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Chapter 3

June 7, 1870

Dear Mr. Romano,

I am writing in answer to your advertisement in the Matrimonial News. I am an unattached female, twenty-five years old, of good character. Dark brown hair, with a slender figure. I enjoy fun and social gatherings and am told I have a pleasing disposition. I am 5 feet 6 inches tall and weigh 123 pounds. I play piano and enjoy reading. I am in every way qualified to appreciate and care for a partner in marriage and a good home.

If you care to respond, please tell me more about yourself and your restaurant.

Sincerely yours,

Miss Belle Ainsworth, Savannah, Georgia

July 13th, 1870

Dear Miss Ainsworth,

I am in receipt of your letter of June 7th and can’t tell you how pleased I am that you chose to respond to my advertisement in the Matrimonial News. Of the several replies I received, yours is by far the one that impressed me, so I hasten to tell you more about myself, as requested. I’m originally from Virginia where I graduated from William & Mary College with a degree in law. Being of an adventurous nature, before the Civil War started, I headed west and landed in San Francisco where I soon found a position in the fishing industry. It’s a long story, but by way of hard work and frugal living, I saved enough money to open my own restaurant, Romano’s Fish Grotto, which overlooks San Francisco Bay. Luckily it has been a success and I’ve been prospering ever since.

These past few years, I’ve been so busy with the restaurant, I’ve neglected that part of my life that yearns for love, companionship, a home, and family. I’m looking for a wife who will give me those things and in return I promise security, protection in a genteel environment, a good life, and my everlasting love. When I saw your letter, I thought, she’s the one. Am I wrong? I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Robert Romano

Sitting by Bridger’s bed, Belle waited until he’d read the newly arrived letter from San Francisco. When he finished and handed it back, he emitted a low whistle. “Looks like you’ve found a good one.”

She was hoping her brother would approve, and it appeared he did. “He sounds sincere, don’t you think? And I get the impression he’s hard working and a man of good character. I even like his name. Robert Romano. Simple but strong. Plain but honest.”

“He can’t be all bad if he graduated from William & Mary. A lot of my friends did, if you recall.”

“Not only that, he’s from Virginia, so that makes him a Southerner. I gather he headed west before the war started.”

Bridger grinned. “That settles it. God forbid you should marry a Yankee.”

“That would never happen. I hate them all and always will. So you think I should write to Robert Romano again?”

“That’s your decision, but I certainly wouldn’t stand in your way.”

* * * *

Aug. 10, 1870

Dear Miss Ainsworth,

After receiving your latest letter, I am emboldened to offer you my hand in marriage. Although I’m not a rich man, as previously mentioned, my restaurant is doing well. My home is not overly large, but situated in a stylish neighborhood, with spacious rooms, a garden both in front and back, and a fine view of the bay. Lest you feel any trepidation, I assure you we will be married the day you arrive or next day at the latest, if you prefer. Enclosed is a small stipend for your travel expenses, plus a ticket for your transportation.

It is with a heart full of love and anticipation that I await your answer.

Sincerely,

Robert Romano

When Belle finished reading the letter to Bridger, he gave her a long, searching look. “So you’ve got your proposal. Time for a decision, don’t you think?”

Belle walked to the window of Bridger’s second-floor room, pulled back the lace curtain, and peered at the sun-drenched rose garden below. It was another hot afternoon in Savannah, too hot, really, yet she didn’t mind the heat. She was used to it—felt comfortable with it because this was home. How could she leave? Maybe her life wasn’t perfect, but now that the war was over, she led a life free of worry, secure in the knowledge she could live here until she died. She turned back to Bridger. “I don’t think I can do it.”

She expected a scornful answer, but instead, Bridger’s eyes filled with sympathy. “It’s a big step, Sis, and maybe too much for you. You haven’t told anyone except me, so if you decide not to go, nobody’s the wiser.” He smiled, as if an afterthought had struck him. “Except that poor sod in San Francisco, but he’ll survive. He can always place another ad in the Matrimonial News.”

Robert Romano. Thirty-three, six feet tall, 170 pounds, brown eyes. Some other woman would have him now, along with the prosperous restaurant, the house in the stylish neighborhood, with gardens both front and back, and a view of the bay.

No! I don’t want her to have him. “On second thought, Bridger…”

“Yes?” The way he was looking at her, like he’d known all along.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure.”

“What does that ticket say?”

She pulled the ticket from the envelope and examined it closely. “How exciting. I hadn’t noticed but this ticket is for the transcontinental railroad. I’ll be traveling on the Union Pacific train to California.”