As for the rest-I've had my bookshop. I still need a regular pharmacy. And a general dry-goods store, and a department store. Perhaps I should ask Snyder to suggest some sights, if there's time. What else did she need? I wonder if I ought to get Jason a Christmas present? But what could she get him? What could she possibly afford that he did not already have twelve of?
Perhaps I could find something in China-town.
For the moment, she had enough on her list to occupy the rest of the day. Tonight-Ah, tonight there would be opera! She would sit in a private box, a luxury she had never, ever indulged in! It would be glorious, and as she gazed at the dress she had laid out, she had to laugh as she recalled the last time she had imagined herself attending the opera in San Francisco.
One could have made that the culminating scene of an opera itself-the poor, embittered, lonely heroine, expiring to the glorious melodies of Puccini! The girl that had made those plans of despair was so far removed from Rose as she was now that Rose didn't even recognize her.
Strange, how much difference a little hope makes. She gazed on the dress with unabashed pleasure and a little greed. What woman wouldn't revel in the prospect of wearing a silk-velvet gown of deep red, trimmed in sparkling jet beadwork three inches deep, with silk elbow-length opera gloves and satin shoes dyed to match? Her gown for tomorrow night was simpler, suiting the venue: sky-blue silk with handmade lace.
With her list in hand, she ventured down the stairs to find Snyder waiting for her patiently in the front entry- way. 'With your permission, Miss Hawkins, I have arranged for the driver to deliver you to the occulist and return here with you. On your return, we can have luncheon awaiting you, and afterwards I shall guide you to your various destinations.' He held out his hand for her list, which she gave to him, quite impressed with his efficiency.
'We can accomplish all of these within a few blocks of each other,' he told her. 'I believe you will wish to spend the entire day in China-town, so we will save that for the morrow. I have arranged for your new spectacles to be delivered here tomorrow, should you require them.'
Goodness, he has everything organized! No wonder Jason keeps him here!
She could not possibly be in better hands. With that assurance, she stepped out the front door and into the sun.
She didn't need the maid to wake her the next morning; she bounced out of bed on the strength of her own newly-found energy and enthusiasm. The opera had been glorious, everything she could have hoped for. Tonight would be pure confection. And between then and now, she would be exploring mysterious China-town.
She dressed quickly, and bolted her breakfast and yet, by the time she skipped downstairs, Snyder was already waiting for her.
He licked his lips as if he wanted to say something. She waited, giving him a chance to speak.
'Master Cameron himself patronizes a Chinese apothecary, Miss Hawkins,' he said at last. 'He is said to be a very good one. Would you have any objection to visiting him, rather than seeking out your own?'
'Not at all,' she replied, puzzled by the question.
Although she waited a little further, he did not elaborate, simply opening the door for her.
It did not take long for the driver to reach their goal, and even at this early hour the city was awake and functioning. By the time they reached China-town it was obvious that the inhabitants of this district were accustomed to rising before dawn, for they were already hard at work at any number of tasks.
Walking in China-town was like walking in another world entirely. Most of the Chinese here wore their traditional dress, though some affected European-style suits and dresses; she even caught sight of a few unfortunate damsels tottering along on tiny, bound feet. Strange aromas filled the air-incense, odd cooking-smells, odors she could not define. And everywhere, the twittering syllables of a myriad of Chinese dialects fell upon her ears.
Snyder led her to a tiny, dark shop with a storefront window displaying bones, dried fish, the preserved body-parts of any number of animals, and bunches of dried herbs. The gentleman behind the counter looked precisely like an ancient Mandarin noble except that his fingernails were of normal length. He wore a round, blue brocade hat surmounted by a button, and a matching quilted, high collared jacket; his thin, scholarly face was graced with a long, white moustache.
But when he spoke, he sounded exactly like Doctor Lee-his words were formed in a crisp, precise, Oxford accent.
'Mr. Snyder!' he exclaimed. 'How good it is to see you! Has Master Cameron an order for me?'
