A knock sounded on his office door immediately followed by the creaking of hinges. “Mr. Ashton, sir? There is a man here to see you,” the store’s page called from the threshold, standing at attention.
Carver didn’t look up from the catalogue he was attempting to create with a sketch artist, a project that was far more complicated than he had originally thought to obtain customers outside of the city. “Who is it, Tom?”
“A Mr. Prescott Payne.”
Carter froze at the name. It had certainly taken his stepfather long enough to come to New Orleans to take over the shipping business after Carver delegated his position to the former manager. He rose, straightening his jacket. “Send him to the tea salon.”
“Already done, sir,” the boy answered, pulling his shoulders back with pride.
“Well done, Tom.” He clapped the boy on the shoulder. Leaving the artist to continue alone, Carver strode down the hallway, his heart hammering. Now was the time to tell Prescott of his intentions toward Sophia, if they were not becoming clear already through Prescott’s chain of spies.
He smiled to the customers milling about his store, admiring the wares, as he wove through the first floor of home goods to the tea salon where every table was in use and half of the customers at the tables were enjoying a novel from Sophia’s library.
He instantly sensed the man’s presence. His stepfather sat in the corner round table, glaring at him as a footman delivered a triple tiered tower of tea sandwiches, scones, and chocolate dipped strawberries, along with a pot of what Carver knew would be Earl Grey.
He took a seat without waiting for Prescott to offer it to him. It was his department store after all.
“I see you finally found a backbone.” He motioned for Carver to pour himself some tea.
Carver met Prescott’s gaze. What was he referring to? Sophia or the store?
He nodded, a rare look of approval in his eyes. “You’ve done quite well for yourself. When my agent in New Orleans sent me the report on you and your store, I couldn’t quite believe that you had actually taken such a risk, but,” he flicked his wrist toward the store, “it is certainly impressive what you have accomplished on your savings.”
“Thank you, sir.” Carver poured himself a steaming cup. It had never been his favorite blend, but he did not wish to appear rude and not take a drink with his stepfather.
“And what is even more impressive is the fact that you seem to be under the impression that you are now engaged to my fiancée.” His eyes turned dark, his voice nearing a growl.
Carver fought the urge to grip the sides of the table. “She is no longer your fiancée, Prescott, and one could argue that she never truly was yours to begin with as you arranged it all with her father.”
Prescott’s head reared back at his challenge. He released a slow chuckle and reached for the sandwiches. “That’s not what her father’s contract states, and he is too weak from his bout with pneumonia to negotiate different terms. I have come to issue you a warning.”
Carver met his gaze, narrowing his brows, and daring him to try.
He took a strawberry and slowly bit it, dabbing its ruby juice from his lips as he rose. “Release Sophia from your so-called claim on her, or you will wish you had.”
Carver clenched his fists but refused to take the bait. “You don’t even know where she is.”
“No. But it is only a matter of time until I find your future stepmother.” He gripped his cane in one hand and his hat in the other as he rose from the table. “As a consolation prize, upon my marriage to Miss Fairfield, I will release your inheritance in full. However, if you persist in this unnatural pursuit, I will have no other recourse but to disinherit you.”
* * *
“A letter for you, Miss Bird!” Miss Trent called as Sophia passed the Harvey parlor after her shift.
“Really?” She accepted the letter, exhaustion leaving her bones in the excitement of hearing from her fiancé. She raced up the stairs to her room and hungrily read the return address again. Carver. She slid her finger under the envelope and carefully broke the seal, opening it as she sank atop her bed, tucking her pillow under her chest as she kept her shoes off her mattress and propped herself up on her elbows.
My dearest Sophia,
I cannot wait to bring you to New Orleans as my wife. The store is a beauty, and the customers are thrilled with the tea salon bookshop that you suggested. In fact, ladies are taking their tea there even without the excuse of waiting for shopping friends or spouses.
And now, for even more exciting news, I have secured a house for us, but it will take about a month or two for it to be dressed in a manner that I believe you will find pleasing. I am hurrying it along as quickly as possible because the sooner it is finished, the sooner I can come claim you as my bride. The outside must be painted, the floors need refinishing and the whole house needs fresh furniture as the former owner was a lady with five cats.
When you arrive, please add your lovely touches to our home. It feels marvelous to write “our” home. I can hardly believe that the Lord has blessed me with a woman as kind, intelligent, and beautiful as you, my sweetheart. I—
“Sophia, whatever are you smiling about?” Harriet laughed from the hallway. “I’d bet a dollar Carver is sending you little notes of his undying affection.” She rolled her eyes and grinned as she and Fannie plopped onto Nora’s now vacant bed. “That man is smitten with you!”
Sophia flushed but didn’t deny it as she rose to change. “And I am quite smitten with him.”
“I’m not surprised that you went for Mr. Ashton. I figured you would never go for one of the men around here. They’re a little too rough around the edges, aren’t they?” Fannie giggled. “Me now, I don’t mind a little rough as long as they have plenty of gold or cash to help cushion them!”
“Fannie!” Sophia exclaimed, pulling on her silk robe over her nightgown.
“What? I ain’t ashamed of admitting that I like a man with a bit of money,” Fannie replied with wide, innocent eyes.
Sophia rolled her eyes and shook her head with a laugh as she let her hair loose from its tight bun and began her hundred strokes. “What about Joshua?”
Fannie shrugged. “Eh, I don’t really care for him anymore. He’s a little too dirty for my taste. His fingernails always have grime under them. I keep telling him that a gentleman washes and keeps his nails looking pristine, but he just laughs at me, so I am going out with Alexander tonight.”
“You’re rejecting Joshua because of the state of his nails? For Alexander the banker? He may be cleaner, but he is not half as nice as Joshua!” Harriet shook her head. “Now, I thought that you were a little vain, and you yourself admit to being vain, but this brings it to a whole new level.” Harriet removed the brush from Sophia’s fingertips. “Here, let me. I miss brushing my mama’s hair.”
Sophia gratefully surrendered the brush and closed her eyes, enjoying being pampered.
“I gave him fair warning,” Fannie said as she took the file from Sophia’s dresser and shaped her nails. “I told him on multiple occasions that if he didn’t change his ways, I’d be going out with Alexander tonight.”
“Tonight?” Sophia asked. “It is going to be an awfully short visit because curfew is in ten minutes.”
Fannie laughed, handing her the nail file. “True, but the Midnight Express leaves after curfew.”
Harriet clapped her hands over her ears. “Fannie! I told you. You cannot say such things if front of me, or I will have to report you to Miss Trent.”
“The what?” Sophia worked on her nails that were in a sorry state.
“Nora never told you about the Midnight Express?” Fannie asked, her mouth agape. “She used to take it all the time before you came along, so I suppose she didn’t feel the need to tell you if she had given up on using it herself.” She looked to Harriet. “Better cover your ears again.”
Harriet rolled her eyes, but proceeded to do just that.
Fannie leaned toward Sophia and whispered, “The Midnight Express leaves from Jenny’s bedroom window. There’s a lattice we climb down and go a courting with our men.”
Sophia’s jaw dropped. “You break curfew?” And not to mention, you are going to meet a man as well. . . which explains how Nora was coaxed. “I find it hard to believe that you, who is so concerned with Joshua’s state of nails defining his gentleman status, would go traipsing out into the night unchaperoned.”
“And that’s why I am sure Nora did not tell you!” Fannie laughed. “You are an old prude.”
“I am not.” Sophia crossed her arms.
“Then prove it. I’m not going out with him alone, of course. Come with me and Dolly tonight. We always have a grand old time. It’ll be a small party with a bonfire and some special desserts.”
Sophia shook her head firmly. “Not a chance.”
“You need to loosen your corset strings.” Fannie scowled as she threw a pillow into Sophia’s face.
“I won’t tell on you, but I won’t lie either if you get caught missing,” Sophia replied, pressing her lips into a firm line.
Fannie giggled. “You may say you aren’t a prude, but your face says otherwise!”
Realizing how she must look, Sophia laughed and motioned for Harriet that it was safe to listen again.
“So, Nora and the sheriff. Anyone else think that was a bit of a surprise?” Fannie took the brush from Harriet and began stroking her own glossy hair.
Harriet shrugged. “People do irrational things when they are in love.”
“Lights out!” Miss Trent called through the hallway.
Fannie giggled as she tossed the brush into Sophia’s lap, pausing in the doorway after Harriet had left. “I’ll be visiting Jenny’s room in ten minutes. Dolly and I can’t be late for our evening out, so if you want to come, be ready.”
“I thought it was the Midnight Express, not the Ten Past Ten Express,” Sophia teased and slipped out of her robe and under her blankets.
Fannie rolled her eyes. “Well, then, it wouldn’t sound nearly as romantic, now would it?”
With the girls’ departure she lowered her lamp’s wick and finished the letter, gasping at the postscript, reading it once more.
P.S. Write home. Your father was recently ill and is on the mend, but I think it would bring comfort to them knowing you are well.
Sophia turned down the wick completely and tried to ignore the fact that she needed to write home, but with the breeze and room devoid of Nora’s snoring, Sophia quickly fell into a deep slumber.
“Sophia,” a whisper broke into her dreams of Carver. “Sophia!”
“Uh, what is it?” Sophia blinked in the dim candlelight, her body shaking from the intrusion of her slumber.
“Shh. Come with me,” Jenny whispered.
“Why?” Sophia rubbed her face, trying to wake up. “Is it a full house in the middle of the night?”
“No.” Jenny handed Sophia her silk robe. “Put this on, and please do be quiet.”
Sophia pulled on her robe and stumbled into Jenny’s bedroom. “What is going on?”
Jenny pointed outside. “It’s Dolly. She’s fallen on her wrist and she’s too hurt to climb back inside. What do we do? Miss Trent will be forced to fire her and Fannie on the spot if she discovers them.” She wrung her hands. “And I know with all of Dolly’s big talk, she needs this job just as much as I do.”
“She’s not wealthy?”
“Her aunt is the wealthy one, and from what Dolly used to confided in me, she only sends Dolly her daughter’s cast offs as her way of taking care of her orphaned niece. If Dolly loses this position, she will be forced to return to a home where she isn’t wanted.”
“Well, how do we get her inside unnoticed? The back door is always locked after eight o’clock and only unlocked for shift changes, both times Miss Trent is there and she would catch Dolly and Fannie for certain.” Sophia snapped her fingers. “Harriet! She has a spare key in case Miss Trent loses hers.”
Jenny shook her head doubtfully. “You think Harriet would be able to help without feeling that she must report it?”
Sophia sighed. “Well, she’s always saying that Harvey Girls stick together, so maybe sticking together means Harriet might help her just this once.”
“If you think it might work?”
“It’s the only plan we have.” Sophia tiptoed down the hall, tapped lightly on Harriet’s door, and waited a few seconds before tapping again, praying that Miss Trent in the room next door wouldn’t hear and come inspect.
Harriet tugged open the door. With her blonde hair cascading to her hourglass waist, she rubbed her eyes. “Yes? There’s no train right now. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dolly. She fell trying to get back up the lattice,” Sophia whispered.
Alarm flickered across Harriet’s features. “Is she hurt?”
“It’s her wrist. The girls don’t think it’s broken, but it hurts too much to try to get back up the lattice, and she needs the key to the back door. I know it is against the rules, but Dolly and Fannie will get fired. Could you—?”
“While I do not condone breaking the rules, Dolly is still my friend. I’ll get the key.”
Harriet disappeared into her room. The sounds of rummaging in a drawer drifted out. Harriet draped her dressing robe over her shoulders, grasping the skeleton key in hand. In their bare feet, the girls crept down the stairway. Harriet quietly inserted the key and grimaced at the scraping of the turning lock. Sophia held the door open, and Harriet waved Fannie and Dolly inside.
Harriet gently took Dolly’s wrist in hand as Dolly whimpered at Harriet’s light prodding.
“Do you think it’s just sprained, or broken?” Tears streaked down Fannie’s cheeks as she stood behind, gripping Dolly’s ruined hat in her hands.
Harriet shrugged. “My uncle was a doctor, but I think it is a good sign that you aren’t howling in pain. If it is still hurting tomorrow as badly as it is tonight, I want you to go straight to the doctor, but for now, we need to get some ice from the icebox to help with the swelling.” She turned to Sophia. “Jenny, Fannie, and I are going to get Dolly upstairs. Do you think you can manage to sneak into the kitchen without waking the night chef? I’m not so worried about the girl on shift catching us. She won’t say a word, but Chef Harold—heaven help you if he wakes up.” She pressed the key into Sophia’s hand. “Lock up afterwards.”
Clutching her dressing robe tight against her neck, Sophia darted across the moonlit road and into the Castañeda, past the sleeping desk clerk, and behind Millie who was preoccupied cleaning the lunch counter. She tiptoed into the kitchen and past the massive, sleeping chef on her way to the icebox. She grabbed a clean rag from the counter, carefully opened the wooden door, and prayed that a piece of ice was already chipped off the ice block. Under a tray of oysters was a medium chunk of ice. If these oysters start to go bad . . .the chef is going to kill whoever took the block of ice. Sophia carefully lifted the tray enough to slide the ice out from underneath it. She grabbed the chunk with the rag, quickly closed the door and darted out the back door and around the hotel toward the dormitory.
“Well, if it isn’t the all proper Miss Bird out in her dressing robe.”
His voice stopped her in the middle of the street. She slowly turned, clutching the ice with both hands, the cold seeping through the rag and numbing her fingertips. “Mr. Gessler, please excuse me.”
“Oh no, not until you’ve paid the price for being caught in such a state.” He sprang at her.
Suppressing her scream, she bolted for the dormitory, slamming the door, and locking it behind her as the drunkard pounded on the door.
Miss Trent flung open her door and, spying Sophia in her dressing robe, holding the now dripping ice, her jaw dropped. “What happened?”
Her stomach turned and she decided a version of the truth was best. “Dolly is hurt. H-Harriet gave me her key to get her ice.”
Miss Trent pursed her lips. “And I’m guessing you were seen.”
She nodded. “Mr. Gessler.”
Miss Trent withdrew a revolver from the folds of her night gown and opened the door, pointing the barrel of her gun straight at his chest, pulling back the hammer and chambering a bullet. “Go home. You are fortunate I don’t place a bullet in your sorry hide for messing with one of my girls, you cad.”
Mr. Gessler’s slurred mumble faded as he stumbled back, hands raised.
Miss Trent locked the door once more, turning back to Sophia, calm as could be, as if threatening an aggressive man with a gun was an everyday occurrence. “The punishment for being out of your dormitory room is usually dismissal, but as Dolly is hurt, I see your act as a compassionate one. How did Dolly get hurt?”
“She fell.”
Miss Trent’s lips twisted to the side. “I bet she did. But, you had best not tell me anything else, lest I be forced to act. Get on with you.” She waved her up the stairs.
“Well, I certainly hope it was worth you almost breaking your neck!” Harriet scolded the two girls as Sophia slipped into the room with the ice.
Dolly scowled, cradling her hand. “Took you long enough, Sophia.”
“I was detained.” Sophia rested the ice on Dolly’s wrist, the fishy scent filling the small room.
“Ugh, it stinks!” Dolly complained, twisting her nose away from the ice.
“That’s because I risked the wrath of the chefs by taking it from under the oysters for tomorrow’s lunch.”
“I don’t understand why you insist on your little Midnight Express adventures,” Harriet set aside the ice and wrapped the rag around Dolly’s wrist before reapplying the ice.
“I know it was risky to climb the lattice, but how else am I supposed to find time to be courted?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe in broad daylight during your lunch break or in the evening on the porch after your day shift? We have calling hours for a reason.” Harriet scolded her friend. “I warned you before and now see where your heedlessness has gotten you? You can’t possibly lift plates of food with that wrist. You will be half as efficient tomorrow.”
Fannie sniffed back her tears. “I didn’t mean for you all to take on extra work. I just wanted to make Joshua jealous of Alexander, but you were right, Jenny. Joshua was at the bonfire too tonight and he and Alexander got into a huge fight over me. Alexander made an advance toward me, and Joshua jumped on him. The fight got so bad Sheriff Kane stepped in and locked them both up for the night. I barely got away before the sheriff had a chance to recognize me.”
“Good for Joshua!” Sophia exclaimed.
“I hope you are going to go back to him,” Jenny added. “If he will take you after your actions.”
“Whichever suitor Fannie chooses, Dolly needs to rest if she is going to serve this morning.” Harriet rubbed her forehead and checked Dolly’s watch pin on the nightstand and sighed. “We only have two hours before dawn, and we need to go down. Jenny, I am going to need you to run the counter by yourself this morning with Fannie, who will be taking an extra shift to make up for their little escapade. Can you manage it?”
Jenny laughed. “Of course. How hard could it be for two Harvey Girls?”
Dolly sent her an apologetic look. They all knew exactly how hard it could be to run the fifty-one-seat lunch area.