Chapter Thirty-Six

"Adam, I'd like to change clothes before dinner. I've been in this dress all day. I'm a mess."

Adam walked her to her door. He moved a lock of hair out of her face and smiled. "Oh, I don't know. You're not so bad." He took the key from her, but the door was already unlocked. Pulling Shiloh behind him, he pushed the door open. There in the sitting room was Senator William Stewart.

Shiloh's jaw dropped. "How did you get in here?" she said as she stepped into the room.

Adam followed her. "Will?" he said uneasily.

Will stood and held his hand out to Adam, who crossed his arms and glared. Will dropped his hand. "The door was unlocked, so I thought I would wait."

"I'll have to make sure the door stays locked from now on," Adam said with annoyance.

"Oh, come now, Adam. I am still hoping Isabella will consent to be my wife," said Will, looking down at Shiloh. He stepped to her, pulled her close and bent to kiss her, but she turned her head and pushed away.

Adam cleared his throat. "Will, that's enough."

"Adam…no, don't tell me. You've taken up with her now," said Will, smiling. He let Shiloh go, and Adam pulled her back behind him.

"Are you drunk?" asked Adam, flaring his nostrils.

"Well, maybe I have had a few more than I should have. But when a woman steals your heart…and I mean steals your heart, well…"

Shiloh walked away from the two men and stood by the fireplace rubbing her forehead. "Will, I'm sorry. I can't be what you want me to be."

He started toward her, and Adam stepped in front of him, placing his hand on Will's chest. "Where are you staying, Will?'

"Not far."

"Then maybe I should walk you back to your hotel."

Will held his arms out to his sides in surrender. Adam placed a hand on his back and led him to the door. "Shiloh, I'll be back in a few minutes. Lock the door behind me." She nodded as they left the room, walked to the door, locked it, and stared at the closed door, the feelings of guilt for breaking Will's heart rushing back. She slowly went into her room and began changing for dinner wondering if there was anything she could do to make it right. He could be ruining his career, and she felt responsible.

When Adam returned he knocked, and she opened the door. He stepped in, looking sternly at her. "Shiloh, do not open that door to anyone before you ask who it is," he scolded, creasing his eyebrows, making Shiloh draw back. "Maybe someone should stay with you. I don't like the idea of you being here alone."

"I have no intentions of becoming a prisoner in my hotel room. Besides, that was so unlike Will. I don't want you to think he's that way. He's not. It's just the liquor talking."

"I didn't get a chance to find out. His staff was looking for him and took him away before I could talk to him."

After an awkward moment of silence, Shiloh smiled. "I'm still hungry. Can we just have a nice quiet dinner?"

Adam smiled back and relaxed. "I know the perfect restaurant."

The hotel bellman called a carriage, and Adam and Shiloh climbed in. "Driver, Powell Street, please," directed Adam as he pulled the carriage blanket up and over their laps.

As they rode through the city, Adam pointed out all the sites and the architectural detail of the buildings. He watched her as she traced the lines and curves of their facades in the air. When they arrived at Powell Street, Adam asked the driver to drop them at the corner of Greenwich. He helped Shiloh out of the carriage, wrapped her arm over his and walked her down the street to the restaurant. "Mr. Cartwright, it is good to see you again," said the Maitre d'. "Table for two?"

"Ocean side, please," Adam requested. When they were seated at the table, he ordered for them both.

"Adam, they know you here. You must come here often."

"This is my favorite restaurant in San Francisco. I come here whenever I'm in town." He nodded toward the window. "It has one of the best views in the city." From their table they could see the ships in the harbor and beyond the ships orange and yellow from the setting sun danced across the ripples of the ocean water.

"This is different. I've never seen you like this before."

"What do you mean?" he asked as he poured a glass of wine for her.

"I've only seen you on a horse cutting cattle or mending fences or breaking horses in your boots and your chaps and your gun belt. You actually fit in the city quite well."

"Look who's talking," he laughed. "I haven't seen you in anything but a dress since you've been here. You're among people, besides Cartwrights and ranch hands, and you're enjoying yourself. Talk about a completely different side." He looked up at her from under his eyebrows. "Isabella. Who came up with Isabella?"

"Oh, that was Miss Anderson. She said that Shiloh was too back woods for New York society."

"She didn't really say that, did she?"

"Not in so many words. What she said was…" she straightened and spoke in a matronly falsetto, "Shiloh is neither memorable nor impressive."

Adam laughed with wide eyes at her imitation of Miss Anderson. "I wouldn't exactly say that," he said through his laughter. "So where did she get Isabella?"

"Isabella is my middle name. Shiloh Isabella Whitney."

"Ah, so it's not something someone just made up."

"No. And I really can't complain about her choosing it. It does afford me a bit of privacy, however fleeting that might be." She looked up at him. "Did you know my father's family is Jewish?"

"No, I didn't."

"His name was Amos Abraham Weiss. He changed it to Whitney a short time before he married my mother, who was not Jewish. He adopted Christian beliefs, and his family…well, let's just say they were estranged. Anyway, my mother named us Shiloh and Micah to keep some of his traditions. Both names are Hebrew. My middle name came from Mama's side of the family…the first born girls were always named some form of Isabella, my mother being Belle, and her mother, Bella."

Adam watched her for a moment. "I can't imagine why you didn't want to do this. You're very good at it."

"It's not so much the occasional work that I dislike, but I don't want to do this all the time. I love the ranch and the freedom I have there…at least when you're not picking on me."

The waiter delivered dinner to their table. Shiloh looked at her plate, then back at Adam. "This looks…uh…interesting. What is it?"

"Don't ask; just try it," he said, watching her, anticipating her reaction.

She glanced at him as she studied her plate. "If I weren't such a daring soul, I might starve tonight." She took a bite, and her whole face lit up.

"There now, just enjoy it," he laughed. He watched her for another moment, smiling at the delight he saw on her face.

She looked up and quickly looked away when she caught him watching her. Feeling the weight of his stare, she stopped eating, took a drink and cleared her throat. "Why do you pick on me?"

Adam leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine, answering calmly, "I don't pick on you."

"What do you call it?"

"We're not going to fight, are we?" he asked, slightly creasing his brow.

"I'm not trying to pick a fight."

Adam stopped eating. "I made promises. I'm only doing what I promised your father I would. He loved you. He was concerned about leaving you alone." Shiloh's face saddened, and she looked out the window. He reached across the table and held her hand. "Hey," he said softly. "Why don't we talk about something else?" They ate in silence for a few minutes.

Shiloh looked down at her plate pushing her food around with her fork and said quietly, "When are you going back to the Ponderosa?"

"I'll be here through the end of next week. I have to drop that bid off before I leave. I'll be back for your final performance."

"About that bid; I've decided to enter one of my own. I'll have to prepare it, and Edwin wants me to write another song for one of the plays in the second set of performances, so I'll be working late for awhile."

"Do you want some help?" he asked.

"With the score?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Uh, no. With the bid."

Shiloh laughed. "Wouldn't that be a conflict of interest?"

"Probably, but I can, at least, tell you what to expect when you go in to present it."

"You'd do that? I mean, I am the competition."

He smiled as he placed his napkin on the table. "Yes, I would do that."

Adam motioned for the Maitre d'. "Let me take care of this, and we'll be on our way." He whispered something to the host and placed folded money in his hand.

"Mr. Cartwright, thank you. It has been a pleasure to serve you and your lovely lady." Shiloh looked at Adam wide-eyed. He grinned and winked at her.

Taking her hand, he led her through the restaurant back to the sidewalk. Once again, he wrapped her arm over his, holding her hand, and they walked back toward Greenwich and beyond. "There's one more place I want to take you."

He opened the door to a small confectionery shop and guided her in. She stopped just inside, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and turned to look at him. He thought the gleam in her eyes would light up the entire room. "Chocolate!" she exclaimed.

"That smile just made my evening," he laughed as he purchased a box of confections for her. He called a carriage and told the driver to take the long way back to their hotel so that Shiloh could see more of San Francisco. When they arrived, Annie was back at the suite, so Adam followed Shiloh in.

"You're back," said Shiloh. "I missed you today."

"I've been arranging for a permanent apartment. Where have you two been all evening?" asked Annie.

"Dinner."

"Dinner? For four hours? Really?"

"Oh, stop it. He showed me around the city, we had dinner and then…" She showed Annie the box of confections. "He indulged my sweet tooth."

"Ladies, I don't think I can handle the two of you talking about our evening, so I will say good night." He went to the door, waved good night and left, but immediately reopened the door, looking in with raised eyebrows. "Lock it," he said, disappearing for the night.