Free Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel by Julie Lessman Page B

school, it had taken months to transform the old house into the Hand of Hope School, removing walls and converting the parlour, dining room, and study into the theater, office, and several classrooms on the first floor alone. Mother had even expanded the kitchen so it could serve as a dining room for the girls and teachers as well.
    A sigh of contentment breezed from her lips as she drank in the rich surroundings. Cherrywood-paneled walls gave the theater an air of elegance and refinement so foreign to the poor students who would attend. Gilded paintings depicted various forms of artistic expression, from dance and drama to music and literature. Allison closed her eyes and imagined the sounds of music and laughter and speech filling both the halls of theirnew school and the hearts of their students. When the stage area wasn’t being used for plays, recitals, and assemblies, it would serve as a gymnasium for indoor games, parties, and gatherings of all kinds. It seemed almost too good to be true—the Hand of Hope School was up and running, hopefully to offer both a hand and hope to the disadvantaged girls of the Barbary Coast.
    Casting a quick glance at the large clock over the door, she gasped. Her gaze darted to the windows at the front of the theater facing the street, where the pink glow of dusk was just beginning to bleed across the wood-planked floor. “Oh, drat, it’s getting dark!” she muttered. She quickly slipped her cashmere shawl over her shoulders and pinned her plumed hat, then retrieved her reticule and doused the lights. Letting herself out the front door, she carefully locked it behind her, nerves humming with excitement.
    “Now, you won’t stay too late, will you?” Mother had asked, reluctance lacing her tone over allowing Allison to work late at all.
    “Of course not, Mother, and there are plenty of taxis I can call,” Allison had assured her, although she had no intention of taking a taxi at all, not when her very first cable car ride awaited a few blocks away. A sliver of guilt prickled at misleading Mother, but she shook it off, the thrill of independence trumping any worry she might have had. Wasn’t it Mother who had encouraged her independence in the first place, insisting Allison go to college to become a teacher? She adjusted her hat with a jut of her chin, then smoothed her black gabardine skirt with sweaty hands. For goodness’ sake, she was a twenty-two-year-old working girl now, a licensed educator and a self-sufficient woman. If she wanted to take the cable car home, then by gum, she’d take the cable car home!
    “If you think it’s safe for a fancy dame in diamond combs to sashay through the worst part of town to sightsee on a bloomin’ cable car , you are way too stupid to teach in a school .”
    Her lips compressed. Besides, she needed to prove to herself and her family she was a responsible adult and prove her mettle to Mr. Grunt-and-Ga-roan as well. After all, this was only two measly city blocks hundreds of people walked every day of their lives, including the infamous Mr. Nick, right? And she’d bet not one of them carried a hat pin as large as hers.
    Head high, she skittered down the front steps to the cobblestone street, the thrill of adventure tingling her skin. She paused to squint the length of Jackson Street, swabbed in purple shadows that deepened by the moment, then set out according to Nicholas Barone’s directions—two blocks south at Jackson and Montgomery. Adrenaline pulsed as the sounds of nighttime on the Barbary Coast grew stronger. The tinkle of steam pianos and the tinny sound of gramophone music drifted in the air along with the pungent smell of gasoline and manure. Laughter floated her way as men and women staggered out of a bar several blocks down, and she slowed her pace when vile shouts and curses erupted. A fight broke out among the group, and Allison halted, grateful she was only four houses from Miss Penny’s. A surge of gawkers spilled into