What is it Worth?

"Morning, Miss Pear." Adam was later than he had planned but would have been even later had he given in to his desire for Sibella. She had looked delectable sitting there with her hair loose and nothing covering her but her gown and satin robe. And what better place to taste her sweetness than on the kitchen table among the coffee mugs and biscuit crumbs. He could have even licked honey off her breasts and stomach while working his way down her body. But it was a missed opportunity, one he regretted.

"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright," Miss Pear said as she came around her desk. Adam could tell something had upset her as she was rarely frazzled. "I'll bring your coffee in," she said and then lowering her voice added, "Miss Wood is waiting in your office. I asked her to wait out here but she insisted on waiting in there, said she had a contract or something her father had checked over." Miss Pear glanced at the closed door and said, "She has this haughty way about her, you know, as if she expects her demands be met immediately."

Adam suppressed a smile. "Yes, she does often come off that way. It's all right." He placed a hand lightly on her arm and Miss Pear relaxed. Mr. Cartwright wasn't upset or angry and life was good again. "Oh, here." Adam put his attaché case on her desk and pulled out a folder. "Would you retype this contract, please?" He held it out. "My father suggested some changes and I made a few."

"Of course, sir." Miss Pear took the folder and followed Adam as he headed to his office. "Mr. Bolter is coming in at 10:00 and he does love his pastries. I thought I'd pick up a half dozen of those cream puffs from the bakery unless you think a baker's dozen would be better."

"No, six will be fine. And, Miss Pear, I need to leave early today so don't schedule anything or anyone after 3:00."

"Certainly." Miss Pear watched Adam as he entered his office and heard him greet Miss Wood. The two were old friends and Miss Wood had occasionally stopped by to ask him to join her for lunch, that is before he married his spoiled little wife who also dropped in whenever she came into town to buy something new-and it seemed she was always buying something new.

~ 0 ~

"Betty Mae, good to see you. I hope you didn't wait long."

"No, just a few minutes," she said while watching Adam hang his hat and shoulder holster on the hat tree. She had always admired him. He slipped his jacket back on before he sat down. "Really, Adam, I don't mind your shirtsleeves." Betty Mae smiled gently. When younger, she had often teased Adam about his rolled-up shirt sleeves and how he never did the top few neck buttons; his store-bought shirts never quite fit him right. Now, his clothes were well-made, his shirts ordered to his specifications and his suits tailored which only emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. How proud she would be to hang on his arm as he squired her about town, but then she was proud even back then when they were so young. But she was always reminded that Adam didn't love her, at least not enough to have considered her as a wife. Old friends were valuable as well, perhaps even more so than old lovers, Betty Mae considered, but she wondered about that truism in Adam's case.

"Being a 'businessman' now, I can't meet clients wearing soft shirts, an open collar and comfortable boots; besides who knows what cow dung I might've stepped in. They'd think my person reeked."

Betty Mae laughed, remembering a time when Adam had swung her up with one arm to keep her from stepping in a huge pile of horse manure. "What a shame," she said, still smiling, "that you can't be more comfortable. Oh, and here's the contract." Betty Mae placed it on Adam's desk; he picked it up and looked through it. "My father made a few notes," she added.

"Thank you, Betty Mae, but I was going to stop by to get it or Donald, it is Donald, isn't it?" She nodded. "Well, he could have brought it by. I hope this hasn't been an inconvenience for you as I..."

There was a light knock on the door and Miss Pear, holding a cup of coffee, walked in. "Will there be anything else?" She asked Adam but before he could say anything, Miss Pear added, "I already asked Miss Wood if she'd like coffee." She turned and looked at Betty Mae. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No, I haven't." Betty Mae curtly replied and then waited until Miss Pear was gone, the door closed, to speak. "I thought you'd want to know Thorne agreed to escort me to dinner tonight."

Adam's expression didn't change but Betty Mae saw he became alert, tense; she thought he'd be relieved. He calmly answered, "Sibella will be happy to hear that. Are you sure you wouldn't like some coffee?"

"Yes, I'm sure but please, Adam, drink yours. I've already had breakfast and quite a bit of tea—orange pekoe. And there's nothing worse than tepid coffee—or so my father is always saying to Rosie." Silence fell for a few heartbeats. "My father liked Thorne."

"Oh," Adam said, sitting back in his chair. "He must see something in Thorne he likes."

"I think what my father sees and likes is a possible husband for me. He wants me married and settled. You forget, I'm almost as old as you, Adam, and I'm finding gray hairs and wrinkles about my eyes. It seems the best I can hope for is a widower who needs a wife for his children or a divorcé—they are becoming more common these days."

"And you, Betty Mae, what do you see in him?" Adam turned his chair to look directly at Betty Mae. She was attractive, well-dressed and beautifully mannered. She was knowledgeable about many subjects, enjoyed a good book and could carry on a conversation with anyone. The whole time the two were in school together, she had been teacher's pet. So why hadn't he married her? Adam could never completely understand why he hadn't pushed himself. Betty Mae was emotionally cool, distant, but that didn't preclude her from being a passionate lover.

Betty Mae, wearing the perpetual smile she offered when she talked about anything unpleasant, said, "I see a man who is more interested in the jewelry I wear, the Meissen porcelains my mother collected, the crystal goblets and wine glasses as well as the table linens and the very plates we ate off. And I saw him check the hallmark on the butter knife. It was subtle but I noticed."

"I see," Adam said. "I'm a little surprised you asked him to bring you then."

"Why, Adam, it's because you asked me to."

~ 0 ~

Mr. Bolter was jovial and talkative and agreeably signed the contract for the spring delivery of raw silver; he worked for the government so his only personal interest was the cream puffs and coffee Miss Pear said she made fresh just for him. He sat opposite Adam at the desk, his large belly hanging over his waistband and straining his weskit buttons. Before taking one, Bolter offered Adam a cream puff as if it was his office. Adam declined and encouraged Mr. Bolter to indulge himself as he believed Miss Pear bought them just for him; she knew from his last visit that he liked them. Adam was told by Bolter he needed to keep her on as a good secretary was hard to find, and he should know as he went to all sorts of offices to procure items for the government.

After Mr. Bolter left, but not without chucking Miss Pear's chin and complimenting her, Adam pored over the mine reports. Miss Pear interrupted him to ask him if he was eating lunch out or would he like her to pick something up for him? He said he wasn't hungry but thanked her. Miss Pear backed out of his office and went to her desk to eat her lunch she always brought from home so she could work through, but today, there wasn't anything to do. She had already retyped the contracts he had given her and the one Miss Wood had brought in so she sat and slowly ate the cold baked beans and buttered bread and drank the jar of lemonade her mother had packed. And she let her mind wander about what it would be like to be married to Mr. Cartwright and how she would walk over to the office every afternoon with a hot lunch for him; she would show him how frugal she could be. And she would have insisted he hire a male clerk the way Hiram Wood hired male law clerks; no young, lovely women around the office if she could help it!

Adam considered the assayer's report. It stated the Ponderosa mines held high grade silver ore, and the engineer's report said it was relatively easy to reach. Adam was certain the order could be filled once mining could resume in the spring. He had previously worked out costs for equipment and labor but recalculated again and reexamined the government contract. Yes, Cartwright & Sons, Ltd would make a nice profit barring anything unexpected. He looked at the clock; it was almost 3:00. He opened his office door and Miss Pear looked up from her desk. "Is there anything else today?" She said no, there wasn't. A certain Mr. Pemberton had come by a few minutes ago, but she had turned him away as it had been so close to 3:00. "He behaved oddly though but left."

So, Alan had come by the office and Adam wondered why; well, he supposed he'd find out. "Thank you. I'll be leaving then and go ahead and leave yourself. You put in a good day."

"Why thank you, Mr. Cartwright. I have just a few things to do and then I'll go home." Miss Pear smiled but she wasn't pleased; her job and helping Mr. Cartwright was more enjoyable than sitting at home or helping her mother cook and clean. But then she could window shop for a bit and look at all the things she wasn't able to buy.

~ 0 ~

"I think they're paste, Halston. Tell me what you think." Adam placed the jewelry case on the glass counter and opened it. Halston Burridge made a sound of appreciation at the dazzling display. "Can you tell me for certain?"

"If they're paste, they're damn good imitations. The color is that of quality Ceylon sapphires." Halston lifted up the necklace and held it up to the light. "But there's an easy way to know immediately if the largest stone is paste. Come in the back." Halston carried the necklace and Adam carried the case which held the earrings and the ring.

Halston lay the necklace on a piece of chamois used in cleaning off fingerprints. "The thing about gems is that a stone can't be scratched by the same type of stone—equal hardness. Now let me…." Halston pulled out a divided drawer lined in velvet and removed a blue sapphire of about a carat in weight. He placed it alongside the necklace and then slipped on a headpiece that held a loupe pulling it down over one eye. "Now watch." He picked up the necklace and using the loose sapphire, ran its edge against the stone. "Here, look at it through this." He handed Adam a loose jeweler's loupe. "You can see the scratch. It's paste."

~ 0 ~

After hanging up his hat and jacket and placing his shoulder holster on the high shelf, Adam paused, looking at himself in the mirror. He pushed back his hair and felt his chin; he needed a shave before everyone arrived. He had Sibella's earrings and ring in his right pants pocket; Halston was going to go through each stone of the necklace, both the sapphires and diamonds, to determine if all the stones were paste by examining each and every one. It was a possibility that only the larger sapphires and diamonds had been replaced. A small box was in Adam's left pocket.

Savory smells floated from the kitchen and he could hear Mrs. George singing, a sign, his father had once told him, of a happy woman. Walking through the dining room to the kitchen, Adam saw the table was beautifully set.

"Mrs. George," Adam said, "everything going well? Need anything?"

"Oh, Mr. Cartwright! Yes, everything is fine, that is if my timing works out and no one is late. Prime rib is perfectly timed. It can't be too well done. Oh, and the Missus said you'd choose the wine. We had a little set-to about a dessert wine; she seemed distracted and upset but she wanted a Claret. I told her that rum tarts would be better complimented with coffee. Anyway, I suggested the Claret or perhaps a nice Port be served as an aperitif and she agreed. Does that meet your approval?"

Adam smiled and replied anything was fine with him and he'd choose a wine before dinner. "Is Mrs. Cartwright upstairs?"

"Yes sir. She wanted a nap before tonight. But she's probably awake by now and getting ready. I told her I'd help with her hair—just call."

Adam nodded and went up the stairs, pausing outside the bedroom door. He dreaded telling Sibella about the jewelry. Pushing open the door, Adam saw Sibella lying in bed but she wasn't asleep as she sat up when she saw him and pushed the coverlet aside.

"Adam? What's wrong? You look upset."

He pulled out the ring and earrings and held them in his hand, sitting down on the chair close to the bed. "I'm sorry, Sibella, but these stones are paste—simple paste, and I wish to hell I'd never started this thing. I'm so sorry, sweetheart." He put them on the coverlet.

Sibella picked up the earrings and looked at them. Then she looked at Adam and smiled but he saw a touch of sadness. "No, Adam, it's better I know. I don't think we should tell my parents though; it would hurt them too much. Where's the necklace?"

"Oh, Halston is checking each stone. There are a lot of diamonds in it or what passes as diamonds. The gold is real though, about 15 karat, but he can't be sure without melting some down and I thought it wasn't... Oh, and…" Adam stood up and pulled a box from his shirt pocket and handed it to Sibella. Then sat back down. "Here. It's not anything expensive as Halston does repairs on jewelry more than anything else but he has some pieces people couldn't afford or want once they commissioned them such as that, and, well, it's just a little something. I know you're not a child, Sibella, and all I have to do is dangle something shiny in front of you to distract you, but I wanted to give you something to try to make up for…well, it's just a little something I thought..." He watched as Sibella opened the box. And then she smiled and his heart rose.

Sibella took out a silver brooch, a twining grape vine with garnets as the globes of fruit. She ran the fingers of one hand over it and tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, my darling, it's lovely! Thank you!"

"Why are you crying, sweetheart? I know it doesn't make up for the sapphires and such, but…please don't cry. I'll have the paste stones replaced—not all at the same time, but I will. I promise. Oh, please don't cry." Adam rose and pulled her up into his arms, kissing her dark hair.

Sibella smiled through her tears as she looked up at Adam and he was confused, not knowing what to think or do. "You love me, don't you, Adam?" She put her arms about his neck and looked up into his face—so boyishly handsome with that errant lock of hair that often fell over his forehead.

"You only now realized it?" he asked.

"I think I only now realized how very much," she said.

Adam didn't expect the silver brooch to evoke such strong emotions in Sibella, but it had, and although he still had to shave and change and Sibella needed to do her hair and dress…the hell with it. They had time for a rousing romp before their guests arrived. He quickly tumbled Sibella onto the bed and her tears changed to delightful giggles as he smiled down at her. "Now, you little wench, I'll show you how much I love you. There won't be a doubt left in your mind."