“I thought you’d left me.” She gave his shoulder a light slap with her palm, then slipped her fingers around his arm again.
A lopsided smile formed on Robby’s lips. “Sorry, Cassandra.”
Daisy wanted to shrink as she watched Cassandra work her wiles on Robby. Head tipped just so, lashes fluttering, full lips pursed into a beguiling pout, the girl knew her own prettiness and how to use it. Daisy quickly grabbed her hat and tugged it over her hair. She wished she could pull it all the way to her shoulders to hide her face, too.
“You said you’d walk me home today in case that big dog is out of the fence again.” Cassandra’s voice was singsong, wheedling, feminine. Daisy’s stomach began to writhe but not out of hunger.
“I did?” Robby grimaced. “I guess I forgot.”
“How could you forget about me, Rob?”
Daisy couldn’t imagine anyone forgetting Cassandra. Even in a rumpled apron, with silky strands of dark hair escaping the cap to fall in perspiration-dampened spirals around her face, she was beautiful. And now that Robby had seen Daisy side by side with Cassandra, he’d be a fool not to go off with the other girl. Who would choose a gawky turkey buzzard over a graceful swan?
She scuttled over to the bench where she’d left her valise and took a firm grip on the handle. Robby called her name, but she ignored him and took off at a clumsy trot in the direction of the trolley.
Chapter 5
Rob tried to remove his elbow from Cassandra’s grip, but she held fast. He’d never met a more pushy girl. And since he’d come to Sinclair, he’d encountered plenty of girls, girls hunting for a beau. Cassandra was the most insistent of the entire lot. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he had eyes for only one girl, and she was running off like someone had lit a stick of dynamite under her feet.
He twisted his arm and hollered out once more, “Daisy, wait!” She didn’t even pause.
Cassandra’s fingers bit into his elbow. “Who is that unprepossessing girl?”
Rob didn’t know what unprepossessing meant, but he suspected it wasn’t a compliment. Irritation chased away the manners he’d learned from the Jonnsons. “She’s my girl,” he said. He gave his arm a sharp wrench, finally shaking loose of Cassandra’s hold, and sidestepped in the direction Daisy had escaped. “You’re gonna have to walk on by yourself, Cass. I gotta—” And he took off at a full run.
In spite of carrying a bag and dealing with her skirt, Daisy had managed to make it all the way to the trolley stop before he caught up with her. Thankfully, though, a trolley hadn’t rattled by yet, so she was pacing near the waiting bench. When he thundered up behind her, she spun around and shot a wide-eyed look of surprise at him.
He came to a heaving stop before her and bent forward, resting his palms on his knees to catch his breath. After working all day he was tuckered. He’d rather sit than go chasing after girls. But Daisy was worth it. “Why’d you run off like that?” His words huffed out between gasps of air.
She stuck her nose in the air, acting an awful lot like Cassandra. “It seemed you were busy. I didn’t want to intrude.”
The trolley bell jangled as the car approached. She stepped toward it, lifting her hand, but Rob leaped forward and caught her wrist. He tugged her hand downward, turning her toward him at the same time. He shook his head, confused and more than a little heartsore. “Cornbread and crickets, Daisy, what’s put a bee in your bonnet?”
“Cornbread and crickets?” She arched her brows and peeked at him from beneath the brim of her little straw hat.
His aggravation with her melted in the space of one heartbeat. She sure looked cute.
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged, battling a grin. “Lots of the fellas at the factory cuss. But it’s not right, using the Lord’s name that way. So I made up my own words to say when I’m mad.”
Immediately she hung her head.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re mad.”
“I sure am!” He cupped her chin and lifted her face. “You show up out o’ nowhere, giving me the best surprise I ever had. Then you just run off an’ turn all prissy on me. I expect better of you.” Her skin felt soft against his callused fingers. He dropped his hand from her face before his thumb got ideas to start caressing her jaw. He said, “How could you think you were intruding, Daisy? You’re the best sight I’ve seen since I left Brambleville.”
Roses bloomed on her cheeks, matching the bright color of her hair.
“An’ I’m half-starved. Instead of standing here talking, can we go get something to eat?” He sniffed his armpit and cringed. The boiling vats in the factory kept things so hot, he spent the whole day sweating. Most of the time it didn’t worry him because everybody who worked at Dinsmore’s stunk like sweat, but for Daisy’s sake he wished he smelled better. “I know I stink some, but—”
“You smell like chocolate.”
He drew back in surprise. “I do?”
“Yes.” She leaned in slightly, sniffing. “You smell good.”
Well, if she thought he smelled good, he wouldn’t argue.
“And the smell makes me hungry.”
He grinned. Now she sounded like his Daisy again. He took her bag and stuck out his elbow the way he’d seen dandies do for their girls. “Then let’s go get somethin’ to eat.” She caught hold of his elbow, her touch so light her hand might have been a butterfly lighting on his sleeve. She wasn’t a grabby girl like Cassandra and some of the others. He wouldn’t mind if Daisy latched on to him the way Cassandra did, but she was too sweet and bashful to be pushy. Another reason to like her.
As he led her along the boardwalk, he said, “I take most of my meals at a little café called Durham’s. It’s not fancy, but the food’s real good, an’ Miz Kesia—I told you about her in one of my letters, didn’t I?—acts like everybody’s ma. She’s a nice lady. Bet you’ll like her as much as I do.” Even though he’d described Sinclair in his letters, he went ahead and told her everything again while pointing out shops, churches, and other things he thought she might find interesting.
When they arrived at Durham’s Café, she reached for the door handle, but he shook his head and stepped in front of her. “Huh-uh. Lemme do it.” He grinned when color flooded her face again. He’d never known Daisy to blush, and for some reason the sight of her turning all pink-cheeked pleased him.
She stepped through the doorway, and he followed, then dropped her bag off to the side where others wouldn’t trip over it. A long L-shaped counter and stools waited. Most of the stools were already holding workers from the factory, but two were open in the far corner. Rob guided Daisy to them and gestured to the one on the end so she wouldn’t have to sit between him and another worker named Floyd. Floyd was an all-right fellow—a hard worker—but Rob had sat next to him in the factory lunchroom, and sometimes the man didn’t use good manners. No sense in subjecting Daisy to Floyd’s loud smacking or his sharp elbow that wanted to jab whoever was closest.
As soon as he and Daisy got settled, Miz Kesia scurried over with a big smile on her round face. To Rob’s recollection, he’d never seen the woman scowl. Except when one of the men used a word or two he shouldn’t. But even then the scowl was so quick a fellow could almost think he’d imagined it. She aimed the smile at Daisy and held out her moist hand.
“Howdy there, young lady! You must be just arrived in town, considering the train soot you’re still wearing. Me, I’ve never rode on a train. When me an’ my husband came to Kansas, we rode in a wagon, an’ I was covered in dust from my head all the way to my feet. Even had it inside my shoes between my toes! My, that was unpleasant. I think a little bit of soot would be preferable.”
Rob stifled a chortle at Daisy’s startled expression. He’d grown accustomed to Miz Kesia’s jabber. Daisy would, too, in time. “Miz Kesia, this is Daisy Forrester. She’s from the Brambleville asylum, just like me, an’ now she’s lookin’ for a job an’ a place to live so she can stay in Sinclair.�
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Miz Kesia beamed. She pumped Daisy’s hand up and down. “Well, ain’t that nice! This one’ll be glad to have somebody from back home in Sinclair.” She leaned in and assumed a conspiratorial air. “I worried he’d pine away from loneliness when he first arrived, but look at him now, bringin’ people in to meet me like he’s lived here all his life.” She laughed and released Daisy’s hand. Brushing crumbs from the full bib of her apron, she bounced her smile at Rob. “Reckon I know what you want—my smoked ham an’ butter beans, a plate o’ corn muffins, an’ a big piece of apple pie for dessert. Am I right?”
Rob nodded, and he noticed Daisy licked her lips. Back in Brambleville they’d eaten plenty of beans. Ate them so often he’d sworn off ever eating them again when he left the asylum. But once he’d gotten a taste of Miz Kesia’s ham and butter beans, he’d changed his mind. The thick soup flavored with onions, garlic, and chunks of sweet carrots was his favorite of all the things she cooked. “Me an’ Daisy’ll both take your ham an’ beans. Thank you, Miz Kesia.”
“Sure thing, Rob, an’ once I get you dished up, I’ll wanna talk with this girl a little more. If she’s needin’ a job an’ someplace to sleep nights, I just might have an idea or two.”
Chapter 6
Dusk was falling by the time Rob escorted Daisy to the rambling three-story house on Grant Street that Miz Kesia had recommended. No sign marked it as a boardinghouse, but Rob recognized it from Miz Kesia’s description. No other house on the block—or in the whole city, he’d wager—was painted in four different shades of pink. According to Miz Kesia, the owner was a maiden lady named Miss Lucy, who only housed unmarried females, and she only accepted boarders who brought a letter of reference. So Miz Kesia had kindly written a letter for Daisy.
Rob pressed the buzzer, and Daisy gave the letter to the sour-faced woman who answered the door. After reading Miz Kesia’s missive, the woman said, “My name is Lucy Ava Elizabeth Cooke. You may call me Miss Lucy. Please join me in the parlor for an interview.”
Daisy sent Rob a nervous look as they followed Miss Lucy through the narrow entryway that opened into a large foyer. He touched her back with his fingertips and smiled to assure her. He wished he could say right out loud, “You’ll do fine, Daisy,” but Miss Lucy’s stern countenance made him feel as though he should ask permission to speak. And if he asked, he figured she’d refuse him.
Miss Lucy settled herself in an overstuffed chair to the left of a long camelback sofa. She gestured to the sofa with one impatient flip of her hand. Rob waited for Daisy to sit, then he sank down beside her, making sure he left a decent slice of space between them. Although Rob was positioned between Daisy and Miss Lucy, the woman looked past him to Daisy as if he wasn’t there. Had Miss Lucy always ignored males, or had she acquired the habit once her girlhood had slipped away? If she’d always dressed so plain and kept such a sour expression, he could understand why no man had taken up courting her. Miss Lucy intimidated him, but Miz Kesia had declared she would take good care of Daisy. He trusted the dear woman’s opinion.
Daisy’s interview seemed to go on for a long time. Miss Lucy asked questions covering everything from her daily hygiene habits—something he could have gone without knowing—to her religious practices. Although the boardinghouse owner’s unsmiling expression never changed, Daisy answered politely and without even a moment’s hesitation. She sat with her ankles crossed and her hands linked in her lap as if she’d faced a dozen such interrogations. Rob’s chest swelled with pride in her.
Miss Lucy must have found Daisy’s replies satisfactory, because she gave a nod and launched into an explanation of expectations for “her girls,” as she called her boarders. “I charge two dollars and fifty cents a week for a private room, a dollar seventy-five if you double up. Right now I don’t have any single rooms available, but one might come open at any time. I can put you on the list for a private room if you like.”
“Doubling up is fine,” Daisy said. “I’m used to sharing.”
Rob paid for a room to himself at his boarding hotel. After bunking three or four to a room at the asylum, he savored his privacy. He’d assumed Daisy would want a room to herself, too, but maybe girls weren’t as fussy about having their own space as men were.
Miss Lucy went on, her crisp tone reminding Rob of a schoolteacher he’d had when he was young, before Ma took sick and died. “As part of your weekly rent, I provide breakfast and supper every day but Sunday. I will prepare a box lunch for you on working days if you put in your request by eight the preceding evening. Our meals are simple here, but I can assure you none of my girls go hungry. Breakfast is served at 5:00 a.m. to accommodate my factory girls, and supper is on the table promptly at 6:00 p.m. If you’re late, you go without. One who chooses to lallygag is not accommodated.”
Lallygag? Rob nearly choked.
“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy said primly, her brows descending in a slight frown as if she’d read his silent amusement.
“You will be responsible for keeping your room tidy, and there is no—I must emphasize, no—eating in the rooms. Crumbs invite mice and insects, neither of which are welcome here.”
Another chortle threatened, but Rob managed to squelch it.
“I wash linens on Friday, so you’ll need to strip your bed and put the sheets outside the door before you leave for work. I don’t enter the rooms to retrieve linens, and I don’t launder personal items. You’re welcome to make use of my washtub and scrubboard, but I expect you to fill and empty the tub yourself and provide your own soap.”
Would Daisy be able to remember everything? Maybe he should have asked Miz Kesia for paper and pencil to take notes. He peeked at her, and a smile tugged at his lips. She’d traveled all day and hadn’t even had a chance to wash the gray smudges of soot from her face. In her place he’d be yawning and outright cranky, but she gave Miss Lucy her full attention. How’d she do it? The woman’s emotionless recitation was putting him to sleep.
“Do you have a beau, Miss Forrester?”
Miss Lucy’s question destroyed any thought of dozing off, and it must have startled Daisy, too, because she gave a little jolt. “A-a beau?” Daisy tittered, whisked a glance at Rob, and ducked her head. “Urn … no, ma’am. I … er, I don’t have a beau.”
Rob gawked at her. What did she think he was? He started to correct her, but Miss Lucy started talking again.
“Well, if you are like most of my girls, you will soon have a beau, so let’s make certain you understand my rules for courtship. Gentlemen are allowed to call no more than twice a week. You may meet here in the parlor for an hour’s time as long as I’m in the house as well. No gentlemen are ever to be let in if I’m away at the market or church or visiting one of my neighbors.” Miss Lucy’s voice rose in volume and increased in sternness, the first real sign of life Rob had seen since they’d entered the pristine house. “A sterling reputation takes years to build and only moments to destroy. I won’t have my reputation for running a decent establishment tarnished by illicit shenanigans. Do I make myself clear on that point, Miss Forrester?”
“Of course,” Daisy said.
“I understand,” Rob added. He hadn’t intended to speak, but once the words were out, he hoped Daisy would take extra meaning from his simple statement.
Miss Lucy blinked several times, her thin lips narrowing into a tight line. She cleared her throat delicately. “Where are you employed, Miss Forrester?”
“I don’t have a job yet.”
The boardinghouse owner’s eyebrows shot up. “No job?”
Daisy tittered again—a nervous sound that made Rob want to cringe for her. “I only just arrived in Sinclair. I intend to search for a job tomorrow.”
“Miss Forrester, I am sorry, but I require payment in advance for my rooms. If you have no job—”
Rob couldn’t let her be set out on the street. He reached for his money clip, but Daisy said, “I have money to pay for my first week’s boarding.” She bent down and dug in he
r bag, which lay beside her feet, and withdrew a woven coin purse. She snapped it open and counted out a $1.75 in dimes, nickels, and pennies.
While she fished out the coins, Rob sent a sly peek into the belly of the purse. Although he couldn’t be sure, he suspected there wasn’t enough inside to pay much more than one week’s boarding. She’d need a job quick. He hoped he could get her on at the chocolate factory. It seemed as though the manager was hiring new people nearly every week. She’d draw a decent wage there, but best of all he’d get to see her every day.
Daisy dropped the fistful of coins into Miss Lucy’s waiting hand. “There you are.”
Miss Lucy slipped the coins into her pocket with a series of muffled clinks. She stood and clasped her hands together on the front of her solid gray skirt. “Very well, Miss Forrester, welcome to my home. One of my girls recently lost her roommate to matrimony. She’ll be relieved to have someone with whom to share expenses again. You and she are close to the same age, so you should get along well. Let’s get you settled in your room now.”
Daisy and Rob rose at the same time, and Rob reached for her bag.
Miss Lucy cleared her throat—one sharp, disapproving snort. “Bid your friend good-bye, Miss Forrester.”
Under the woman’s watchful gaze, Rob took Daisy’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll see you at Dinsmore’s tomorrow?”
She nodded.
The apprehension in her tawny eyes raised a wave of protectiveness. He pasted on a smile bright enough for both of them and plopped his hat on his head. “Good night, Daisy.”
“Good night, Robby.”
“Please retrieve your bag and follow me, Miss Forrester. Your room is on the second floor, the first door on the left.”
Just as I Am Page 3
