“There’s going to be a funeral for him tomorrow,” Mary says finally. “In the Sailor’s Cemetery at the corner of Sansome and Vallejo.”
“Oh, Lee, I’m so sorry,” Becky says. “I know he was a longtime family friend.”
I just nod, unable to form words.
“The view from that spot is positively poetic,” Henry says. “I think your friend Jim will approve.”
“But . . . Sailor’s Cemetery?” Becky says. “He was never a sailor, was he? I thought he was from Dahlonega, like Jefferson and Lee.”
“A lot of folks buried there,” Mary says. “Indians and Negros. Chinese. The funeral is going to be a small affair. Henry and I made all the arrangements today.”
“Mary is a marvel,” Henry says. “Did you know she speaks English, Chinese, and Spanish?”
Mary glares at Henry, as if complimenting her is the worst thing ever.
But Becky says, “Of course.” As if it’s nothing. “She interprets for me all the time at the tavern.”
“In any case,” I say, “I’d sure appreciate it if everyone could be there tomorrow. Jim is . . . was one of my oldest friends.”
“Which reminds me,” Jefferson adds, looking to the Major. “We’ll need to take that barrel off the wagon to make room for a casket. I told Jasper we’d come pick it up tonight. He promised to have it ready.”
The Major and Melancthon exchange a glance and a nod. “We can do that right after supper.”
“I’d be grateful,” I say.
Jefferson and I grab plates. I serve myself a helping of everything on the table—smashed potatoes, green beans with bits of bacon, and a slice of salted ham—but I don’t have much of an appetite. I sit beside Mary. She puts her arm around me and gives me a quick squeeze—a rare gesture from her.
“How’d the auction go?” Jefferson asks around a mouthful of food. Nothing affects his appetite.
“Nothing we said, in shouts or whispers, did anything to slow it down,” Henry says.
“The starting prices were too good to pass up,” Becky explains. “I think even people who thought Hardwick had robbed them in the past wanted to get a piece of things.”
“But did you get your house?” I ask.
Becky brightens. “I think so! I have to pick it up in the next few days. We’ll see if the auction . . . holds.”
“I’m so relieved to hear it,” I say. We needed something to go right for us. “I can’t wait to set it up in Glory.”
“So Dilley collected all the money and took the strongbox to the bank?” Jefferson asks.
“They were done before noon,” Becky says.
“Sold off everything and closed up shop,” Henry adds. “I was able to spend the whole afternoon helping Mary arrange things.”
I stop playing with my food and put down my knife and fork. “Which means that tonight, a huge portion of his fortune is going to be at Owen and Son, Bankers, right on Portsmouth Square.”
“We may have some news about that,” Mary says, with a nod toward Henry. “When we were out making funeral arrangements, we had a little trouble finding the help we needed.”
Henry adds, “The first two people we asked had already been hired out by Hardwick. To fetch all his safes from various banks around the city.”
“Whoa,” says Jefferson.
“When?” the Major asks. Melanchthon is looking back and forth between us all, obviously curious about why these details are important, but not butting in. He knows we’re up to something, but he hasn’t once pestered us with questions. I hope he’s trustworthy. The Major assures me that he is.
“Tomorrow,” says Mary. “They’ll start first thing in the morning, and deliver all of them to Hardwick’s house before a big party tomorrow night.”
“A party, huh?” I say, and Jefferson draws in a small breath. A party would be perfect. Exactly what we need for the last part of our plan. We’ll have to work fast, though, to put everything into place.
Maybe all those safes will . . . I shut my thoughts down as quick as I can. I need to practice not thinking about the plan. Then again, it’s not like Helena is standing outside the door, hoping to eavesdrop on our thoughts.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask Mary.
“Of course.”
“Any chance you can find the folks Hardwick hired and give them a message?”
“Probably.”
“They’ll be watched by Hardwick’s men every step of the way. They should be warned that the safe at Owen and Son will be the heaviest safe and the hardest to move.”
Mary tugs her earlobe. “That is a very good thing for them to know. Thank you.”
Jefferson eyes me, but he doesn’t say a word. Melanchthon looks at Mary, then me, then back again.
Mary rises. “I need to go. I got myself a job serving drinks in a gambling den tonight.”
“Serving drinks?” Becky asks with a raised brow.
Mary has the grace to smile. “Just serving drinks.”
“I suppose it’s good not to be idle while you’re here,” Becky says, which I think is a callous and uppity thing to say, as Mary has never been idle a day in her life. But my thoughts toward Becky soften when she adds, “Will you be coming back with me to Glory? After we’ve finished here? I . . . I’ve gotten used to having you around the tavern.”
Mary looks at her a long moment. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
Becky opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
To me, Mary says, “Be careful.”
“You too. Mary . . . I know you volunteered for these assignments, but I’m not sure it’s safe.”
Mary shrugs. “I’m the only one who speaks Chinese and Spanish. It has to be me.”
Melancthon stands. “I’d be happy to accompany you, ma’am, and see to your safety.”
Mary’s smile lights up the galley. “I’d like that, sir.”
After they leave, the Major hands the baby to Becky, along with her fistful of smashed potatoes. “I should hitch up the wagon and get over to Jasper’s before it’s too late.”
Olive and Andy clear their plates and run off to play hide-and-seek. The sounds of counting and running echo hollowly through the ship. Henry, Becky, Jefferson, and I all linger at the table, unwilling to let the day go.
“What exactly do we know about this party tomorrow night?” I ask.
“Not much,” Henry says. “Hardwick has been sending out invitations to all the local politicians and bigwigs, but they take turns hosting parties for each other all the time. It didn’t sound like anything special.”
“We’ll make it special,” Jefferson murmurs.
I think about the city and get the map of it clear in my head. “Hardwick’s house is in Pleasant Valley, right? Melancthon says the Argos is sailing for New York. It’s currently anchored in Mission Bay, which is right next to Pleasant Valley. If all of Hardwick’s safes are being delivered to his house, that’s the first step to loading them onto the ship.”
“If we hadn’t hired Melancthon ourselves,” Jefferson says, “he’d be on the Argos already, overseeing the hold retrofit. The carpenters will be finished soon, and Hardwick could be gone with the tide on Thursday.”
“So this is our only chance.”
Henry nods.