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obsessed with the idea of moving back across the bay.
    “Why did I leave Oakland?” Adam smiled. “You lived there for a while, sir. Why did you want to leave?”
    Bickford stared at Adam. The impasse was interrupted by the door opening. Adam smelled the woman’s perfume before he saw her. She moved across the suite to Bickford and kissed his balding head.
    “Hello, Daddy,” she said.
    “Lilith, I’ve told you to knock,” Bickford said. “I’m busy.”
    The woman looked over at Adam. “Oh, sorry,” she said with a smile. She was in her early twenties, tall and slim, with dark eyes. Two curlicues of black hair wound out of her green hat onto her white cheeks, and her lips were painted bright red. She wore a bottle-green suit, trimmed in mink. “I’m Lilith Bickford,” she said, extending her hand to Adam.
    He took it and introduced himself.
    “Adam’s our new street man,” Bickford said. “Just starting today.”
    “Well, the Times can use some new blood,” Lilith said. “Why did you decide to come work for my father, Mr. Bryant?”
    Adam considered the question before replying. The truth was, he wanted to work for San Francisco’s other newspaper, the Journal . It was bigger and far superior to the Times. But he hadn’t been able to land a job there.
    “I came here because this is an excellent newspaper,” Adam said .
    Lilith Bickford stared at him then slowly smiled. “Oh yes, the Times is, indeed, an excellent newspaper.”
    Adam realized Bickford was oblivious to her sarcasm.
    “Well, Mr. Bryant,” Lilith said, “I hope you do better than those washed-up lushes down there.” Bickford shot his daughter an angry look, which she ignored.
    “I intend to, Miss Bickford,” Adam said. “Within a year, I guarantee that I’ll be the Times’ top reporter.”
    She arched her penciled eyebrow then turned to her father. “Daddy, we have to talk.”
    Adam took the cue and rose. He shook Bickford’s hand and said his good-byes to Lilith Bickford.
    He lingered outside the open door just long enough to hear Bickford say, “Arrogant chap.”
    And his dau ghter’s reply, “And much too handsome for his own good.”
     
     
     

    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Within a year, Adam made good on his promise, rising quickly among the Times’ lackluster reporters. He was indefatigable and relentless in his pursuit of stories. When a carpenters’ strike erupted into violence, the city’s readers found the best accounts in the Times. After a small earthquake, it was Adam Bryant’s colorful reporting everyone quoted over breakfast the next morning. The rival Journal repeatedly tried to lure him away, but he turned the offers down. He had studied the inner workings of the Times carefully and decided that it was an arena in which he could make his mark quickly.
    A dam became Bickford’s favorite reporter —- and the object of Lilith Bickford’s attention. He wanted to be editor in chief of the Times someday, and he considered that Lilith could be a conduit to his goal but he wanted to make it on his own merits.
    Then, one afternoon, Bickford came down to the city room to see Adam. They chatted about the day’s news, but then the conversation sputtered to a stop. Bickford pulled a cigar out of his breast pocket and clipped off the end.
    “Say, Adam,” he said, “I’d like you to come to dinner tomorrow.”
    “We have city elections tomorrow, sir,” Adam said. “I really should be here for the late results.”
    “It’s Lilith’s birthday,” Bickford said. “I know she’d be pleased if you came.” He paused. “So would I.”
    “I’d be honored,” Adam said with a stiff smile.
     
     
    Despite their wealth, the Bickfords were not considered to be among San Francisco’s best families. They lived in Pacific Heights, but their mansion on Vallejo Street was small by neighborhood standards. Still, it was more opulent than any home Adam had ever seen.
    He had worn his new lounge suit, which had cost him two