The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,113

mouth and eyes had deepened.

Charles himself looked thinner, his face more angular, but he was still a beautiful man. Full of light and cheer.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Charles grasped her hand. “In my city.”

Her heart pinged at the way he said “my city” so easily. Did he now consider Philadelphia his permanent home? “I’m sorry for the delay,” she said. “I had really planned to spend more time here with you, but my ship for Liverpool leaves tonight.”

“I understand,” he said, and although she saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes, his smile didn’t falter. “You will have a wonderful reunion with your sister. I can’t believe you’ve never met her.”

Dolly nodded. “I suppose my parents didn’t want to leave my grandmother completely without a grandchild when they took the entire family to New Zealand.”

He squeezed her hand. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.” He looked down at the trunk next to her. “Now, is this your only trunk?”

“Yes, I packed light,” she said. “Although I might have to purchase a carpetbag once I’m overseas, since I’ll be buying souvenirs.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Charles picked up the trunk with ease. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Dolly admitted. “The train fare was slim.” She didn’t add that she’d been too anxious to eat.

“Great,” he said with a wink. “We’ll take your trunk to the pier and leave it with the office.”

“All right.” She was already regretting that she had less than a day to spend with Charles after being apart for so long.

“Then we’ll go eat at a place nearby before I take you on the grand tour,” he continued.

“The grand tour, hmm?” Dolly said, unable to stop her smile.

It was refreshing to be with Charles and to bask in his cheerfulness. His letters had been wonderful, but they were not nearly the same as speaking to him in person.

Charles hailed a buggy, and soon they arrived at the wharf, where they deposited her trunk at the harbor office.

Dolly took the opportunity to visit the powder room there. She gazed in the mirror for several long seconds. Charles was surely growing impatient, though she couldn’t imagine him doing so. He was the definition of patience, as proven by his tenure in the seminary here. How could she jump into his life for such a short time, then leave him behind again?

She touched her cheeks. Her eyes were too bright, her lips a hesitant line, her pulse rapid. Why was she feeling this conflicted? Why couldn’t she go outside and spend a carefree day with him? But the questions plagued her mind. What were his intentions toward her? Did they have a future together? Would he ask her to marry him, to move out here? Would he return to California?

Would she say yes?

Dolly dropped her hands, then turned away from the mirror. She had delayed long enough. It was time to be with Charles, and she could only hope that the answers would come while she was there. She exited the powder room and walked down the corridor that led past the office where they’d checked in her trunk to go aboard the steamer Merion.

When she stepped outside the office, she saw Charles speaking to the porter. Charles didn’t see her at first. He had no trouble chatting with anyone whom he happened to cross paths with. When he turned, the smile that lit his face made her doubts flee.

At that moment, if she hadn’t completely understood before, she knew that Charles Bazatas was in love with her. He was at her side in a few strides, and he offered his arm like the perfect gentleman that he was.

“Hello, darling,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She returned his smile. She could do this; she could be happy.

Dolly felt like she was floating as they walked along the street. The heart of Philadelphia was charming. The architecture of the towering buildings was beautiful, and the wide streets gave buggies, wagons, and horses plenty of room to navigate. Compared to San Francisco, the lack of Chinese population was noticeable.

They walked a short distance to a charming Italian café. It appeared that Charles was a regular here, because the waiter made a big deal out of his bringing a date, calling Dolly “Charlie’s special woman.”

After they placed their orders, Charles leaned across the table. “Did you hear what he said? You’re my special woman.”

“I heard,” Dolly said. “Does that mean I’m the first woman you’ve brought here?” She meant it as a