Spindle(55)

Chapter Twenty-Nine



“Why are you in such a kerfuffle?” asked Mim after supper the next night when the room-mates gathered back in their room. A third girl had taken ill on the spinning floor, but she was one who worked on the far side of the room, giving Briar hope that her spindle wasn’t the cause. The overseer, instead of getting upset by another operative down, spent the day in his office with his feet up on his desk.

“Wheeler is stopping by,” Briar admitted. The thought had been playing out in her mind all day.

“Interesting.” Mim burst into a grin.

“To play parlor games of course.” Briar anxiously squeezed her fingertips.

Mim leaned against the desk. “Don’t waste your chance. You can remind Wheeler what you once had. If you want to.”

What she wanted was to know if they could go forward, not back. To decide, she needed to spend time with him again. It wouldn’t take long. She’d know pretty quickly if the old feelings were still there.

“Don’t go putting such thoughts into her head,” Ethel said, stepping into the room to grab her box of leaflets. “Come with me again tonight, Briar. They want to hand out more leaflets. Not everyone finished their lot.”

Mim ignored Ethel and got out her cosmetics. “With my help, you can’t go wrong. We’ll sweep your hair up into a pompadour and turn you into a Gibson girl.”

Ethel cocked her head and put her hands on her hips. “You don’t want a man who doesn’t want you,” she said, cutting straight to the heart. “And what about Henry? Are you sure he’s only a friend to you? I’ve seen you reading that letter he sent. Surely it’s memorized by now.”

“Ethel! Spying on me?” Briar tried not to blush, but she could feel her face heating up. Henry was still as unlikely a beau as before—an insincere flirt. Of course Briar was missing him. They were friends. Didn’t mean she was pining.

Briar glanced between the two room-mates. Ethel, always so serious and working hard to reach her goals. Mim, always out for fun, yet not lazy in the least. Handing out more leaflets suddenly seemed exhausting.

“Quit fighting over me.” Briar held up her hands. “I just want to have a night of fellowship. Getting in on that scissor game last night made me realize how much I’ve missed the fun.” Her voice cracked and she looked away.

All she said was true. Ever since Nanny left them, she’d been winding herself up tighter and tighter with worry over the future. It was nice to play for once. And she was so confused about Wheeler. Was Mim right, and he had only gotten cold feet with her? Or was Ethel, who thought Briar should get on by herself, taking up the cause of suffrage to change her future instead? She let out a deep breath. Mrs. Tuttle, the lecturer who came to the house, was a married woman. Briar could marry and still stand for herself and women’s rights.

“You’ve been shouldering so much,” Mim said, sympathetically.

They have no idea. Wheeler, Fanny, the spindle, and the children. Briar’s head would explode if she tried to think about it all at the same time.

Mim turned to Ethel. “She’s only going to be sixteen for a few more days. Why push her to act twenty-five?” She went over to her dresser and pulled out several outfits. “Did you want to wear my dress with the leg-o’-mutton sleeves?” Mim had a satisfied look on her face, like she had won the argument.

“Yes, she’s young, but she is flirting with trouble. There’s a difference.” Ethel moved to leave the room, her nose in the air in protest. “I’ve given all my advice to deaf ears,” she said as she stalked out the door. “Heaven help you now.”

Briar sighed. Her room-mates’ intentions were good, but some things she needed to learn on her own.

“I don’t know if I can wear something that fancy,” Briar said, examining the dress Mim was pulling out. Everyone marveled at how many dresses Mim had managed to acquire. Besides being an excellent seamstress, she was quite verbal to her sweethearts about what she wanted them to bring her. “No flowers” was rule number one, but yards of material were always welcomed. “I wouldn’t look like me anymore.” And it would look like I was trying too hard.

“Nonsense,” Mim said, holding up a buttercream gown to Briar’s shoulder with one hand and placing her other hand on Briar’s waist. “Do you have a better corset than that?”

“This is all I have.”

Briar looked uncertainly at the cosmetics. Mim was laying out cheek powder, some kind of cream, two bottles of perfume, and a handful of other products Briar had no idea what they were. Would Mam have approved? It was only a certain kind of girl who painted her face with store-bought items.

Mim rolled her eyes. “Don’t look like I’m about to teach you how to lose your virtue. When I’m done with you, you will still look like you, only better. Wheeler won’t even be able to tell I’ve done anything to your face, but he’ll notice you look especially attractive today. What you do with your virtue is your own business.”

Briar gasped. She crossed her arms and legs uncomfortably and looked at the empty doorway. Ethel had a point. A boy ought to like you the way you were.

But Mim wasn’t done with her lecturing. “Once you are all dolled up, you’ll have his eye. Be sure not to waste it. Hang on his every word, even if he is boring.”