“Mr. Witherspoon, lots of people bring a box of cookies when they go visiting. If they wrapped the box in pretty paper…well, that’s more of a gift, isn’t it? Or cakes for special occasions?”
“That’s not a bad idea.” Mr. Witherspoon cleared his throat as he thought. “Those dots…They’re cheerful, aren’t they? And the Christmas bells, though Christmas is still far off.”
“It’ll be here before you know it,” Kat said.
“How much do you want for it?”
“Only forty cents for a dozen sheets. Two-foot sheets.”
Mr. Witherspoon frowned.
“Mr. Witherspoon, it’s all hand-painted.”
“I don’t know…I don’t know…Well, all right. I’ll see how it goes over with my customers. I’ll try the dots and the Christmas bells.”
Forty cents times two is eighty cents, Kat thought, plus one dollar and twenty cents from Mr. Thomas. She’d be getting two dollars!
On her way to Pelican Street and the bookshop, Kat hummed a bit of the popular song “Meet Me in St. Louis, Louis” but the words in her mind were “Meet Me in Boston, Boston….”
Mrs. Cornell at the Pelican Street Bookshop didn’t hesitate the way Mr. Thomas and Mr. Witherspoon had.
“These are lovely, Katherine—especially the snowflakes,” she said. “Each one is different; you can see immediately that they’re handmade. I’ll take three dozen of the snowflakes and three dozen of the ribbons. The hearts would be nice for Valentine’s Day. Maybe I’ll order them later.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cornell. I’ll just need some plain wrapping paper to paint on.”
Mrs. Cornell unrolled her white paper. “Have you thought of making matching gift cards, too, Katherine? I’d add twenty-five cents for each set of twelve cards.”
“All right! I’ll get it all to you by the end of the month.”
“That’s fine. Katherine, can you make Valentine’s cards, beautiful lacey ones with ribbons and trimmings, roses and forget-me-nots, something obviously handmade? I’d pay fifty cents each for something spectacular. They’d have to be truly special.”
“I can do that, Mrs. Cornell.” Could she? Kat bit her lip.
“Show me a sample and I’d order in February.”
“Mrs. Cornell, I’ll get the samples to you fast. If you like them—if you could see your way to ordering them ahead of time—I need to earn a lot before December fifteenth.”
“You have a real talent for design, Katherine. I’m betting they’d be wonderful. All right, if you deliver two sets of heart paper and matching gift cards, and when I see your Valentine card sample I’d order say, twenty-five of those. You may deliver early and I’ll keep them in stock.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cornell. Thank you so much!”
Numbers and orders were dancing in Kat’s head. She rushed home to write it all down.
Mr. Thomas, general store
1 dz snowflakes
.40
1 dz ribbons
.40
1 dz dots
.40
Mr. Witherspoon, bakery
1 dz dots
.40
1 dz Christmas bells
.40
Mrs. Cornell, bookshop
3 dz snowflakes
1.20
3 dz matching gift cards
.75
3 dz ribbons
1.20
3 dz matching gift cards
.75
2 dz hearts
.80
2 dz matching gift cards
.50
25 Valentine’s cards @.50
12.50
Total
$19.70
Kat added it up twice to make sure she wasn’t making a mistake. A total of $19.70 plus thirty cents from the orchard, five dollars from Todd, and one nickel: twenty-five dollars and five cents. Even one nickel extra! She’d have to make her deliveries before December fifteenth. Well, by December seventh to allow for the mail. Less than one month to go.
Boston, here I come!
twelve
That afternoon, Kat rushed to the tower and painted snowflakes. The first three sheets were fun. She stretched her arms and back muscles before she started the fourth. And again before the fifth. And the sixth. Kat rolled her shoulders and checked the list of orders. Four dozen sheets of snowflakes. Forty-two more to go!
Ma called her to the cottage for supper. Kat ate quickly, with snowflakes swimming before her eyes.
“You’re so quiet tonight,” Ma said.
“I’m tired, I guess,” Kat answered. Forty-two more plus thirty-six matching gift cards! She ate the chicken potpie in front of her automatically. She still had ribbons, dots, and hearts to do—and Valentine’s cards. Getting the orders was the easy part!
Kat took a hurricane lamp from the kitchen back to the tower so that along with the kerosene lantern, she would have more light. She diluted cobalt violet with lots of water and a touch of gray for soft lavender snowflakes. She dipped her brush in cerulean blue with just a drop of violet for other snowflakes. Together, the colors were ethereal, until they blurred in front of her eyes. Snowflake after snowflake. Kat put down her brush and stretched. She scanned the horizon. The sea was calm tonight and a full moon floated in a starry sky. How strange it would feel, not being here to see this! But each snowflake was one step closer to Boston. Kat picked up her brush again. She painted until Pa came up for his shift.
“You look tired, Kat. Go on to bed.”
“I will. You look tired, too, Pa.”
“I’ve been working up on the roof all day.” He sank into a chair. “Good night, kitten.”
In her room, Kat moved Sunshine over to the foot of her bed and got under the covers. She fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow. She had disturbing dreams of dancing snowflakes pinching and poking her with sharp crystal edges.
After school on Monday, Amanda said, “I’ll help you. Tell me how.”
“Me, too,” Lizabeth added.
They were sitting cross-legged on the floor of the tower, watching Kat paint multicolored dots.
“Thank you, but there’s nothing I can think of right now.” Kat sighed. “Except for keeping me company.” She still had more snowflakes to finish and she hadn’t started on the ribbons and Christmas bells yet. “But if you have any bits of lace and red or pink ribbon, for when I start on the Valentine’s Day cards…the Valentine’s cards will be the hardest,” Kat said. “And twenty-five of them! How will I ever get them done in time?”
Kat painted the gift paper while Lizabeth and Amanda were there, and continued to paint after they left. She painted every afternoon after school and all during her watch by the light of the lantern and two hurricane lamps. November fourteenth, November fifteenth, November sixteenth. The week went by in a blur of ribbons, snowflakes, dots, Christmas bells.
On November seventeenth, Kat’s hand cramped from holding the paintbrush for so long. She soaked her hand in warm water and wriggled her fingers. There, that felt better, but she definitely needed a break!
On November twentieth, Amanda gave Kat an idea. They took a raw potato from the kitchen and cut it in half. Kat carved the shape of a heart into it. Amanda dipped it into red paint and pressed it onto scrap paper. If it worked, Amanda and Lizabeth could do some sheets and it would go so much faster. Kat examined the scrap. No, the hearts’ edges didn’t come out sharp enough and making every heart an exact duplicate didn’t look as good. She had promised hand-painted designs and she had shown samples of her very best work. It wouldn’t be fair to deliver any less.
Just when Kat thought she couldn’t face one more Christmas bell, a letter came from the Carstairses.
Dear Katherine,
Thank you for your letter. We’re delighted that you plan to enroll in the Bartholomew school. We think you’ll love it.
The brochure we sent gives you and your parents some basic information, but we thought we’d add some of our impressions.
&nb
sp; The school is in Back Bay, one of the nicest residential neighborhoods of Boston. The girls’ dormitory is across from the main building on Clarendon Street. There are six girls to a room. The rooms are not luxurious, but they seem spacious. The girls’ dining hall downstairs was changed very little when the building was converted from a private townhouse. It has beautiful wood carvings, a huge fireplace, and a crystal chandelier. One evening a week it is the setting of a tea for the girls and a visitor, perhaps one of Boston’s many writers or artists. Once a month or so the girls are taken to the Music Hall, the opera, or the theater.
The art studio is on the top floor of the main building, with lots of natural light from the skylights. You can use the studio for your own projects when a class is not in session.
We thought you might like to see the school for yourself before you enroll. You’re very welcome to stay at our house. Let us know and we’ll work out a convenient time for your visit. We’re looking forward to seeing you in Boston.
Your friends,
Evelyn and Kenneth Carstairs
Visiting the Carstairses in Boston would be wonderful but what would she use for the fare? She’d write back to them as soon as she finished her job. Maybe she could get more orders….
Skylights in the studio! The Music Hall, the opera…Back Bay sounded so—so Bostonian! Kat had a burst of new energy. Bring on the Christmas bells and the hearts!
On November thirtieth, Amanda and Lizabeth raced up to the tower. “Kat! Kat, look at this!”
Amanda’s hands were full of small roses and rosebuds made out of pink and red satin ribbon. “What do you think, Kat?”
“They’re beautiful!” Kat beamed. “For Valentine’s cards?”
“Exactly!”
“You made them yourself, Amanda? How did you—”
“I was over at Lizabeth’s and she had lots of ribbons and I just played around with them and twirled them and sewed them in place. Abracadabra—roses!”
“I love them! I couldn’t have done anything like that.”
“I can make lots more,” Amanda said.
“And I brought leftover lace trim,” Lizabeth said. “I’m not exactly artistic, but I can paste.”
Kat designed the cards. She cut out and painted hearts, Lizabeth pasted lace borders, and Amanda attached roses and rosebuds. “It goes so fast with the three of us,” Kat said.
“Like mass production in one of those new factories.” Lizabeth laughed.
“They turned out much better than my sample. Thank you!”
By December first, Kat was ready to deliver her gift paper to Mr. Thomas.
On December second, she delivered Mr. Witherspoon’s. On December fifth, Kat, Amanda, and Lizabeth put the finishing touches on the last Valentine’s Day card. “I think Mrs. Cornell will love these,” Kat said. The next day, Amanda and Lizabeth helped her carry everything to the bookstore.
“They’re so charming!” Mrs. Cornell said. “With those sweet rosebuds. Even nicer than your sample!”
“I had a lot of help from my friends,” Kat said. Amanda and Lizabeth beamed with pride.
On Pelican Street, outside the bookshop, Kat put her hand in her pocket and touched the money from Mrs. Cornell. “So now, altogether, I have twenty-five dollars and five cents! More than I’ve ever had in my whole life.”
“I’ve never seen anyone work so hard,” Amanda said.
Kat’s eyes were shining. “I still can’t believe I did it!”
“Kat, I can’t believe you’re really going,” Amanda said. “I can’t imagine Cape Light without you.”
Kat suddenly felt shaky. “I can’t believe I’m going either,” she whispered. Her dream was becoming reality. She’d actually be leaving her home and her friends!
“The semester doesn’t start until January,” Kat said, “so it’s still far off.” That was enough time to get used to the thought of living in a new place. She’d just keep thinking of how wonderful the Bartholomew School would be. And to have all of Boston outside the door!
“When are you telling your parents?” Lizabeth asked. “Let’s go tell them now.”
“No, I want to wait until after dinner, when everyone’s around the table. Papa will be proud that I could earn this much.” Kat’s smile became wider and wider. “I think he’ll be so surprised and proud!”
That evening, as Kat helped shell the peas for dinner, Ma said, “Katherine, you look like the cat that’s swallowed the canary.”
Kat couldn’t help it. She kept imagining Papa’s amazement when she handed him all her money and then his big, happy smile.
thirteen
Ma passed the chicken stew around the table. Though it smelled wonderfully of sage and onions, Kat took only a tiny helping. She was much too excited to eat. She’d make her announcement right after dessert.
She listened with half an ear to the conversation flowing around her. Her hand was on the money stuffed in her dress pocket.
“May I go ice-skating after school tomorrow?” Todd asked. “The green flag’s up on the pond.”
“Are you sure?” Papa said. “Freezing water can…”
Kat wriggled in her chair. She couldn’t sit still!
“The flag’s up, I saw it yesterday and…”
Kat was bubbling over. She couldn’t hold back for one more minute! “I did it, Papa!” she blurted out. “I did it!” She jumped up and gave him her wad of bills. “Look!” Everyone stared at her, startled. Papa looked at the money in his hand and put it on the table. “What is this?”
“It’s half the tuition for the Bartholomew School!”
“Yippee!” Todd shouted.
“Twenty-five dollars, Papa! Half of my tuition!” Where was that big smile she’d expected to see on his face? He looked at Ma across the table.
Kat looked from one to the other. “Well…somebody say something! I did it! Aren’t you proud? I earned it by—”
“Katherine.” Papa’s face was drawn. “I didn’t think you had a chance in the world of making that much.”
Maybe he was just too stunned and surprised, Kat thought; his smile would break out in a second.
“It seemed like a fantasy,” Ma said.
“But it’s not. It’s right here, half the tuition!” Kat stood very straight and proud. “So now we can put it together with your half, Papa. We should mail it to Boston tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful, Kat!” Todd said. Why was Todd the only one who looked happy? This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
“What’s happening?” James asked. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I want to know.” Kat looked at her parents. “What’s going on?”
“Kat…I don’t have my half,” Papa said.
Kat blinked. “What? What do you mean?”
“I don’t have it.”
She stared at her father. “But where is it?”
“The roof,” Papa said. “There weren’t only broken shingles, there was a big hole and I had to…All the money had to go for materials.”
“How could you?” Kat wailed.
“The roof was much worse than I thought,” Papa said. “You promised!”
“I don’t have the money to give to you. There’s nothing I can do.”
“But you have to have something. The stipend?”
“This family still needs food on the table and the boys need new shoes for winter.” Papa’s voice sounded scratchy and defeated. He passed his hand over his forehead. “There is no extra money.”
“I don’t care about food and shoes! It’s not right! It’s not!” She saw James’s and Todd’s stunned expressions through a red haze of anger.
“Ma, Kat’s not allowed to yell at Papa!” James said.
“I’m sorry, Kat,” Papa said. “I wish I could—”
“Sorry? That’s not good enough. I trusted you!” Kat knew she was hurting the person she loved most, but she couldn’t stop. “You promised!” Blood was pounding in her head. “I worked
so hard!”
“I’ve never broken a promise to you before.” Papa’s face was ashen. “I never intended to.”
“Except for this one! The most important one. The big opportunity of my life and you ruined it!”
“You will not speak to your father in that tone!” Ma said. “The roof was an emergency,” Papa’s voice had become very low. “It would have leaked and become worse. You’re old enough to understand priorities, Katherine.”
“You don’t know how hard I worked!” Kat’s mouth was dry. She was beyond tears. “You just don’t know.” Her hand shook as she took the money from the table and stuffed it back into her pocket. She couldn’t look at her father.
Todd’s face was sorrowful. “I feel so bad for you.”
Kat couldn’t speak.
“Maybe it’s all for the best,” Ma said. “You belong here, with the people who love you. And what would we do without your help at the lighthouse? I know you’re disappointed now, but—”
“Don’t tell me it’s all for the best!” Kat exploded. She whirled around and ran up the stairs. “Don’t tell me that!”
In her room, Kat lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t even pet Sunshine, who sniffed at her anxiously. She saw the last of daylight fading away. She could hear the murmur of voices downstairs. No one was calling her for her shift. Someone else could take it. She didn’t care.
How could all her hopes suddenly disappear in one horrible moment? Her visions had seemed so real and so right! Walking among the crowds on Commonwealth Avenue, her skirt stirred by the breeze of automobiles passing by. Standing at an easel under skylights, tubes and tubes of paint stacked nearby—all those colors! At the tea in the dining hall, she was wearing Lizabeth’s green dress…. Back Bay. Beacon Hill.
She couldn’t give it up! She wouldn’t! If her parents didn’t care enough to help her, if her dreams meant so little to them, she’d do it on her own!
Katherine's Story Page 8
