“Isn’t it beautiful, Annabelle?” Victoria came to stand next to her sister, transfixed and staring at the home in front of them.
“Yes, Victoria. It’s stunning.”
A handful of elm trees grew tall and protected the home, set back about forty feet from the street. Two brick walks wound away from Woodward, one to the mayor’s home and the other to the carriage house that sat farther back. It was the middle of May, and the wide variety of flowers plantedat the front of the home blossomed in an array of colors, shapes, and sizes.
“Come now, girls,” Mother reprimanded softly. “Let’s not dawdle and appear impolite. I am certain many of the guests have already arrived, and we don’t wish to be tardy.”
The five of them walked up the five stone steps to the front porch where a butler swung wide the door and ushered them inside. After taking their wraps, he directed them into the parlor to the right. A maid weaved her way through the other guests and held a tray of glasses filled with punch, wine, and champagne.
Annabelle took a glass of punch and sipped it as she stepped away from her parents to observe the furnishings of the room. The deeply tufted sofas and chairs were covered in crimson and black satin damask. The rosewood frames, delicately carved, had recently been polished until the wood gleamed. A grand piano sat in the corner, where a young gentleman tinkled out soft strains of a pleasing melody. Even the satin drapes that hung from the doorway at the far end matched the crimson of the carpet under her feet. And the oval end tables were graced with sienna marble instead of the white slab marble they had at home.
The various items placed here resembled their parlor, but the quality far outshone anything they had. Annabelle could only imagine the expense involved if the entire home had been decorated in the same manner. The quality alone likely cost the mayor twice as much as what her parents had paid to decorate their home. The only aspects that seemed to parallel her home were the wallpaper patterns and the chandelier that hung from the ceiling in the center of the room.
Annabelle felt almost like an imposter. It seemed wrong somehow to be standing in a room this ornate when families such as William’s shared the open space of an abandoned warehouse near their farm plot with at least four or five other families. She’d been serving the families on the land her father had donated for more than a month now, and she’d even begun to view her own home in a different light.
Victoria sidled up to her. “Feels strange, doesn’t it? Seeing all the expensive things here,” her sister said as if she’d read Annabelle’s thoughts.
“Yes, it does. The mayor must have spent a small fortune to decorate his home. I don’t suppose we can fault him much, though. This house was built twenty years ago and paid for with money he’d accumulated through his business ventures prior to becoming a mayor. He’s done a lot of good for the city and those in need since the financial panic last year.”
“He has, I agree.” Victoria nodded. “And a man as important as Mayor Pingree shouldn’t have to live in anything less simply because others are struggling.”
“Still, I can’t help but think of the people who are working on Father’s land.”
“You mean families like the Berringers?”
Annabelle looked down at her sister to see a gleam in the young girl’s eyes and a grin on her lips. “Why do you mention them?”
“Father has a list of all the families who are working on that acreage. When I came to find you a couple weeks ago, I asked a few questions and found my answers.”
Quite the little detective. Annabelle was impressed. “Well, yes. That family is one in particular. But there are many others working there as well.”
“What’s so special about the Berringer family, then? You seem to spend a lot of time with them each week or mention them more often than others.”
Annabelle shrugged. “I met the two sons the first day I delivered water to the workers, and they were among the only ones to show any true form of gratitude. I guess they stick out in my mind.” No reason to make any more of William than necessary. Otherwise her sister would never let it rest.
“Oh. Okay.”
She looked about to say something else, but they were interrupted by the arrival of the butler.
“Dinner is served, ladies and gentlemen. Please make your way to the dining room.”
Annabelle and Victoria joined the flow of guests as they moved from the parlor and headed toward the dining room. If the first room had been impressive, this one was extraordinary. Several large mirrors with gilded frames flanked two of the three walls. A large portrait of Mayor Pingree adorned the wall behind the head of the table, and three stately windows with brocade curtains were spaced a few feet apart on the fourth wall.
The polished mahogany table in the center of the room gleamed, and when Annabelle found her seat, she could see her reflection in the surface. She smiled at seeing she had been seated next to Mrs. Jennings with Mother on her right. Across the table, Matthew faced her with Victoria and Father flanking his sides. Oh, if only William could be here. Then again, how would that be possible? She knew his family had lost a great deal, but she didn’t know for sure just where they stood financially before the crisis. He might not have been included in the guest list for this evening. And being here, or even hearing about it, would only increase his bitterness about his present circumstances.
Her thoughts were once again interrupted by the arrival of their host. Mayor Pingree stood behind his seat at the head of the table and rested his hands on the high back.
“I’d like to thank everyone for coming this evening. From all reports, many of you have been involved in helping launch the efforts to establish the potato patches throughout the city. Others have provided additional clothing, food, and funds, which have gone far toward replenishing our depleted stores.” He looked down the table, his gaze resting on each guest on both sides of the table. “I couldn’t think of a better way to thank you than to invite you and your families here to enjoy a delicious meal.”
After pulling out his chair and taking a seat, he extended his arms out toward his guests.
“Please. Sit. Let’s get this dinner under way.”
Several servants assisted the ladies present then reached for the napkins on the table, fanning them out before placing them in the ladies’ laps.
In a matter of moments, the soft din of voices rose from the table. Mrs. Jennings leaned close.
“My dear, I am quite pleased at the company in which I find myself. I cannot imagine a more giving or industrious family than your own.” The woman smiled past her at Annabelle’s mother. “Felicity, you have set a fine example for both of your daughters, and it’s wonderful to see them following in your footsteps.”
Father winked across the table, while Mother nodded at Mrs. Jennings. “Thank you, Olivia,” Mother said, pride reflected on her face. “I am quite honored to have two such dutiful daughters and ones so willing to help wherever there is a need.”
Salads were placed in front of them, and they halted their conversation for a few moments. After waiting for everyone to be served, they looked to Mayor Pingree to take his first bite. He did and waved his fork in the air to encourage everyone else to do the same.
After eating her first forkful, Mrs. Jennings picked up where they’d left off. “I do know for a fact that the food schedule you have set up, Felicity, is a big success. I haven’t seen a more organized distribution since I began working with the Ladies Aid.”
“Well, I can’t take all the credit,” Mother said. “I have a reliable group of ladies who bear the brunt of the work. My daughters and I only work the one plot owned by Brandt. The other areas are under the supervision of many more volunteers.”
“Regardless, your work is greatly appreciated.”
Father took that moment to speak up as well. “I have heard various positive discussions from the workers who remained at the factories that were able to stay open regarding the charitable contributions of those who managed to avoid
serious declines in their holdings.”
“Yes,” Mr. Jennings said from Victoria’s right. “I’m fortunate the railroad car shop where I serve as supervising manager is still managing to function. After most of the other railroad shops closed along with the stove factories, fear raced through the remaining shops until workers speculated whether or not their job would be next.”
“Yet through it all,” Mrs. Jennings began, “we as a whole have managed to survive. And I believe a great deal of thanks is owed to our mayor for his innovative ideas.”
“I agree,” Father echoed. “When the hoped-for revival of business failed to come earlier this spring and the city’s poor funds were exhausted, he knew something different was needed.”
Matthew leaned forward, his face reflecting interest. “I heard the mayor had analyzed the real estate market from the previous boom in our economy. When he saw all those plots of land being held for a rise in value standing idle all over the city, he made a public appeal to the owners.”
Mr. Jennings nodded. “Yes. The mayor asked for permission to use their properties for vegetable gardens, both big and small.”
Annabelle had been following the entire story in the newspapers each week ever since the day at church when the pastor had put out a call for donations. Although she didn’t often engage in the detailed discussions surrounding the idea, she had found the affectionate name given to the plots rather humorous.
“Pingree’s potato patches is what they’re being called,” she said with a smile. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Mrs. Jennings chuckled. “It does at that, Annabelle dear. Several other cities have even taken the model and created similar farming or gardening systems to help their own residents. But it’s our very own mayor who is now known as a champion for the needy. It makes me quite proud to be living here in Detroit.”
Their salads were removed and replaced by steaming bowls of French onion soup. Considering the home where they were eating, the choice of flavor came as no surprise to Annabelle. She eagerly dug into the delicious broth.
Silence fell upon the table as many took their initial spoonfuls of the second course. A few minutes later, Father resumed the conversation.
“And let’s not forget the mayor’s fight for municipal ownership of our city’s street transportation system.”
Mr. Jennings had made quick order of his soup and laid his spoon in the empty bowl, then rested his forearms on the edge of the table. “Yes, he’s built more than fifty miles of new track to help our streetcar system.”
Victoria sat up straighter in her chair and grinned. “I like that I can ride one for three cents now instead of five like it used to be.”
Her childlike fascination with the modernized method of transportation was infectious. Annabelle had ridden on the conveyances on more than one occasion, but Victoria took every opportunity. And since the electric cars had recently replaced the previous horse-drawn ones, Annabelle had to admit enjoying the ride even more.
“Well, if things don’t improve with the American Railway Union,” Mr. Jennings announced, his face pinched and full of concern, “we might be back to horse-drawn transportation when departing from the confines of a city.”
“What do you mean?” Mother asked.
Mr. Jennings’s eyes widened. “Have you not heard of the Pullman strike taking place right now? It just started a week ago, so news is only just starting to reach everyone.”
“Ah yes.” Father nodded. “I read an article about that just this morning in the Detroit News.”
The next part of their dinner was a refreshing serving of lime sorbet to cleanse their palates in preparation for the main course. Conversation stalled for just a moment as each of them took a small spoonful of the sweet treat.
“Pray tell; do not keep us waiting in suspense much longer, dear,” Mother pleaded as soon as her mouth was clear.
“Well, it seems the lack of demand for train cars and the drop in their revenue caused the Pullman Palace Car Company to cut wages by twenty-five percent recently.”
“Cut wages?” Matthew’s face reflected the horror his voice conveyed. “That’s not going to help anyone!”
“I agree,” Mr. Jennings stated. “And it seems the workers do as well. Because of their rebellion, this recent strike has brought all transportation west of Chicago to a screeching halt.”
Chicago. Annabelle recalled something she’d read awhile back regarding the railway car company. Ah yes, it was the small town that was built. “Isn’t Mr. Pullman the man who built a company town near Chicago and paid high wages to the workers who agreed to live there?”
Father looked across the table at her with surprise and pride in his eyes. “I’m impressed, Annabelle, that you’re aware of that. And yes, Mr. Pullman is that very same man. The town features attractive houses, complete with indoor plumbing, gas, and sewer systems, plus free education through the eighth grade and a public library.”
“Yes,” Mother interjected, “but with all that is the reality that Mr. Pullman is controlling everything in that town. He prohibits such things as independent newspapers, public speeches, town meetings, or any speeches that haven’t been preapproved by him or his inspectors first.”
“Doesn’t sound like a desirable place to live,” Mrs. Jennings remarked.
Annabelle could think of at least a dozen places that would be more appealing. “It’s no wonder the workers have chosen to strike.”
“And the strike is gaining popularity rather rapidly.” Father sighed. “If something isn’t done, it could spread all across the nation. With refusal to load Pullman cars or run trains containing those cars, we could see far-reaching effects even here in Detroit. I pray that doesn’t happen.”
Silence again fell upon their little group. Annabelle contemplated what some of those effects might be, as if the economic state wasn’t enough. It seemed some of the larger companies were bent on making things worse for those already suffering. Didn’t they realize the workers were the reason their companies even existed in the first place?
Without workers, they’d have to close their doors permanently. If the owners had been wiser about their investments, they might not have to resort to cutting wages. No guarantees of that existed, but if even a few jobs could be saved, it would be worth it.
From that point forward, talk continued to focus on the improvements being made right there in Detroit and the efforts of so many to rebound from everything. Before Annabelle knew it, the evening had come to a close and they were again in a carriage taking them home.
Father rested his head against the back wall of the carriage and rested his hands over his abdomen. “Well, I must say I enjoyed the evening immensely.”
“I never knew Mr. and Mrs. Jennings were so well-informed about current events.”
“They’d have to be, Annabelle,” Mother answered, “if Mrs. Jennings wants to stay abreast of the current needs in the city to inform the Ladies Aid, and Mr. Jennings wants to make certain his factory remains in operation.”
“True.” Annabelle could understand that reasoning. And it made for entertaining discussion, even if some moments didn’t pique her interest as much as others. It was during those times that her mind drifted to William.
“Father, do you know how many affluent families were affected by the financial crisis?”
He took a deep breath and looked up toward the roof of the carriage. “Well, let’s see. Some I know had all their investments tied up in one area. Take the railroad, for instance. When that failed, they lost everything. Others had their money invested in more than one company. But if the majority of those closed due to the railroad failures or the bank runs, they also would have lost a substantial amount.”
Annabelle nodded. “And then there is us. We suffered, but not as heavily as some, right?”
“Exactly. Thanks to the investments made by my father and Grandfather Chambers, our surplus was spread out in a diverse number of companies. Some
of them faired rather well when the panic struck. Others didn’t. But because we had spread out our investments, we weren’t hit as hard.”
She wondered if William’s family had been one of the ones to have everything tied up in one company or in several that came to ruin. Either way, he and his family were forced to work the land her father had donated while she and her family remained in their comfortable home. They had seen the need to cut back on certain frivolous spending, but they were in no danger of losing anything that might cause a drastic change in their lifestyle.
For once she wondered how much truth there was to William’s feelings on the matter. Just how had God decided which families would suffer and which wouldn’t? The misfortune did seem to strike at random. What made their family worthy of being spared?
Of course, that started another line of thought—the purpose in everything. She firmly believed everything happened for a reason. While she might not be able to figure out the reason, she still had a duty to take what had happened and make the best of things. If that meant serving out of her own abundance or blessing others in need when she had something to give, she would do it. God’s Word said if she served even the least of those she encountered, she served as if unto Him. Meeting folks like Jacob and William was just a bonus.
SEVEN
“Watch the ball, Jacob,” William instructed his brother. “I might switch my pitch or drive it straight down the middle at you. But if you keep your eye on it, you’ll be able to catch it no matter what.”
“All right, Willie. I’m ready.”
Jacob thumped his fist into his palm several times and assumed a rigid stance, poised on the balls of his feet. William smiled. He was ready. No doubt about it.
“Here it comes.”
He wasn’t sure why he gave his brother the warning. Jacob had already proven himself on more than one occasion to be an excellent catcher. His throws were getting stronger with each practice session they had together. It wouldn’t be long before Jacob’s skill with both bat and ball would exceed his own. Father joined them from time to time but admitted he didn’t possess as great a skill at the game as his sons. So he stuck to instruction rather than actual play.
Hearts and Harvest Page 6
