The Test of Gold

by Renee Yancy

  He gripped the arms of the chair. Who had he been kidding? He wanted to rush out and start searching for Lindy.

  He pressed his lips together and then sighed. “We were secretly engaged. But her parents wouldn’t hear of our marrying. I’m far out of her class.”

  “Then how did you meet her?”

  “My uncle pastors St. Thomas Episcopal in New York City. The Lindenmayers attended there, and Mr. Lindenmayer offered me the use of his library. That’s where we met.”

  “How curious.”

  “What’s curious about it?”

  “That she’d be in the library.”

  “She loved to read, as do I. We had many conversations about books.”

  Gillian scowled. “Oh, you and your books.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about those rich families in New York. Such excess! Wait—” She picked up the paper again, and her eyes widened. “I’ve heard of this girl. Of course! All the papers were speculating about the cost of her trousseau, her wedding dress, and her diamond-trimmed garters. Oh my!”

  Jack stiffened. “She had no interest in any of that.” He couldn’t keep the coldness out of his voice.

  “And to forsake her fiancé at the altar. A duke, imagine.”

  Jack gritted his teeth.

  Gillian sniffed. “Well, it’s obvious you’re better off without her, John. You’ve had a narrow escape, I must say.”

  He nearly choked then. “What on earth do you mean?”

  “Apparently, she’s unreliable if she could do that to her parents and her fiancé. How could you ever trust her?”

  “You know nothing about her, Gillian.”

  She frowned. “You sound as if you’re still in love with her.” She raised her hand to her throat, and her lower lip trembled.

  Jack reached for the paper, touching her hand, and Gillian blushed a rosy pink.

  He stood. “I am still in love with her, Gillian. I’m sorry. And I have to find her.”

  Chapter 45

  Buffalo, New York

  Aunt Gertrude replaced her coffee cup and peered over her pince-nez at Lindy. “I’ve a meeting this morning at my women’s club. Perhaps you’d like to attend with me?”

  It didn’t sound like a request. But Lindy did need to get out of the house and do something besides think about Jack. She smiled wryly at her aunt. “It isn’t a committee to screen who’s rich and fit enough for an invitation to the Patriarch’s Ball, is it?”

  “I suppose you’re thinking of your mother?”

  Lindy’s lips twisted. “Who else? She fought hard to get into that society circle, and now she decides who to keep out.”

  Gertrude shook her head. “And I helped her. I had no idea how far she’d go.”

  Lindy pushed her plate aside. “Let’s not speak of her on such a beautiful morning. Tell me about your club.”

  “I’d rather show you, dear.”

  An hour later, they were in the carriage headed for downtown Buffalo. The drive took them through Niagara Square with its lovely circular flower bed filled with flowering crabapple trees, heavy with pink and white blooms.

  “That’s our building, Lindy. The left half of the block.” She pointed to a grand five-story building with a soaring roof, classical lines, and rounded archways. “We call it the Women’s Union, or simply ‘the Union.’”

  The letters WEIU had been chiseled into the granite stone above the lintel of the main door. And underneath that “Women’s Educational & Industrial Union, Each for All and All for Each.” A flight of granite steps led to a vestibule with marble and onyx-trimmed walls, and a lovely mosaic floor. This, in turn, opened to a spacious foyer with oak wainscoting and a rich oriental carpet.

  “Everything you see has either been donated by benefactors or paid for with money we’ve raised. We have a gymnasium out back, a club room on the second floor, and a live-in superintendent with her own apartment.”

  Aunt Gertrude gave her a tour of the building, which ended on the third floor. “This is the Domestic Sciences Department. I’ll leave you here for an hour while I attend my meeting. I think you’ll find it quite interesting.”

  The entire third floor had been divided into classrooms and work areas, all open to each other. A child-sized laundry had been set up in one, with miniature tin tubs, washboards, and low shelves filled with laundry soap, bluing, starch, and everything a little laundress would need. Diminutive ironing boards were in another cubicle.

  But the kitchen attracted Lindy’s immediate attention. Fully equipped with the latest in ovens, stoves, and sinks. Shiny copper pots and pans hung neatly on the walls. Young girls, about fifteen in all, some with dirty faces and scuffed shoes, and dressed in hand-me-downs either too large or too small, as evidenced by the scrawny arms that poked out from threadbare sleeves, filled several tables built at just the right height for small children. But despite the shabbiness of their pinafores and blouses, each child shared the same identical look of rapt attention on their grubby face. Lindy found a chair in a quiet corner to listen.

  The preparation of a simple pudding was the lesson today. The teacher stood in front of the class and demonstrated the proper way of cracking an egg. The little girls intently followed her actions as she took up a whisk.

  “Remember, children, always wash your hands before you begin.” The girls nodded in unison. “And now we’ll practice what we have learned.”

  The girls jumped up and milled together at the long low counter, where small mixing bowls and tiny whisks had been arranged.

  The teacher, a slender young woman with shining brown hair and an immaculate white shirtwaist, came over to greet Lindy. “Good morning. Are you new here?” She had a pleasant, well-modulated voice and a kind face.

  “I’m with my aunt, actually, Gertrude Lindenmayer.”

  “Oh yes, she’s one of our directors. Are you going to become a member of the Union?”

  “Possibly.”

  “I’m Jane Ryan.”

  “Evangeline Lindenmayer. But please call me Lindy.”

  “Certainly.” She gave Lindy a broad smile. “I saw you observing the children, Lindy. Are you perhaps thinking of working with them?”

  “Perhaps.” Jane’s expectant smile seemed to require a response. “How do you like teaching here?”

  “I greatly enjoy it. But we always need more teachers. Might you be interested?”

  Lindy laughed. “My goodness, Miss Ryan, you are so direct! I hardly know what I’d be able to teach these children.”

  “You never know.” Jane gave her a mischievous glance. “This is my group, the Kitchen Garden girls. I teach them the things they will need to know when they apply to be a maid or a housekeeper or to be a wife.”

  While Lindy struggled to find an answer to this observation, one of the older girls helped a tiny girl up onto a stool a few feet away from them. “You haff it now. Reach a little further, mausi.” The little girl giggled as the older girl helped her whisk the eggs.

  Jane nodded at the two girls. “We have the kindergartners today. Some of the older girls must bring their smaller siblings.”

  The older girl was as slender as a young willow tree, with thick blond braids tied up under a white kerchief. Her fingers were long and slender too, with nails bitten to the quick.

  The girl smiled and bobbed her head when Lindy stepped closer. “Gut morning, fräulein.”

  “Guten tag.”

  The girl’s brown eyes lit up. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”

  Lindy shook her head. “No. But I understand a little. My grandmother was German.”

  “Ah.”

  “Is this your little sister?”

  “Gia?” The girl glanced at the small tot with olive skin and a mass of wild black curls industriously beating the eggs. “Nein, nein. She is...” She looked at Miss Ryan and shrugged.

  “Italian,” said Miss Ryan. “Gia’s family is from Italy.”

  “Ja.” The girl ducked her head and smiled. “It-T
AL-ee.”

  Of course. Any fool could see they looked nothing alike. Lindy tried again. “And what is your name?”

  “Minna Schneider.”

  “Well, Minna, you’re doing a fine job with Gia.”

  The girl beamed. “I am already cook. At home.”

  “Oh?”

  “For mein papa.” She reached out and took Lindy’s hand. “Come. I show you.”

  She led Lindy over to a corner of the kitchen where baked goods lay stacked in the corner, wrapped in waxed paper and tied neatly with string.

  “Mein.”

  “All these. Yours?”

  “Ja. For the exchange. I sell.”

  “My goodness.”

  Minna picked up a parcel. “I give to you. Mein new friend.” She held the package out to Lindy. Her thin face shone with pride.

  How could Lindy refuse? “Thank you, Minna. I shall bring it home with me.”

  “Lebkuchen.” Minna nodded her head. “Very good. I make.”

  Gia called to Minna then, and the blond girl skipped across the room to her little friend. The mouthwatering scent of cinnamon, clove, and possibly cardamom drifted up from the package.

  Jane walked over. “You’ve made a new friend. I’ve never seen her do that before.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Give away one of her baked goods.”

  “She mentioned the exchange?”

  “Oh yes. Come downstairs. I’ll show you.”

  Lindy followed Jane to the first floor, where a room had been set aside off the spacious foyer. Fancy work and baked goods produced by the girls and the women of the Union were displayed here for sale, with the proceeds used to help their families. Lindy fingered a fine piece of needle lace. “This is lovely.”

  Jane nodded. “We have some talented women in the city, and they had no place to showcase their work. So the Union provided one.”

  “What do you suppose this strudel would sell for?”

  “Ten cents.” She pointed to a neat mound of packages wrapped in white paper and tied with string. “Those are Minna’s. See?” She turned over the white price tag. The tiny initials “MS” had been printed on the underside.

  Ten cents could buy a quart of milk or half a pound of butter. What an expensive gift Minna had so freely given her. Lindy chose another strudel and several packages of lebkuchen. A white parcel labeled “springerle” caught her gaze.

  She lifted it to her nose, detecting the faint scent of anise. “My grandmother used to bake these at Christmas.” Lindy smiled at the memory of her plump, German grandmother, busily baking during the Advent season in the cozy house the Lindenmayers had lived in before her mother built the monstrosity on Fifth Avenue. “I’ll take all of these.”

  ***

  The arrival of the baked goods caused consternation in the kitchen of Aunt Gertrude’s home. After Lindy deposited them on the kitchen table, the cook, Mrs. Hedwig, flushed dark red and drew herself up ramrod straight. “Is Miss Lindenmayer displeased with my baking?”

  Lindy blinked. “Of course not.”

  Mrs. Hedwig looked down her long nose at the packages. “Then why does she feel the need to bring”—here she paused, and her nostrils flared—“these?” The gray curls clustered around her face quivered.

  “Mrs. Hedwig, your pies and cakes are wonderful, as you surely must know. I bought these to help support some of the poor children at the Union.”

  “Humph.”

  “She’s a German girl, Mrs. Hedwig. Surely you could feel some sympathy for one of your unfortunate compatriots?”

  Mrs. Hedwig didn’t budge.

  Lindy wasn’t averse to using a bit of subterfuge. “She has no mother, the poor dear. All she has is her mother’s recipes.” She stole a sideways look at the cook. “She used her mother’s springerle board to make these.”

  Mrs. Hedwig’s face softened. Lindy unwrapped the parcel, and the scent of anise drifted up.

  The cook reached out and picked up a cookie, a plump heart embellished with dots and scrolls. “I used to make them with my mother too.” She took a bite. “Mmm. Perfect.” She looked at Lindy. “Would you like a nice cup of coffee to go with the springerle?”

  Lindy grinned. “I would indeed!”

  Chapter 46

  Lindy began attending the Union several days a week, assisting Jane Ryan with the Kitchen Garden girls. Today they were learning the proper way to make a bed. All the regular girls in the class were there except Minna. Lindy missed her sparkling hazel eyes and hoped nothing had happened to her.

  The little girls were fighting over who got to make the bed next when Minna appeared at the edge of the group, towing a petite blond girl with braids wrapped around her head. The new girl’s complexion was waxy white, and she was slender to the point of skeletal.

  “Oh, Fräulein Lindenmayer, I am so glad you are here.” She pulled the other girl forward. “This my friend, Kasia Kovaleska.”

  “So nice to meet you, Kasia.” Lindy held out her hand, but the girl shrank and coughed into her sleeve.

  Minna beamed. “For so long, I try to make her come, and she never come until today.” Minna gave her friend a squeeze.

  “It’s a perfect day to bring a friend, Minna.” Jane smiled at the girls. “We’ve finished our lesson, and we’re having cocoa and cake. Why don’t you find a seat for yourself and Kasia?”

  Arm in arm, the two girls went to a table, while Lindy helped Jane serve the refreshments. From the excited chatter and shining eyes of the girls, Lindy understood an event like this happened rarely. For the next half hour, she couldn’t help noticing how often Kasia Kovaleska coughed, her narrow shoulders shaking under the thin cloth of her threadbare dress. Perhaps some medicine from the druggist would help that cough. Now that she thought about it, many of the children had coughs or runny noses.

  ***

  Soon Lindy was spending nearly every day at the WEIU with the younger girls. Jane welcomed the help and set Lindy to various tasks in the practice kitchen as an assistant. One morning as she put away clean dishes, Minna ran in, her face glowing and her arms full of packages.

  “Ah, fräulein, so happy you are here this morning. Today I make apfelstrudel. And I teach you.” Her wide smile made Lindy laugh.

  Jane found an apron large enough to cover most of Lindy’s dress. A peck of fresh apples in glorious shades of green and red waited for them. Minna attached an odd-looking iron instrument to the edge of the counter and urged Lindy forward.

  Lindy picked up an apple and studied the contraption. “Um... what do I do?”

  Minna’s eyes widened. “You not know how to peel?”

  Lindy shrugged and laughed. “I’m afraid I wasn’t ever allowed into the kitchen to learn.”

  “Nein? Your mother not teach you?”

  A pang went through Lindy at the girl’s innocent question. Lindy tried to smile. “No, Minna. But she taught me other things.”

  “Not to worry, fräulein.” Minna took the apple and gave a demonstration of its workings. “Now, you try.”

  Lindy positioned the apple on the iron pin and turned the handle. To her delight, the skin fell off in one long perfect spiral.

  “Gut!” Minna had mixed a pile of flour with oil and water and kneaded the dough. Her heart-shaped face flushed pink with the effort, and she had flour up to her elbows, on her cheeks, and in her hair.

  She rolled the mound of dough over and gave it one final pat. “There!” She brushed the flour off her hands. “Now, ve must let the dough rest.” She took a paring knife and helped Lindy finish peeling the apples. The scent of the fresh fruit made Lindy’s mouth water, and she couldn’t help popping a slice into her mouth. Minna chopped the apples and filled a great mixing bowl to the top. From small folded papers, she pulled cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt, and added them to the apple mixture. Then melted butter along with toasted bread crumbs. “For the juices,” she explained. She stirred the mixture and covered it with a clean white cloth.

&nb
sp; “Now ve vait.”

  Jane clapped her hands for the attention of the girls who had finished their ironing lesson. “Now, girls. We have a special surprise today. Cocoa and hot cross buns.”

  She went to the pantry and pulled out the large box Lindy had brought with her. Earlier she had stopped at the Broadway Market and bought every bun in Al Cohen’s Bakery before coming to the Union.

  The little girls squealed and hurried to clean up. Before long, they were seated at the tables with their cocoa, feasting on the buns, their excited giggles and conversation buzzing.

  “Fräulein?” Minna stood in front of Lindy, her hands deep in the pockets of her voluminous apron. “If there are any buns left, might I haff one to giff to my friend?”

  “Kasia?”

  Minna nodded shyly.

  “Of course. Is she sick today?”

  The smile left Minna’s face. “Ja. Very sick. She cough all the time.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad you reminded me, dear. I have something for Kasia.” She fetched her pocketbook from the cloakroom and retrieved the glass bottle of cough syrup. Hurrying upstairs, she found Minna and put the bottle in her hand. “Here, for her cough.”

  Minna’s eyes lit up. “Danke, danke, fräulein. This vill be vat she needs to get better so she can come vit me to the Union.”

  “I hope so.” Lindy smiled at the girl, who carefully tucked the bottle in her pocket. “Now, let’s go and see how many buns are left.”

  Minna clapped her hands when she peered into the box. “So many!”

  There were eleven buns left over, enough for each girl to take one, with one extra for Minna to give to Kasia. “Oh, she vill be so happy ven I bring these to her. And mine I vill give to mein Papa. Now ve must check the dough.”

  Minna nodded in satisfaction when she saw the dough had risen and brought out a white cloth. “This is special cloth. You vill see. Now ve must push two of the little tables together.”

  Lindy helped her pull around two of the smaller tables to make a square.