Is it possible Adelaide hadn’t been to town even once during the daytime in all these months? It had been daylight on the day she arrived, but other than that? She’d returned to town at night to attend shows at the opera house, but as she rode into town now, a few paces behind Bertie and Fiona, she marveled at how small this place seemed.
One road, twelve shops, one hotel, two restaurants.
She’d been used to even less back in Lucerne Valley. There, the nearest “town” was a general store. But this place shrank under the canopy of these skies. A handful of dice left on a large rug.
But if that’s how small the town seemed, then what did that say about her cabin?
Adelaide laughed at herself as Bertie and Fiona reached the Gregson Springs Hotel and tied their horses up.
Down the road a crowd of thirty or forty people cheered. The only time that many people gathered was when the trains arrived or for a show at the opera house, so Adelaide had to see what could possibly compete. Bertie and Fiona did not seem interested, though. They walked into the Gregson Springs without even a glance toward the commotion. Adelaide was intrigued. She rode Obadiah closer.
To find Mrs. Jerrine Reed dressed in a black Arabian Lamb Cloth coat that probably cost as much as Adelaide had paid for her horse. Her bluebird pin had been affixed to the lapel of the coat. The Reed family lived right here in town. A home built beside the opera house, as a rectory sits beside its church.
Behind Mrs. Reed stood a tall, meek woman. Thin and hunched forward and wearing a coat that was wrong for the season, but likely all she could afford. She shivered, but whether she felt cold or nervous in front of the crowd it was difficult for Adelaide to decide.
“And that’s why,” Mrs. Reed continued, “I’m so proud to see so many of you here today. And I know Mrs. Sterling and her son Melvin are pleased as well. Isn’t that right?”
Mrs. Reed stepped aside, only one step, and Mrs. Sterling leaned forward, tipped her head, and muttered, “Yes, ma’am. So pleased.”
Mrs. Reed pivoted back to her place at the center of the audience’s attention and applauded, though the sound was muted because of her kidskin gloves. The crowd joined in, Adelaide as much as anyone. A woman starting her own business out here? Adelaide, in her way, felt she was doing much the same.
And just for a moment she felt the flicker of something warm against the back of her neck. A question. Where is it? A fear. What is it doing?
But she flicked it away like a troublesome horsefly.
“As I mentioned at the opera house,” Mrs. Reed said, “the Busy Bees are encouraging all of you that can afford it to bring your soiled fabrics to Mrs. Sterling and her son. I can tell you that every stitch of fabric from our private residence and from the opera house will be taken down the street and deposited with the Sterlings from now on.”
As soon as these words were spoken, the rattle of doors called everyone’s attention down the street, to the Gregson Springs Hotel, where Fiona and Bertie carried large sacks toward their horses.
“We applaud industry,” Mrs. Reed said as she watched Fiona and Bertie.
The crowd turned their gaze to match hers.
And that meant Adelaide turned to watch them, too.
“The promise of this great country is that all of us may find our fortunes through the blessing of freedom this nation promises. But let us all remember that Mrs. Sterling, through no fault of her own, has been left a widow with a son to care for. And that her history with us in this town stretches back more than a decade.”
Fiona and Bertie tied the sacks to their horses’ saddles, securing them tightly with the ease that comes from experience.
Mrs. Reed returned her gaze to the crowd, and almost all of them turned back to her. A handful, just a few, let their eyes linger on the pair of women, Adelaide’s friends.
“Now, some of you live farther out and only visit town occasionally. If, for whatever reason, you are forced to spend the night, you often take a room at the Gregson Springs Hotel. A very fine establishment.”
Bertie and Fiona untied their horses and climbed back into their saddles.
“Next time you pay for a room,” Mrs. Reed said, “take a moment to inquire about where they have their sheets and pillowcases laundered. Ask who is washing the linens you will be sleeping on.”
Adelaide watched her friends riding off, back toward their home, hauling the sacks filled with the hotel’s dirty linens, which would be cleaned by Fiona Wong in a petroleum solvent and then strung up to dry inside the cabin for a day.
Bertie would close the Blind Pig for business while the linens dried, as they would be highly flammable and her customers, many of them smokers, tended to forget this fact. One wall of the Blind Pig had to be rebuilt because of a fire the year before.
“And if, by chance,” Mrs. Reed continued, “they aren’t supporting Mrs. Sterling and her son Melvin, consider asking them why. Let them know how much it would mean to you if one of our own were to enjoy their business. After all, that’s how we thrive, by looking out for one another.”
With that, Mrs. Reed turned and clapped Mrs. Sterling on the arm. The narrow woman scurried to the door and held it open. Mrs. Reed waved the townspeople into the open doorway.
“Come and see!” Mrs. Reed shouted. “The town’s first power laundry! A wonderful day for women’s progress.”
Adelaide felt tugged in two directions. She knew she ought to ride off with Bertie and Fiona, but, truth be told, she’d never seen a power laundry before. She did want to know what Mrs. Sterling would be using. Was there a machine for washing the clothes? Was it loud? How much could it wash at one time? Was it wrong to be curious?
Adelaide tied Obadiah up and joined the line of townspeople waiting to walk inside. Wasn’t she a townsperson? Strange how this suddenly felt like a test.
As others filed out, the line moved forward, and Adelaide couldn’t stop herself from trembling. Mrs. Reed had remained at the door, holding it for all. Mrs. Reed smiled at each person and patted them gently on the shoulder as they went in. As Adelaide stepped closer, she tried to decide what she should do if Mrs. Reed barred her entry.
But when she reached the door, Mrs. Reed placed a hand on her elbow (Adelaide was too tall for Mrs. Reed to reach her shoulder comfortably) and said, “It’s good to see you. Mrs. Henry, isn’t it? I hope you’ll visit town more often.”
And that was it.
It would be nice to imagine Adelaide storming out of the store, climbing onto Obadiah, and galloping out of town, catching up with Bertie and Fiona and never looking back. But the human animal is a social animal; a lifetime of being treated like an outsider may make a person yearn to finally be let in.
So that’s what happened.
Mrs. Reed held the door and Adelaide walked in.
After Adelaide left the power laundry, she spent the rest of the day in town and, to her own constant surprise, every door was opened and every pleasant greeting seemed sincere.