“Is it really?”
“According to the owner, Mr. Namur, it is, but I doubt if he’s taken a yardstick around the world to check.” Since Rogg’s offered no other type of seating, he located two empty wood-seated metal stools at the crowded counter and pulled one out for her. He sat down beside her and pointed to a blackboard with the menu choices for the day on it. “Looks like it’s a choice between potato soup or a sausage on a bun. Do either of those sound good to you? You can have both if you’d like.”
“And ice cream?” She giggled. “I don’t think even your new car would be able to carry me home if I ate all that.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “I think I’d like the soup.”
When the young man approached to take their order, Lincoln told him they would each start with a bowl of soup. The fountain clerk returned a few minutes later and set their orders in front of them, declaring he’d be back to take the rest of their order when they were finished.
Lincoln licked his lips. Cubes of ham dotted the thick white surface, and the fresh rolls on the plates begged to be eaten. Steam rose off the bowls. He leaned over her bowl and drew in a long breath. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, we’re in luck.”
He glanced at Hannah, who’d not yet taken up her spoon. Would she be comfortable if he offered to say grace in a crowded place like this?
As if she’d read his mind, she turned to him.
It was the only signal he needed. Not only did he want to thank God for the food, but he wanted to put in a word of appreciation for finally having a moment alone to enjoy the company of Miss Hannah Gregory.
Hannah scooped creamy vanilla ice cream from her tall glass and slipped it between her lips. How long had it been since she’d had an ice cream treat?
Lincoln took a spoonful of his root beer float. “I never would have guessed you to be a black cow girl.”
“I’ve never had one, but I wanted to try something new, and it’s absolutely delicious.” She tapped the side of her glass with her spoon. “See the chocolate syrup here? It goes perfectly with the root beer and ice cream. Do you want a bite?”
“No thank you. I prefer my root beer float unadulterated, even by chocolate syrup.” He held up his glass. “To Hannah, switchboard operator graduate and first in her class.”
“And to your new automobile.” She clinked her glass with his and sealed the toast with a sip of spicy root beer.
“So, are you excited about tomorrow?”
“Yes, and nervous too.” She took a deep breath. “There’s a lot to remember, and I want to do a good job. Mrs. Reuff says central exchange operators have even more rules than the student operators, and rule keeping isn’t my forte.”
Mirth crinkled his eyes and curled his mouth. “You’ll do fine. And when your day is done tomorrow, I’ll be able to tell you if I discovered anything new on Walt’s case.”
The idea of talking to Lincoln after her first day tomorrow warmed her. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
She stirred her black cow, considering if she really wanted to know Lincoln’s answer to the question plaguing her. But she needed to know what he thought. How else would she prepare herself?
“Lincoln, is Walt going to go to trial?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he seemed to study her for a moment. “If we don’t find out something new, I’m afraid so.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she blinked them away. He’d confirmed something she had already guessed, but the news still made her heart ache.
“Thank you for being honest with me.”
“I’ll always be honest with you.” Lincoln scooped a bite of ice cream into his mouth. “My turn. I get to ask you something.”
She tilted her head to the side. My, but his pirate grin was infectious. “All right, I guess.”
“Remember, you have to be as honest with me as I was with you, understand?” She nodded, and he continued. “Do you still want to become an attorney?”
She sucked in a quick breath. Did she? She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it much lately. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Whenever the desire awakened in her, she quickly put it back to bed.
Lifting her glass to her lips, she downed what was left of her soda. “I can’t pursue that dream right now.”
He laid his hand on her arm. “That isn’t what I asked.”
She gave him a wry laugh. “If God had put me in charge of the world, things would be different, but he didn’t. My parents would be alive, my sisters would still be living on the farm, I’d be in college, and I never would have met you. But in God’s great wisdom, he decided against letting me call all of the shots. Imagine, he thought that he could do a better job running things than I.”
“Yes, imagine that.” Lincoln’s eyes sparkled. “And for the record, I’m sorry about the loss of your parents and your home, but I’m glad I was given the opportunity to meet you.” He slurped the last of his root beer from his glass.
Hannah smiled.
After placing some coins on the counter to cover their dinner and ice cream, Lincoln held the door for Hannah to exit.
“There’s no reason you can’t go back someday,” he said.
“Here? To Rogg’s?”
“No, to college, to finish law school.”
She fired him a glare, and he held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay. I get it. The subject is off-limits. I only wanted you to know I think you have what it takes to be an excellent attorney.”
A slight smile softened her features. “It’s getting late.”
Before taking Hannah home, Lincoln drove them to a lesser-traveled road outside the city. What a marvel the Reo’s gas lanterns were as they lit the road ahead of them.
Lincoln adjusted his goggles. “Are you ready to go fast?”
“Now?” Hannah peered into the dusky shadows in front of them. “Wouldn’t it be safer in daylight?”
“And here I had you pegged for a risk taker,” he teased.
“I am.” She tipped her chin upward, her voice almost sounding courageous. She couldn’t let him think she was afraid. “All right. Let’s see how fast this automobile can go.”
Lincoln pressed his foot to a pedal on the floor and placed his hand on the steering column lever. “This is the throttle, and it controls the speed.” He pushed the throttle upward, and the Reo responded. Soon the wind whipped Hannah’s hair in all directions, and exhilaration surged through her.
Pressing her hand to her hat, Hannah laughed aloud as her stomach flip-flopped when they sailed over a rise in the road.
Lincoln whooped and glanced at her.
“Look out!” Hannah spotted a cow in the road up ahead.
Lincoln cut the throttle and swerved. The Reo reached for the ditch. Lincoln fought against the loose dirt to keep the automobile on the road—and won.
He reached his gloved hand across the seat and touched her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Absolutely.” Her heart hammered, but she felt more alive than she had in a long time. “Can we do that again?”
She could hear a smile in his voice. “Maybe not tonight.”
Once they arrived back in the city, Hannah discovered it was much easier to see as they drove. Round-globed electric lights sparkled against the darkened sky and illuminated the streets. The automobile rumbled over the Locust Street Bridge. When he didn’t turn toward her home, she sat up straighter. “Lincoln, do you remember my address?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then why are we going this way?” She turned to her side to see the street name as they passed a sign.
He pulled up in front of a lovely “painted lady”—a Victorian home with gingerbread trim and what she guessed was a beautiful stained-glass window. Too bad she couldn’t have seen it in the daylight. “Does Mr. Williams live here?”
“No.” He chuckled. “Pete’s house is three times this size. This little thing is all mine.”
“Little?”
With fresh eyes, she looked at the house again. Two stories, possibly three if you counted the attic. Her present home would fit in half of this. How did a single man care for such a monstrosity? Furthermore, how did he possibly have the funds with which to purchase it?
“Was this another birthday present, or did Saint Nicolas put this under your Christmas tree?”
He puffed out his chest. “This one I bought all by myself. Earned every penny.” He glanced at her and smiled. “I think my dad would have wanted it that way, and I wanted to show it to you.”
Hannah regretted her sarcastic words. Naturally, he was proud of his home. “It’s beautiful, and your dad would be proud of you. Now tell me about your aunt.”
For the rest of the ride, Lincoln shared about both his aunt and his uncle. He explained that his uncle had made a fortune in railroading, and the couple had never had any children of their own. Even though his uncle had passed away a few years ago, his aunt seemed to grow younger with each passing year.
“My aunt is quite a character. She says every person has two ages—the one they really are and the one they feel like they are.” He laughed as they hit a dip in the road. “According to Aunt Sam, she’s sixty going on sixteen.”
“Did you ever want for anything?”
He turned onto Hannah’s street. “If you’re asking if I ever wanted for anything tangible, I’d say no. But I longed for other things. I wanted to be at home with my family when I was sent to boarding school. I wanted to study medicine to help people, but my uncle declared I should study law.”
“You help people there too.”
“I realize that now. Another thing I really wanted was brothers and sisters.” He chuckled. “Money can’t buy those.”
“I don’t know. I have two sisters I’d be happy to sell sometimes.” She relaxed into the seat. “If you wanted to study medicine, why didn’t you?”
“My uncle was right. He said my mouth was more gifted than my hands. Eventually, after a lot of prayer, his dream became my own.”
Could her dream change? If she prayed hard enough, would she be content as a switchboard operator instead of becoming an attorney?
The wind blew against her face despite the Roadster’s glass pane. She tightened the silk scarf beneath her chin.
He pulled the Reo to the curb outside her rented home, shut off the engine, and came around to assist her in stepping down. When she reached the front porch, she spotted Tessa’s face pressed against the parlor’s windowpane, eyes wide at the sight of the automobile. Hannah glared at her and then saw Charlotte yank Tessa away.
“Tess will be out here hounding you for a ride if I don’t get inside soon.”
Lincoln laughed, a full, warm sound that made her smile and her insides flutter. “Tell her I’ll give her a ride tomorrow when I bring you home.”
Just like that, he’d anchored himself to her life as if she didn’t have a say in the matter. Even though she’d been excited to see him after work and talk about the case, assuming he’d take her home was another thing entirely.
She stiffened at the idea. She didn’t want anyone telling her how things were going to be, no matter how striking his dove-blue eyes were. The whole evening had had an almost magical effect on her, and she must not have been thinking straight. She must have been wooed by a black cow and a beautiful automobile.
Neighbors began to come out on their porches to catch a glimpse of the Reo Roadster on the street, even though it was difficult to see in the dark. They gawked at it and then at her.
Hannah’s cheeks heated. She glanced at the automobile. When the Reo sat in front of Lincoln’s fine home, it seemed to fit, but here it looked out of place in front of the little houses. It simply didn’t belong.
Any more than she belonged in his world.
She undid the silk scarf from around her head and held it out to him.
“That’s yours, remember?” He pushed it back toward her.
She couldn’t meet his gaze. “No, Lincoln, the man said this was for your lady, and I’m afraid that can’t be me.”
18
The elevator clanked and shook as it rose, and Hannah reminded herself to breathe. It wouldn’t do to faint on the way up to the third floor’s central exchange on her first day as an official switchboard operator. Making a good first impression was imperative.
She stepped off the elevator and scanned the hallway. It wasn’t Drake College, but the building was bright and clean. A few young women stood talking in groups, probably awaiting the beginning of their shift. She glanced at the large wall clock and took a deep breath. Half an hour early. Good. Being late would not accomplish her goal. Mrs. Reuff had told her to report to Mr. Cayhill, the chief operator, well before her scheduled eight o’clock shift.
Hannah slipped down the hallway until it opened into the immense exchange room. She sucked in her breath as she scanned the area. On two sides of the room, switchboards rose to within four feet of the high ceiling. At least fifty operators worked, nimble hands flying, as they connected the calls. Above the boards, sunlight streamed in through the cross-paned windows.
Operators sat crowded elbow to elbow, perched in straight-back chairs, before each switchboard. Crowning the blonde, brown, black, or red hair of each operator was a metal band. Hannah recognized the band that held the receiver in place over the operator’s ear and wondered when and where she’d get her own set.
To her surprise, the only noise in the room, save the rustle of women’s skirts and the footsteps of supervisors, was the low, buzzing murmur of operators saying, “Number, please” and “Thank you.” The lights on the switchboards twinkled like the stars in the sky as customers placed their first calls of the day.
Overwhelmed by the large room and the number of people, she felt dizzy for a moment. She pressed her hand to her churning stomach. Was she ready for this?
She searched the room for the chief operator and found him busy at the switchboards on the third wall. The sign above these boards indicated they were the long-distance switchboards. On the final, short wall, Hannah noted the three small information operators’ desks bearing books and newspapers as well as a switch box.
A few desks sat in the center of the room on raised platforms. These, Hannah had been warned more than once, belonged to the monitors, operators assigned to listen in on calls and watch the other operators for rule violations. Mrs. Reuff had explained the monitors kept a deportment card on each operator, and these cards were reviewed by the supervisors and the chief operator on a regular basis.
Hannah took a step forward and stopped. How odd it was that none of the operators turned their heads from their boards to see the stranger in the room.
Mr. Cayhill, the only man present, walked from station to station. When he spotted her, he approached and smiled. “Miss Gregory, nice to see you.”
She smiled and dipped her head. “And you as well, sir.”
“I’m glad you arrived early.” He glanced at the wall clock. “As you’ve undoubtedly been told, this isn’t our busiest time, but we’re gearing up for the day. We won’t put you to work quite yet. I want you to meet Miss Frogge. She’ll be your supervisor and in charge of acclimating you to our operating room.”
She followed Mr. Cayhill down the row of switchboards. He stopped in front of a tall woman with spectacles and bulging eyes. Hannah stifled a grin. If this was Miss Frogge, she couldn’t have been more aptly named.
After introductions had been made, Mr. Cayhill excused himself, and Miss Frogge gave Hannah a critical once-over. “I’m too busy to work with you right now, so go sit down at station thirteen, and don’t touch anything, you understand?”
Hannah blinked. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sliding into the chair at station thirteen, Hannah glanced around for other empty stations. Seeing no others, she guessed this one would become hers. While she wasn’t superstitious, being assigned to thirteen was slightly unnerving. She needed all the luck she could get.
No, Hannah
. Not luck. God’s blessings. She sent up another prayer asking him to bless her with a meek and gentle spirit—two qualities God had not given her in abundance.
She turned to the operators on either side of the station. Neither looked in her direction or offered any welcoming words. Their hands continued to jam the white-corded jacks into the plugs at an amazing rate. Hannah’s stomach flip-flopped. How would she ever keep up?
At five until eight, the door to the exchange opened and a line of operators filed in. Each young woman stood behind a currently seated operator. When the bell rang, the two women switched places with clocklike precision. All seated operators moved to their left to exit, and all the fresh operators sat down in the chair from the other side. Hannah doubted a single call was missed during the flawless exchange.
She spent the next half hour watching the workings of the exchange. Finally, Miss Frogge motioned for Hannah to follow her. In the hallway, the supervisor peered over her spectacles. “First in your class?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Just so you know, that doesn’t mean a thing here. You’ll have to prove yourself all over again, and you’ll get no special treatment from me.”
Hannah nodded. “I understand. I’ll work hard.”
“Of course you will.” Miss Frogge turned and marched down the hallway, her shoes clacking on the tiled floor.
Hannah fell in behind her.
The supervisor stopped in front of a large coat closet with a plethora of hangers and hooks. “You may put your wrap here, but leave nothing of value in your pockets. Despite our unparalleled screening process, occasionally we have a young woman with sticky fingers.”
Miss Frogge continued the tour, showing Hannah where to pick up her operator’s headset, where the infirmary was, and where to speak to the clerk to obtain her schedule. She pointed to an oak door with a window in the top half. “This is the operators’ parlor, Miss Gregory.”
She indicated for Hannah to enter. The room held a piano, comfortable seating, and even sewing supplies.
“It’s lovely.”
“The telephone company understands the stress their operators are under and the fragile constitution of most young women.” Miss Frogge ran her finger along a shelf and puffed away the dust she’d collected on her fingertip. “They want you to have the opportunity to relax during lunch and on your breaks.” She swept her hand toward a table bearing scissors, bright paper, and ribbons. “Right now a scrapbook competition is being held for the operators. Many of the girls are quite witty with their prose. The telephone company is providing the prize for the best scrapbook—a new hat from Younkers.”
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