EPILOGUE
Two years later
HENRY SCOOPED UP the crawling infant before the child reached the open candy jar at the opposite end of the counter. No sense risking the boy’s single tooth on a hard piece of peppermint.
Dessa had left Cullen with him at the mercantile for the few minutes it would take her to run to the post office next door. They both knew Jeb, the Leadville postman, would have brought any mail by later, but for days now she’d been expecting a letter from Liling in San Francisco and was eager for whatever news it might contain.
“It’s here!” She waved a sturdy envelope as she flew into the store.
“Well? Is she or isn’t she?”
After scanning the content, Dessa raised merry eyes to him. “She is! Liling is getting married in two months and hopes we might make the trip out there. Oh! Wait until Jane finds out we’re going to San Francisco!”
“What!”
The squeal came from the back of the store, where Henry already planned an expansion to accommodate more goods. His mercantile was the best in Leadville, if he was speaking to anyone but his mother. Her own store still thrived, keeping its focus on miners who continued to go after silver now that gold mining was a more distant memory.
Henry was even considering opening a real department store, but thought the only place for an ambition like that would be Denver. Even now, he was wondering how he might propose a partnership with William White for such a venture.
Jane rushed to Dessa’s side. The girl was eighteen, and Henry was as proud of her as if she were his daughter. She’d just finished two years of schooling in Denver at Wolfe Hall and was as much an asset to the store as she’d once hoped to be, with her math and accounting skills.
But being a shopgirl—or even the wife of a miner—wasn’t enough for his hopes for her. A trip to San Francisco would do her good, and leave behind, at least for a while, the attention of more than one poor miner. She ought to know she could find someone with bigger plans rather than settling for someone who might not be able to give her all she deserved.
“Remee will want to know as well,” Dessa said to Jane, who nodded. Remee was the proprietress of the rebuilt Pierson House, and with Dessa’s regular visits the mission continued to grow. Dessa remained the open-armed figure Pierson House had become known for.
Remee had built a reputation as a practical business partner. Though she continued to live under Pierson House’s roof, with the help of Henry’s investment she had taken over an abandoned clothing shop on the edge of the Fourth Ward. It was in a respectable-enough neighborhood to draw a wide number of clients, and under Remee’s direction a dozen women created both men’s and ladies’ fashion. It had drawn a profit within the first year, and they were already planning to expand—offering real jobs to women who needed them. Such financial incentive, Dessa knew, was every bit as responsible for the growth and success of Pierson House as the acceptance offered to every woman in need.
Mr. Dunne had a job at Remee’s clothing shop taking measurements for men as well as selling merchandise. The old carriage house had been torn down, taken away with the rest of the rubble from the house. A cottage built in its place, minus the drinking cellar, now served his needs. A steady job, friends who needed him, and a revived faith had helped him satisfy the void he’d tried filling with drink.
And the new senator from Colorado, Turk Foster, split his time between Colorado and Washington, where he often made headlines in both cities for having charmed one deal or another from nationwide taxpayers. His past was notorious, but his smile and open wit made him among the best-known politicians no matter which side of an issue he held.
As Dessa and Jane discussed all they would see and do in San Francisco, Henry picked up the rest of Liling’s letter. He’d not only financed the sisters’ travel expenses but provided them with a trustworthy Chinese bodyguard and enough money to open a small tea shop in San Francisco’s Chinatown. It was that bodyguard whom Liling would marry in two months’ time.
“What about Nadette?” Dessa’s question pulled his attention from the letter. “Do you suppose we can arrange for her to come too?”
“Hmm.” He held the letter outside their son’s reach, and Dessa took Cullen from him.
Having Nadette travel all the way from New York might take some doing, despite the two months they had to work with. It had taken time to convince her to accept their help, but somehow Dessa had wrangled from the girl that her secret dream had been to go to a girls’ school back East, one that would improve her piano playing. It seemed as unlikely a place as Henry could think of for the rough-mannered girl he’d observed, but he hadn’t minded when Dessa asked if they could fund her education.
“It’s a long trip across the country just for a wedding,” Henry warned.
“Just for a wedding!” The words came in unison from Jane and Dessa, as if everyone except him would know how foolish his statement had been.
He shrugged. “Ask her, not me. Better send a telegram, though, so she can start making plans soon if she wants to come.”
Dessa reached across the countertop to kiss him, her face as lovely as ever when she looked at him that way. “Henry, you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
Henry smiled back. He would never tire of hearing her call him by name.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
DEAR READER,
Martin Luther once said, “Everything that is done in the world is done by hope.” This is a sentiment I wanted to convey through Dessa, flawed though she is by her impatience. Dessa possesses something that’s all too rare: a deep hope in and for the best of others. Seeing people with a touch of God’s love reminds her of His grace for others and herself—a message I was reminded of as I wrote this story.
It’s such a blessing to be able to write about the spiritual growth of imaginary people meant to be much like you and me, no matter the era. We might not get the job done perfectly, but as Dessa inferred, if we do get ahead of God’s plans, it’s more important that we’re going in His direction.
It’s my hope that Dessa and Henry’s story will be a blessing to you and remind all of us that God is a God of love and grace.
Maureen Lang