The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  “There’s got to be a place to change it,” Danny said. “Most everybody here came from somewhere else.”

  Another task for tomorrow. But for today … “Just counting yours we have $11.52.”

  “Is that enough for a room?” Iris asked.

  “I don’t know what boarding rooms cost.”

  “We probably shoulda checked into that,” Iris said.

  “Too late now, bug,” Danny said. “We’ll just have to—”

  Suddenly a boy ran toward them and grabbed all the coins out of Annie’s hands. “Hey!” she cried.

  Danny ran after him as Iris picked up the few coins the boy had dropped. Annie rushed toward the people on the street. “Please! He stole our money!”

  She received a few sympathetic looks from passersby and scanned the street for a bobby.

  No police anywhere. All she and Iris could do was look in the direction the boy and Danny had run and hope for the best.

  A minute later, Iris said, “There’s Danny!” She rushed to meet him. “Did you catch him? Did you get our money back?”

  Danny opened his palm to reveal two coins. “He dropped these, but I couldn’t catch him. It’s gone. Our money is gone.”

  Iris began to cry, and Danny put his arm around her. “Don’t cry, bug. We’ll get jobs tomorrow and everything will be fine.”

  Annie knew he was overstating it but didn’t want to make Iris more upset. Especially when evening was upon them. They had to find a place to sleep. Soon. They’d regroup in the morning.

  She looked around for a church. It would be a safe place to stay.

  But she couldn’t spot a steeple in any direction. Shops and housing closed in around them, blocking out the last of the sun.

  Men walked by and entered a pub with BEER on the signage. She didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when they came out drunk.

  “Let’s find a quiet alley out of the way where no one will bother us,” she said.

  They walked up and down the street, checking for a suitable choice, but many stunk from rubbish or rows of privies serving the flats. A woman heaved a bowl of table scraps out an upper window, and stray dogs rushed forward to clean the mess. Annie longed for the tidy streets of Summerfield village, where everyone knew everyone and lights illumined the cozy cottages as day moved into night.

  “We should have stayed home,” Iris said. “This is disgusting.”

  And though Annie agreed with her, she said, “Every day will get better. You’ll see.”

  “How will it get better?” Iris asked.

  “Because it can’t get worse,” Danny said with a laugh. He linked his arm through hers. “Did you really think our adventure would include soft beds and hot running water?”

  “Yes.”

  He looked to Annie, apparently waiting for her to answer. “I didn’t think about it much—at least not what would happen the first night or two.”

  “And we never could have predicted that our money would be stolen,” Danny added.

  “But it was. And so we’ll make do. After we get jobs, everything will be fine.”

  Iris looked unconvinced. So be it. Annie had little patience for whiners.

  “Come on, now,” Danny said. “Let’s keep looking for an alley. Maybe one paved with gold, eh?”

  They finally found one that seemed the best of the worst. Danny rearranged some crates, moving them away from the brick wall, creating a hiding place for them to spend the night. They huddled together, Danny at the open end.

  “Don’t be afraid, girls,” Danny said. “I hereby vow to protect you forever!”

  Annie wasn’t sure what a thirteen-year-old boy could do against the dangers of the world, but she appreciated his confidence.

  She looked upward and saw the darkening sky between the four-story buildings on either side. Windows looked down on them. Laundry dried on clotheslines strung between the buildings, hanging limp and still in the autumn air. At least it’s not winter.

  Iris drew her knees to her chest, tucking her shoes under her skirt. She put her hands beneath her arms for warmth.

  That gave Annie an idea. “I have a present for each of us.” She dug into her carpetbag and retrieved three pairs of white gloves. “Here. At least our hands can be warm.”

  Iris turned a pair over in her hands. “These look like footman gloves.”

  “Because they are footman gloves. A particular footman’s gloves.” Annie smiled conspiratorially at Danny. “Danny did the deed.”

  “But it was Annie’s brilliant idea.”

  Iris’s eyes glowed with understanding. “These belong to Grasston?”

  “Belonged,” Danny said.

  “He’ll get in dire trouble with Mr. Brandon.”

  Annie nodded. “His trouble will be a small bit of justice against the trouble he caused us.”

  Iris put on the gloves—which were far too large. She spread her hands, grinning at the sight of them. “I’ll take great pleasure imagining how it played out at dinner service—him with no gloves.”

  The pleasure was all Annie’s.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ooh, the cook made bread.

  A groaning sound made Annie open her eyes. She wasn’t at home at Crompton Hall. She was lying against a building, in an alley in New York City, with Iris’s elbow in her stomach.

  Danny lay on the outside of the three, the protector. He must have sensed her movement because he opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and then said, “I smell bread.”

  “Me, too,” Annie whispered.

  The two of them inched their way to sitting, causing Iris to lose her support. The girl opened her eyes. “It’s morning? I smell bread.”

  Danny stood then helped the girls up. “We need to follow our noses and find the source.”

  “But we don’t have money to buy any,” Annie said, brushing off her jacket and skirt.

  “Maybe the smell alone can ease the ache in our stomachs,” he said.

  Iris stretched. “I want to eat it. Lots of it.”

  They gathered their things and left the alley in search of bread. All they had to do was follow the scent and the trail of people walking toward their morning sustenance.

  The Tuttle Bakery was a block south, a narrow storefront with a window displaying rolls, biscuits, and bread. There was a line out the door. People with money.

  The trio stood outside, gazing at the wares they couldn’t buy.

  Iris finally turned her back to the window, leaned against it, and pressed her hands against her stomach. “I’m starving!”

  “You are not starving,” Annie said, pulling her away from the bakery. She wanted to remind Iris that as a girl of seventeen she should act more mature than her younger brother, but Annie didn’t think it would do any good. Maturity often had little to do with age.

  The line lessened as people left the bakery with their goods and went on their way to work or home.

  “I’m going in,” Danny whispered.

  “To do what?” Iris asked.

  “To get us some breakfast.”

  The girls didn’t have time to ask him more as he entered the bakery. They peeked through the window and saw him talking with a woman behind the counter, gesticulating with his arms, and finally pointing right at them.

  The woman saw them, and Danny motioned them inside.

  Annie and Iris went in, and Danny came to greet them. “This is my sister, Iris, and our friend Annie. Girls, this is Mrs. Tuttle.”

  That Danny had learned the name of the woman in such a short time was amazing. “Hello, Mrs. Tuttle,” Annie said.

  The woman wiped her pudgy hands on her flour-sprinkled apron and nodded at them. “Hello, girls. Danny says you’ve had your money stolen and are in need of some food to fill your stomachs.”

  Annie laughed. “It appears he’s shared much in quick order.” She wondered how much else he’d said. Surely he hadn’t shared the full truth of where they came from.

  Danny shrugged. “No need to
dally around when we’re hungry. Or starving.” He gave Iris a pointed look.

  “No need to be either when there’s fresh bread. What will be your pleasure?”

  She was giving them a choice?

  “A bap would be wonderful,” Annie said. “Thank you.”

  “I’d like the one there, with apricot jam,” Iris said. When Annie nudged her she added, “Please. And thank you.”

  The woman handed over the rolls then looked at Danny. “And you, lad?”

  “If you please, I think a loaf of bread would be wise. We could save part of it for lunch and dinner.”

  Mrs. Tuttle nodded and wrapped up a loaf, but her forehead was furrowed. “Where are you staying? I’ve not seen you in the neighborhood.”

  Annie tried to think of what to say, but Danny did the choosing for them. “We got laid off from our work—working for a family, we were. We slept in the alley last night.”

  Mrs. Tuttle blinked. “I don’t like hearing that. Not at all. Where is your home?”

  They glanced at each other, and this time Annie answered. “We are on our own, and our task today is to find jobs so we’ll never have to ask for charity again.”

  “A work ethic, have you?” she asked.

  “We are hard workers,” Danny said. “All three of us.”

  There was a decided thump overhead then the sound of a scuffle and children crying. “My boisterous brood. They know better’n to misbehave during the morning rush.” Then, with a blink, she looked at the girls. “I could use some help with ’em.”

  “I love children,” Iris said.

  Annie was less enthused. “How many?”

  “Seven.”

  “Seven?”

  “The two oldest are my husband’s children from his first wife before she passed. After he and I got hitched, we had five in quick succession. They’re the ones who need tending. You interested?” She looked directly at Iris.

  “How much does it pay?”

  “Room and board. And maybe a little more if you handle it well.”

  Iris checked in with Danny, who nodded. “Yes. Please.”

  “Glad for the help,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “Would you like to help around here, too?” The woman looked at Annie.

  Although Annie had hoped for a job in a shop that sold clothing or hats, she certainly wasn’t going to turn the offer down. “I would.”

  “Count me in,” Danny said. He flexed a muscle. “I can do the heavy work.”

  Mrs. Tuttle laughed. But then Annie wondered if they’d asked for too much. “Are you sure you could use all three of us? We don’t want to be a burden.”

  Mrs. Tuttle wiped some crumbs off the counter onto her palm. “After child number three came along, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t that hard to add another one to the pile. Family is precious, and helping three young people in need is the Christian thing to do.”

  Annie had never met someone so generous. “We’ll work hard. We’ll not let you down.”

  “I know you won’t.” A customer came in the store. While he was looking at the baked goods, Mrs. Tuttle pointed toward the back. “There’s a storeroom off the kitchen. See how you can arrange it for a space to sleep.”

  Danny led the way back through a kitchen where two men—one elderly and one less so—worked with a boy and girl aged about twenty and a little less. They looked up from their work, but briefly. Apparently three strangers walking through didn’t faze them.

  They spotted the storeroom. There were shelves of pans, bowls, and utensils. Sacks of flour and sugar were stacked on the floor. “There’s not much space here at all,” Iris said.

  “We can sleep on the floor between the shelves,” Danny said. “Maybe Mrs. Tuttle has a few extra blankets. We can use our carpetbags as our pillows.”

  He was being optimistic, yet Annie was pleased to have a roof over their heads.

  Mrs. Tuttle popped her head in. “It ain’t much, but I’ll get you some blankets and maybe you can arrange some of those pallets as beds.”

  “We appreciate it, Mrs. Tuttle,” Annie said. “You’re very kind.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Not until after you meet the hellions upstairs.”

  The five Tuttle children stopped jumping on the bed and throwing toy blocks at each other and eyed the three strangers warily.

  Their mother stepped forward and removed a brush from a girl’s hand—a brush that was en route to whack a sibling. “Children, I’d like you to meet three new friends who have come to help us. There’s Danny and Annie who will help us in the shop, and Iris who will help take care of you.”

  Annie was relieved her name wasn’t mentioned in the latter task.

  The children were named and their ages given: Nelly, Nora, Nick, Newt, and Joe were aged eight, seven, six, five, and two.

  Iris scooped Joe into her arms then sat on the floor near the largest pile of blocks. “Let’s see how tall a tower we can build.”

  Shockingly, the children gathered round.

  “Well then,” Mrs. Tuttle said. “Would you look at that.” She put a finger to her lips and motioned Danny and Annie out of the flat and down the stairs to the store.

  Once again the two young people looked up from their work, though there was one less, as the older man could be seen up front manning the counter. “Family, I’d like you to meet Danny and Annie who are going to be staying with us and helping in the store. Iris is upstairs saving the children from themselves.” She nodded at the duo then at the man. “This is my husband, and the two others are our eldest.”

  Mr. Tuttle looked over his glasses. “They’re staying in the storeroom?”

  “I thought you could arrange some pallets for them. Maybe fill some old flour sacks with straw.”

  The expression on his face showed his exasperation at the arrangement and extra work but quickly changed to resignation. “Yes, m’love.” To the guests he said, “Welcome.”

  The young man stepped away from his kneading, his eyes locked on Annie in a way she’d seen before. “Hello. I’m Thomas.”

  She gave him a nod, felt herself blush, and then looked past him and said to the girl, “And what’s your name?”

  The girl seemed to prefer the view of the floor over making eye contact. She let her floured hands fall upon her apron and mumbled something.

  “That’s Jane,” Mrs. Tuttle said. And to the girl she said, “I’ve repeatedly told you to speak up.”

  “Yes’m,” she said softly.

  Annie felt sorry for her. In a family of seven children, the quiet ones would have a harder time of it. Annie gave her a smile—which was returned.

  “Gramps works with us, too,” Mrs. Tuttle said, nodding toward the front. “But his knees get to hurting something awful so he needs to be spelled more often than most.”

  “I can do that,” Danny said.

  Mrs. Tuttle laughed. “I’m sure you can, but I think the best use of your young muscles is delivering.”

  “In a wagon?” Danny asked, his eyes wide.

  Mr. Tuttle answered, “Unless ye want to haul the fifty-pound bags of flour and sugar on yer shoulders.”

  “I get to be out of doors?”

  “In good weather and bad.”

  Danny looked as though he was about to burst. “When can I start?”

  He earned their laughter, and even Jane smiled.

  “Ye know how to tether a horse and drive a wagon?” Mr. Tuttle asked.

  “No, but you’ll teach me, yes?”

  Mr. Tuttle offered him a wink. “I’ll teach ye, yes.”

  Thomas nodded toward Annie but looked to his stepmother. “What’s Annie going to do?”

  Mrs. Tuttle put a finger to her chin. “I’m not sure yet, but we have plenty of work to be done, that’s for certain.”

  Annie was a bit disappointed that the other two had been specifically chosen for a task, but she used it as an opportunity to interject, “I was thinking of working in a store that sells dresses or shoes or hats.”
>
  Mrs. Tuttle gave Annie’s outfit a once-over, clearly judging it for its lack of fashion. “More power to ya. But until then, how about cleaning that stack of pots and pans over there?”

  Over there was a sink with a hand pump and an enormous stack of dirty kitchen utensils.

  The bell on the front door dinged twice in quick succession, causing Mrs. Tuttle to say, “I needs to get up front and help Gramps. Back to work, everyone.”

  Mrs. Tuttle left them, and the other three went back to their baking.

  Leaving Annie to tackle the pots.

  Joy.

  Dinner was served in the kitchen of the bakery, on the table where the bread was made.

  Before the meal, Annie hadn’t noticed the two benches pushed under the worktable, but as the bakery closed up shop and Mrs. Tuttle put on a huge pot of stew, the benches were pulled out and the table set.

  The children descended from upstairs like a herd of cows coming in from a pasture. They were accompanied by Iris, and with little to-do everyone took a place. Mr. Tuttle sat at the head using an upturned crate as his throne.

  “Grace,” he said. That one word caused all talking to stop and all heads to bow. In unison the family prayed, “We thank the Lord for happy hearts, for rain and sunny weather. We thank the Lord for this our food and that we are together. Amen.”

  Annie was moved by the simple table grace. It seemed to suit the Tuttles. She imagined their lives to be more full of sunny weather than not and felt an aura of gratitude even amid their hard work. Annie was thankful for the chance to work at all, and mostly that they were all together. She much preferred this prayer over the longish ones the butler at the Hall used to say, the prayers that offered gratitude as a duty rather than a joy.

  Mrs. Tuttle served up bowls of stew, and bread was passed. Annie was ravenous.

  “Did ye work up an appetite?” Mr. Tuttle asked.

  She forced herself to slow down. “I did.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” Thomas gave her a sympathetic smile. “We worked you hard today.”

  Annie rubbed her red and chapped hands. “At least it’s done.”

  “Until tomorrow,” Jane said softly.