A Perfect Forever (Leap of Love Series, Book 1) (4 page)

He knew that he was underdressed for a visit to the lawyer, but a dingy button-down white shirt and his black slacks were the closest that he could come to something presentable to call on anyone professionally.

Entering the building, he climbed the stairs to the upstairs office.

"Hello, how can I help you?" The woman seated at the front desk was very polite.

Jonathan took off his cap, and held it close to his chest.

"I am here to meet with Mr. McGill."

The secretary glanced at the appointment ledger. "I am sorry. Mr. McGill does not have an appointment now. What is your name?"

A sudden rush of immediacy washed over Jonathan. The urge to see the lawyer was overtaking him.

He smiled at the secretary, and barged right in through the door with the marquis plate that spelled out the lawyer's name.

"Excuse me!" the secretary exclaimed.

"Sir! Please. How can I help you?" The man behind the elaborate desk shot straight out of his chair and came to the front of the desk.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. McGill. I could not stop him."

"It is alright, Mrs. Reed. I will handle it."

The secretary backed out of the office. She did not close the door completely, leaving it slightly ajar.

"Now whatever this is, Sir, it better be important. There is no cause for barging into a man's place of work in this way."

The stern look on the lawyer's face let Jonathan know that his time was limited.

"My name is Jonathan Montgomery Smith. I believe you were my father's lawyer."

"I'm so sorry, lad. I am not sure who your father is."

"Was," Jonathan corrected. “My father was Mr. William Smith."

Once he spoke the words, Jonathan waited for Mr. McGill to show some type of emotion. His facial expression did not change.

"And what is it that you require of me, Mr. Smith?"

"So you did know my father?" Jonathan queried.

"Sir, I am not at liberty to discuss any of my clients or their affairs. If your father was, or is, one of my clients, I must inform you that is information that I can not disclose."

Apparently, getting the information he needed would be much harder than Jonathan thought.

"I just found out that Mr. William Smith is deceased. I came to claim what is mine."

Jonathan stepped a bit closer, in hopes that the lawyer would then take him a bit more seriously.

Mr. McGill turned back to the desk, neatly gathered the papers lying there, and placed them in an organized stack.

"Mr. Smith is it?"

"Yes. It is. As I said before, Jonathan Montgomery Smith."

Jonathan was becoming irritated with the standoffish demeanor of the lawyer. Mr. McGill seemed like a sharp man, and Jonathan would not believe that the lawyer needed to ask his name again.

"Well, Mr. Smith. I have to let you know that I have a meeting in about ten minutes. Again I will ask, how can I help you?"

Jonathan's jaw clenched. This was not how he envisioned this conversation going.

"Mr. McGill, you are a very intelligent man. I know that you understand what it is that I am asking. I will leave you to tend to your clients. Please know that I will not go away easily."

Jonathan stared the lawyer directly in the eye. Mr. McGill did not break his gaze.

"Good day, Mr. Smith."

Jonathan turned to go, looking back at the lawyer.

"Good day, Mr. McGill."

*

After leaving the lawyer's office, there was a brief moment when there was a sinking hopeless feeling in the pit of Jonathan's stomach.

For the past few days, since he learned the truth about his parentage, Jonathan did nothing but wander the streets aimlessly, dipping in and out of local pubs. The ale did not wash away the anger, the resentment, and the embarrassment that he felt.

All of his life, he thought that his father had passed away and that his mother was a widow. Instead, she was the mistress of a man who would not have her hand in marriage, and he was the bastard child of a wealthy man.

Not that he was the only man to live this life story. Plenty of people whispered and spoke behind closed doors about women who had fallen for a man who would not make her honest and virtuous.

But at no time did Jonathan ever think that it would be his life that could potentially be the talk of the dinner tables in Boston. What would people think if they found out that William Smith had a son? A son who he did not claim. A son who should rightfully lay claim to his inheritance.

Stumbling into a pub, Jonathan sat at a table that would allow him the privacy he needed. He just needed to think. What would be his next move?

The barmaid came over and plopped a pitcher of ale down in front of him. Jonathan dug in his pocket, and slid the money across the table to her.

She winked her eye and walked away, leaving him on his own with his thoughts. After downing the second mug, Jonathan's head was swirling. There was no way that he could go home like this. His mother despised drinking and intoxication, so instead of leaving, Jonathan made himself comfortable in his seat and set about to polish off the pitcher.

"Aye, laddie. Are ya gonna just take care of that all by your lonesome?"

Looking up at the man made Jonathan's head swirl. "No. I did not intend to. Feel free to help me here."

The elderly man slid onto the bench in front of Jonathan. "Looks like you are trying to drown something in that ale, laddie."

The man helped himself to a mug of the beer, and Jonathan winced when some of it spilled over the top of the mug. He hated when anyone was wasteful.

He regarded the man, and wondered if it would make sense to unload and tell anyone his story. All he wanted to do was share it with someone he could trust. At this point, his mother was out of the question, and he certainly did not want to disclose anything to anyone else that he knew.

Jonathan took a swig of the beer. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a belch.

"Life has been unpredictable."

"Aye. It certainly can be." The man sipped slowly, as if he was trying his best to be polite.

"I need to find some things out about the man that I just found out truly is my father."

Jonathan waited to see if the man would respond. When he did not, Jonathan continued. "I found out that the man who fathered me is deceased and apparently was a very rich man."

The man gulped the rest of the liquid in his mug, and slammed the glass on the wooden table.

"So then you should get your inheritance, laddie."

"If only it were that easy. I am not sure that he knew about me."

"Well now. That certainly sounds like a problem."

Jonathan was not sure where the man was going with his conversation.

"Pour me another," the man commanded. Jonathan did as he was asked.

"Well now, let's see. What would I do if I found out that my father was a rich man and he was deceased?"

Jonathan watched as the man downed the liquid in the glass and slammed the mug on the table again. A satiated smile came across the man's face.

"Aye laddie. You need a Pinkerton. A Pinkerton most certainly can help you find your inheritance."

Those were the last words that he spoke to Jonathan before the man keeled over and fell drunkenly off of the bench seat.

The barkeeper strolled over and hoisted Jonathan's intoxicated friend up off of the ground and propped him up against the back wall.

"Say, can I ask you a question?" Jonathan asked before the barkeeper walked away.

"Shoot. But make it quick."

The brooding man's presence loomed over Jonathan where he was seated.

"Do you know anything about William Smith?"

"Can't say that I do." As the barkeeper spoke, he turned around and began walking away, as if he completely lost interest that quickly.

"What about Lulu la Rue?" Jonathan threw out a wild card, grasping for straws.

"Poor Lulu and her husband died recently in an accident."

The barkeeper turned around.

"What else can I do for you?"

Jonathan continued prying. "Well, can you tell me where they lived?"

The barkeeper rubbed his chin pensively.

"From what I understand, their daughter sold the house and moved west. Somewhere in California. San Francisco, I think. Who knows? Maybe she moved west to follow the Gold Rush." With that, he shrugged and walked off.

Jonathan rubbed his temples. Maybe the old man had a point. Hiring a Pinkerton might be the way to go. There was no other way he could think of to gain the information he needed. The lawyer was a dead end. His mother only knew so much. And there was no way he could continue to inquire around town because he did not want to muddy his mother's name.

Going west was the only option. He had to find his half sister, and make her see that he was a rightful heir to their father's fortune.

San Francisco had been good to Amelia for the past month. With the opening of the finishing school keeping her busy, Amelia barely had time to recognize her growing doubt about her relationship with Alfred.

When she first met Alfred, he seemed like the perfect man to marry. It would solve so many of her issues. She would be a married woman. Although life in California was not as rigid as it was back east in Boston, women were still expected to be married or at least have been married and possibly widowed or with child by her age.

Now that they were getting to know each other a bit better, Amelia realized that he might not be the one. But it was essentially too late to find anyone else. There was a little under two months left before the deadline, and Amelia wanted to follow her father's wishes. She knew that if she did not take over the gold mine, she would still receive her trust, but what her father had asked her to do meant so much more. Amelia knew that his request was made to ensure that she had someone to grow old with and look out for her. It was also made to ensure that she had something of her own so she did not have to depend on anyone. She would be a trailblazer in her own right. Many women owned a stake in claims because their husbands had died in the search for gold. But Amelia would be an owner fairly through inheritance, and that would secure her and her family for generations.

But here was Alfred. The quiet man who at first was seemingly boring and by the book, now seemed to be inquisitive, and he wanted to know everything about her father's business and her holdings. He even suggested several times that he take on a role as an accountant for her family's businesses.

It was a point that made her uncomfortable. She did not feel that it was right to talk with Alfred about her financial situation. Besides, the fact was that her uncle was in complete control of everything, and Mr. McGill was overseeing everything else. There did not seem to be room for Alfred to be involved. But it was not something that he wanted to accept or understand. 

And his mother was no better. She never missed an opportunity to bring up Amelia's inheritance, or the fact that she herself lived nicely on a meager existence. Amelia chose to not answer her soon to be mother-in-law verbally. There would be no point.

Besides, Mr. McGill had warned her that people would surely covet a woman who had her own money and was the recipient of the Smith family fortune. So she had better be careful and choose wisely.

She thought that meant that he wanted her to choose with her heart. But with such a short time, Amelia was not sure if that was possible. She was willing to choose a man who had good standing in society and who had the ability to be good to her and be a companion.

Amelia even thought for a brief moment about leaving San Francisco. There was no need to live in the city just because the gold mine was near. Maybe she could even get Mr. McGill to hire someone to oversee the entire operation while she lived elsewhere and focused on nothing in particular. No pressures. No stress. No marriage.

That was not possible. She had ten girls enrolled in this season's class at the finishing school, and a waiting list already for the next season.

Staying in San Francisco was necessary. There was no way that she could run away from her life. She wanted the rights to the gold mine. She wanted to continue her father's legacy. That was what was necessary.

So she courted Alfred Sharp, worked on preparing to be Mrs. Alfred Sharp, and dealt with her soon to be mother-in-law as civilly as she could.

*

When Amelia received the wire that her father's lawyer was going to be in town, she felt a sense of relief. It would be good to see a familiar face out west. Being away from home was hard. Switzerland had been a beautiful place, but it always seemed like she was on vacation. She never intended to make it her permanent home.

San Francisco, on the other hand, was her new home. The west was much more liberal than what she was used to. Most of the men there were blue collar working men. Men who had come west to seek fortunes and to make a life for themselves and their families.

The women were not as rigid and filled with colonial traditions. They were used to living a harder life. Some of these women had come from life on the prairie, and that was certainly a stark contrast to life in Boston. Amelia found solace in keeping company with such inspirational people. People who were not overly concerned with societal rules and “old money” customs and traditions.

Amelia was accepted as a businesswoman and a teacher, and no one spoke of her money or her class first. None of her fashions from Paris made much of a difference to anyone in particular here. Modesty was well-respected.

San Francisco was a place that Amelia knew she could fit in well. It was a place where she did not have to carry around the load and responsibility of her surname. She could simply be Amelia here. And that was good for her right now.

She sent a carriage to receive Mr. McGill from the train station. His arrival was not something that she mentioned straightaway to her fiancé. She wanted to meet with Mr. McGill first, and then tell him about what had been happening in her life before any introductions were in order.