by Debby Lee
The door swung open, and the tall, blond-haired man coming through the doorway looked a bit stunned. A smile quickly filled his face, which made his blue eyes shine. “You don’t have ta knock on the door. Just go on in and sit in the waitin’ area.” His thick Brooklyn accent came through as he pointed behind him and then tipped his hat at her.
“Um, well, thank you.” He allowed her entrance, and she sent him a small smile. All this time, she must have looked so silly, standing outside the door, knocking.
“I made the same mistake my first time.” He tipped his hat again and hesitated for a moment like he was about to say something else and then turned and walked away.
“Thank you,” she called after him. Whoever he was, at least he hadn’t laughed at her or sneered when he’d heard her accent. Perhaps this was going to be a good day after all.
Chapter 2
Thursday, March 2, 1911
Philip March sat in the waiting area of Professor Montgomery’s Linguistics School, his right knee bouncing. When the New York Giants’ manager told him to take linguistics lessons, Philip had laughed at him. Until he realized the man was serious. What was wrong with the way he talked? Yeah, his accent was thick, but shoot, he’d grown up on the streets in Brooklyn as a newsboy and bootblack. In fact, he’d never even had a last name until his manager gave him one. This was his life. His history.
He’d always been proud of the way he talked. Of his rags to riches story. People loved it. At least … he thought they did.
But apparently, since he was one of the world’s best baseball players, his adoring fans wanted to hear more from him. As he signed hundreds upon hundreds of trading cards and talked to fans all over the country, remarks rolled in that they couldn’t understand him. And now? The owners and management had come up with some harebrained idea that he needed to do live speaking to the crowds. Because that was what the fans wanted. Which meant speech lessons for him. On a daily basis.
The first two days with the professor had been brutal. Not that the man was a bad guy. But Philip was a baseball player. And a really good one at that. Why on earth did he need to waste his time on “rounding out his vowels” or “brightening his tone”?
It didn’t make sense. That is, until he met her.
Inspiration struck.
For more than a week, he’d been mulling over the conversation he wanted to have with the professor. And it all had to do with the dark-haired beauty he’d seen every day for the past nine days.
The first time they met, he’d opened the door to find her ready to knock. Her cheeks had bloomed pink when she realized she’d been waiting for someone to come answer the door. Exactly the same thing he’d done his first time at the professor’s. But each morning after that, he’d looked forward to seeing her as he left his lesson.
She hadn’t let him down.
Every day she gave him a tiny smile as he exited and they greeted one another. She always sat in the same chair, prim and proper, with a massive hat atop her head. How women carried around the weight of such things, he had no clue, but it was the style today. And she wore it well.
Her voice had a beautiful Irish lilt to it. Sounded so musical and bright compared to all the brash and harsh Brooklyn accents he’d heard his entire life. It made him smile just to think about it. Maybe learning how to speak right wasn’t such a dumb idea after all.
Since the only thing he’d learned was her name—Jeni O’Brien—and all they could do was smile and nod at each other between their early morning lessons, the past few days he’d concocted an idea that he hoped Professor Montgomery would agree with. While it didn’t appear that Miss O’Brien was in need of help financially, he hoped his offer would entice her.
“Philip!” Professor Montgomery called from the doorway of his office—the room they used for the torture he went through each day trying to learn how to add r’s to his vocabulary and “move his speech back.” Whatever that meant. The older man rubbed his hands together. “Have you been practicing?”
“Not as much as you would prob’ly like, but yeah, I’m tryin’.”
“Probably.”
“Sir?”
“The word is pro-bab-ly. Three syllables. Not two.”
“Oh.” Not that it mattered much to him, but his instructions were to listen to the highly esteemed professor so that he could speak to the masses—his adoring fans—before and after the games. Something the manager reminded him of daily. The sooner the better, they said. Which made Philip all the more anxious. So far, there hadn’t been any real progress. But they wanted these special events for the fans to start in June. That didn’t give him a whole lot of time to relearn how to speak. Or maybe it was unlearning the way he already spoke—which meant almost twenty years’ worth of living on the streets before baseball made him famous. He shook his head. None of that mattered. “Sir, I’d like to discuss an idea I had.”
“We really must get working on your lesson—”
“I understand, sir. This is about that, if you’ll give me a second to explain?”
Professor Montgomery took a long breath and leaned back in his chair. “All right. Let’s hear your idea. But I doubt it will change my mind about my methods.”
Philip held up a hand. “Your methods are just fine. I know I haven’t made much progress … that’s why I had this idea. I thought if I had a partner—that is, someone else tryin’ to learn how to speak all proper-like—that I might do better. Ya know, hear how they are tryin’ to do it, and then I could try to do it too. I’m not just a dumb baseball player—”
The professor sat up straighter. “No one has called you dumb, Mr. March. You just haven’t progressed. There’s a difference. Your accent is thick and it might take some time …” The man let his words hang while he rubbed his chin. “Your idea has merit though, I must say. I’ve never taught two people at the same time. It’s either one at a time or a group. I have another student who speaks very much as you do, but he only comes once a week.” He stood and went to his schedule he kept open on his desk. “Perhaps I could speak—”
“Actually, sir, I had another partner in mind.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. The lady who comes after me. She comes every day, and she also likes early mornin’ appointments. If she’s willin’ to come a bit earlier, I would offer to pay for half of her tuition with you. Then we could work and learn from each other as well as from you.”
“But she’s Irish.”
“So?” Was the man prejudiced? If so, Philip didn’t want anything to do with him. He’d seen way too much of that in his life already.
Montgomery tilted his head as he appeared to think it through. “While you both tend to have forward speech patterns, the two accents are entirely different. It might pose great difficulty.”
“I understand that. That’s why I thought it would help. If I’m listenin’ to someone who sounds just like me, how am I s’posed to know the difference? Miss O’Brien and I both have to learn how to talk right. And we’re both comin’ from different backgrounds. Maybe if we could hear each other’s mistakes, it would help us to learn ourselves.” The reasons he’d rehearsed over and over in his head didn’t sound as convincing now.
The professor crossed his arms over his chest and paced. “That is precisely why the class model works so well, so I agree it has merit …” He turned on his heel and paced toward the window. “Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like the idea. But I’m not certain Miss O’Brien would have the time. Her job keeps her quite busy.”
“Would ya mind askin’ her?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, at the end of your lesson today, I’ll invite her in and we will discuss the parameters. Does that sound agreeable?”
“Yeah. Thank you, sir.”
“Yes.” The man lifted an eyebrow as he corrected Philip.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I should know that one.”
“Now, about my fees—”
“I will
pay for half of Miss O’Brien’s regular fees. In addition to that, I’m willing to offer you double for my lessons—for the added work this might make for ya. Just so you know I’m serious about learnin’.”
A large smile grew across the man’s thin face. “Wonderful.” He stuck out a hand. “I believe we have a deal.”
Bridget O’Brien twisted her hands as she stood in front of the parlor window.
Cheeky lass, her Jeni. Her niece was getting too high and mighty. And while Bridget admitted that she enjoyed the fine things Jeni’s salary could afford, it wouldn’t do for her to allow her charge to be sucked into the dregs of non-Irish society.
Life had been entirely too hard back in Ireland, and things hadn’t been much better in New York until Jeni started to become a rising star in the millinery business. Why couldn’t she just be content to stay in the back?
Bridget shook her head. She should have never said anything to her niece about being acknowledged for her work and that her boss shouldn’t hide her in the back. But Bridget had to admit that she’d gotten caught up in the money. She liked the fact that Jeni could earn more than the others because of her talent. Especially after all the years they’d lived in the squalor. All because they were Irish.
It was nice to be out of the slums.
But now she had a bigger problem. Jeni liked this new world in the city. Had a little too much liking for all the high-and-mighty clientele she served. It was one thing for her to demand better circumstances and pay because she deserved it, and another entirely to throw away her Irish heritage in order to do so.
Jeni had worked her magic with those enormous hats she loved to make. But it was all for naught if the lass didn’t remember where she came from. Bridget realized she should’ve done a better job of instilling the pride of the Irish in her niece.
If Bridget could get her niece away from this godforsaken city, then maybe there was a chance to help her find a good Irish boy in a small town out west. Where there were other Irish people. Lots of them. Who wouldn’t demand Jeni have linguistics lessons. A few of their neighbors had gone to Wisconsin. Maybe she should write a few letters.
Jeni would probably pitch a fit, but too bad. Bridget was the elder here. And good Irish girls always listened to their elders.
Chapter 3
Opening the door to Professor Montgomery’s Linguistics School, Jeni took a deep breath. So far she hadn’t felt like she’d made much progress. Other than remembering not to drop her g’s. Maybe that was something.
She smoothed her long blue skirt that matched her hat perfectly. As she looked up, she saw not only the nice gentleman—Philip—but Professor Montgomery watching her.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya.” The normal Irish greeting slipped out before she could yank it back. “I mean, good morning, gentlemen.”
“Good morning, Miss O’Brien.” The professor turned sideways and motioned toward his office. “Would you join Mr. March and me for a moment to discuss an opportunity?”
Blinking rapidly, she looked from one man to the other. “I’d be happy to.” What was this about? While she enjoyed seeing Mr. March every morning, they hadn’t spoken more than a few words to each other.
She entered the room ahead of the men and took her normal seat. Spine straight. Chin lifted.
Mr. March took the chair next to her, while the professor took his seat across from her.
Professor Montgomery clapped his hands together. “Let’s not waste any time. Mr. March here is in need of a partner for his classes. I believe you two would be a good fit, and you both come daily for lessons. So here’s my idea: If you wouldn’t mind coming an hour earlier each day, I would offer you the chance to have your lessons for half the price, but twice the time. I think it would be beneficial to you both to hear and learn from one another.”
Half the price? That would help her save even more for her own shop. Calculating the figures in her head, the thought made her smile. But a dozen questions flitted through her mind. “While your offer is very generous, I wouldn’t want to be a hindrance to Mr. March’s progress. I’ve struggled quite a bit with the assignments so far.”
Mr. March chuckled next to her. “So I’m not the only one.”
Professor Montgomery cleared his throat. “You’ve only just begun. Please don’t take that as any indication of your success or lack thereof.”
Taking the moment to glance at Mr. March, she pondered the sacrifice of time it would take. Two hours each day was a lot. But she’d still arrive at the shop on time. So Mr. Crawford wouldn’t have any reason to complain. But oh, how she dreaded telling Auntie Brig about it. There was certain to be another squabble over it. Maybe she could just leave before her aunt woke up? How long could she get away with that? A shiver raced up her spine.
Tired of cowing to everyone else’s demands on her life, Jeni lifted her chin another smidge and smiled at each of the men. “I think it’s a grand idea. The sooner we learn, the better, aye?”
“Then let’s get started. I’d like us to do a trial run to make sure it’s going to be helpful to you both.” The professor stood and clasped his hands behind his back. “While the two of you differ in a great many speech patterns, I want you to examine how the other speaks and then listen to my examples of correct linguistics. So please, if you would, turn and face one another.” He cleared his throat. “But first, let’s make an agreement.”
“Oh?” Philip gave her a look and then turned back to Professor Montgomery.
“Yes. I think it would be beneficial to you both to talk freely to one another in here. Speech is what we are working on, and the best way to do that is through conversation. And so, to put you at ease, let’s agree that nothing discussed here is to leave this room.”
Philip shrugged. “I can do that. But I don’t want Miss O’Brien to be uncomfortable in any way.” He turned to her. “I think we should just be honest and be ourselves. What do you think?”
She bit her lip for a moment. “I can agree to that.”
“Good. Now turn to face each other.”
Jeni set her handbag on the floor and turned to face Mr. March. His blue eyes seemed to dance with merriment as he turned toward her as well. He wouldn’t laugh at her … would he? Especially after they’d just agreed to be honest and be themselves?
The professor began. “Now, Mr. March—”
“Let’s get rid of the formal stuff. I’m Philip.” He held out a hand to her.
Taking it, she gave it a gentle shake. “Jeni.”
“Now that we’ve accomplished that, let’s continue. Philip, I want you to tell Miss O’Brien—Jeni—about what you do and why you came for linguistics lessons.” The professor looked at her. “Your job, Jeni, is to watch his mouth. Listen to the sounds of his words and see how he pronounces them.”
Giving their teacher a nod, she looked back to Philip and specifically watched his mouth. She thought that would be easier than looking into his magnetic blue eyes, but for some reason, it wasn’t.
“Well … I play baseball for the National League New York Giants. Last year I hit the most home runs, which made me famous according to management, so they think I need to start talkin’ to the fans at special gatherings. And they want me to learn how to speak better. Some days I wonder why I ever agreed to this crazy idea. I’m from Brooklyn, and I don’t think you can ever get rid of a Brooklyn accent.” Philip shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
“Very good. Thank you, Philip. All right, Miss O’Brien, what did you hear?” The professor’s brow was furrowed.
“That he’s a baseball player from Brooklyn.”
“Yes, that’s true. But what did you hear in his voice? His words?”
Tilting her head, she tried to replay it. “Would you mind repeating it for me?”
“I’ll do my best.”
As Philip started again, it took a moment for her to focus on the sounds rather than the actual words. The fact that he was a baseball player—and a famous one at that—had g
iven her quite the shock. But as she watched his mouth, she paid attention to how he spoke. “The corners of his mouth seem to be really forward as he speaks. Am I describing that correctly?”
“Very good observation.”
She looked back at Philip and saw him smile. “Which makes his mouth a bit narrow? Is that a good description?”
“Yes. Very good. Go on.”
“He doesn’t pronounce r’s. At least not like I do. You’ve told me on several occasions that my r’s make an extra sound. Almost an extra syllable. Like er. Where his aren’t there much at all. For instance, he said ‘New Yahk’ and ‘staht’ instead of start. Ever sounded like ‘evah.’” Trying to imitate Philip’s accent, she made herself laugh.
“Also great observation.” Professor Montgomery looked back and forth between the two of them. “I think this is going to work well. Now, let’s give Mr. March a chance. Miss O’Brien, why don’t you tell Philip what you do and why you want linguistics lessons.”
With a deep breath, she wondered what the baseball player would hear. “I am a milliner. That is, I make hats. And I’d like to own me own shop one day. Since there’s still a good deal of people who look down on the Irish, I’m trying to get rid of the accent so people will see me for who I am. The best hat designer in all of New York.”
“I can see that’s the truth.” Philip pointed to the creation on her head.
His words made her blush.
“All right, Philip, what did you observe?”
“That’s tough, because I love the sound of her accent. It’s … what would you say … brighter than mine? You’ve mentioned that my tones are dark. So that means hers are brighter. Right?”
“Yes, that would be an accurate assessment. Good job. Now, what else did you hear?”
As Philip’s blue gaze studied her face, she couldn’t pull her eyes away even though she wanted nothing more than to look down in her lap. But his scrutiny wasn’t offensive in any way, and she found she couldn’t wait to hear what else he said.