10

Olivia and Margaret strolled along the sidewalk, heading back to the house. Even though it was still early in the day, the heat had already started to climb. It would be hot and sticky by the afternoon. All the more reason Olivia tried to take her walks in the coolness of the morning.

Olivia scanned the buildings as they walked. It was a lovely neighborhood, right on the border of the commercial district, with residences on the other side. The only thing that marred the street was the empty lot to the left of Bennington Place. Ruth told her that someone had bought her former neighbor’s place some years back and had torn the house down, but nothing had been done since. She imagined the new owner must have run into financial difficulties and couldn’t afford to rebuild. A shame for such a nice property to sit idle.

Perhaps if the maternity home did well enough to warrant expansion, one day they might be in a position to purchase the lot and build there themselves.

Just another one of her daydreams.

Olivia smiled as she walked, breathing in the fragrant air. She enjoyed her daily outings and did her best to get the residents to join her, knowing how beneficial exercise would be for their pregnancy. Even in the reformatory, the inmates had been encouraged to walk the perimeter of the yard during their thirty minutes of daily activity. That half hour was the only time they’d had any semblance of freedom, when they could speak to one another without worry of censure. Her thoughts flew to Joannie with a pang of guilt. Olivia hadn’t been back to see her since she’d learned the awful news about Mabel. She really needed to make time to go back and visit, to remind her friend that she wasn’t alone.

“I think Patricia is starting to feel better,” Margaret said as they turned a corner. “Her appetite has certainly improved.”

“I noticed that too.” Olivia glanced over at her companion.

Margaret had started to blossom herself, coming out of her shell more around Olivia and Ruth. The fact that she would even venture out in public was a huge achievement in Olivia’s opinion.

“How about Nancy?” she asked, taking advantage of Margaret’s willingness to talk. “Has she opened up to any of you?”

“Not really. She keeps to herself mostly, but she’ll come around in time. Like I did.” Margaret gave a shy smile that brightened her eyes. With the morning sun illuminating her clear skin and freckles, she appeared even younger than her eighteen years.

A wave of affection rose in Olivia’s chest as she wound her arm through Margaret’s. “I’m glad you feel comfortable with us. That was one of our main goals in starting Bennington Place. We want our residents to truly feel at home.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job of that.”

Shouting from up ahead drew Olivia’s attention. Across the street, their neighbor Mr. Simmons stood on the curb, gesturing toward a woman pacing in front of Ruth’s gate. Olivia quickened her steps toward them, while Margaret hung back.

“We don’t want your kind around here,” Mr. Simmons shouted. “Go back where you belong.”

The woman came to a stop, gripping the bag in her hand. She was dressed in a red skirt and long black jacket, an outfit much too warm for the weather. A mixture of emotions played over her heavily made-up features, and she looked ready to bolt.

“Can I help you?” Olivia asked as she approached. A glance at the woman’s waistline told Olivia that the woman was definitely expecting.

“No, thank you.” She retreated a few steps.

Olivia slowly came closer, noting that Margaret had already moved past them and headed inside, leaving the gate open behind her.

“I told you this would happen,” Mr. Simmons continued to rant. “First lousy immigrants, now women of ill repute.”

Olivia whirled to face the obnoxious man. She’d put up with his snide remarks before, but she would not allow him to harass anyone else. “That’s enough, Mr. Simmons. You need to mind your own business.”

“This neighborhood is my business, and I don’t appreciate a bunch of loose women living here.”

Blood thundered in Olivia’s ears. How dare he talk to them like that? Using all her self-control, she bit back a string of Italian insults, knowing that stooping to his level would only fuel his hatred. Instead, she turned her back on the horrible man.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she said to the woman. “My name is Olivia Rosetti. I help run the maternity home. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?”

The hardness in the woman’s dark eyes eased a bit. She pursed her painted red lips and shook her head. “I do not know. Maybe dis was not a good idea.” Her words were laced with a distinct French-Canadian accent.

“Please don’t allow that rude man to sway you. Come inside and see what the residence is like. If you don’t care for it, all it will cost is a few minutes of your time.”

Indecision played across the woman’s features.

Olivia took the opportunity to look over her shoulder, relieved to note that the old man had trudged back onto his porch.

“All right,” the woman finally said. “I will take that cup of tea.”

“Wonderful.” Olivia led her up to the front door. “Please come in.”

Because Margaret and some of the other residents were in the parlor, Olivia ushered the woman to the sunroom, where they could have more privacy. Ruth was out at an appointment, or Olivia would have invited her to join them. She asked the woman to have a seat and then went to the kitchen to see about the tea.

On her way back, Olivia hesitated in the hall, sensing the need for caution with the woman inside. She’d seen several prostitutes while at the Mercer, and though none of the other inmates were allowed to interact with them, Olivia knew enough to recognize a woman in that profession. Mr. Simmons’s accusation might very well be true. The thought gave Olivia pause, but this woman deserved the same consideration as any other potential resident.

Lord, please help me to treat her fairly, without judgment, and to do what’s best for her and her child.

On an exhale, Olivia summoned up her friendliest expression and entered the room. “Mrs. Neale will bring our tea in a moment.” She took a seat on the sofa, silently blessing the warming rays that made the room so cheerful. “May I ask your name?”

The woman sat rigidly on her chair. “Cherise.” She lifted her chin as if to challenge Olivia to say anything about it.

“What a lovely name.” Olivia smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “How can we help you, Cherise?”

A beat of silence ensued while the woman seemed to consider her words. “As you probably noticed, I am having a baby in about two or three months.”

“And you need a place to stay until then?”

“Yes.” The terse reply accompanied a hard stare. “But I need to know what would be expected if I come here.”

Cherise’s tough exterior didn’t fool Olivia. The woman’s trembling hands hinted at the fear beneath her bravado.

“Nothing would be expected other than helping with a few chores where you’re able.”

Cherise rolled her eyes. “What about going to church and atoning for my sins?”

Olivia kept her tone even. “We’re always happy if our residents choose to attend services with us, but it’s not a requirement. There’s no judgment here, Cherise. Our goal at Bennington Place is to keep you healthy, ensure a safe delivery for your child, and assist you in making decisions for the future. In other words, we’re here to support you in any way we can.”

Cherise frowned. “You are so young. How can you know about such matters?”

Olivia considered her answer, then decided honesty was the best policy. “I may be young, but I was once in your shoes. My family disowned me, and if Ruth hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know where I would be today.” She withheld the part about being incarcerated. Olivia chose to share her experience at the reformatory only with people she trusted absolutely.

One perfectly lined brow rose. “You have a baby?”

Olivia sucked in a breath. The mere mention of Matteo still had the power to shatter her.

Just then Mrs. Neale arrived with the tea. Glad for the distraction, Olivia thanked her and rose to pour the drinks, amazed that her hands remained steady.

Once Cherise had taken a few sips of her tea, Olivia felt ready to continue the conversation. “You asked about my baby,” she said. “I was forced to give my son up for adoption. Something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” She held Cherise’s gaze. “I believe every mother should have the right to decide whether or not she will keep her child. It’s one of the reasons Ruth and I started Bennington Place.”

“Je comprends. I see.” Cherise set her cup aside. “To be fair, you should know what I do for a living.”

Olivia held up a hand. “We only need to know if you are in any danger. Or if your profession might bring danger here.”

“I do not think so. I worked as long as I could until I could no longer hide my condition. Then my . . . boss threw me out. He will not try to find me.”

“Do you have any family?” Olivia asked gently.

“Non.” Her mouth flattened into a hard red line.

There was a story there, Olivia was certain.

“Very well. Would you like to see our rooms?”

Cherise hesitated. “How many other women are here?”

“We have three so far. You will be the fourth.”

“Will I have to share a room?”

“For now, no. Eventually when we get more residents, you might have to.”

Relief eased the tension in her face. “And you do not require payment?”

“No.” Olivia smiled. “We only ask that you are respectful of everyone else and do your part to keep the house clean.”

“The others, they will not object to someone of my . . . profession being here?”

Olivia wished she could answer with any degree of certainty. But so far, the women had been very accepting of each other without being nosy about one another’s backgrounds.

“Everyone here has a story, Cherise. Some girls are open about their circumstances, some are not. We have a policy that none of our guests are to treat one another disrespectfully. So, unless you wish to tell them, they can only speculate.” She paused to soften her voice. “Though it might not hurt to wash off a little of your makeup.”

The woman’s shoulders stiffened, but she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Olivia rose. “Let’s get you settled upstairs. Welcome to Bennington Place, Cherise.”