the world have you been? It’s been ages. Join us for tea, won’t you?”
Nancy hurriedly stuffed the hunk of cake sitting on her fork into her mouth. She then leaped to her feet and scurried out of the room.
Page squinted at the empty space she’d left behind. “Is Nancy alright? I just got back into town, and I thought I’d stop by for a chat to catch up.”
“She’s alright, just excited. I think she wants to show you—” She broke off as Nancy bounded back into the room. “Her new hat.”
Nancy held it out for a moment to let Page get a good look at the thing before donning it and affecting a pose. “Well?”
Page stared for a moment, trying to think what to say. Atop the wide, floppy brim, a vast multitude of long, brown-and-white striped feathers extended forth from a dark mass in all directions. “Looks like a turkey imploded on top of your head.”
Nancy blinked, and Margaret kept a blank look on her face as she spoke. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Page. We should be quite appalled. You don’t even wear a hat.”
Nancy nodded. “After the beautiful one we got for you, I’d hoped you would’ve learned to appreciate a really fine hat.”
Shaking her head, Page turned the subject away from hats—she’d made her feelings known. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you two have been up to while I’ve been gone. I don’t suppose you have met any decent men?”
Nancy snorted. “Are there such creatures?”
Margaret smiled as her companion sat down to take another slice of cake. “Plenty of nice men have tried to court us—for our money, of course—and we have enjoyed ourselves immensely. But why would we give up our independence to take on the burden of a husband?”
Page sighed. “That thinking makes sense, until you fall in love. Then you’ll find yourself making the most ridiculous sacrifices.”
Obviously bristling, Nancy objected. “Never. I shouldn’t have to sacrifice anything—should I want a man in my life.”
Margaret lifted one side of her mouth, and Page suspected she had a better understanding of the realities of life. “As we gain more legal rights, such as suffrage, we can make more decisions for ourselves, but love...”
Page was confused. “I thought you already had the right to vote. The last time I was here, you spent a lot of time arguing about which of the three presidential candidates you wanted to vote for. And you were involved in local politics, weren’t you?”
“Of course we’ve had the vote in California for a long time now—we’re more enlightened here in the West. Every woman in the country should have that right, but we’re facing a lot of resistance and downright hostility. They’re afraid of us.”
“Who? Men?”
Margaret shook her head. “Just the ones frightened we’ll pass temperance laws—and the big business interests who make money from alcohol.”
Page was interested in spite of herself. “Would you? Make drinking illegal?”
“There are already temperance laws in many areas, but it should be left to local communities to decide. Anyway, it doesn’t make sense to try to outlaw alcohol nationally when most of the opposition is in the big urban areas.”
Nancy interjected. “Like New York City. We’ll probably see another riot.”
“A riot? What are you talking about? And why New York instead of San Francisco?”
“I’m talking about the riot when we marched in D.C. It only helps our cause when they turn to violence to try and shut us up.”
Margaret waved Nancy back into the seat she’d leapt out of. “Next month we’re going to march for women’s suffrage in New York City. We hope to rally support and put pressure on politicians to pass it in the state legislature.”
Page smiled. She knew they would succeed, but that it would take longer than they’d like. “The war may get in the way of anything happening too fast.”
“You mean the European War? America will be staying out of that nonsense.”
“Well...” Page waited while Nancy poured her a cup of tea and decided to leave the subject of World War I alone. “You said ‘we’re going to march’—does that mean you and Nancy are going to New York?”
Margaret nodded vigorously. “Since we’ve got the time and money, we have a responsibility to get involved. We’re organizing the contingent to represent the state of California.”
A train of thought started in Page’s mind. “And when exactly is this protest happening?”
“Not a protest, a parade. We’ve been promised the protection of the New York City Police Department, so even if some people try to make trouble, it should be perfectly safe. Why don’t you come along with us? The march isn’t for a month yet, but we’ll be leaving for New York in three weeks.”
Page processed the possibilities quickly. If Matt hadn’t arrived by the time three weeks had passed, he could be in more trouble than he could handle on his own. He might even be in New York City, and if not—he could find her there as well as anywhere.
She temporized. “I’d love to go with you, but I don’t know about my future plans yet. If I’m able to go, I will. And I can arrange my own travel and accommodations, so you can plan without me.”
Nancy didn’t seem satisfied, but Margaret nodded in acceptance, so Page settled back to enjoy her tea and see if she could get some news of the social scene out of these two activists. Later, she’d need to find a bookstore and get Willim something to read—but before that, a nice hotel suite to stay at for three weeks. Assuming Matt didn’t show up sooner than that.
And he should show up soon. If he didn’t, Page would have to work hard at not wondering what difficulties he might be experiencing.