“They got roasted turkey legs at the Negro Buildin’ today. I’s fixin’ to git me one. Y’ done et?”
If thinking about a roasted turkey leg didn’t make him hungry, he was still powerful mad. Being mad enough to pass up a turkey leg made his mad grow stronger. “Go on. I’s fine.”
“All right, then. If you’s sure you don’t need nothin’.”
“You need to take hold o’ God.” Mam’s voice went yammering in his head again.
Quincy gritted his teeth and told that voice inside him to hush. “I’s sure.”
Willie
Willie stayed behind at the end of the day and asked Mr. Felton if he had any word about who took the pay envelopes from the Silk Room. Mr. Felton said the police chief had told him not to talk about it and to let the authorities handle it. He advised Willie to do the same. The man wasn’t very friendly—not like he’d been in the morning—but Willie didn’t hold it against him. He’d had a rough day with discovering one of his guards likely broke into a building on the grounds he was supposed to protect and then having to deal with missing pay envelopes. Anybody would be grouchy after enduring a day like that.
He told his boss goodbye and to have a good evening. Then he climbed the stairs to the outside door. Out on the grass, he only made it two steps and something grabbed the back of his jacket and swung him around. His shoulder blades and noggin connected with the brick wall. For a few seconds black dots danced in front of his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself trapped by Turner and Briggs.
“Think you’re real smart, don’t you, boy?” Turner’s hot, beer-scented breath hit Willie in the face.
Willie winced. “Not especially.”
The man jabbed Willie hard on the shoulder. “Don’t sass me.”
Briggs caught Willie’s jacket lapel and shook him. “You told Felton that my buddy Simon here tore up the Silk Room.” He let go, shoving Willie against the wall again.
Willie couldn’t deny it without lying, and he wouldn’t lie. But coming out and confessing would be like throwing kerosene on a fire. Pa always told him the way to avoid a fight was to be calm and polite. A person couldn’t stay mad at somebody who was calm and polite. The advice’d always worked before, so he’d use it again.
He shifted his jacket back into place. “Time to go home, fellows. Would you move out o’ my way, please?”
“ ‘Would you move out o’ my way, please?’ ” Turner made his voice high and squeaky. He jabbed Willie again, harder this time. “Not ’til I get my satisfaction.”
Willie glanced at the basement door. When would Mr. Felton come up? Or did he use the other staircase, the one that opened inside the building? Willie sure hoped his boss would use this one. Until then, he’d have to keep these men too busy to batter him into the ground.
“Mr. Turner, I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. I was put in charge o’ the Silk Room, told to keep watch over it. I was only doin’ my job. I didn’t set out to cause trouble for anybody.”
“Well, you caused a heap o’ trouble.” Briggs planted one hand against the wall beside Willie’s head. “Cost Simon his job even though he ain’t been found guilty of any wrongdoin’ in a court. Policeman who came said it was too circum…circum…” He grunted and looked at Turner.
“Circumspecial. Think that’s what he called it.” Turner puffed out his chest. “Said sure my boots matched the prints, but there’s lots o’ other men who could have boots like those. Says they can’t prove I tromped that cloth.” His face contorted into an ugly glower. “But it didn’t matter to Felton. He told me take my things an’ git.”
Willie felt bad for Turner, but he was also a little angry. Quincy had got picked up and tossed in jail for doing nothing more than being on the fairgrounds. But the police hadn’t bothered to arrest Turner, even though those prints matched up perfectly to his boots. But then, Quincy’d been innocent. Maybe Turner was innocent, too.
“If you didn’t tear up the Silk Room, I don’t want you losin’ your job for somethin’ you didn’t do. I’ll talk to Mr. Felton, tell him to let you keep your job, if you look me in the eye an’ tell me you didn’t make the mess in that room.”
Both men stared at Willie like he’d just spit on them. Then they broke out laughing. They guffawed and slapped their knees and whacked Willie on the shoulders, the way he’d seen the other guards do to each other when they were horsing around in fun. So busy laughing, they weren’t paying him any mind. Should he take off running? Turner’d been drinking, and Briggs was at least twice Willie’s age. Willie could outrun them. But he didn’t want to run if they were going to tell him the truth.
They finally stopped laughing. Turner sucked in a big breath and heaved out beer-stinky air. Then he took hold of Willie’s jacket and pulled him up until they were nose to nose. “If you think I’m gonna ask some snot-nosed boy who’s got no respect for his elders to talk to the boss for me, you’re even dumber’n I thought you were.” He shoved Willie against the wall, then held him there with both palms on his chest.
The rough bricks pulled Willie’s hair. The spot where his head had hit earlier throbbed. Turner was going to beat him, and Briggs’d most likely help, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop them. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the first blows.
Please, God, don’t let ’em hurt me too bad. I gotta keep workin’ so I can pay for Pa’s hospital.
“Them who grow cotton, they’re facin’ real hardship.”
Willie opened his eyes and looked into Turner’s face.
“They need folks buyin’ their crop. We don’t want some out-o’-staters as far away as Iowa stealin’ sales from our own.”
Briggs sneered at Willie over Turner’s shoulder. “The silkworm folks didn’t get the hint the first time.”
Gooseflesh broke out over Willie’s frame.
“So they’re gonna need another one. It’ll be worse the second time around.” Briggs nodded, real solemn, like he was making a promise. “Not just stuff busted up, but maybe people.”
“But the only ones workin’ that room are women.” Willie couldn’t believe these two would be low enough to harm women.
“Oh, you’re right about that, sonny boy.” Turner thumped his palms on Willie’s chest. “Be pretty sad, wouldn’t it, for them pretty ladies to suffer harm? You can keep it from happenin’.”
Willie’s jaw dropped open. “Me? How?”
“Tell that ol’ lady who’s runnin’ the room to pack everything up an’ send it back where it came from.” Turner pulled Willie away from the wall and gave him a shove.
Willie stumbled several steps and regained his balance. He stiffened, waiting for their attack. But neither of them came at him.
“What about it, Sharp?” Turner jutted his jaw and glowered. “You gonna help the folks in your own home state or not?”
Willie rubbed the back of his head. A knot was growing back there. His thinking was all muddled. He didn’t want to see anybody get hurt. But if they closed up the Silk Room, Laurel would lose her job. ’Course, if she didn’t have a job at the exposition, maybe it would keep her from Langdon Rochester. Would his boss’s spoiled son still pursue her if she wasn’t so easy to get to?
“I’m waitin’ for an answer.”
Willie shook his head, wishing he could think straight. “I don’t think I can get Miss Warner to pack up an’ leave. She’s real faithful to her employers. She won’t go unless they tell her to.”
The two men exchanged a look that made Willie’s stomach churn. Briggs shrugged. “Then whatever happens is on your shoulders.”
Laurel
Wednesday and Thursday, Laurel gave a start every time she heard footsteps outside the Silk Room door. Every time, she paused in weaving and peeked over her shoulder, heart fluttering with hope, a smile ready to burst across her face if the arrival was Langdon. And every time, disappointment
smote her.
To her bewilderment, Officer Sharp also reacted, yet he seemed anything but hopeful. She couldn’t be certain whether worry or fear made him stiffen and jerk his gaze to the door, then slump his shoulders in relief, but he was watching for someone, too. She considered asking what had him so anxious, but what if she engaged Officer Sharp in conversation and then Langdon did come to the room to fetch her? She couldn’t take the chance. Not without losing Langdon for good.
So she nodded greetings to Officer Sharp, and she just listened to his conversations with Miss Warner or Berta or Felicia. Sometimes she smiled secretly at the tales he recounted about a big orange cat named Rusty. She blinked back tears when he talked about missing his pa. Such a loving son he was, so determined to do what was best for his ailing father. He inspired her to put Mama first and do what was best for her.
Images of Langdon’s big house, of the wondrous library, even of the two shining silver dollars on the table at the rooftop restaurant danced in her mind and reminded her why Langdon was the perfect one for her. He had the means to support Mama in grand style, giving her better things than even Papa had provided. As hard as it was—as awkward as it seemed to never speak a word to the friendly young man who spent the day in the Silk Room—she kept her promise.
By Friday she accepted that Langdon had meant what he said and wouldn’t come see her until President’s Day. She focused fully on weaving, celebrating every quarter inch added to the length of purple cloth shimmering on the loom. But Officer Sharp didn’t relax. His jumpiness puzzled her but also worried her. Who did he expect to come through the door?
Now and then Langdon’s intimation that Officer Sharp stole the pay envelopes from Miss Warner’s desk echoed in her memory. She tried to push it far into the recesses of her mind, but the man’s skittishness and the realization that his father would probably be in the hospital for months niggled at her. He wanted to do everything he could to care for his father. Could that possibly include taking money? If so, he would be on edge, always wondering if someone had found him out.
She hated thinking such a thing. Officer Sharp had never been anything but kind to her and the other Silk Room workers. She wished the police officers who had come to the Silk Room and questioned Miss Warner, Officer Sharp, and her and the other girls would discover the truth so she could put the unsettling thoughts aside for good.
Saturday dawned chilly and gray. Laurel shivered as she waited on the porch for Eugene’s arrival. Saturdays were generally busier than weekdays at the exposition, with parents bringing their children to see the exhibits, but the dismal weather promised a slow day. Fewer visitors meant fewer distractions, and fewer distractions meant she wouldn’t be able to prevent herself from thinking about Langdon. Her chest ached. She missed him. Did he miss her?
The carriage rattled around the corner, and Laurel darted to the edge of the street to meet it. Eugene set the brake and smiled down at her. “Do you mind getting into the carriage on your own this morning? I stubbed my toe on the bed frame last night trying to keep from stepping on Little Gene, and it’s very swollen and purple. Ethel thinks I’ve broken it. Whether I have or not, it pains me to walk, and I’d rather not hop down unless I have to.”
Laurel curled her fingers over the metal rail of the driver’s seat. “I could get in on my own, but I think I’d rather sit with you. May I?”
He glanced skyward. “The air is damp. You might catch a chill.”
“I need some advice. From someone who has courted and understands how it’s done.”
His eyebrows rose. “Ah. I see.” He shrugged. “Well, then, climb up.”
She handed him her lunch pail, then stepped on the wheel hub and hoisted herself up. Eugene took her hand and pulled, and she pushed on the footboard, and all at once she fell headlong into the driver’s box. She sat up on her knees, laughing.
He grinned. “Here, clumsy, give me your hand.”
She did so, and he helped her slide onto the seat. She swiped her forehead with her hand. “Whew! That’s hard work. You make it seem so easy.”
“I don’t have to contend with two layers of skirts and a petticoat.”
“Lucky you.”
He laughed, and she couldn’t resist smiling. He flicked the reins, and the horse broke into a gentle clip-clop.
She slipped her shawl back into place on her shoulders and settled more comfortably on the seat. “I think from now on I’ll ride in the cab. It’s easier to get in and out of it.”
“You still have to get down by yourself when we reach the fairgrounds. So prepare yourself now for a mighty leap.”
She pretended horror, and he laughed again. Eugene had always been so quiet and serious. She liked the lighthearted brother who had emerged over the past several weeks, and she told him so.
He angled a bashful look at her. “You have yourself to thank for that.”
She pointed to herself. “Me?”
“Mmm-hmm. Your courage to step out into something new inspired me. I decided if you can be brave, so can I.”
Tears made his image waver. “Oh, Eugene…”
He chuckled. “Now, don’t start the waterworks. The sky might leak. We don’t need your eyes leaking, too.”
Laughter chased away the tears.
Eugene bumped her lightly with his elbow. “All right, you climbed up here to talk, so what did you want to ask me? I hope it isn’t too complicated. I did my courting quite a while ago, you know.”
Laurel shivered. The air was even more chilly up high than it had seemed on the ground. She crisscrossed the tails of her shawl over her chest, and then she explained Langdon’s need to remain in the Rochester booth and admitted how much she missed seeing him each day. “Maybe it isn’t decent for me to pine for him. He hasn’t made any declarations of devotion, but he did call me his sweetheart and say we were keeping company. Doesn’t that suggest he’s interested in courting me?”
He chewed on his mustache, his brows low. “Yes, keeping company—especially taking you to his home to meet his parents—does seem as if he’s leading up to a formal courtship.”
She tightened her arms against her rib cage, stifling a cry of elation. “Then do you think it would be unseemly for me to visit him on one of my breaks?”
“Do you know where to find him?” The protectiveness she’d come to expect appeared in his frown. “You shouldn’t wander the grounds searching for him. Mama would consider your behavior improper.”
“No need for me to wander. I haven’t been inside the Georgia Manufacturers Building, but I know where it is on the grounds. Berta and I passed it when we went to the tintype gallery and retrieved the photograph she’d had made beside the Liberty Bell. The building isn’t very far from where we picnicked together, remember?”
He nodded. “Yes, I do recall seeing the name on the building. It’s a fair distance from the Women’s Building, but it isn’t out of the way.” He guided the horse into their final corner. The tops of buildings, flags, and rooftop statues came into view. They would reach the fairgrounds in only a few more minutes.
Laurel caught hold of her brother’s elbow and peered into his face. “Since he isn’t able to come to me, should I—could I—go to him? If we are approaching a courtship, is it acceptable for me to”—she swallowed a nervous giggle—“seek him out?”
Eugene didn’t answer. The horse pulled the carriage up to the Administration Building, and he called, “Whoa.” The animal stopped, snorting and tapping a hoof on the pavement. He set the brake and finally turned to her. “If you are interested in a courtship with this man and there will be others nearby to oversee your interactions, then I believe it would be all right for you to let him know you miss seeing him. But”—he pointed at her, his expression firm—“you tell him in words only.”
Her face heated. In the brisk breeze, her skin seemed warmer than ever. She covered her cheeks with her hands. “Of cours
e I would only use words. I haven’t— He hasn’t— We—” She lowered her hands and released a little huff. “I’ve only let him kiss my hand.”
“Good girl.” Without warning, he captured her in a hug. “Love is a wondrous thing.” He spoke against her hair. “Marriage is a joy in spite of the challenges. You deserve the happiness that love and marriage can bring to you. If you love Langdon Rochester and you believe he is the partner God has chosen for you, then I’m very happy for you.”
He gave her a squeeze and released her. He sniffed and rubbed his nose with his finger. “You’d better go.”
Her chin wobbled, making it hard to speak. “Thank you, Eugene. I love you.”
He grinned, his mustache twitching. “I love you, too. Now scat.”
She laughed and climbed over the edge. He handed down her lunch pail, and she waved to him as he drove away. Then she scurried through the archway and across the square. The promise of time with Langdon made her want to skip and sing. She could hardly wait to see his face when she stepped into the Georgia Manufacturers Building at noon.
* * *
Gripping her lunch pail’s handle in one hand and the tails of her shawl with the other, Laurel scurried across the bridge and followed the walkway beside the foot portion of Clara Meer. The wind had picked up during the morning, and a strand of hair blew across her face. She tossed her head, dislodging the strand, never slowing her pace. Only a half-hour break for lunch. So little time to spend with Langdon. She didn’t want to waste a minute of it.
She reached the sprawling orange-colored building and trotted past the first of the twin towers that stood proudly at each end. The flags at the top flapped wildly in the breeze, creating offbeat claps. A wide arched doorway beckoned and she darted inside. She paused for a moment, sighing in relief to be out of the damp wind, and peeked first left and then right. A hippopotamus-shaped piece of machinery topped by a variety of items—from what resembled a train whistle to a pair of large wheels—caught her eye.
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