6

Cassie’s fists clenched and unclenched as she marched along the block between the restaurant and Rosemary’s house. A week would probably kill her, he’d said. Such presumption. True, she’d never felt this tired, and her feet throbbed from standing most of the day. But nothing a night’s rest wouldn’t cure.

There had to be some way to persuade him to let her come back to work.

When she reached the Stewarts’ porch, she realized she still wore her soiled apron. Her face burned. As if the day hadn’t ended badly enough, here she’d walked past the businesses lining Third Street wearing servant’s garb. She jerked the apron off and crammed it into her carryall before climbing the porch steps.

Once inside, she paused in the entryway to remove her shoes from her aching feet. She’d taken a few steps toward the sitting room when she heard voices.

“When I invited them to stay, I had no idea they’d settle here! I don’t mind Cassie—at least she helps you around the house—but her mother—” Elijah let the remark hang unfinished.

“How can we turn them away? They have nowhere to go.” Rosemary’s angry tone matched her husband’s.

“Neither does our baby. It’s time I started on the nursery.”

“Nonsense. You have more than a month.”

Cassie pictured her friend standing toe to toe with Elijah, unwilling to give ground. Heat swept over her at being the cause of the argument.

She needed to find a home for herself and her mother. Soon.

She tiptoed to the entrance, opened the door again, then slammed it. The voices stopped. The back door banged. In moments, a flush-faced Rosemary hurried from the kitchen and clasped Cassie’s shoulders.

“I never dreamed you’d be so late! Have you had supper?”

Cassie eyed her friend. She wanted to assure her that she and Mother would be gone soon, but how could she do that without revealing she’d been eavesdropping? Indeed, how could she offer any assurance when she’d just lost the first job she ever held?

The starch left Cassie’s bones. She tottered over to the sofa and slumped against the back, dropping her carryall on the floor.

“Yes, I’ve had supper. When the men left after meals, Mrs. Fielder and I had time to eat.” She massaged her temples. “I didn’t know I’d be this late, either. Mr. West didn’t tell me ahead of time that I was to stay through supper.”

“Well, tomorrow you’ll know.”

“Um, yes. I will.” Here was the perfect opportunity. She needed to tell Rosemary that she’d been dismissed. Cassie opened her mouth, but the words stuck in her throat.

Apparently mistaking her silence for fatigue, Rosemary took her hand. “You look like you need a cup of mint tea. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Rosemary stopped in front of the stove and pushed a kettle over one of the round eyes on top. “While we wait for the water to boil, tell me about your job. What did you have to do today?”

Thankful for a question she could answer without dodging the truth, Cassie said, “Set tables and wash dishes. Over and over.”

“But . . . weren’t you going to help serve?”

“Mr. West didn’t trust me with serving. First thing this morning, he sent Mrs. Fielder out with the coffee and I spent all day in the kitchen. Unless it was time to prepare tables for the next meal—then he allowed me into the dining room.” She couldn’t help the trace of sarcasm that tinged her last sentence.

Rosemary patted Cassie’s shoulder. “Jacob’s a practical man. Maybe he thinks you need another day or two to learn how he wants things done.”

Another day or two. She’d only been allowed twelve hours. She bit her lip at the memory, a knot of anger forming in her chest. Slow or not, anybody could wash dishes. He had no reason to send her away.

Rosemary moved from the stove and gazed out the window into the fenced backyard. One hand stole to the corner of her eye and brushed away what might have been a tear.

Cassie followed her gaze. Elijah stood in one corner and tossed a stick for Bodie. The dog raced after the prize, then dropped it at Elijah’s feet to be thrown again.

Watching them, Cassie squirmed inside. If she and Mother weren’t here, Rosemary and her husband wouldn’t be quarreling. They’d be enjoying a quiet evening together—maybe drinking mint tea. She drew a deep breath and released it in a long sigh.

“Where’s my mother? Did she go to bed this early?”

Rosemary’s expression flattened. “She went to your room following supper. Apparently she’s none too happy about you working for Jacob West.”

Another opportunity to give Rosemary her news. Cassie let it pass. Instead, she cleared her throat. “No. She isn’t. But I’m praying she’ll come around.”

At that moment, the kettle came to a boil, splattering hissing drops of water over the stovetop. Rosemary hurried to grab the handle and pour hot water over the leaves in the teapot.

Cassie glanced between Elijah, out on the lawn, and her friend, who watched him through the window. She took a step toward the doorway.

“If you’ll excuse me, I can’t keep postponing what’s sure to be a confrontation with Mother. Why don’t you call Elijah in and enjoy this tea together?”

She left the kitchen without giving Rosemary the opportunity to reply.

Cassie’s mother lay on their bed atop the coverlet, a folded cloth resting on her forehead. “Well, I hope you’ve learned a good lesson. When you take a servant’s job, you work servant’s hours.” She spoke without turning her head.

“The work was hard, but I did it.” Cassie couldn’t keep the pride from her voice. “I felt useful for the first time in my life. If that was the lesson, it was a good one.” She wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction of telling her that Mr. West had dismissed her. After overhearing Rosemary and Elijah, a determination to earn a living stiffened her spine. She would not impose on her friend a day longer than necessary.

Her mother whipped the cloth aside and swung her stocking feet over the edge of the bed. Sitting upright, she beckoned with her index finger. “Let me see your hands.”

Cassie stepped closer, extending her reddened palms.

“My heavens! What did he have you doing?” She squeezed Cassie’s fingers. “My poor girl. I hope you told him you didn’t want his scullery job.”

“I said no such thing.”

Mother looked horrified. “Surely you don’t plan to continue.”

“I do and I will. I’m truly sorry to upset you.” Cassie bent and kissed her mother’s forehead, then withdrew from her grasp.

One way or another, she’d fight for a second chance.

The hinges on the screen door gave a rusty squeak when Cassie stepped into the restaurant kitchen the following morning. She didn’t see Mrs. Fielder, but the range ticked as the iron surface heated. Apprehension prickled along her arms. Mr. West must have built up the fire. She’d hoped she could avoid him, at least for now, by being early.

She drew a fortifying breath. No matter. She’d start by setting the tables and worry about him when he appeared. After removing half a dozen plates from the shelf, she counted out an equal number of knives and forks and carried them into the next room.

When she stepped into the dining room, Mrs. Fielder stopped sweeping the floor and stared at her.

“What are you doing? Mr. West told you not to come back.”

“So he did. You might say I paid no attention.” She walked around a table, placing a setting in front of each chair.

Mrs. Fielder’s mouth lifted in a half smile. “Wouldn’t have guessed you had this much spirit.” Chuckling, she carried the broom toward the kitchen. “Go ahead and finish those tables. We’ll see what he says when he gets here,” she called over her shoulder.

Relieved the cook hadn’t sent her home, Cassie blew out the breath she’d been holding and returned to the kitchen for another stack of plates.

She’d nearly completed the last table when Mr. West stomped into the dining room. “Miss Haddon! Why are you here?” His deep voice sounded like a growl.

“You had no cause to dismiss me. So I decided not to leave.” With deliberate motions, she laid a knife and fork next to a plate, then straightened, planting her hands on her hips. “Anyone can set tables and wash dishes. Did you find me incompetent at those tasks?”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “But by the end of the day, you were near collapse. This isn’t a proper job for you. I can’t be responsible—”

“You’re not responsible for me. Kindly allow me to decide what’s proper.” She swallowed the pounding in her throat. For the first time in her life, she was standing up for what she wanted. She enjoyed the sensation.

A moment of silence passed between them. Mr. West’s gaze traveled over her blue print dress, her clean apron, and stopped at the toes of the worn boots she’d borrowed from Rosemary. A smile hovered under his moustache. “I see you came better prepared today.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

She waited, feeling the bump of her racing heart.

“You’re to work in the kitchen.” He gave her a hard look. “No waiting tables. Understood?”

“But I—” She clamped her lips over the remainder of her retort. “Understood.”

Shaking his head, he turned and stalked to the grocery entrance.

Cassie suppressed a whoop of joy. Speeding to the kitchen, she hurtled into the room and seized a tray of cups. She’d not lose this chance.