“I don’t even want to hear anyone suggest that we go sightseeing around San Francisco today,” said Jean Cox from the other twin bed, on Monday morning. “I want to stay right here in our nice hotel room and sleep.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest sightseeing—not yet, anyway,” said Vicki, at the mirror.

“Then why are you up and dressed so early? After those week-end runs we put in, why aren’t you unconscious, too?”

On Saturday their crew had flown from New York to Chicago, stayed overnight in Chicago, and on Sunday had flown on from Chicago to San Francisco. Now they were to have a day in San Francisco to rest. Vicki figured she would rest later and look for Lucy Rowe first. She told Jean her plans.

“Well”—Jean yawned and stretched under the covers—“all I can say is that a frail-looking, dreamy-looking little blonde like you has more stamina than some of us husky people.”

Vicki grinned. “Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”

“Just go away, my love, and let me sleep.”

They arranged to be in touch later in the day. Vicki softly let herself out into the hotel corridor and went downstairs to the busy lobby. Part of the fun of being a flight stewardess was living all over the United States, and staying at the pleasant hotels where the airline put up their crews. Along with her breakfast Vicki enjoyed a magnificent view of San Francisco’s hills.

Ever since talking with Mrs. Bryant, Vicki had kept Lucy Rowe’s old address safely in her purse. Now she took it out. At the hotel desk she asked for directions to Sutro Heights. Vicki made her way there—riding up and down steep hills—walking down a long wooden stairway from one street level to another. She climbed past a cliff-top park with white-painted statues, high above beach and ocean.

“San Franciscans certainly have their ups and downs,” Vicki thought, puffing. “But what views!” On three sides she looked down over the blue Pacific. The air was sea-fresh, cool, springlike. Vicki was so enchanted that she almost forgot about the address in her purse.

It led her to a modest, leafy street and an unpretentious cottage. There were a yard and an attempt at flower beds; children’s toys littered the porch. When Vicki rang the doorbell, a pleasant young woman in shirt and jeans came to the door. She looked not much older than Vicki, or than Lucy’s age, twenty-one.

“I’m looking for Lucy Rowe,” said Vicki, and introduced herself. She was careful not to mention the Bryants, not to intrude on the lawyer’s province. She said she understood that the Rowes lived here, or used to. “I wonder whether you could tell me what Lucy Rowe’s address is now?”

“My goodness, I should be able to! Lucy and I went to high school together; we’re old neighbors, too. After her mother died my family bought their house. This house. Come in, Miss Barr. I’m Jill Joseph. Come in, don’t mind the boys—”

The living room seemed to be overrun with very small boys and puppies. Young Mrs. Joseph shooed the whole group outdoors, and she and Vicki sat down to talk.

“I haven’t any address for Lucy at the moment,” Mrs. Joseph said, “because she’s away. Lucy is a darling. Are you a friend of hers?”

“I’m a friend of a friend of hers,” Vicki said. “An elderly lady who hasn’t heard from Lucy, or had any news of her, since Eleanor—Mrs. Rowe died.”

“Why, that was five years ago!”

“Would you fill me in?” Vicki asked.

Jill Joseph nodded. “Five years ago Lucy and I still had another year to go in high school. Then she lost her mother. This house was quite a lot of work for Lucy and her father—you know how full the last year of high school is, and Mr. Rowe worked hard at—” She named a large San Francisco department store. “So Lucy and her father moved to a small apartment near here, and we bought their house.”

“I see. What sort of work did Mr. Rowe do?”

“For a long time he worked at any job the department store gave him. The Rowes never had an easy time of it financially.” The neighbor hesitated. “It was hard on Lucy’s mother; she seemed to be used to more than the Rowes could afford. A lot of us wondered about Eleanor Rowe. Not that she ever complained—

“Anyway,” the young woman went on briskly, “Lucy’s father finally worked himself up to be head of the store’s delivery service, I think it was.”

“What was Jack Rowe like?” Vicki asked.

“Nice. The most devoted husband and father you ever saw. He would have made a good doctor; he was so kind and patient and gentle.”

So this was the son-in-law the Bryants had considered unworthy of their daughter, Vicki thought.

“Lucy’s mother was nice, too,” the neighbor said, “though she was quiet and sort of sad, sometimes. She worried about what would become of Lucy. Lucy used to try to laugh her out of it.... My goodness, I’m chattering!”

“Won’t you tell me more about Lucy?” Vicki said. “I’m not even sure what she looks like.” “Well, she’s taller than you are, and slim—but she’s strong. Good at all sports, and she knows a lot about naturelore.” Mr. Dorn had reported that, Vicki recalled. “Brown hair, brown eyes, only sometimes they look hazel,” Mrs. Joseph said. “She—she’s active and friendly. Isn’t it hard to describe someone you know? The chief thing about Lucy is that she’s a nice person, and it shows.”

“Does she miss her mother very much?” Vicki asked. “And her father?”

“Yes, terribly. Lucy’s such a loyal and warmhearted person. She always befriends lost dogs, and hungry cats, and people who need her.”

It was out of lonesomeness and a need to be with people, the neighbor said, that after her father died in an auto accident two years ago Lucy moved into downtown San Francisco to live with another girl and the girl’s mother. Also, Lucy wanted to be nearer her job. After graduation from high school she had taken an intensive three-months’ business course, and had been working as a secretary ever since—nearly four years by now.

“Can you tell me the name and address of her employer? And of the girl and her mother?” Vicki asked.

“Yes, I’ll write them down for you. But you won’t be able to see Mary and Mrs. Scott. They’ve gone off on a trip. Lucy is away, too.”

So Dorn had learned, Vicki reminded herself. She asked: “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“She wasn’t sure herself, when she called me up to say good-by. Why don’t you ask at the women’s hotel where she’s been living? Maybe she left word. It’s the Hotel Alcott.”

“The women’s hotel?” Vicki felt confused. “I thought Lucy had been living with Mary and Mrs. Scott?”

“Well, she did until recently. I’m not sure how recently. Lucy and I aren’t in constant touch.” Jill Joseph explained that the Scotts’ household was a small one, and Lucy had felt she was crowding them.

Vicki could not remember whether Mr. Dorn had reported where Lucy lived. She’d had the impression, and perhaps the Bryants did, too, that Lucy lived with the girl and her mother with whom she was now traveling. Well, Vicki thought, she’d clear up this point.

“If I telephone Lucy’s employer,” Vicki asked, “couldn’t they tell me when she’ll be back?”

“I think she gave up her job at the Interstate Insurance Company, though you can ask them.”

“Gave up her job?” Dorn had not reported this. “Why?”

“Something about a new job. The kids were having a squabble, and I couldn’t get it straight over the telephone.”

“You mean Lucy starts on a new job when she comes back from her trip with the Scotts?”

“Lucy isn’t traveling with Mary and Mrs. Scott. And I think traveling is part of her new job.”

This news did not tally with Mr. Dorn’s report, or more accurately, it went beyond the lawyer’s report. Well, it was possible Lucy had been away during the period that Dorn was looking for her, and then had returned to give up her job and take a new one. Then, too, Jill Joseph admitted she didn’t have all the facts straight.

“I’ll inquire at the Hotel Alcott,” Vicki said, “and at the Interstate Insurance Company.”

“Try telephoning the Scotts, too. Perhaps they are back now and have heard from Lucy.”

Vicki and Jill Joseph chatted a while longer. Vicki gathered that Lucy’s life was rather bleak. Even though she had friends and one or two not important beaux, she missed her family and home, and felt alone. Evenings after work she often kept herself busy taking college courses, and attending church choir practice.

“I guess the Reverend Mr. Hall has done more than anyone to help Lucy feel less alone,” Mrs. Joseph said. “He’s a wonderful man. He knew her parents, and he’s known Lucy all her life. He used to be in charge of a church here in Sutro Heights, but he’s been transferred to Russian Hill. I’ll give you his address, too.”

A few minutes later Vicki thanked Jill Joseph and said good-by to her. “You’ve been a great help. More than you know.”

“Anything I can do for Lucy—well, she needs all the help and love her friends can give her.” How wonderful it was going to be for Lucy, Vicki thought as she traveled back to the center of town, to discover that her grandparents cared for her. What a happy change in her life there would be.

On the way Vicki stopped at a drugstore and called the Scotts from a telephone booth. Their telephone rang repeatedly without answer. Vicki then called the Interstate Insurance Company and talked to the personnel manager.

“Miss Lucy Rowe?” he repeated. “Just a moment while I look up her card.” A pause. “Miss Rowe resigned from our employ on January twenty-second.”

Vicki scribbled down this date, and noted that it was now Monday, February sixteenth. A little less than a month ago ... just about the time Mr. Dorn said she had left San Francisco. Well, then, Dorn was right. Vicki asked whether the personnel manager could tell her anything further about Lucy.

“Well, I can tell you that she’s an excellent secretary, was with us for over three years, and we were sorry to lose her.”

“That’s a fine record, isn’t it? Thank you very much, sir.”

Vicki hung up. She telephoned the Scotts twice again on her way back to downtown San Francisco. No answer. On a third call a man’s voice answered.

“Mary Scott? She and her mother went away on a long trip. This is the superintendent. I’m in their place fixin’ a leaky pipe.... No, ma’am, I don’t know when they’ll be home.”

“Thank you,” Vicki said. Next she tried the Reverend Mr. Hall’s number. Here she kept getting busy signals. She decided to stop for lunch, then visit Lucy’s place of residence.

Arriving at the Hotel Alcott in the early afternoon, she found it to be a pleasant, friendly, plain sort of place. A few people, mostly women, were in the lobby. She spoke to the desk clerk.

“I wonder if you can help me? I’m looking for Miss Lucy Rowe.”

“Oh, yes, Lucy!” The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled, but shook her head. “You won’t find Lucy here, young lady. She checked out.”

“Can you please tell me when? And where she is now?”

The woman hesitated. Vicki produced her airline identification card to introduce herself and explained that she had a message to deliver to Lucy. The woman seemed satisfied. She opened a ledger.

“Lucy checked out on—let me see—Saturday, February seventh.”

That would be—today was Monday, February sixteenth—only nine days ago. Yet Mr. Dorn reported that Lucy had left San Francisco a month ago. Vicki could not account for the discrepancy. She asked the desk clerk: “I wonder whether Lucy has been out of town—taken any short trips—in the last month or two?”

“Yes, recently some of the girls here persuaded her to go off for week ends with them, to ski, or to hike in the mountains.”

“Can you tell me,” Vicki asked the desk clerk, “whether Lucy was away about a month ago?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t remember the dates.”

“Well, will you please tell me one more thing?” Vicki was trying to figure dates, starting with the fact of Dorn’s visit about a month ago. “Did Lucy live at the Hotel Alcott a month ago?”

The woman consulted the ledger again. “Yes. Lucy was with us just barely a month.”

It was possible, Vicki thought, that Lucy might not yet have moved to the Hotel Alcott at the time of Dorn’s visit.

“If you’re trying to locate Lucy, Miss Barr,” said the clerk, “I think the best way to do it would be through Mrs. Heath.”

“Who is Mrs. Heath?”

“A very nice older woman who is now Lucy’s employer. Mrs. Elizabeth Heath. A writer. Gray hair, well-dressed, and distinguished-looking. She stayed with us at the hotel for a while. She was looking for a secretary-companion, and Lucy turned out to be just the right girl for the job.” The hotel clerk said this with a certain pride and satisfaction. “It’s a happy arrangement for both of them, I think.” Vicki was surprised, but she felt better. Here was definite and reassuring news of Lucy. She asked the woman for Mrs. Heath and Lucy’s address.

“They haven’t sent us their address yet,” the woman said. “Probably they’re just traveling around. Mrs. Heath had a car, and as I understood it, her plan was to travel around California and stay at inns here and there, and write her memoirs in a leisurely sort of way. Mrs. Heath may rent a house. It sounds like a lovely job for Lucy. A lot of the girls here at the Alcott would like to have such a job.”

“It does sound like a pleasant job,” Vicki agreed, “but how can I find Lucy, Miss—?” The clerk said her name was Mrs. Stacey. “Hasn’t anyone here heard from Lucy since she left? Not even a post card?”

“She’s been gone only a little over a week,” the hotel clerk pointed out. “She’ll write to her friends here, I’m sure. She may already be in touch with the minister, Mr. Hall; he’s a great friend of hers.”

Vicki said she had his address and telephone number and would call him right away. She thanked Mrs. Stacey for all her kindness.

When Vicki again telephoned the Reverend Mr. Hall, she was able to reach him. He was rather chary of giving any information on the telephone. Vicki explained who she was, and told him a little of why she was looking for Lucy Rowe.

“Ah, I see. As a matter of fact, Miss Barr, I myself would like to know where Lucy is at the moment.”

The minister’s voice was friendly and direct. Vicki thought she heard an undertone of worry.

“Mr. Hall, I’m here at the Hotel Alcott, and they’ve told me Lucy has a fine job with a Mrs. Heath.”

“Yes, I know. Everybody is enthusiastic about Lucy’s new job except myself. I advised her to consider, and make haste slowly, but she—” Vicki heard voices in the background. “However, I cant go into this on the telephone.”

“May I come to see you, Mr. Hall?” Vicki asked. “It’s important for me to locate Lucy.”

“Yes, indeed, though today is all filled up.” He suggested that Vicki telephone him again in a day or two. Vicki promised she would, thanked him, and hung up.

Vicki went back to her hotel. She wanted to pack and to rest so that she would be fit for work: she was scheduled for an eight A.M. Electra flight the next morning.

Jean Cox was rested after extra sleep. “What did you find out about Lucy Rowe?” she asked.

“Don’t ask me yet. I haven’t any answers—only some new questions.”