The office of Mercy Steamboats squatted on the corner of Main and Redwood. A three-story brick building, it presented an austere front to the world. Naval Lieutenant John North paused at the door long enough to remove his hat, then stepped into the entry.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant North.” Mrs. O’Donnell smiled from behind her typewriter. “Mr. Eaton is in his office. He asked me to send you in when you got here.”
John walked down the tiled hall to the first door on the left. The imposing walnut door was closed. He gave a brisk rap on the polished surface. He’d slept little on the steamer from San Francisco, and his eyes burned.
“Come,” Henry’s voice called.
He’d rather go. John entered and closed the door behind him. “Good afternoon, Henry.” When John had married Katherine, she’d insisted he call her parents Mother and Father, but it had never been natural for him. After she was gone, he’d been glad to revert. He suspected Henry felt the same way.
Henry regarded John over the top of his spectacles. “The ferry was late?”
“A few lingering storm swells slowed us down.”
John settled in a chair and studied his father-in-law for clues to his mood. Henry’s expression was as dark as the clouds rolling in from the west. A tall man, he had a thick head of brown hair that held only a few streaks of gray in spite of being in his midfifties. His brown suit—impeccably cut, of course—fit his muscular frame perfectly. His waxed mustache suited his angular face.
“Have you been to see Edward yet?”
John shook his head. “That’s my next stop. I’ll set the nurse to packing his things.”
Henry leaned forward. “What the devil are you thinking to yank him from the place he’s been secure?”
“Henry, you knew all along this arrangement was temporary. I appreciate all you’ve done, but Edward is my son. Not yours. Not Clara’s. He belongs with me.”
Henry banged his fist on the desk. “You were happy enough to leave him with us when Katherine died.”
“That’s rubbish and you know it. I had no choice. I do have a choice now. My new assignment is at a desk, and Edward can be with me.”
“You have no one to care for him.”
“Actually, I do. Walter rang me, and the daughter of a good friend of his is seeking a position. He is bringing her in today to see if she will suit.”
Henry’s mouth grew pinched. “Can’t the child at least stay until after my birthday ball? You too. You’re on leave for a month. There’s time to ease him into new arrangements.”
Perhaps it would be best to let Edward get used to the idea, used to his father and the new governess. The last thing John wanted was to inflict more trauma on his boy. “Very well. But let’s not argue about it anymore, Henry. It’s bad for Edward.”
“You don’t care about what’s best for the boy or you wouldn’t be yanking him away from us. In the city, people might make fun of him. He’s known and loved here. Have you ever thought of resigning, son?”
Henry’s genial tone warned John to be on his guard. “The navy is my life.”
“Mercy Falls is a charming town. Edward is happy here. I saw a house that would be perfect for you and Edward.”
“The navy is all I know.”
“You’ve managed naval supplies for years. You’re detailed and organized. I’d put you over my companies without a qualm. Perhaps you could pull the steamboat business out of its slump.”
“Henry, the steamboat travel is faltering all over the country. The train is more convenient. You need to be prepared for the coming decline. Perhaps invest in a train.”
Henry held up his hand. “You know how I feel about the trains. Noisy and smelly.”
“But profitable. You can’t hide your head in the sand, Henry. The world is changing.”
“Not in my lifetime.” He wagged a finger at John. “I see what you are doing. Changing the subject. Think about Edward. Considering his challenges, he’ll do so much better here than in the city.”
Heat rose along John’s neck. “Edward is very bright. He’ll have no trouble with school or with adjusting to a new place.”
“He has fits, John. We must do whatever we can to help him.”
“His epilepsy won’t hold him back. He has spunk.”
The last comment brought the faintest twitch of a smile to Henry’s face. “Let’s put aside our differences and think of the boy. I want to show you my new automobile, so I’ll run you home.”
If only Henry would take his own advice and think of Edward. Henry believed his solution was the only possible choice, and it wasn’t one John was willing to consider.
The stage passed a picturesque lighthouse on the coast. “Who mans it?” Addie asked Mr. Driscoll. He hadn’t spoken since they’d boarded the stage. She and Driscoll were the only passengers since the last stop north in Trinidad.
“I believe it’s unmanned at the moment. They’re looking for a new lightkeeper, according to the paper.”
The coach left the seaside and traveled up the hill. The vehicle rounded a curve and began to slow as it neared a town. Addie craned her head out the window at the charming valley. Milk cows grazed on the hillsides until the redwood forest encroached again. The stage rolled through Mercy Falls slowly, and she took in the small shops and brick buildings of the bustling town.
She gathered her valise from the floor by her feet. “Are they expecting me?” she asked.
“I called John. As I thought, he was only too happy to have help finding someone suitable. He’s expected from the city on the afternoon ferry. May already be here by now.”
“And my father?” She was unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.
“He knows as well. But remember, say nothing. I sent a telegram to a Pinkerton agent in San Francisco, and he is investigating. Once I have proof, we’ll talk to your father.”
Gideon laid his muzzle on her shoe. She rubbed her temple. The stage jerked to a stop. Moments later, the driver opened the door. Mr. Driscoll disembarked first, then extended his hand and helped her alight. She’d just completed the pale-green dress she wore, and the boots were new, a gift from Mr. Driscoll. Her hat, decorated with tulle, was a concoction she’d created to give herself courage, though she found it failing now.
Placing her hand on her dog’s head, she stared up and down the sidewalk and smiled at several passersby. Such an interesting town.
“Shall we walk, or is there a carriage to greet us?” she asked Mr. Driscoll.
“The carriage is there.” He indicated a grand brougham across the street. “But I need to run in to see Henry a moment. Will you be all right by yourself?”
“Of course.” She watched him walk away, then glanced up and down the busy street. Through the open windows of the building to her right, she heard the familiar clatter of sewing machines. Gideon growled and strained at his leash.
“Is something wrong, boy?” She allowed the dog to lead her toward the sounds of sewing. The austere brick building sat on the corner. She peeked inside the open door and saw rows of sewing machines. Women bent over their machines, and their feet pumped the pedals furiously. Addie had never seen machines sew so fast. How did they manage to keep their fingers unharmed?
Gideon led her to a small, sobbing girl. She stood to one side of her machine and held her left hand in her right. Addie saw the child’s finger welling with blood. Gideon nudged the little girl’s leg and whined. The child leaned against the dog.
“Honey, are you hurt?” Addie asked, hurrying to reach her.
A man in suspenders over his short-sleeved shirt approached. He gripped the girl’s shoulders roughly. “You’re being ridiculous, Bridget! Get back to work or I’ll have to dock your wages.” He thrust the child toward the vacant sewing machine.
She couldn’t have been more than eight. She wore a rough dress made from a flour sack. Her dark-blonde hair hung in strings around her face, and she had a smudge on her cheek. Who knew when she’d last been bathed?
“What’s going on here?” Addie asked. “Where is this child’s mother? She needs attention.”
The man narrowed his eyes at her well-made dress and black shoes. “You’re not one of my workers.”
Most of the machines had slowed or stopped, and Addie realized she had the attention of all the workers. “No, I certainly am not. This child is much too young to be working with a sewing machine. She belongs in school.”
The man put his fists on his hips. “Look, lady, this is none of your business. Run along and let me tend to my workers.”
“Where is this child’s mother? I want to speak to her.”
“My mama is sick,” the little girl said. Her tears had stopped, and her eyes were big as her gaze traveled from the foreman to Addie. She had one arm looped around Gideon’s neck.
Addie squatted in front of her. “Where do you live, honey?”
“Across the street on the top floor,” the child said. She leaned forward and whispered, “My mom has consumption.”
Addie winced at the family’s lot in life. She well knew the pain of the illness. “What’s your name?”
“Brigitte.”
“That’s a pretty name. Where is your sister?”
Brigitte pointed. “She’s over there.”
Addie saw another child only slightly older than this one. “How old is she?”
“She’s nine. I’m eight.”
Much too young to be working here, both of them. Addie inched closer and held out her palm. “I’d like to look at your hand.”
The foreman grabbed the girl and drew her away from Addie. “Lady, this is not your business. I’m going to call the owner if you don’t get out of here.”
Addie stood. “Why don’t you do that? Let’s talk to the owner of this place and see what excuse he has to offer for forcing a child to do an adult’s job.”
“Mr. Eaton is across the street,” the foreman said. “I’ll go get him, and he’ll toss you to the street.”
Addie barely restrained her gasp. “Mr. Eaton?”
The foreman’s cocky grin straightened. “You know him?”
She held out her hand again. “I’m taking this child with me. Her sister too. What’s her name, Brigitte?”
“Doria.”
Her skirts swishing, Addie marched between the rows of sewing machines to the little girl. “Come with me, Doria,” Addie said.
The child’s brow wrinkled. “I’ll lose my job, miss. We can’t afford to lose our jobs.”
“I’ll talk to the owner.” She held out her hand. “Come along.”
Doria took her hand, and Addie led her to where the foreman stood with Brigitte. “I’m taking these children home.”
“If you go with her, girls, don’t bother coming back.” He nodded toward the front of the building. “Here comes Mr. Eaton’s brother-in-law now. We’ll let him sort it out.”
Addie turned to see her uncle coming in the door. A man in a navy uniform was with him. Mr. Driscoll wore a thunderous frown that only darkened when his gaze clashed with hers. She straightened her shoulders and set her jaw.
“What is going on here?” Mr. Driscoll asked.
Addie tipped her chin higher. “Are you aware this business employs children who should not be near these machines?”
He blinked. “I have little to do with this place. It’s one of Mr. Eaton’s pet projects.” He frowned at the girls. “These children work here? They surely don’t run a machine, do they?”
“They do. Look at Brigitte’s hand. She injured it under the needle.”
The uniformed man stared at the foreman. “Is this true?”
He shrugged. “Mr. Eaton arranged it. We have about ten kids, some from the orphanage and some from the community.”
“I’ll have a word with him,” the man said. “Did you care for the child’s injury?”
“It’s just a little prick. She’ll be fine.”
“Her fingers are bloody,” Addie said. “It’s still bleeding. With your permission,” she asked her uncle, “I’d like to clean her up.”
Mr. Driscoll nodded. “By all means.”
“Where is the ladies’ room?” she asked.
The foreman jerked a dirty thumb behind him. “In the back.”
“Where are first-aid supplies to be found?” she asked.
“I’ll get them,” he said grudgingly. He stalked off toward a small office that had a window facing the work floor.
She eyed the navy man. Her uncle had mentioned that her new employer was an officer. If this was that man, she might find herself out of a job before she started.