Page 41 of The Queen of Roses

Mr. Whitley paid for their tickets, and together they climbed onto the small, trolley-like car that sat waiting at the railway’s wooden terminus. A collection of people began to file on, young and old, well-dressed and those whose clothes appeared to have been patched several times over.

“When Thaddeus Lowe built this railway a few years ago, he wanted everyone to be able to experience the views from the mountains,” said Mr. Whitley. “He also built hotels along the line, a casino, and even a zoo.”

“How extraordinary,” she murmured as the railway car shuddered and jerked forward.

Her hand shot out, and Mr. Whitley caught it in his. “Steady. Steady. I have you.”

Her heart hammered in her chest, but the tiny railway car began to steady as it moved up the incline.

“One of the first things I did when I came to Pasadena was ride this railway. It was still new, and it was extraordinary. I thought it felt like I was flying with birds. Look,” said Mr. Whitley, nodding behind her as he continued to hold her hand.

Adele, who until that moment had kept her eyes firmly ahead of her, chanced a look back. Her breath caught in her throat. The Mountain Junction station was already growing small behind them as they climbed the yucca-lined railway tracks, and as they rose, she could see where the unincorporated land and old ranches that lay around Pasadena met the sweep of the city’s streets.

“It’s incredible,” she whispered, her wonder displacing her nerves.

“Just wait,” said Mr. Whitley with a grin.

When they reached the top of the line at Rubio Canyon, they switched trains. Mr. Whitley narrated as they climbed the Great Incline to Echo Mountain. There, they switched to yet another railway car. Adele watched the scenery go by in wonder as the car wound its way up, up the mountain until finally it shuddered to a stop. When at last Adele alighted and was firmly on solid ground once again, she found herself facing a two-story wood-and-stone building with two wide wings sprouting off a central entrance. Nestled in the pine trees, it looked almost like the drawings she’d seen of lodges in Swiss mountain towns, although this building had a huge American flag with its forty-five stars flying proudly over it to disabuse anyone of the notion that they were anywhere but the United States.

“Welcome to Ye Alpine Tavern,” he said.

“How quaint,” she said, watching as some of their fellow travelers made their way up the stone steps and through the door.

“We will have lunch there, but if you would indulge me first in a walk. There is something I should very much like to show you.” He held out his arm for her to take.

The air in the mountains was much cooler than it had been in Pasadena, and Adele found it pleasant to stroll along the path from the hotel’s front entrance to a stretch of yellow dirt lined in scrubby pine trees and gray granite boulders leading away from the property. Although they were headed away from the hotel, there were still many people around. Couples who crossed their path smiled, and parents called after children who had run ahead.

“Did you know, I came to California with an idea that I would build apartments, as I had back in Chicago?” Mr. Whitley said as they walked, the fallen pine needles dampening their footsteps. “It was this place that changed my mind. It had recently opened, and everyone was talking about it. I took the railway up the mountainside to visit, and I saw how people loved not just the hotel but the area around it. It was a destination, one they would write to their friends and families about. One that they would return to time and time again. I thought that if I could capture a little bit of that, I might be onto something.”

“But the Andalusian is so much grander,” she said.

He laughed. “Yes, it is. I also visited the Raymond and found myself fascinated by all the famous names who made their winter homes there. I decided that I would build a hotel that appealed to a certain kind of clientele who were happy to pay for the comforts of home but who expected something special. A real retreat from their normal lives.”

“It seems that you’ve done just that.”

“It isn’t enough. I want to do more.” He spoke with conviction now, every word punctuated by an intense focus that she now understood a little better. He was driven in a way that most of the men she knew were not. Single-minded where they were distractible. Ambitious where others were indolent.

“I won’t be content with just the Andalusian,” Mr. Whitley continued. “I already have plans underway for another hotel in Pasadena, and when that is built, a third.”

“A third hotel in Pasadena?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Maybe in Los Angeles. Things are growing there at a pace that I do not believe anyone could have predicted. Or maybe I’ll build it up here in the mountains. I could give Ye Alpine Tavern a bit of competition.”

As they walked, the trees fell away and the well-trodden path opened up to a flat bit of rock right at the mountain’s edge. Despite the walkers they’d met on the path, it was remarkably quiet here, peaceful even. A breeze lifted a few tendrils of Adele’s hair and tested the strength of her hat pin as the bright sun shone down on her. She would have to retreat from the light at some point or risk a sunburn across her cheeks and nose, but for now she lifted her chin a little to catch the warmth.

“What is this place called?” she asked.

“Inspiration Point.” He led her to a rail of split wood and pointed down to the valley below. “That is where we’ve just come from.”

From all the way up on the mountainside, she could see the grid of the newly laid streets of the growing city of Pasadena.

“If you look out to the horizon, you can see all the way to the Pacific Ocean. And that”—he pointed out to the rise of distant land surrounded by pale blue water—“is Santa Catalina Island. I’d like to take you there one day. There is a beautiful resort, and the water is the deepest blue you’ll ever see.”

“It sounds lovely,” she said, her heartbeat kicking up at the mention of a future trip.

“I was standing in this very spot when I decided to build the Andalusian.” He spoke without taking his eyes off the sweeping view. “I didn’t know how I was going to do it or who I could ask to invest, but something told me that I had to bring the hotel to life. It was the single most important moment of my life.” He turned to look at her now, taking up her hand in his. “I thought there would be nowhere more fitting than here for my next most important moment.”

He squeezed her hand even as she held her breath, knowing what was coming and yet refusing to believe it until she actually heard the words.