26 

You’ve been moping around for weeks,” Karl said. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

“No, I don’t need a doctor.” Sarah shoved the mop into the pail, rung it out slightly, and slapped it against the floor in the second floor hall. “What are you doing up here, anyway? Don’t you have somewhere to drive?”

Karl flexed his muscles. “Mrs. Banning asked for some boxes from the attic. Baby things for Miss Lucy, I think.”

“I suppose it’s beneath Penard’s dignity to go to the attic himself,” Sarah muttered.

“Don’t be so glum.”

“Mind your own business.”

Karl grinned and continued down the hall.

Sarah shoved the mop again. Tomorrow would be three weeks, and she had not seen Bradley Townsend even once. Twice Brad had sent notes suggesting they meet for tea or a late supper, but both times, before Sarah could even try to finagle the time away from the house, notes had arrived to cancel. Sarah had seen enough of the headlines to know that Arkansas and Vermont had voted early and both states had gone to McKinley. William Jennings Bryan clearly was losing in the East, which surely pleased Brad. Surely his political commitments would ease up.

There was still the matter of the board of trade, of course. It had remained closed for weeks already. Now no one expected it to open again until after the election, but that did not mean businessmen were not negotiating deals. Sarah supposed Brad was wheeling and dealing to preserve his financial prospects. In fact, she hoped he was, for the sake of her own financial prospects.

Lillie had not been back to St. Andrew’s. At the Banning family dinner the previous Thursday night, Lucy had wondered aloud why Lillie Wagner had lost interest so abruptly. Sarah had simply cleared the salad plates.

Sarah had to admit to herself that she did not know Lillie well enough to be sure she would not let something slip. What if Edith Wagner asked why Serena was not coming around anymore? What would Lillie do with the dresses she had finished?

Sarah plunged the mop in the water again, releasing the dirt and watching it darken the liquid.

She was not going to mop floors forever.

She smacked the floor again.

She was not going to dust parlors. She was not going to lay tables. She was not going to make her own clothes from used fabric.

She had to find a way to see Brad—to bump into him casually somewhere—and remind him of Serena’s charms.

Footsteps behind her made her turn around.

“When you’re finished here,” Mr. Penard said, “go to Mrs. Banning’s room. She left three dresses on the bed. She would like you to repair the hem on the blue one. The others are for you.”

Sarah clenched her jaw. “Yes, sir.”

Sarah waited until Mrs. Fletcher put her feet up and Mary Catherine was up to her elbows in lunch dishes.

“I’m going to take a walk,” she said casually.

“You take a walk every day,” Mary Catherine observed.

“I like the fresh air.”

Sarah went upstairs and changed her dress. She never chanced going to the Lexington in her uniform anymore. She was Serena Cuthbert, after all.

Kenny waved the gray envelope from across the lobby. Sarah maintained her composure as she clicked her heels against the marble floor at a dignified pace.

“You’ve been getting a lot of notes lately,” Kenny said, “yet you don’t look happy.”

“I’m happy. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

Kenny held the envelope out. “You’ve been miserable for weeks.”

Sarah flashed her brightest Serena smile as she took the letter. “Thank you, Kenny, for the message. I hope we’ll see each other again soon.”

“There’s something else,” he said, bending to a cubby below the desk. He slid a small blue velvet box across the desk.

Sarah stifled a smile. She would not give Kenny the satisfaction. “Thank you again,” she said, picking up the promising box.

She carried the envelope and box to a chair near the window and opened them carefully—first the box. It contained a pair of small sapphire earrings. They were not ostentatious, Sarah was relieved to see, but tasteful and beautifully simple. A moan escaped as Sarah thought that Brad Townsend had the most exquisite taste. She turned to the note. Dinner downtown . . . Saturday, September 26 . . . please do reply . . . affectionately yours.

Sarah mentally composed her reply as she sauntered back to Prairie Avenue. She would write it on Lexington Hotel stationery and mail it tomorrow. Then she began to plan her dress. She needed something that would be perfect for showing off the earrings.

Sarah helped Mary Catherine with the dinner dishes. She even volunteered to scrub the pots. They climbed the back stairs together when the job was done.

“I have a favor to ask,” Sarah said.

“I wondered why you helped with the dishes.”

“I like to think we can help each other,” Sarah responded. She opened the door to her room. “Let’s talk in here.”

“Do you want to trade your day off again?” Mary Catherine asked as she plopped on Sarah’s bed.

Sarah nodded. “I need to have the night off a week from Saturday. I’ll work Wednesday and you can go out, plus I’ll work all day Saturday until the staff supper.”

“I don’t know,” Mary Catherine said. “What if Mr. Penard won’t allow it?”

“We’ve done it before,” Sarah reminded her. “Remember when your sister had a baby and you wanted to go see her?”

“Yes, but that was a special case.”

“How about when your friend from school invited you out?”

“She came all the way from Milwaukee in the middle of the week,” Mary Catherine said. “I couldn’t tell her I had to stay in and wash dishes.”

“Mrs. Fletcher only cares if she has someone to help with dinner, and I will. I promise.”

“It’s Mr. Penard I’m worried about.”

“He’s been letting you serve dinner more often,” Sarah pointed out. “You know how to do it.”

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You won’t, as long as the work gets done. I’ll even work two Wednesdays. I just need that Saturday night off.”

Mary Catherine twisted her lips to one side. “I suppose it would be all right.”

When Sarah was alone a minute later, she snatched the two new dresses off the trunk where she had laid them. One of them was an ordinary day dress, unremarkable striped chambray. The other was a silk organza gown with potential, the most delicate shade of peach Sarah had ever seen. She took the dress to her bed, where she could examine the seams in better light. Taking them apart without marring the fabric would be a fragile procedure.

Simon waited for the Friday afternoon knock. He looked at the clock three times within two minutes, thinking surely it must be time for Sarah. The precisely stacked papers on his desk were the fruit of his nerves. He had in front of him only the page where he had listed the reasons for and against accepting extra children at St. Andrew’s. He would have to make a final decision soon. The practical reasons were all in the column against taking the children. The compassionate reasons were all in the column for welcoming them.

When the knock finally came, it startled him.

“Come in.” The door opened and Sarah’s dark head leaned in. Simon stood up. “Hello, Sarah.”

“I don’t want to disturb your work,” she said. “I just need the classroom door unlocked.”

“I wonder if we might have a word first.”

“Of course.” Sarah stepped into the room.

“A friend of mine is in a brass band,” Simon said. “They’re giving a concert next week—on Wednesday. I wondered if you might like to hear them play.”

“Wednesday? I’m afraid not, Simon. I promised Mary Catherine I would work for her that day.”

“I see. Well, another time then.”

“Perhaps.”

That was a polite non-commitment, Simon realized, first for the textile show and now for the band concert. He moved on. “I’ve also been wondering about Miss Wagner. She seemed so intent on becoming involved, and now we haven’t heard from her in a while.”

“I’m sure she’s busy.” Sarah adjusted her hat. “And didn’t I hear she recently became engaged?”

“Oh? I hadn’t heard that.” Simon rubbed his temple with two fingers. “Still, it seems odd. I should telephone or send a note.”

“Sometimes people think they want to do something, but it doesn’t turn out to be practical.”

“Are you sure she didn’t say anything when she came to your class? Did you detect any slight hesitancy?”

“She left before the class even started,” Sarah said. “We only spoke for a moment. Give her some time. If she’s really interested, she’ll be back.”

“I suppose so.” Simon stroked his chin.

“Simon, I was thinking of taking you up on your offer to use the sewing machine in the classroom. I’ll need to practice on something before I try to teach the girls to use it.”

“Of course.”

“Does anyone know how to use it?”

“I believe it came with an instruction sheet. Let’s look in the drawer.”

By Saturday of the next week, Sarah derived her energy from anticipation. She had worked almost two weeks without a day off, and every night was spent working on the dress well past midnight. But it would all be worth it when Brad’s carriage arrived at the Lexington Hotel to pick up Miss Serena Cuthbert in only a few more hours.

She was in the kitchen slicing bread for the staff’s supper when Penard came in from his butler’s pantry.

“Mary Catherine has informed me that she will be serving dinner tonight,” he said.

Sarah’s stomach heaved, but she remained calm. Mary Catherine was not supposed to say anything! Just do it.

“I asked her if she might,” Sarah said. “I need the evening off for personal reasons.” She drew the knife through the bread again.

“I’m afraid that is not possible.” Mr. Penard stiffened.

Sarah’s hand trembled and she put the knife down. “It’s all been arranged. Mary Catherine will clear the family dinner dishes. The table is laid, and the food is under way. Mrs. Fletcher will have all the help she needs.”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Mr. Penard said, and crossed both arms behind his back. “The staff assignments are my responsibility. I do not appreciate the maids repeatedly making their own arrangements.”

“Mr. Penard, everything is accounted for! I’ve already worked through my day off so as not to cause anyone any inconvenience.”

“It is not a matter of convenience. It is a matter of respect for the way this household is managed. You will not go out this evening.”

“But Mr. Penard—”

“Do not be insolent, Sarah. You have my decision.”

He pivoted and left the room.

Sarah breathed hard. If she defied him, he would dismiss her. She was too close to being out for good to risk having to find a new position even for a few months. And in a new position she would never manage any time off to see Brad. In another five weeks the election would be over. Brad would become more serious. And soon after that, he would propose. Serena would make sure he did. Then Sarah would walk out the female servants’ entrance for the last time.

Sarah lowered herself into a kitchen chair, her chest heaving and her vision narrowing. She did not even look up at the sound of Karl’s boots crossing the black and white kitchen tiles.

“Don’t tell me you don’t look glum now,” Karl said.

Sarah looked up. “Karl, if I asked you to do something, would you do it, no questions asked?”

He did not answer immediately, but finally began to nod his head. “If you need something, I’ll do it.”

“I need you to deliver a note. That’s all. But I don’t want you to ask any questions about the name or address, because I can’t answer them.”

“Fair enough.”

The note she handed Karl twenty minutes later, written on stationery from the Lexington Hotel, expressed deep regret at having to break the date at the last minute, and great anticipation at seeing Brad again very soon. By the time she finished writing it, Sarah had convinced herself that breaking a date with Brad—as he had done repeatedly with her—would only add to Serena’s allure. Brad would know he could not take Serena for granted, and he would pay more attention.