I spent Monday poring over the help-wanted ads in the paper borrowed from Sister Kate, who offered to put the word out to parishioners who might be looking for childcare. I hesitated—did I want to be a nanny like Bridget? Was that what I had fled Friedrich for? I had never taken care of kids before and couldn’t see myself doing that for long. But I didn’t have the luxury of being picky. Any job would do, at least at the beginning.
I knocked on a few doors, talked to shop owners and office managers who were hiring. No one seemed terribly excited to talk to an eighteen-year-old without a résumé. I made a mental note to ask the sisters if they had a typewriter and see if any of the girls could help me come up with something.
After I ate my peanut butter sandwich, I spent the afternoon wandering along the river in the mild sunshine. I was nervous that Magda would know I had used magic at St. Kate’s and come looking for me, so I thought it best to spend as little time there as possible.
Watching the river, I thought again of the Ridder Family Company office in the nearby downtown, and curiosity got the better of me. Had word made it to the Ridder men in Minneapolis? I couldn’t resist scouting it out for myself.
I didn’t know the exact address, but I knew the office was a few blocks from the riverfront from years of Dad’s stories. My uncles Ridder loved to joke about the over-the-top restaurant built right on top of the remains of the Standard Mill, which they could see from the office windows. Curious, I wandered over to the Washburn A Mill, the one that had been rebuilt after the infamous explosion in 1878, and started walking. I was looking for anything that looked familiar, any hint of the cross street that contained the Ridder Family Company office.
I knew it was risky, but since I had stupidly cast on Sister Margaret, I couldn’t be a sitting duck waiting for Magda to come. I had to know if they were looking for me. I had to know how much time I had left, if I even had time to try to make a new life, one without magic, without the burden of my family.
Be careful, mein Liebling, Dorothy whispered as I walked.
Can’t you hide me, Dorothy? I asked, annoyed.
You have to find your own path, mein Liebling, she pulsed at me, as if she had read my next thought, even when I didn’t direct it at her. And if you are going to keep using magic, there is only so much I can do, child.
Point taken, I responded.
As I made my way north along the mill outbuildings, I spotted the sleek glass-and-polished-oak exterior of the new Fuji Ya restaurant that had my uncles so confounded—A fancy restaurant right there by the falls; can you believe it! I cut down a footpath back toward the riverfront and the restaurant, which was quiet in the afternoon. As I looked over my shoulder, all the tall buildings I saw in the area belonged to the Washburn Mill.
But as I rounded the front of the restaurant and crossed the parking lot, a stout tan brick building rose across the green to the north. I approached from the river side, and I was glad I did, because when I came around the side of the building, there was my father’s station wagon parked in front of the main entrance. And there was my father a hundred yards away talking to Uncle Joe. I froze and slammed myself flat against the bricks. Dad stood on the sidewalk with his head braced in one hand, thankfully looking down.
I slid back around the corner of the building to face the river, praying I hadn’t been seen, even as I felt I looked different in a borrowed A-line dress from Diane and my long hair slicked into a tight bun like Sheila’s. Somehow I’d had a feeling this was what I would find, but I had needed to confirm my suspicions. It was too late. Here was my father to track me down, to drag me home to face the music.
Magda must have felt me cast in the city, but maybe she didn’t know exactly where I was, I realized with a glimmer of hope. It wouldn’t be like looking for a familiar energy in the well-known environs of Friedrich. It was nearly five o’clock. Dad could have spent the whole day looking for me. Maybe this is him giving up, telling Uncle Joe to keep an eye out.
Even if Dad had come to look for me, I would not give him, or Magda, the satisfaction of finding me. I was determined to have another day of freedom. I inched along the back of the building, toward Fuji Ya. Am I safe, Dorothy? Is he coming this way? I asked her.
Go, quickly now, she answered.
I hustled down a sloping footpath toward the riverfront, moving as quickly as I felt I could without drawing attention to myself. I stuck to the riverfront paths as I made my way south for as long as possible before crossing back into the city streets toward St. Kate’s. None of the sisters said anything to me when I returned, so I figured my cover was safe for another day. Still, I slept fitfully, lest I slip into the spirit world unawares again.