“It’s referred to as a boardinghouse in old county records. And of course, ‘boardinghouse’ was a code word for brothel. It was nicknamed the Ten-Foot Ladder. Apparently that was the way some dandies accessed the upper floors if they didn’t want to be seen. I’ve always thought the rooms upstairs are so small because it was a brothel. All that was needed was a bed and a washstand and a hook to hang your hat on.”

Natalie looked around the shop, trying to imagine an old-time bar and the goings-on upstairs. “I was a kid when you first told me about that,” she said. “I pictured women lined up like books on a shelf. It was a bit confusing. And gross.” To Peach, she said, “In the historical register, it’s listed as the Sunrose Building. There’s an ornament at the roofline.”

Andrew went on, “My father told me about the saloon. His mother, Colleen, worked as a chambermaid and had rooms in the basement. He never mentioned the brothel. Blythe and I found that out later.” He took an unhurried sip of his coffee. “Where is Blythe this morning?”

Natalie winced. She felt Peach watching her. “Grandy, she’s gone.”

“Gone where?” He blinked, his expression mild with bewilderment.

“Mom died. Remember? You spoke at her memorial.”

He turned his head and stared out the window. His shoulders came up as though hunched against a cold wind.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was a beautiful service and you spoke of her with so much love.” It was awful enough getting the news for the first time. Each time he forgot, she had to remind him, forcing the words from her mouth and bringing on a fresh wave of hurt.

“My wonderful Blythe,” he said. “She was killed in a horrible accident. A plane crash. I hope she didn’t suffer. I miss her terribly. We had so much more to do …”

Natalie wondered if the exchange sounded strange to Peach. She tried to move ahead with the conversation. “So you said you and Mom found out more about this building?”

“We’ve been putting together a history of it. Blythe thought the project would help unscramble my brain.”

Natalie winced and touched his hand. It must be frightening to feel the memories slipping away, always wondering if he’d ever get them back.

“It’s a remarkable building,” Peach commented. He seemed to be taking Grandy’s confusion in stride. “I can see why it’s listed in the historical registry. The facade in front is made of cast iron. That might be one reason it didn’t burn after the earthquake.”

“Blythe and I found references to this place in the county records and in early issues of the San Francisco Examiner.”