"So I see." A smirk threatened to play around Edgar's mouth.
Cole felt himself growing angry. His voice hardened as he said, "No, I don't think you do, Edgar. I want the name of the finest shop for ladies in San Francisco, and I want it now."
Edgar practically snapped to attention like a private in the army being dressed down by a general. "Of course, Mr. Brady. Just go right on up the street two blocks to Miss Mellisande's Emporium. She has the finest ladies' clothes in the city, many of them imported straight from Paris."
"Thank you, Edgar."
"Of course, sir. Glad to be of service, anytime."
As they left the building, Annabel leaned over and said quietly, "That man thought I was either a hooker or an escaped lunatic."
"I suppose so," Cole said grimly. "But I trust that I set him straight."
"He seemed very impressed with you."
"San Franciscans value their firemen." His face relaxed into a smile. "That's all it is." He looked at her and went on, "You don't seem quite as upset now. I'm glad."
"Why should I be upset?" Annabel asked with a queer little laugh. "I'm walking arm in arm with a handsome man through the most beautiful city in the world. What could possibly be wrong?"
****
Only the fact that sooner or later the whole blasted city was going to come shaking down around them, and that which wasn't destroyed by the earthquake would be consumed by fire, Annabel thought silently.
And there wasn't a thing she could do about it.
As soon as the realization had come to her in the cable car, she had looked around for any sign that the famous catastrophe might have already occurred. It had taken only a few minutes for her to be certain that there had been no recent disasters. That meant the quake was still out there, lurking somewhere in the future.
The earthquake had happened in 1906, right? she'd asked herself. The year sounded correct to her. But was she remembering it wrong? Could it have been 1907, or even 1908? The past had never been as important to her as the present and the future, which was one reason she'd never paid that much attention to Earl's lectures. Now she wished she had. Then she would have known the precise date of the earthquake, probably right down to the minute it had started.
She'd tried to force that worry out of her mind as she and Cole visited the tailor shop. That fussy little snob Edgar had proved a welcome distraction, and by the time she and Cole had left and headed up Montgomery Street toward Miss Mellisande's, thoughts of the earthquake began to recede. There was nothing she could do about it anyway, no way to look up the date of something that hadn't even happened yet. And if she told Cole about it, he would definitely think she was insane.
She didn't want to be locked up in an asylum. If that happened, she would never get back to her own time.
For now, she was just a strange, down-on-her-luck visitor from out of town—way out of town. That was the way she would play it.
Miss Mellisande's turned out to be a small shop with a large front window. Displayed on wooden mannequins in the window were several gowns and hats, and Annabel had to restrain herself to keep from laughing at the quaintness of them. Of course, the clothes weren't quaint now, in 1906; in fact, they were the height of fashion.
A little bell over the door tinkled as Cole and Annabel went inside. The shop was crowded with more mannequins and shelves upon which hats and scarves and gloves were displayed. From the rear of the store came an attractive, middle-aged woman with graying blond hair. Her intelligent gaze took in both of her visitors, and if she was shocked by Annabel's strange garb, she gave no sign of it. Instead, her gray eyes fastened on Cole, and she said in a husky voice, "Why, it's Cole Brady, isn't it?"
Cole seemed surprised that she recognized him. "Yes,' ma'am," he said politely.
"You don't have to 'ma'am' me," the woman said with a smile. "I was a good friend of your mother's. I'm sure you don't remember me, though." She extended her hand. "Mellisande Dupree."
Cole took her hand and . . . Annabel's eyes widened in surprise. Was he really going to . . . ? Yes, he was. He bent over and kissed the back of Mellisande Dupree's hand.
Well, Annabel thought, if she'd had any last remaining doubts about being in another time period, they had just been erased. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto," she muttered under her breath.
Cole let go of Mellisande Dupree's hand and straightened up as the woman turned to Annabel. "Did you say your name was Toto, my dear?"
"Uh, no," Cole said quickly. "This is Miss Annabel Lowell. She's a newcomer to San Francisco."
Mellisande raised one carefully plucked eyebrow. "So I see. And a very beautiful one, I might add."
"Yes, indeed," Cole said.