Spindle(17)

The bonnet in question was smaller than Briar’s mam’s, with an enormous bow on the front and a ribbon to tie under her chin. Such a flouncy thing would seem out of place with her plain calico frock.

“Wear this out walking with your Wheeler and what a handsome couple you would make. He would be proud to have you on his arm.”

Briar did a quick check to see if Sadie heard. Thankfully, she was no longer in the room. “Keep your voice down,” Briar chided. Having to live in the same boardinghouse as Sadie was hard enough, but to add Mim’s cavalier comments about Wheeler made it oft unbearable. Mim was convinced Sadie was a passing fancy, the last wild oats of a young man nervous about marriage. She thought of Briar’s time with him as an investment that needed protecting. However, after seeing him walking with Sadie yesterday, Briar wasn’t so sure.

Briar spotted the newspaper and retrieved it, opening it to the want ads.

Mim flipped a couple of pages in her magazine section. “Or what about a scent? Give him a change from machinery grease. He’d become so intoxicated around you he’d follow after you like a puppy.”

“Mim!” Briar fanned her face, trying to stop the blush from spreading and the gossips from noticing.

Ethel rose and went to get her story. “Now her,” Mim said, pointing in Ethel’s direction. “She’s going to have a harder time catching a man than most. She’s all points and corners. A man wants someone who is soft, welcoming. A sweet bun, not a horseradish.”

Briar wanted to stick up for her friend, but Mim had a point. Ethel wasn’t welcoming to any of the men who came around the house. She cut them off short before they could even get to know her. So if Briar was to take advice about men from anyone in the house, Mim was the most logical. She went walking out with someone every weekend, and this summer would likely have a picnic lunch planned for every Sunday. It wouldn’t be long until Mim found the man who fit her list. She did have a way of getting their attention.

“How much does one of those cost?” Briar asked, pointing to the bonnet, knowing in her mind that a bonnet wasn’t the reason she and Wheeler broke up, but her heart was interested anyway.

Mim must have noticed Briar’s wary expression, because she followed up with: “We’re industrious women. We’ll spruce up the one you’ve got.”

Briar focused back on the paper. Here wasn’t much more hope than the bonnet. She scanned the want ads, looking for fancy housewives needing help with sewing.

Wanted: seamstress with skill. Fancywork a must. NINA.

Wanted: fast sewer for growing family. NINA

Wanted: smocking work. NINA

NINA. No Irish Need Apply. She only wanted to do their sewing, not nanny their children.

Mim read over her shoulder. “Ninnies. Remember, we have a deal.”

Briar shook her head. “I couldn’t. If we were caught you’d never be hired again.”

Mim shrugged. “It’ll be their loss.”

Ethel came back triumphant with the story, followed by five other girls. “We’re going to stay in the parlor and take turns reading it aloud. Did you want to listen?”

Happy to take her mind off her troubles for a moment, Briar stayed behind to listen to the serial while Mim pointed out that the fashion for colored underwear had passed, and most women now preferred white lingerie, hand-sewn and very fine.

They were nearing the climax of the tale when Miss Olive came in. “The curfew bell is about to sound. Be ready to end.”

“Oh, but please let us conclude the matter! There was a shipwreck and innocent Arthur is alive after all. We must find out what happens when he sees his Millie again,” said Mary.

“Please,” begged the crowd of girls.

“Well, in that case.” Miss Olive sat on the sofa’s edge and waved Ethel on. “You’d better read quickly. We don’t want to leave poor Millie in the dark about her love.”

Minutes after the curfew bell rang, all the girls applauded Ethel’s reading. Then they scattered, discussing the fate of the characters as they rushed off to bed.

By the time Briar got up to her room, Ania, the quiet Polish girl, was already in bed, having returned from her friend’s boardinghouse. She hadn’t learned much English yet, and preferred the company of her Polish friends to visiting with her housemates. It was no secret she wanted to change houses as soon as a bed opened up for her.

“I’ll be sorry to see her go,” Mim whispered, pointing to the sleeping form. “Best bed-mate I’ve ever had. She’s hardly ever here and such a slip of a thing, I get more space.”

“You mean since she doesn’t own anything, you get her extra drawer space,” said Ethel.

“Did you like the ending to your story, Ethel? Did you find it romantic, or was it overly sentimental?” Mim changed the subject, putting Ethel on the spot. “Do you think the wrong people ended up together?”

“I prefer the action sequences,” Ethel retorted. “Briar? Be the voice of youth for us. What did you think? Your opinion should matter more than two old spinsters.”

At this barb, Mim’s eyes flashed, and Briar stepped between the two. “Neither of you are old spinsters and you know it. I liked the story just fine except for the shipwreck part.” She sat in a heap on the bed. “Henry left on the train tonight. He plans to travel overseas. I’d hate for him to go missing for two years and have everyone think he was dead.”