Stella sniffed as if the mention of swine alone carried their stench. “Surely you don’t think taking care of dirty pigs would appeal to even the lowest of women.”
“Pigs happen to be kinder and smarter than some people I—”
A thump sounded. Likely Charlie’s mother, Mrs. Andrews, stomping on her daughter’s foot.
Charlie cut her eyes to her mother for a second before looking back at Evelyn. “Well, if you ever have a group of women willing to work with livestock, I think I could make a go of it. Though they’d have to stay away from our ranch hands.”
“Thank you for the offer, Charlie. Stella may be correct about the idea not being appealing, but I’ll let them know of the offer.” She could only imagine how Scott’s mother would have reacted to the suggestion—instead of Amy only slamming the door in her face, she’d probably have laughed at her as well.
The clock chimed the hour, and without even so much as a look toward Evelyn, Mrs. Firebrook gathered her things and headed out the door with Mrs. Naples.
Evelyn helped Mercy clean since it was the younger woman’s turn to do so. Though Mercy never wanted special treatment because of her missing hand, Evelyn couldn’t let her clean alone when it took her much longer than anyone else.
After gathering their things, they headed toward the basement’s steep stairs outside of the meeting room. Mercy started up first. “Have you talked to my brother’s boss?”
“He works for Plotman’s Bank, yes?” At Mercy’s nod, she sighed. “The president adamantly told me no.” She stopped at the landing. “I’d hoped Mrs. Firebrook would have volunteered to persuade her husband to help, but I’m afraid she didn’t look at all inclined.”
Mercy’s face contorted as if she thought it obvious that Mrs. Firebrook would never feel inclined.
“Is there something you know that would keep the Firebrooks from helping?” If she had no hope in that direction, she didn’t want to waste a half day’s trip out to their farm.
“Oh, well no. Not really. But if they’re anything like a cousin of theirs I used to know, I’d say you wouldn’t have much chance. But surely just because one Firebrook isn’t nice doesn’t mean they’re all rotten eggs.”
She’d even take a rotten egg’s promise of help right now.
At the church’s front doors, they parted ways, and Evelyn crossed town as quickly as she could. She’d spent hours before the meeting failing to gain support for the women’s home. Her parents had pushed her out the door this afternoon, encouraging her to take her time, but the businessmen she’d met with were as enthusiastic about backing her women’s home as the two she’d approached yesterday and the one who’d laughed at her the day before.
Evelyn jumped onto the streetcar for a short jaunt to the town’s southeast corner and disembarked a few blocks away from the mansion. As she trudged up the winding driveway, she took in the beautiful two-story portico entryway awash in the afternoon light. She’d never thought her family would live in something so grand, but then it was quite a lot of work for the privilege to do so.
With the mansion’s windows open, the smell of rosemary and garlic wafted out from the kitchen. Whatever Cook was making smelled heavenly. Maybe she could convince her to make it for the district’s children.
The hysterical shriek of a child from somewhere inside the mansion made her rush through the massive front door.
No one appeared in the two-story entry hall.
“Give that back!” The shrill voice of a boy came from the hallway that ran left toward the kitchen.
“Let go, Peter. This instant!” Momma’s voice descended in tone but didn’t hold enough conviction.
“No! I had it first.” Peter’s whine made Evelyn shake her head as she marched forward.
She climbed the polished stairs out of the entryway and turned left. Peter and Lawrence wrestled at the bottom of the stairway to the second floor while Momma tried to wrench them apart, her hair falling about her face, her breathing labored as she bent over and tried to grab flailing limbs. “Please stop, boys.”
Evelyn gave a sharp whistle. “Stop at once!”
All three froze. The boys’ hands clamped onto the wooden train engine they were fighting over.
“What did Mrs. Wisely tell you?”
Both boys looked at each other, their glares filled with hatred. These two refused to leave their mothers’ long-standing feud behind.
Evelyn stepped forward and held out her hand. “Give the engine to me. Neither of you shall have it.” She kept her gaze pinned on Peter, the one who would take the most prodding to give in.
“Fine!” He shoved Lawrence away, then ran up the stairs.
Lawrence handed her the toy train. Without his sister coming by to visit him, he needed a good friend—but Peter likely wasn’t going to be it.
“Run along and play.” She took the toy and bumped his chin. “With someone other than Peter.”
Lawrence narrowed his eyes, but when she didn’t soften her expression or look away, he finally dashed off through the dining room. Hopefully he wasn’t heading somewhere to sulk.
Momma slumped against one of the hallway’s thin side tables and smoothed the hair away from her face. “Perhaps I’m too old for this.” The deep lines around her mouth made her look older than her sixty years.
Evelyn put her arm around her mother but didn’t naysay her. Momma should’ve already been enjoying grandchildren and scaling back on hard labor, but because of her, Momma and Daddy were here.
If they left, who would replace them until Nicholas and Lydia returned to run the mansion? They weren’t finished having children and didn’t want to come back until their brood was old enough to stand up for themselves when children like Peter came through.
When Lydia had first been pregnant, they’d looked for half a year before realizing no one but Evelyn and her parents were willing to step in. When they’d first talked to Nicholas about coming to the orphanage, he’d voiced concern about her parents’ ages, but they’d convinced him everything would be all right since Evelyn would do the brunt of the work.
But if they left, Nicholas would likely look for a young couple to replace them. What if their replacements didn’t want her help? But oh, how could she leave, especially when she’d likely never have children of her own? If she left with her parents, they’d push her to find someone to marry since they certainly couldn’t house her for long without Daddy taking up some kind of preaching again. But it was far easier to claim to be too busy for courting than to explain her lack of hope in the marriage department.
She’d just have to keep her parents from working so hard they exhausted themselves. Daddy had already stepped down from being pastor of their church to meet the demands of the orphanage.
“Where’s Daddy?” Evelyn took her mother’s arm and strolled toward the kitchen. “He normally has an easier time disciplining Peter.”
“He’s icing his leg again.”
Which was becoming more and more frequent. “Why don’t you take him to the natatorium doctors?”
Two little girls ran past, pigtails flying.
“Hey!” Evelyn hollered. “No running inside.”
Vera and Florence slowed a little, but within a step or two, giggles escaped and they rushed up the stairway.
She shook her head at them but decided not to pursue; they were generally the better behaved of the lot. “Have you talked to him about the natatorium?”
“He gives me the same answer he does you. He’s gone seventy-three years without fancy specialty doctors; he’s not going now. Mrs. Ullrich told him they put her under a solar therapeutic lamp, and he informed her the Good Lord made the sun and wasn’t charging for it.”
Evelyn smiled. Her father had always preached that anything beyond the basics of life wasn’t necessary, though she doubted he’d happily leave behind the mansion’s elevator or the upstairs bathrooms that pumped in hot water and even steam, especially when his leg was hurting him. “How long ha
s he been upstairs?”
“Maybe two hours.”
Half the time she’d been gone? “Have you checked on him?”
Momma patted her cheek. “I did once. He’s all right.”
But that meant Momma had borne the brunt of the work this afternoon. “Why don’t you take a break before dinner? Put your feet up, read a chapter of something?”
“You’re a dear, but it’s almost dinnertime. I’ll go see if the meatloaf is on schedule and then get your father and send down any children wandering around upstairs.” Her mother hobbled off, the limp she blamed on simple old age more pronounced.
Evelyn stopped in the middle of the hall, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back.
I thought this was where you wanted me. But how can I force my parents to stay just so I can?
And it was where she wanted to be. Or at least somewhere with children.
Maybe if they had to leave the orphanage she could help the children in the district more . . . except she’d still need an income.
She’d have to talk to Nicholas. Maybe if she could find another woman without children who was looking for work . . .
What if one of the prostitutes was willing to give up her life to help here, maybe even two of them? If they needed decent jobs to support themselves, why not hire a few for this position? Though those in town might not approve, surely the idea made sense with the children’s backgrounds. And it wasn’t as if they had to announce to the world who their employees were. Surely they could hire them with as little fanfare as they might some spinster from out of town.
With a spring in her step, Evelyn went out to the backyard through the muggy little conservatory and called the children in to wash their hands for dinner. Maybe she could get relief for her parents, keep her job, and help one or two of these children’s mothers at the same time.
She waved at the gardener, who’d apparently stayed close to the mansion’s charges and opened the door wide for several of the smaller residents to file in, followed by the one girl over the age of ten who lived there. “Thank you for watching them, Suzie.”
The quiet blonde, whose mental faculties were slower than most fifteen-year-olds, only nodded and followed the little ones into the downstairs bathroom.
Caroline met Evelyn in the hallway. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Me?” She took a quick glance in the hallway mirror to make sure she still looked all right. “I’m not expecting anyone. Who is it?”
“He’s waiting for you up front.” Caroline’s mouth twitched a little, and then she leaned over and caught a running little boy in the crook of her arm. “Come, Ezekiel, let’s get your muddy shoes off. I got enough to clean without you adding to the mess.” She flipped him over her shoulder and tickled him.
As head housekeeper, Caroline wasn’t responsible for the children, but she likely figured Evelyn’s guest was going to keep her busy.
Evelyn smoothed her clammy hands against her skirt, then headed for the entryway. Was it too much to hope that one of the businessmen who’d refused to donate to her ministry had come to tell her he’d changed his mind?
If she could set up a place and fill it with women within months, maybe she could groom someone to take over for her parents sooner rather than later.
Of course, how she would find the time for that, she didn’t know. She needed to talk to Queenie. Maybe there was someone who’d be interested now.
The second she turned the corner, a man stood up from the seat he’d taken. “Miss Wisely.”
Goodness, the effect of Mr. Kingsman’s smile didn’t lessen with time or the knowledge that he plied it on everyone. “Mr. Kingsman.”
He walked straight to her, those deep blue eyes difficult to look away from. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important. I told Miss O’Conner I could return later, but she said you’d want to see me.” He flashed her a grin.
All right, this man was beyond charming.
But he would only be in Teaville for a little while—she could resist anything for a few months. “I’m willing to see you if you need to see me.” Hopefully he’d come to offer his support for her women’s home. However, knowing him, his stomach might have something to do with his arrival. The cook’s meatloaf was deliciously pungent, and since he seemed rather attuned to food, perhaps he caught a whiff of it all the way down at his factory.
Didn’t men stop eating like there was no tomorrow once they’d reached their full height?
He was a smidgen shorter than she was, so maybe he still had some growing to do. But he had to be in his midtwenties—though she doubted he was older than her—so he had to be full-grown.
Thankfully, shorter men had never shown her much interest. “What can I help you with?”
“I don’t need help—well, not any you could give me—but I thought about what you said, and—”
Her heart nearly burst out of her chest. “You’re going to help me with my women’s home?”
“No.”
She gritted her teeth to keep from vocalizing her disappointment.
“But I thought of a way to help you with some of the children. At the picnic last Saturday—which I would like to apologize for attending without invitation—I heard you talking with Scott about two older boys living here.”
“No apology necessary. But yes, two of Scott’s friends live here.”
“I know what it’s like to be bursting for some freedom at that age, and I thought I could offer them a job at the factory. Give them some responsibility, let them earn some money.”
“They have chores, and they’re not in want of anything material.”
“But they’ll be leaving soon, yes?”
“I suppose so.” Robert and Max—fourteen and seventeen years old—had only recently come to the mansion. Their mother had been murdered, but neither boy would tell Nicholas any more about their past life than that. They’d asked permission to live in the orphanage despite other boys their age forging out on their own.
“Chores are good, but there’s something that drives a boy to earn his own keep, have the approval of older men—and if that drive isn’t there, it needs to be. I figured having a job would give them a sense of accomplishment and a small savings to help them when they left. I’d only have them work a few hours, nothing to disturb their schooling or whatever schedule they keep at the mansion. But as you said, children in the red-light district need to find a way to get out.” He shrugged. “I know it’s not what you wanted, but I figured I’d offer that.”
“Thank you kindly, but I’ll have to think on it. Talk to my parents and see—”
“Oh please, Miss Wisely.” Robert’s voice startled her. She’d heard the staircase creaking but had assumed those noises were from Momma and Daddy descending.
She turned to face him. “It’s not polite to eavesdrop.”
“I didn’t mean to, but your mother told me dinner was ready.” The fourteen-year-old walked toward her with his hands clasped in front of his chest. “Max and I were just wondering what we would do once we had to leave. Maybe if we showed this gentleman we’re good workers, he’d hire us on permanently.”
It was hard to imagine letting Robert go to work when his voice hadn’t dropped nor had he grown any facial hair, though he was always looking in the mirror as if any day his upper lip would surprise him.
Momma came down without Daddy and stopped at the end of the staircase, holding Florence and Vera’s hands.
Evelyn could barely handle the look of yearning on Robert’s face. “Maybe we’ll have Mr. Kingsman return to talk about this another time. Dinner’s ready, and my parents and I should discuss—”
“Why not now?” Momma looked past both her and Robert and smiled at Mr. Kingsman. “Would you be opposed to joining us for dinner to discuss whatever this opportunity is for Robert and Max?”
“The offer smells too good to refuse.”
Of course this man wouldn’t turn down dinner. “I don’t think we should
discuss this in front of the boys. If we don’t agree that it’s a good idea, it—”
“Now, Evelyn,” Momma said, “these boys are pretty much old enough to make their own decisions. We can guide them, but they shouldn’t be shut out of the conversation.”
Robert threw back his shoulders and gave her a quick nod.
How could she continue arguing after that? “All right, Momma.” She put her hand out toward Robert and looked back to Mr. Kingsman. “Let me introduce you to Robert Milligan.”
“How do you do, sir?”
Mr. Kingsman shook the boy’s hand heartily.
“His brother Max is likely already waiting at the table.” Momma kept a hold of the girls’ hands and gestured with her head. “Robert, why don’t you take Mr. Kingsman into the dining room, and I’ll tell Cook to prepare another plate.”
“Of course.” The boy beamed. “We’re having meatloaf. I’ve never liked it before I came here, but it’s good.”
“I can smell that it’s so.” Mr. Kingsman hung his hat on the hall tree as he passed her to catch up with Robert. “So, young man, have you done any odd jobs before?” He shortened his pace to match Robert’s as they turned down the hall.
Momma patted the girls’ backs and told them to follow Robert and Mr. Kingsman.
“Well, sir, I used to clean the saloon where my mother worked.” Robert’s voice diminished as he walked farther down the hallway. “I hope you don’t find that against your liking. We didn’t have much choice about where we lived or who we had to be around, but we . . .”
“Who is this Mr. Kingsman?” Momma was looking at her with a probing gaze. “And why haven’t you told me about him?”
Oh no. She’d have to quickly nip that matchmaking hope in her mother’s eyes. “He’s one of the businessmen I approached about the women’s home.”
“He seems rather nice. He should sit by your father. I can sit at the other end.”
A Love So True Page 6