TUESDAY EVENING,
OCTOBER 3, 1871
- Supper at the Butterworths’ -
Mew was wiggling and crying in Poppy’s arms, so she handed the kitten back to Claire. “I think she wants to go back into your pocket,” Poppy said.
“She’s warm and cozy and soon she’ll fall asleep,” Claire answered as she gently set the kitten back into her pocket. “I’ve been carrying her in here ever since Randy brought her over to our house. She feels safe when she’s close to me.”
Sure enough, by the time Poppy and Claire had walked one block, little Mew stopped crying. “Peek in here,” Claire whispered, opening up the pocket slightly. Poppy peeped into the pouch. The kitten was curled up inside with her fluffy white-tipped tail wrapped around her face.
“I swear, she’s the sweetest thing I ever saw,” Poppy whispered.
“She’s my baby—at least for now,” Claire replied.
“Whatcha mean ‘for now’?” Poppy asked with a frown.
“I meant she’s my baby for now. Before you know it, she’ll be all grown up.”
“Will you love her when she’s all grown up?”
Claire stopped walking and looked at Poppy curiously. “I’ll love her always. I won’t stop loving her, Poppy.”
Poppy had to think about this. This lady would love her cat forever. But Poppy’s mother loved her only for a little while, and then she gave her away to Ma Brennan. Ma Brennan never hugged Poppy or held her close and safe, the way Miss Claire cared for the kitten.
The wind gusted, howling between the buildings and driving dust and dirt through the air. Poppy could smell the familiar stink of the stockyards when the wind came up from the river.
Poppy had several bouts of coughing. “Are you all right, Poppy? Do you cough like this often?” Claire asked.
“I do when I sleep in my bed at home. The mattress we sleep on is on a dirt floor and …”
“Oh, goodness, that’s unhealthy,” Claire said with a gasp. “No wonder you have a cough. Does your mother give you medicine?”
“No, she don’t give me medicine. She gets mad and slaps me real hard on the back. I get a-scared and it makes me cough more. So I put the pillow over my head so she can’t hear me.”
Claire stopped and put her arm around Poppy’s shoulder. Poppy shivered and put her head on Claire’s arm. “I wish she’d take better care of you, Poppy,” Claire said. “I worry about you. Living in Conley’s Patch is no place for a little girl. It’s no place for anyone. There are so many wicked thieves and robbers who live there.”
I live in Conley’s Patch, Poppy thought. I’m one of those wicked people.
“Poppy, do you have any other relatives that might take you in and give you a good home? Did the city of Chicago give that Brennan woman guardianship of you?”
“I don’t know,” Poppy answered. “I was real little when my mother left me.”
When they reached the Butterworths’ house, the sparkling stars were out and there were lights shining through the windows. How nice it would be to always come home to a clean, pretty house like this one, Poppy thought. “Can we check on Ticktock first?” she asked, and Claire nodded.
As they headed toward the goat’s house, Claire pointed to a bright reddish star overhead. “That’s Aldebaran. It’s in the constellation of Taurus, the bull.”
“There’s a bull up there?” Poppy was puzzled. There were sheep in the church and a bull in the sky? Sometimes she couldn’t understand what people were talking about.
Claire laughed. “Yes, there’s a bull and a dog, a serpent, and a bear—all sorts of things up there in the sky. After supper I’ll show you.” Suddenly she grabbed Poppy’s shoulder and pointed to the sky. “Look! A shooting star!”
Poppy looked up in time to see a brilliant trail of stardust soar overhead. “It’s real pretty,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve never seen a shooting star in all my borned days.”
“Make a wish,” Claire said. “When you see a shooting star, you must make a wish.”
Poppy thought of Ma Brennan and the girls and the others who lived at Under the Willow. How mean they could be if it suited them! She closed her eyes tightly and wished hard.
I wish Ticktock would be safe from Ma Brennan and her gang. Poppy didn’t know if two wishes were permissible, but she made a second wish anyway. I wish no one in this family would ever be hurt by them—or by me.
As they approached the gated pasture, Ticktock bleated and ran to them. A bell jingled on her collar.
“Father bought Ticktock a collar with a bell,” Claire said. “Now we know where she is all the time.”
Even Mr. Butterworth cares about Ticktock, Poppy realized. Everyone cares about everyone in this family.
She and Claire leaned over the fence and Ticktock nibbled gently at their fingers. “Hello, you sweet nanny,” Claire said, scratching the goat’s head. She turned away, went up the back porch steps, and opened the kitchen door. When Poppy hesitated, she called, “Come into the house, Poppy. We’ll visit with Ticktock after dinner.”
Inside, Mrs. Butterworth was basting three large chickens she had pulled from the oven. The smell of chicken and herbs and stuffing filled the room. Mrs. Butterworth looked startled when she saw Poppy. “Oh, you’ve brought Poppy with you.”
“She came by the store,” Claire explained. “I thought she could use a nice chicken dinner.”
Mrs. Butterworth smiled slightly. “Forrest is in the parlor with your father. Let me have your groceries,” she said, taking the bag from Claire. “Oh, good. You bought butternut squash. And Poppy, would you like to mash the potatoes for me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Poppy nodded. “I’ll be glad to help.”
Claire placed little Mew in a basket near the warm stove. The kitten stretched and curled up to sleep again. Then Claire hung up her coat and put on an apron that was folded on the chair. She took Poppy to the sink and handed her soap. “Wash your hands first, Poppy.”
After Poppy had washed up, Mrs. Butterworth set the pan on a rubber mat at the kitchen table along with a dish of butter. Poppy mashed the potatoes with a steel masher that Mrs. Butterworth gave her. “Put lots of butter in, too, Poppy. You don’t need to skimp,” she said.
After a few minutes, Mrs. Butterworth peeked into the pan. “Very good! You’ve made it as smooth as can be. Not a single lump!”
“At home I’d get smacked if I left a lump.”
Claire, who had been busy cutting up butternut squash, took in her breath, and Poppy saw her give her mother a meaningful look.
When Poppy was finished, Claire said, “Come meet my fiancé, Forrest. He’s in the parlor with my father.”
But Poppy pulled back. Something felt very wrong. She didn’t belong within this warm family circle—especially since Ma Brennan insisted she steal a key to the shop.
However, at that moment a tall man with a mustache entered the kitchen from the hall. “Darling, you’re back!” He gave Claire a kiss on the cheek. “And who is this?” He smiled at Poppy.
“This is Poppy Brennan. She’s a friend of Justin and Ticktock—and our little Mew. I invited her to stay for dinner.” Claire turned to Poppy. “This is my fiancé, Pastor Belmont.”
“I’m happy to meet you, Poppy.” The pastor put out his hand and Poppy felt her face flush. No one had ever presented her so politely before.
She took the pastor’s hand timidly. “How’dya do, sir.” She spoke so softly, she hardly heard her own voice.
“Poppy’s already mashed the potatoes, and now she’ll help me set the table for dinner,” Claire said. “Justin and Charlie should be along soon.”
Claire and Mrs. Butterworth showed Poppy how to set the large dining room table with silverware. Claire didn’t embarrass Poppy, who knew nothing of where the forks and knives should go and all that, although it did seem to Poppy that Mrs. Butterworth gave Claire long looks when Poppy didn’t know where to put things.
There were china plates that all matched, and tall crystal goblets that Claire filled with a pitcher of water from the icebox. Mrs. Butterworth handed Poppy new white candles to put in real silver candlesticks. And when Mrs. Butterworth lit the wicks, the shining silver and glass sparkled in the candlelight.
The biggest surprise was the place set aside for Poppy—not at the kitchen table, but right in the dining room with the whole family.
Justin and Charlie arrived just as Claire carried a huge platter of chicken to the table, along with dishes of mashed potatoes and winter squash.
“Oh, I see Poppy’s here,” Father said when he came into the dining room. But Poppy could see a question in his eyes as he looked at his wife and daughter. Well, no wonder, Poppy thought miserably. I am from Conley’s Patch, and no one should ever trust me. Why, they probably think I’ll walk off with a silver spoon or something.
When everyone was about to sit at the table, she tugged on Claire’s arm. “I think I should go now.”
“No, dear,” Claire said as she removed her apron. “Not until you’ve had a good supper.”
After everyone was seated, Mr. Butterworth asked Forrest to say grace. Poppy had no idea what the word “grace” meant, but she watched everyone and did as they did, bowing her head as Pastor Belmont gave thanks.
Plates were passed, and Claire piled Poppy’s high with food. Poppy watched until everyone else began to eat. Then she dug into the chicken and mashed potatoes, bolting down more food than she had ever eaten at one sitting. Claire patted Poppy’s shoulder and smiled at her fiancé across the table, who grinned at her.
“It does my heart good to watch you eat, Poppy,” Pastor Belmont said.
Poppy’s mouth was too full to respond, so she swallowed water and sputtered, “I ain’t never had such a good meal, mister.” She wiped her mouth with her wrist, hating to dirty the neat linen napkin by her plate.
During dinner, Mr. Butterworth asked Charlie, “How did things go at the shop today?”
“I had a great day, Father. You know that chronometer that we thought you’d never sell because of the price? Well, I sold it today to Mrs. Ogden.”
“The full twelve hundred dollars?”
Charlie grinned. “All she wants is engraving on the back.”
“Oh, my boy, you’re a born salesman.” Father smiled and winked at his wife. He turned again to Charlie. “Any other happenings at work?”
“Um, I was wondering if I might make a design for a pearl pendant. I understand Mrs. Palmer wants to take pearls on her trip to Europe.”
“Well, yes—why don’t you do a design on paper? Remember that you’ll want to keep it simple, and not only because it will be for a pearl, which generally uses a simple setting. But I’m thinking it might be time for you to work with the gold itself.”
“Oh, Father, that would be a great honor for me … I mean, to have one of my pieces in Mrs. Palmer’s collection …” Charlie seemed suddenly at a loss for words.
“Don’t put the horse before the cart, son,” Mr. Butterworth said. “You haven’t even designed it yet—”
“And Mrs. Palmer hasn’t seen the pearl, let alone purchased it!” Justin interrupted.
“How about you, Justin? How did you do at the shop?”
“I, er … uh … I tagged the watch chains today—marked the prices and all that.”
“I hope you did them right,” Father said.
Charlie and Justin exchanged glances. “I was real careful, Father,” Justin assured him. But Poppy noticed Justin looking down at his plate and making circles in his mashed potatoes with his fork.
Mr. Butterworth glanced at Poppy. “Were you in the store today, Poppy? Is that where Claire … picked you up?”
“Oh, no, mister,” Poppy answered quickly, recalling how Mr. Butterworth and Charlie made her leave the day before, when she had gone to see Justin and Ticktock. “I was just walkin’ by and saw Justin outside, so I stopped. And then Miss Claire came along.”
Claire nodded. “That’s when I invited Poppy to help me get supper. She set the table and mashed the potatoes. She did very well, didn’t she?”
Mr. Butterworth didn’t answer, but he looked at Claire for a long moment, and Poppy knew he wasn’t happy that she was at their house for dinner. When Miss Claire invited her, Poppy should have said no. After all, she was just a guttersnipe from Conley’s Patch. She reached for her goblet of water to take away the dry feeling in her throat, but her hands shook and drops of water spilled onto the white tablecloth. She took a deep breath and then stood up suddenly, nearly knocking over her chair. “’Scuse me. I’m gonna leave. I need to go home. Um, thanks for the dinner.”
She ran through the kitchen and out into the dark night.