by Annie Bryant
“Our Maeve was named for her, of course,” Mr. Taylor told Katani as they sat down in the food court for lunch. “In fact, Maeve, I have something for you. I brought it with me hoping we’d have a cance to come to the Immigration Museum so I could give it to you here.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and brought out a soiled envelope. He looked at it for a moment, then passed it across to Maeve. “Here, honey.”
Maeve took the envelope curiously. She had no idea what it was, or why her father wanted her to have it. The postmark on the envelope was written in faded blue ink, and though it was almost illegible, Maeve did see that it was addressed to “Mrs. Reilly” in County Cork, Ireland.
She looked at the return address. In even fainter letters, it said: “M. Reilly, New York, New York.” Maeve felt quick tears sting her eyes. “It’s from my great-grandmother,” she said.
“Yes, it is,” her father said. “It’s a pretty special letter.”
Maeve fumbled with the envelope and drew out a sheet of discolored paper that seemed very fragile with the passing of time. Carefully unfolding it, she glanced at the cramped handwriting inked across the page, hesitated, and then began: “Dear Mother, It has been only a month since I arrived here in New York, but it seems so much longer without you. I did not realize a girl of seventeen still needs her mother so much, and having an ocean between us makes it so hard.”
Maeve shook her head a little, trying to clear out all the emotion. Everyone at the table was motionless, even Sam. Their eyes were intent on her. She took a deep breath and continued reading. “I have been fortunate to obtain work right away in the same office building as my friend Maud. I clean all the floors below ten, and Maud cleans all the floors ten and above.”
Katani shook her head in disbelief. “Wow! She was a cleaning woman. And only seventeen…”
Maeve went on. “Here in New York, my education does not impress anyone. I had to take whatever job I could, and I’m thankful I could get it. It pays five dollars a week, which pays for my room. It’s not much of a room—a sixth floor walkup, cold water, of course, and cockroaches, so many cockroaches—but it’s a roof over my head, and I’m thankful for that, too.”
Maeve glanced around the table. No one spoke; no one even breathed. They were all hanging on the words of the girl who wrote this letter so long ago. “I did have a bit of luck, though, on the voyage over. I met a young man who also came from Ireland to make his fortune in New York. His name is John Taylor, and he’s already asked me to marry him.
Of course, John is not able to support a wife yet. He earns only seven dollars a week working on the construction site downtown, but it’s steady work, so far. He’s a good worker and willing to do whatever they ask, so they may keep him on for awhile. But work is hard to find and keep these days—there’s a depression on, everyone always reminds me—and it may be years before John and I can get married. It will be much longer, I know, before we can afford a flat for ourselves. We may live in one room, but it will be under our own steam, and I’m fine with that.
The air in New York always smells sooty, nothing like the crisp, clean air of Cork. I miss that, and I miss you and my brothers, Mother. Please tell them not to worry—even though I’d like to marry John, I won’t until I’ve earned enough to pay their passage over, as I promised before I left. I’ll keep that promise.
I hope someday to see you again, Mother. Please write to me. And I’ll write to you as often as I can afford the stamps. Your loving daughter, Maeve.”
It was very quiet at the table when Maeve finished reading. Her eyes were swimming with tears. She felt as though she could hear the voice of her great-grandmother, that young, hopeful Irish girl. How brave she was! Maeve thought. And how amazing, to come here and work with no expectations except to pay for her brothers to join her!
Katani was moved also. “She was remarkable,” she said at last. “Imagine! Living like that in a sixth floor walkup with cold water…”
Mr. Taylor nodded. “Strangely enough, the very area she lived in later became a pretty fancy address right in Greenwich Village. If I’m not mistaken, Katani, it’s only a few blocks from where your cousin Michelle lives now.”
Katani began to smile. “I’ll bet Maeve Reilly would have thought that was pretty funny.”
Mr. Taylor smiled too. “She had a wonderful sense of humor, though it’s not apparent in that letter. I heard stories about her youth when I was a boy. I always thought my nana was spunky and brave and wonderful. And Maeve is turning out to be just like her.”
Katani looked at Maeve across the table. “She is, Mr. Taylor!” she declared with conviction. “She really is!”
The Perfect Gifts
It was two o’clock when they took the ferry back from Ellis Island. Everyone was quieter than usual, thinking of the girl who had written that letter of hope so long ago. Maeve, who put the letter in her jacket pocket so she could feel it close to her, touched her pocket every so often, just to remind herself of the girl who had come before her.
Mr. Taylor suggested they do some shopping for souvenirs. Katani eagerly said yes; she was anxious to find something perfect for Kelley, as well as her other sisters and the rest of the BSG.
Together they browsed the vendors lining the streets, just as—Katani and Maeve imagined—the early immigrants had combed the streets, craving what the vendors offered yet unable to pay for it.
Sam, whose imagination was limited to famous military battles, had stopped thinking about Maeve Reilly. He was busy looking for a general’s hat he could take home.
Mr. Taylor was looking for old movie posters he could frame as artwork and put in the lobby of his theater. Since the theater had been saved by the seventh-grade talent show, he was constantly thinking about new ways to educate his customers. Making them aware of great old movies, he thought, was the perfect way to educate.
Maeve and Katani looked through intriguing piles of hats, belts, sunglasses, hair ribbons, and funky watches for souvenirs. “This is perfect for Kelley!” Maeve declared, pulling out a coffee table-sized book about the history of horses in New York.
“This too!” Katani said, holding up a miniature horse and carriage like those driven around Central Park.
“She’ll love it!” Maeve laughed, picturing Kelley’s face when Katani gave it to her.
Twenty minutes later, the girls had chosen a pair of gorgeous combs, decorated with sequins and sparkling green jewels for Isabel’s hair; a lined journal with a silhouette of the New York skyline and “NY State of Mind” written on it for Charlotte; and a New York Mets baseball cap for Avery. “We could never get a Yankees cap—they’re the Red Sox’s biggest rivals,” Katani pointed out.
After a short stop at Michelle’s apartment they were packed and ready to go. Katani and Maeve thanked Michelle profusely and told her they’d had the time of their lives.
Michelle laughed. “Well, listen, you’re both welcome back any time—but only on one condition…when you two are either debuting your first fashion line or going to your Broadway premiere, I expect to be mentioned in the ‘Thank you’ speech!”
“It’s a deal!” Katani promised.
Everyone agreed they could make the quickest run back to Boston if Mr. Taylor would agree to take the main highway. “After Thursday, Dad,” Maeve said sternly, “you should forget about retro roads and drive on the Interstate like everyone else.”
“Hey,” Sam chimed in, “how come we drive on parkways but park on driveways?”
The girls groaned. “Are you going to be like this all the way back to Brookline?” Maeve asked him.
“Maybe.” Sam grinned. “But I think we should take the the Interstate too.”
Maeve’s mouth fell open.
“Yeah,” he joked, “I don’t think I could stand it if we had another flat and needed another girl to rescue us!”
“Hey!” Maeve cried. “Sally was amazing!”
“Humph,” Sam sniffed. “I’d feel a
lot better if I’d been saved by a real mechanic.”
“Puhlease!” Maeve huffed. “Sally is a ‘real’ mechanic!”
Mr. Taylor grinned at his daughter. “He’s eight, Maeve. Give him time. Eventually he’ll find out that girls are pretty good to have around.” Mr. Taylor turned toward the Interstate, and headed for home.
CHAPTER
20
A Hero’s Welcome
That was an absolutely amazing adventure,” Charlotte declared Sunday night.
“Totally cool,” Avery pronounced.
“Awesomely fabulous,” Isabel added.
The BSG, finally together again, were sitting in the Tower exchanging stories of their weekend and sighing over Maeve and Katani’s “excellent adventure,” as Maeve had nicknamed it. Isabel was wearing the hair combs they’d brought her, Charlotte clasped the journal in her arms, and Avery already sported the Mets cap over her straight black hair.
Maeve and Katani regaled their friends with the misadventures and highlights of their trip to New York. At one point Avery laughed so hard at Maeve for not recognizing Simon Blackstone that Maeve threw Happy Lucky Thingy at her. Marty went completely insane and tried to wrestle Happy Lucky away from Avery. That, of course, sent all the BSG into a frenzy of giggles that did not stop until Avery let go of Happy Lucky. After Maeve described in detail Simon kissing her hand, as well as his spur-of-the-moment concert, Charlotte decided that they needed to make a BSG reality show to save their stories and adventures for when they were older.
“My dad says my mother used to call things ‘swoony’ if they were just to die for,” Charlotte volunteered, “and what happened to you, Maeve, is 100 percent swoony. Imagine having your hand kissed by Simon Blackstone—wow! You HAVE to tell this story on video. You can show it to your kids when you are older.”
“Much better than being hugged by Danny Pellegrino,” Avery said, and Isabel choked.
“Thanks a lot,” she sputtered when she could talk. “It’s not exactly like I planned that.”
“Nope—you just were more afraid of the mummies than you were of Danny!” Avery laughed. Isabel threw a sequined pillow at her.
Avery ducked and then said to Maeve, “Admit it, Maeve. You’ll never wash that hand again, right?”
Maeve grinned. “Well, I’m tempted, but if I don’t, I’ll have to wear a glove…permanently!”
“Good point,” Isabel shuddered.
“Yeah, we get the picture,” Charlotte said.
“Anyway, if Rini actually does come to Boston like she says, I could end up in her music video—and who’d cast a girl with one gloved hand?” Maeve asked practically.
The girls laughed. Katani fished around in her bag and brought out something wrapped in brown paper, which she handed to Avery. “For you, Ave.”
Avery opened the brown paper and squealed out loud. “Oh, Katani! You got me Leah Kim’s autograph!”
“And on a program from the show,” Katani pointed out. “She wasn’t showing her own collection, but I saw her backstage. When I told her you were a big fan, she was glad to sign it.”
“Kgirl, I can’t believe you!” Maeve exclaimed. “You kept the Leah Kim sighting a secret from me, too.”
Katani grinned. “I figured it’d be a good surprise.”
Avery clasped the program to her. “I’m going to frame it! This is so cool!”
“I think it’s even cooler that Katani’s scarf was such a big hit at the show,” Isabel said.
“Well, I think that Katani ought to make more of them and sell them at Ms. Razzberry Pink’s store,” Charlotte suggested. “If they made such a splash at the show, can you imagine what they’d do here?”
“The problem is that if I sold them at Think Pink, they’d all have to be pink.” Katani laughed, and then a mysterious look came over her face.
“Here we go—Kgirl’s brain is churning,” chuckled Isabel.
And it was. Katani suddenly had visions of pink scarves in different hues and textures hanging from the windows at Think Pink.
“It’s been a ‘happily ever after’ weekend,” Maeve said dreamily. “Everything just fell into place, even though there were some rough spots along the way.”
“I know what you mean,” Katani said. “If anyone ever tries to get me to model again, drag me away, pronto!”
“At least Danny’s backed off some,” Charlotte said. “It was a pretty, should I say, ‘sticky’ trip to the museum, but it’s worth it if he gives Izzy some space…finally.”
“Who knows?” Isabel wondered. “Poor Danny, he didn’t realize that he just had to give us some space and then we’d miss him.”
The other girls gave good imitations of being sick. Isabel laughed. “I was kidding! But it does feel good not to worry anymore that he’s going to be popping up everywhere I go.”
“I still say,” Charlotte murmured, “that he and Betsy are a match made in heaven.”
But nobody else was listening. They were looking at the lovely gifts Maeve and Katani had brought back and marveling over one of the best weekends ever…
Charlotte’s Journal:
I just had to start this new journal tonight! Maeve and Katani gave it to me—it’s got a great New York logo on it and a picture of the skyline—and I’m going to keep it for my secret thoughts and special dreams…like this one: wouldn’t it be wonderful if the BSG could go on an incredibly great adventure with my dad and me?
The truth is that as much as I loved hearing about their weekend, Maeve’s letter from her grandmother was what really touched my heart. It was so sweet that we all almost cried. I’m definitely going online tomorrow to see what I can find out about Ellis Island, and the next time I’m in New York I am NOT going to miss it! It sounds like something really special. Maybe I could do an article on it for The Sentinel.
Maeve’s Notes to Self:
Re-read Maeve Reilly’s letter tomorrow and any day I feel sorry for myself. She didn’t feel sorry for herself, and her life was a lot harder than mine! Yeah, I have the learning disability thing, and I may always have it. But you know what? I have parents who care that I do well, tutors to help me, and great friends who remind me all the time that I mean a lot to them. So lighten up, M K-T—remember your great-grandmother and think about how you can make her proud.
Avery’s Blog:
Okay—big learning week.
# 1 lesson for me—never close the door behind you unless you check that you can unlock it first!
#1 for Katani—Being the center of attention and walking down a runway was not her thing. I could have told her that—she’s happy as a clam when she’s backstage taking charge! Kelley doesn’t call her Miss Bossy for nothing!
So it was a great weekend. I scored an autograph from Leah Kim, my absolute favorite designer, and a Mets cap, which is great, because you can wear a Mets cap without practically getting in a fistfight with anyone at Fenway Park (except for Red Sox fans who remember Bill Buckner). Not the same with a Yankees cap!
P.S. I honestly wouldn’t have missed my time with Char and Izzy at the museum, not even for that trip to New York, not even to meet Leah Kim. I have a feeling that without me along, they’d have gone bonkers in there….
To be continued…
Fashion Frenzy
BOOK EXTRAS
Book Club Buzz
Charlotte’s Word Nerd Dictionary
Trivialicious Trivia
10 QUESTIONS FOR YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS TO CHAT ABOUT
What is the best way for a girl in Isabel’s position to let someone know that she needs her space?
Do you have an idol or hero? Who and why?
How is New York City a special place for each of the Beacon Street Girls? What is the most exciting part about New York City to you?
Do you think that Katani’s decision about which Beacon Street Girl to bring on her trip was fair? Why or why not?
Why does Katani become frustrated during the trip down the Merritt Parkway?
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sp; How are field trips different from learning in the classroom? What was your favorite field trip and why?
What do the girls learn from Sally the mechanic?
How do Maeve and Katani demonstrate their different talents and individual strengths at the fashion show?
What would you like to talk about on a TV interview exclusive?
How did your ancestors come to America? Did they set foot on Ellis Island, like Maeve’s great-grandparents?
Charlotte’s Word Nerd Dictionary
BSG Words
Cling-on: (p. 109) noun—an unwanted person who follows someone around
Swoony: (p. 220) adjective—dreamiest and most romantic
Spanish Words and Phrases…
Que?: (p. 12)—What?
¿Cómo estás?: (p. 107)—How are you?
¿Adónde va usted?: (p. 109)—Where are you going?
Other Cool Words…
Du jour: (p. 2) adjective—a French expression meaning ‘of the day’; ex: soup du jour
Lament: (p. 31) verb—to express sorrow or regret
Luminous: (p. 49) adjective—full of light
Listlessly: (p. 52) adverb—without energy
Boisterous: (p. 66) adjective—loud, noisy, and lacking in discipline
Garish: (p. 68) adjective—loud and flashy, gaudy
Extol: (p. 72) verb—to praise highly
Aloft: (p. 85) adjective—at a great height; in the air
Sarcophagus: (p. 100) noun—a stone coffin, often inscribed or decorated with sculpture
Hieroglyphics: (p. 103) noun—the system of writing, such as that of ancient Egypt, which uses pictorial symbols
Artillery: (p. 107) noun—supply of instruments used for purposes of attack or defense
Muster: (p. 115) verb—to summon up