Snow White's Mirror

by Shonna Slayton

  With the ticket and a small bag of sweets in her reticule, along with another penny added to her collection, she returned to her room at the hotel.

  If they were giving out a prize for best Fourth of July decorations, the Copper Queen would win. With all the bunting and streamers and flags, you’d think President Roosevelt himself was coming to visit.

  All the pomp and ceremony of the day sparked a vague memory of watching a Fourth of July parade when she was a child. Perched on her father’s shoulders she stared down at her mother’s wide brimmed hat trimmed in patriotic colors. As if sensing Billie’s stare, mother had tilted her head and looked up at her. “Exciting, isn’t it, Wilhelmina?” Her voice was light and soft.

  Most of Billie’s recent memories were of mother wrapped in blankets in her favorite chair or stretched out on the couch. By the time Billie and her father had left for California, Mother was confined to her bed. It was too easy for Billie to forget her suffering mother when being out west seeing new things, meeting new people.

  After unlocking her hotel door, Billie shoved it open in frustration. What a terrible daughter she was. Uncle Dale remained focused on healing his sister, no matter how absurd the cure seemed, while her head was getting turned by the fate of a boy she’d only known for a few weeks.

  She tossed her reticule on the bed and immediately spotted a thick, rectangular box near the pillow. “How did you get here?” she whispered. There was a card on top which read:

  Enjoy the ball,

  -Matron.

  How did she know? Eagerly, Billie pulled the lid off the oversize box. Inside lay a deep purple silk gown shimmering from top to toe, as elegant as any dress she’d ever tried to talk her parents into letting her wear.

  If only she could use it tonight, but it hadn’t been even three months yet. It wouldn’t be proper to switch to half-mourning colors, would it?

  Still, it was a thoughtful thing for Matron to do. The woman had been nothing but generous to her since the beginning. Billie had no idea why Lou and Winn were so at odds with Matron. Must be they didn’t understand her interest in the finer things in life. Billie pinched the silky fabric, reveling in the cool softness. She’d have to find out where the businesswoman shopped; her style was impeccable.

  There were no mourning rules about trying on clothes in the confines of one’s own bedroom. She had to see how well it fit so she could properly thank Matron. Showing appreciation was proper etiquette, too.

  Without a second thought she discarded her black crepe to exchange it for the purple gown. When she pulled the dress fully from the box, a pair of black-heeled shoes fell out. Oh, bless her. Billie could pretend she’d gotten used to her brown boots, but truthfully, their thick soles pulled her to the ground and made her feel common.

  Before she’d even finished buttoning, she could tell the dress was special. Trying to see the full gown using the smallish mirror attached to the dressing table, she twisted and jumped to get a view from every possible angle. If this had been the magic mirror, she would have looked ridiculous from Winn’s perspective.

  She self-consciously stopped jumping and whispered the poem, “Mirror, mirror, on the wall.” She waited for the swirling, the silhouette, or the smirking Winn.

  Nothing happened. Ha. She resumed her primping, happy that this mirror was just a mirror.

  The silk gown fit her like a dress measured exactly for her, even down to the length of the tulip skirt. It was too bad no one would see her in it. Maybe she should go ahead and wear it after all.

  On the heels of that thought, the room began to tilt and Billie sat down hard on the floor. Beads of sweat broke out along her forehead. Heat stroke? Caught up in all the excitement of the day, she hadn’t had enough water to drink.

  The dress seemed to constrict around her chest, forcing shallow breaths. All she could think was she needed to get the bodice off, now.

  Taking panicked breaths, she tore at the buttons. Off came the bodice, and she could loosen her corset. Billie lay still for a moment before turning on the faucet in her room and getting a drink. She’d not make that mistake again. Water with every meal.

  With reluctance, she folded up the purple gown and returned it to the box. One day she’d wear it. But for now, that hard-to-breathe feeling reminded her that all was not right in her world. She was still in mourning, and Winn was in trouble. Her vanity almost won out again, but with her focus back, she set out to meet the governor’s wife.

  Chapter 30

  As expected, the reception for Governor Brodie and his wife was a popular event. Billie only managed to see the top of Mrs. Brodie’s hat and had to sit through the governor’s political speech for the pleasure. On the bright side, it was a beautiful hat. Wide-brimmed with blue ribbons and violet flowers.

  Billie made casual inquiries about Fremont, but most of those around her were not from Bisbee. They’d come in for the festivities from close-by Douglas and Naco and as far away as Tucson and El Paso. And many of them were here specifically to see Governor Brodie, former Rough Rider. Boston itself couldn’t have drawn a more devoted crowd than this group, eager to join the sisterhood of states and make their wishes known to the governor, their hero.

  When the sun went down, the time seemed about right for her to try to find Matron and thank her for the gift, even though she couldn’t wear it yet. As soon as was appropriate in the reception, she made her way out the front door. “Excuse me,” she repeated over and over until she managed to step out into the cooling air outside.

  Soon, she spied Matron crossing the street near the drug store. Billie was surprised she hadn’t gone to the reception seeing as though that’s where all the powerful or soon-to-be powerful were. Just the type of gathering for someone like Matron.

  Billie straightened her sleeves, tried to smooth out a wrinkle in her skirt, then hurried to catch up with her benefactress. “Matron!”

  The woman turned, her face transforming into a smile at the sight of Billie. “Why aren’t you wearing the gown? I had it specifically tailored for you.”

  “I love it and look forward to wearing it soon.” She indicated her black crepe. “But I’d like to wait a little longer. Thank you for your generosity.” She pointed her foot out from under her skirt to show she was at least wearing the black shoes. “You are my own fairy godmother trying to send me to the ball.”

  “Hardly.” Matron glanced over Billie’s shoulder in the direction of the Copper Queen. “Did you come from the reception?”

  “Yes. Governor Brodie is promising the world, while his wife is a perfect picture beside him.”

  “Indeed. That is the way of politics.” She inclined her head. “Has that cousin of yours taught you to be wary of those who make such promises?”

  Lou was wary of everyone, especially so of Matron, but Billie couldn’t reveal that. “How do you and Lou know each other?” It was her polite way of asking what their conflict was.

  “It’s a young town, with relatively few women. We all know of one another. Doesn’t mean we all get along. But you’re old enough to have figured that out on your own.”

  Matron saw right through Billie’s attempt at polite meddling. “Yes, but we can still be friendly, can’t we?” Lou could learn a lot from Matron, about how to get on in town. How to be a woman in business. Billie worried about Lou’s solitary existence up on the mountain. It wasn’t healthy.

  “Let’s not talk of Louisa. What about you? Looking so grown up tonight. What is it you want most from your time here?” Matron asked.

  No one ever asked Billie what she wanted. It was do this or do that or meet this person or say this. Her whole life she’d never had a say in the big decisions. It was all expectations, no choices. She’d had no practice in wanting things she might actually get. Other than shoes. Maybe that was why she was so particular about fashion.

  At Billie’s silence, Matron continued. “I’ve made some inquiries. You’re Chester Bergmann’s daughter. Do you know what happens with your f
amily business? It is passed from male heir to male heir. You think you’re secure in your wealth, but wealth, like so many other things in life is fleeting. When your daddy died, so did your life as you know it. They’ll not take care of you the way they say they will.”

  Billie was confused. One minute Matron was giving her gifts, and then the next talking about things she knew nothing about.

  “You’re mistaken. We’ve had women in charge of the company before.” Lou’s grandmother had once been in charge of the company. Not that that meant Wilhelmina wanted to be in charge now.

  “Just watch. Your relatives in Germany will take over soon. They always do.”

  “Why are you saying this?”

  “You’ve been coddled your whole life. Enough naive girls have passed through my saloon doors for me to recognize the signs. I hate that your family did that to an intelligent woman like you. If I can open your eyes in any way, it’s my gift to the next generation.”

  Billie wanted to protest and defend her family, but there had been whispers and side looks at the offices in California that extended beyond the concerned stares of well-meaning employees. That, and the difficulty Uncle Dale continually had securing funds from the company—he’d had to go directly to his sister.

  “No one knows you here, sweetheart. You can do anything you want and be anyone you want to be.”

  Matron stepped closer and stroked one of the curls framing Billie’s face. “I can help you become the person you want to be, without the backing of your family.” She smiled, her red lips curving broadly.

  Billie couldn’t smile back. She could only stare, stunned. At the start of this trip she knew what she wanted. She wanted to be back in Boston, reunited with her friends, and most especially, Branson. But now? She still wanted to be back in Boston, but not only had Branson lost his appeal, she had little idea of who she was anymore. In a few words Matron had taken the peeling edges of Billie’s life, stripped her identity, and offered to give her a new one.

  “Come to my office at the Poisoned Apple tonight.”

  Billie hesitated. A saloon during the day was one thing, but at night after the men had been drinking?

  Matron held up her hand at Billie’s shocked face. “Go up the back staircase. You won’t have to walk through the saloon.”

  “Thank you, but I’m going to the ball tonight.” However appealing Matron’s offer to help, Billie was not comfortable meeting at the saloon. The ball was a good excuse to avoid it, and Billie made up her mind to go on the spot. She was glad she’d gone ahead and bought a ticket just in case.

  “Yes, of course. That’s tonight.” Matron’s eyes flicked to the front porch of the Copper Queen Hotel where the ladies of the reception committee gathered. “I may see you at the ball. You learn to make things happen for yourself in this world, Wilhelmina. Don’t let a bevy of gossips get in your way.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Never mind. Enjoy the ball.”

  Chapter 31

  As the guests from the reception made their way over to the Opera House, Billie fell in line with her uncle. “I didn’t think you were going to the ball,” she said.

  “I’m not. I was looking for you.”

  “Good, because I need to talk to you, too.”

  “I was only able to shake the governor’s hand. I need you to try to get close to the wife tonight. See if you can secure an invitation to breakfast. It’ll be too busy to talk to him during the tour of the power plant later. Too many of us are clamoring for a look at that new generator.”

  “Why do we want so desperately to meet privately with the new governor?”

  “I have business to discuss with him.”

  “What kind of business? Surely not my father’s because apparently that is going to be taken over by some distant relative in Germany.” She paused for a breath. “Please tell me I’m wrong.”

  He led her off the boardwalk and onto a quieter street.

  “Don’t be upset. It’ll all work out. What were you and your mother going to do with a mining company anyway?”

  “Run it?” The idea popped out of her mouth practically before she’d even thought it. It was a reaction to people making decisions about her without telling her or asking her or even acknowledging her.

  “Seriously. Your mother is dying, and you are a child.”

  She winced. He didn’t have to be so blunt. She’d just lost her father, and here she was dressed in black and getting ready to go to a ball. It made her feel as shallow and naive as he and Matron had suggested she was.

  Pick out what kind of shoes you want, but don’t you dare think about what kind of life you could have.

  “They’re looking for the next male heir, possibly your cousin Fremont if they can find him, or someone in Germany. They’re still mapping the family tree. I’ve been rejected.”

  Billie stood aghast. “Why didn’t I hear it from you? Matron, a stranger to our family, was the only one who saw fit to tell me.”

  “Bergmann Consolidated has always transferred ownership via the males in the family. No one ever told you?”

  She shook her head and pressed her hands over her churning stomach. “But Lou said her mother ran the company for a time.”

  “It was a very short period, and they codified the transfer protocols thereafter.”

  “So, what are the implications for me and Mother?”

  “I’m sure you’ll be cared for, comfortably, maybe not like you’ve been expecting.”

  “Who do I talk to about this?”

  “Me, I’m afraid. They’ve made me the liaison between Bergmann Consolidated and the family.”

  That did not reassure her. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

  “They thought it best that I explain things. I was planning to go over all the details with you and your mother together since it directly affects her.”

  “And me.” She watched the strangers walk by on their way to the ball. Fancy gowns glittered from the electric lights. Modern society, made for her generation, yet she felt lost. Passed by. Ignored. Not needed.

  He shrugged. “Indirectly. It only indirectly affects you.”

  Uncle Dale didn’t understand. This wasn’t his family or his heritage. Billie was waking up to the fact that there was so much more to her family than she realized. Their secrets and their business practices had all been hidden from her. For all those years she didn’t care because she was happy growing up in her carefully maintained corner. She was content with her place in society, not noticing the wider world around her.

  “I better go,” Billie said, backing away from her uncle. “It’s almost nine thirty. The ball will be starting soon.”

  Uncle Dale smiled as if relieved he’d gotten through to her. “That’s a girl. Don’t stay out too late.” As an afterthought, he said, “Do you need an escort? I can drop you off and pick you up again.”

  After letting her loose on the town all this time, it was a little late for him to be thinking about propriety.

  “I’ll be fine. Thank you. I’ll watch for a group going back to the hotel and leave with them.”

  She turned in the direction of the Opera House, following the last groups of revelers headed to the ball. She was no longer excited about the possibilities of the night.

  She ought to send a telegram to warn her mother of the company’s plans, but what good would it do? If she was in a bad spell, she wouldn’t have the strength to care, and if she was in a good way, it would only worry her. Or, she might already know. Uncle had assumed Billie herself did. Maybe in all things, Billie was the last to know. No, not in all things. She knew where the magic mirror was.

  Applying all her social graces, Billie smiled as she handed over her ticket and entered the room. Electric lights made possible by the copper pulled from the local mines shone brightly, as if sponsoring the night themselves. The room took on an entirely different look with all the chairs removed from the center, showing off the gleaming hardwood floor. Copious amou
nts of red, white, and blue bunting draped the walls, and the orchestra played a waltz for the dancing couples.

  Immediately, Billie went for the punch at the back of the room so she’d have something to hold on to and ward off any requests for dancing until she could gather her thoughts. A young man standing near the exit noticed her right away. She turned her back, examining the finger sandwiches and hoping he’d get the message.

  “Hello, name’s Darren,” said the fellow, walking around and planting himself in front of her. He spoke above the music in a deep, rich voice that she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard.

  “Miss Bergmann.” She spoke crisply.

  “I’ve seen you in town with Winn. How’s he been?” the fellow asked.

  “Oh, are you friends?” she said, immediately warming up to him. She was supposed to be gathering information about Fremont but couldn’t let an opportunity to learn more about Winn slip away.

  “Used to be. Don’t know what happened to him, but he’s pushed all the fellas away. Hoping you could tell me how he’s doing.”

  “You mean he wasn’t always this way?” She stepped away from the refreshment table, leading Darren to a quieter corner of the Opera House where they’d have a better chance of speaking freely.

  “Standoffish? No. We used to have great fun together, but then he started acting all strange. We’d make plans and he wouldn’t show up, and then he’d have no reason. He stopped playing ball, quit trying so hard in school. We all know our future is in the mine, but he has other ideas. We were okay with that, but I guess he felt different, like he didn’t belong with us anymore. I don’t know. We stopped asking him to do things. He started acting all snooty, being a Faro dealer and all. We figured he thought he was too good for us. But we were seeing him go down a bad way. What’s a fellow to do if his chum won’t listen to him?”

  “Did you ever see him with a man named Fremont? A German fellow?”