by S. C. Wilson
“I knows the street. Not 317. But I’s can find it.”
“Can you show me?”
“Yes suh. I jus’ needs to hitch up,” he said, pointing to the carriage.
“No reason to go to all that trouble. You can ride Buck,” she said, removing his bridle hanging on a nearby hook.
Jesse and Cuffy rode off in search of the property. They traveled through several neighborhood streets before coming to a two-story brick house with 317 painted on a shingle next to the front door.
Jesse jumped down and handed her reins to Cuffy. “I’ll be right back.” She brushed sawdust remnants off her shirtsleeves as she approached the door. She took a deep breath, knocked, and then fidgeted with her shirt collar while she waited.
The door opened only a crack, revealing an older man. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Well, I think so. You had an advertisement in the paper this morning.”
The man opened the door the rest of the way. “Ah, yes. Are you interested in buying or letting?”
“It said twenty-five dollars to let per month. How much to buy?”
“Eight hundred and it’s yours.” He looked Jesse up and down, as if assessing her worth. “Or you can purchase it on monthly installments of forty. Up to you.”
Jesse could tell already she wanted to buy the property, but she didn’t have enough to purchase the home. If things worked out with the new job, she would make forty-eight dollars a month. That would only leave eight dollars a month to live off of. It wouldn’t be nearly enough to support her family.
She scratched the back of her neck. “I can only afford to let.”
“Well, if down the road you’d want to buy, just contact Mr. Goldstein. He’s my attorney and is handling the property for me. Come on in.” He closed the door behind her. “So, do you have a family?”
“Yes. Married with twins.”
“Twins?” A lady’s voice came from another room off the hallway. She stepped into the foyer, peering around her husband for a better look at the visitor. “Did I hear you say twins?”
Jesse quickly removed her hat. “Yes, ma’am. A boy and a girl.”
“Oh, how lovely,” she said, clasping her hands. “I was hoping a nice family would move in.”
The man put an arm around his wife, pulling her close. “This is my wife, Miriam.” He extended his hand to Jesse. “I’m Richard Anderson.”
She shook his hand. “Jesse McGinnis. Nice to meet you both.”
“Come along and we’ll give you a tour,” he said.
They showed her around, pointing out features and what they saw as quirks. The latter seemed trivial to her since she had grown up in an old-mountain cabin. She wasn’t about to turn down a home over a creaking floorboard or drafty window.
As she walked through the rooms, she could imagine her family living there. She looked out the kitchen window, taking in the yard. Some green space would certainly help her survive in this city. Staring out at the barn, she knew she had found the perfect place.
Back at the foyer, Mr. Anderson asked, “What do you think?”
“I really like it. Would it be all right if I bring my family over tomorrow evening? I’d like them to have a look before I decide.”
“Sure. But to let you know, you can’t move in until October 1st. And I’ll need the first month’s installment up front.”
“I understand. What time should we come by tomorrow?”
“How’s seven o’clock?”
“I’ll see you both then,” Jesse said with a wide smile.
“I’s tend to ‘em,” Cuffy said when they returned to the carriage house. Jesse, for once, didn’t put up a fight. It had been a long, exhausting day. She wanted to get inside and tell Abby the exciting news. As she was hanging her hat on the hall tree, she heard Abby call out, “We’re in here.”
Abby held Gwen. Aponi, seated next to Toby, had Jim in her arms. Jesse brushed her hand over the boy’s head as she passed by. Her stomach growled and she realized she hadn’t had a bite to eat all day. As if hearing her stomach’s plea, Ulayla set a plate of food in front of her as she sat down. “Thank you, Ulayla,” she said, reaching for a roasted ear of corn. It would have been too hot to handle had she been any less hungry.
Before she could take a bite, Abby asked, “Well, how was your first day?”
Jesse held the corncob over her plate. “It was good, but you won’t believe what I did today,” she said, smiling at everyone seated at the table. “I found us a place of our own.” She took a bite of corn before the follow up questions could begin. It was as delicious as it smelled.
“Where? How?” Abby’s brow furrowed. “When?”
Jesse stopped chewing, the sweet kernels in her mouth momentarily forgotten. “I saw an advertisement in the paper this morning.” She swallowed. “I just got back from seeing it—”
Abby snapped. “Did you even think to discuss it with me, us?” The heat of her ire had risen, evident in red splotches from her neck to her cheeks.
“It’s not set in stone,” Jesse said, setting the corn on the plate.
Abby stood. “I need to put the twins to bed.” She pushed her chair in.
Jesse went to stand. “I’ll help—”
Abby waved her off. “I’ll do it. You just go on and eat.” She left the room with the twins in her arms.
Jesse filled Aponi and Toby in about the new place in between bites of food. After she finished her meal, she carried her plate to the kitchen. Andrew was seated at the table. “Do you know where I can buy some tools?” she asked.
“Hello, Jesse,” he said. “I heard you’re working next door. Congratulations.”
“Well, I won’t be if I show up in the morning with no tools.”
Andrew put his hands on the oak top and pushed away from the table. “I have an idea. Come with me.”
Jesse followed him along the path to the far side of the carriage house as the sun was descending. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. They jangled in his hands as he selected the correct skeleton key and inserted it into the padlock. He flipped the latch, slid open the door, and motioned for her to enter. Even in the scant light, she could tell everything was covered in a thick layer of dust.
“When Mr. Bowman bought this place, all of this was included. Of course, he had no use for any of it so he had me lock it all up.”
Jesse walked around the small workshop. She stopped in front of a piece of equipment. “What’s this?” she asked, her fingers trailing through the dust on the unfamiliar surface.
“That’s a wood lathe. Put a slab of wood in it and you spin it by pressing the pedal there below.” He then pointed to a group of hand tools, with sharp metal on the business ends. “Put any one of those chisels to it and it will put groves in the wood.”
Jesse nodded in fascination. She continued to look around at what she realized was a wood-worker’s paradise. She was pretty confident any tool she could ever want or need was there.
“Since you’re friends of Mr. Bowman, I don’t think he’d mind you putting them to good use.” He pointed up to the rafters. “There’s a bunch of scrap wood up there if you need any of it.” He removed the skeleton key from the ring and handed it to her. “Just make sure you lock it up when you’re done.”
“I will.”
Andrew left Jesse to explore the space on her own. Some things were familiar to her. Many she could guess at, puzzling their uses out of similarities to the instruments she knew. Still others, she hadn’t a clue. She selected a chisel from the worktable, picked up a scrap piece of wood, and blew off the dust. Testing its sharpness, she dug the tool into the soft wood. It was like a knife through warm butter.
“I think we need to talk.”
Jesse turned and was surprised to see Abby standing in the doorway. “Look at all this,” she said, almost beaming.
Abby smiled at her excitement, but she had other things on her mind besides tools. She’d thought about what Jesse had done a
s she put the twins to sleep. She was upset with her at first for going to look at a house without her. They were supposed to be equal partners in this relationship and this was too big of a decision to make without discussing it together. Then her mood had softened. Jesse had given up her entire way of life for her and the twins. She couldn’t have asked for a better partner and parent for the children. Letting her pick out their home seemed so trivial now. “So, tell me about this house. How much is it and can we afford it?” she asked.
Jesse put the hunk of wood and chisel back on the worktable. She walked over to Abby, placed her hand on her hips, and pulled her close. “I really think you’re going to love it,” she said, looking into Abby’s eyes. “I can see us being happy there. I don’t want to spoil anything, so I’m not going to tell you anything about it. You’ll see it for yourself tomorrow evening.” She took Abby by the hand. “If you don’t like it, then we won’t take it. Come on. Let’s go inside. It’s been a long day.”
Jesse secured the padlock with a new sense of excitement, responsibility, and possibilities. She led Abby back inside, already looking forward to cleaning up and putting her head on the pillow.
After another long day of work, Jesse hesitated again. She tried not to let her nerves show as she waited for all the other workers to leave. Her excitement over showing her family the house on Taylor Street had grown during the day.
Gripping the dowel handle of her toolbox, she waited until the coast was clear before she hurried to the carriage house. Cuffy was putting the harnesses on Mr. Bowman’s prize geldings when she stepped inside. “I’m almost ready. I just need to put these away,” she said, holding up her toolbox, “and change my shirt.” She locked the tools up in the workshop and tugged on the lock. Content they were safe, she hurried along the gravel path to the house, brushing sawdust from her clothes as she went.
After putting on a clean shirt, Jesse and Abby carried the twins to the waiting carriage, joining Aponi and Toby. Cuffy snapped the reins and they rolled down the street.
Jesse didn’t realize she was bouncing her leg until Abby put a palm on her thigh. They shared a smile, each wondering if the other felt the same excitement or something more anxious.
When the carriage came to a stop, Abby looked out the window. “Is this it?” she asked, peering at the two-story brick house.
Jesse already had her hand on the carriage handle. She nodded. “It’s nice. Isn’t it?” she asked, opening the door.
Richard Anderson stepped outside as they approached the house. Jesse reached to shake hands. “Mr. Anderson. This is my family,” she said before introducing each one by name.
Mr. Anderson greeted each of them warmly. “Come inside. My wife, Miriam, and I will give you a tour.”
Abby looked around as she entered. Jes was right. This place is lovely.
The main entry hall had velour-patterned wallpaper accented by wainscoting. To the right was the parlor with a large fireplace, though Jesse had heard winters there were no more severe than spring on the mountain. A fancy-framed mirror hung above the brick hearth. With its patina, Jesse couldn’t tell what it was made of, but knew for certain it was heavy. On each side of the fireplace, shelving had been built into the walls, filled to capacity with books and knick-knacks. Several tasteful watercolors hung throughout the space, accenting the light green walls.
Sheer lace curtains covered a ten-pane window facing the street. Floor-length brocade draperies were pulled back at each end and tied with tasseled ropes. A sofa and matching loveseat, along with a lady’s armless chair and an oversized man’s armchair, filled the center of the room. A circular tea table sat beside the lady’s chair. Flanking the sofa were end tables, each one holding an ornate, kerosene lamp. In one corner stood a curio cabinet, made of the same cherry wood as the tea table.
They went across the hall into the dining room next. Abby liked the large table, although the glass chandelier was not quite her taste. The walnut trim, stained a dark brown, stood out stark against the ivory walls.
The kitchen was at the end of the hall. A large, cast-iron, wood-burning stove took up one corner of the room. Overlooking the backyard were two windows. Beneath one sat a drop-leaf table. Abby could already picture starting her mornings with Jesse at that table, sipping their coffee. Next to the other window was a white, cast-iron sink. Two large hutches offered ample storage space. In the center of the room stood a large butcher block, its age marked by a forest of thin hatch lines.
Off of the kitchen was the water closet. While it wasn’t as nice as the one they were currently enjoying, Abby was thrilled they would have modern amenities.
The group followed their guides up a narrow staircase. Upstairs were three bedrooms. The first was painted a light shade of grey with a darker tint for the trim. It contained a brass bed and an oak dresser. The second bedroom was painted a pale blue. Empty of furniture, the room was cluttered with boxes and crates.
“Please excuse the mess. We’ve been packing up some of our things for the move,” Mrs. Anderson said.
The last bedroom was the largest of the three. The furniture filled the room with its oversized four-post bed and two matching dressers. The walls stood in stark contrast to the other two rooms. Abby knew right away that Jesse liked the wallpaper, lush and depicting nature scenes. Personally, she would paint it with a light mauve color if she had her druthers.
“Why don’t you take the women into the parlor,” Mr. Anderson said to his wife. “I’ll show the fellas the barn. I’m sure the women don’t care to look.”
Mrs. Anderson joined the women in the parlor a short while later, silver tray in hand bearing a teapot, cups, sugar, and cookies. As she poured the tea into cups, Abby asked, “Can I ask why you are moving?”
Mrs. Anderson finished pouring and set down the teapot. “We have a family matter to deal with back in Connecticut,” she said, using small tongs to drop sugar cubes into the teacups. Abby could hear the sadness in the older woman’s voice. “It’s going to be hard to leave this place.” She sat on the sofa beside Abby and picked up her cup. “I’m just happy a nice family will be living here.” Her spoon clinked against the porcelain as she stirred.
Abby placed her hand on Mrs. Anderson’s arm. “I promise we will take fine care of your home.”
Mrs. Anderson patted Abby’s hand. “I hope you’ll be happy here.”
“I’m sure we will be. Will you be returning to San Francisco once you tend to your matters back east?”
Mrs. Anderson shook her head. “No. Mr. Anderson and I are getting too old to travel like we used to. We’ve decided to stay in Connecticut.”
Voices drifted down the hall as Jesse, Toby, and Mr. Anderson made their way toward the parlor.
“Can I have a word with you?” Jesse said to Abby.
Abby excused herself and joined Jesse by the front door.
“Well, what do you think?” Jesse whispered.
Abby whispered back, “I really like it.”
“Me too. So, I can sign the paperwork?”
Abby nodded in agreement. “I can’t wait to move in.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Jesse sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet planted on the plush rug. Yawning, she glanced over her shoulder at Abby who was still sleeping soundly. Her long-blonde hair was down and it spilled across the pillow in long waves. A fluttering sensation coursed through her body—a feeling now as familiar to her as her own flesh. It was still difficult for her to believe she had somehow managed to win the affection of such a beautiful creature. The knowledge that Abby still had such an effect on her caused a silly grin to tug at the corners of her mouth. She wanted more than anything to crawl in beside her and curl their warm bodies together but knew she couldn’t. She had a job to get to and a family to support.
The house they were staying in was only a few years old. Despite its relative youth, the second stair tread creaked loudly when Jesse put her weight on it. With breath held, she stood frozen in place
damning the workmanship of the builder as she listened for any stirring. After hearing nothing but silence, she continued to the kitchen and was surprised to see Ulayla. She glanced at the table and noticed a steaming cup of coffee, the light tan color revealing it had been made with cream and sugar, just the way she liked it now. Next to the cup was a folded newspaper.
“Good morning,” Jesse said. “You’re up early.”
“Mm-hmm. Can’t send ya off on an empty belly,” Ulayla said over her shoulder, motioning with her head toward the cup on the table. “Gos on, fo’ it gits cold.” She turned back to the bowl and continued whisking eggs.
Jesse sat down and took a sip. “Boy, this sure is good.”
“Mm-hmm,” Ulayla said, pouring a generous splash of milk into the bowl. She continued whipping the eggy mixture.
Jesse picked up the newspaper and read aloud. As she read, the kitchen filled with tantalizing smells. She paused in between articles, trying to get a glimpse of what Ulayla was frying in the cast iron skillet but was unable to see past the woman’s ample figure. It occurred to her that she could easily have stood up and investigated further, but she actually preferred to be surprised.
She continued reading until Ulayla set a plate down in front of her with a tiny pitcher of warm maple syrup beside it. The plate held a stack of three slabs of fried bread, melted butter pooling and spilling down the sides, along with four pieces of thick bacon. Heavenly notes of cinnamon and vanilla swirled up from the plate and into her nose.
Jesse asked, “You put syrup on toast ‘round here?”
“Uh-huh. It be called French Toast.” She watched Jesse pour the syrup over the toasted bread and waited intently as she took first one bite, then another. Unable to stand it any longer, she placed her plump hand on her hip and asked, “Well, whatchu think?”
“I think…” Jesse said, around another delicious mouthful, “this is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”
She took her hand off her hip. “Secret’s nutmeg an’ pinch o’ sugar,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.
