“At least I look the part.” Faith stared pointedly at Virtuous.
She didn’t want to get swept up into their plans to send her to Washington to answer a newspaper ad. Her parents would turn in their graves at the thought. But unless someone else came up with a better idea…
“Faith,” Tempy asked, “you aren’t considering this featherbrained idea, are you?”
She hated to admit she was. The possibilities were going round and round in her mind. It was a chance. A slim one, but a chance just the same. Faith nodded in answer to Tempy’s question.
“Stop right there!” Temperance ordered. “Faith, it isn’t like you to be impulsive. Take time to think this through.”
“I can’t. I might not do it if I give it too much thought,” Faith answered truthfully. Already she could see the drawbacks of the scheme and the ordeal of traveling alone to a distant city full of strangers. “Does anyone have a better idea?”
The ladies all shook their heads—even Tempy, though her brows were knitted into a frown and her mouth was a thin, worried line.
“You must go,” Aunt Virt ordered. “You’re the only one of us who fits the description.”
“For your information, Virtuous May Hamilton Jessup, Faith doesn’t fit the description. She’s over the age limit; she’ll soon be twenty-five and she’s never been married, so she’s a far cry from an experienced widow,” Temperance retorted.
Faith’s heart began to pound. “Joy could go with me. She could pose as my child.”
“You don’t look anywhere near twenty-five,” Aunt Virt said, studying Faith with a critical eye. “You don’t look a day over eighteen.” Virt was quick to see the benefits of a little deception.
“Faith, stop,” Tempy pleaded “You can’t just jump into this.”
“I have to, Aunt Tempy, unless you have a better idea.”
“I don’t, but—”
“Then it’s settled,” Mrs. Colson announced. “Faith’ll take the sewing money and go to Washington and get this job.”
“No, it’s not settled, Mrs. Colson.” Faith hated to dampen their excitement, but these wonderful women had to understand the consequences. “There will probably be hundreds of applicants—women who are better qualified than I am. I may not get the job.”
“You’ll get the job,” Aunt Virt predicted. “You have no other choice.”
“Even if I do, I’ll have to take Joy and go to Wyoming for a year. Who will take care of things here?”
“We will,” Aunt Virt said. “I’m sure we can learn to manage on our own for a year, especially with the bonus money you’ll be able to leave us.”
“That’s another thing,” Faith began, far from convinced. “What if the bonus isn’t enough?”
“You’ll just have to get enough,” Agnes said. “Bargain. You’re good at it.”
“I just don’t know.” Tempy sounded hesitant. “Do you think you can do it, Faith? Do you think you can lie about your qualifications?”
Faith put aside the trousers she was hemming and walked over to Temperance. She put her arms around her aunt and stared into the gray eyes in the expressive face so like her own. “Aunt Tempy, I’ll do anything I have to do to see that this family survives. Our men gave their lives for the survival of our way of life. I think the least I can do is lie if that becomes necessary. We need money, and I’m the only one of us qualified to get it. Why, I would work for the devil in Hades if that would provide the money we need.” Faith stood up, straightening her back. “At least, I’m going to try. I have to.”
“All right, Faith.” Tempy leaned her forehead against Faith’s. “If you think it’s best, we’ll help you. You’re the only hope we’ve got at the moment. Go to Washington and do your best.”
“Yes, please Faith,” the others chimed. “Go to Washington.”
The small group of women looked at her with hope shining out of their eyes. Faith wanted to feel as confident as the others. It had been a long time since she’d seen hope in their faces.
Faith realized, even if her dear ladies did not, how many other women desperately needed jobs to feed their families. She knew that landing a plum of a job like the one in the newspaper advertisement would be the answer to the prayers of many southern households. Her chances of being chosen out of a multitude of younger, more attractive women would require a miracle.
But a year in Wyoming, a year far away from war-ravaged Richmond… Faith sighed as butterflies beat a wild tattoo inside her stomach.
Chapter Two
Faith walked six blocks from the Washington station to the Madison Hotel on the most miserable day of the year. Sodden from the icy rain, her skirts wrapped themselves around her legs, slowing her pace. Crystal droplets clung to her lashes and coated the tendrils of black hair peeking from beneath her drooping bonnet. Her feet were numb with cold, her shoes and stockings soaked after trudging through the muddy river Washington residents called streets. Sneezing repeatedly, Faith hesitated on the sidewalk in front of the Madison Hotel.
The massive brick structure glowed with care and money. Ivy flourished, clinging tenaciously to the red walls. Faith stood in the stinging rain and stared. It had been a long time since she’d entered a fine hotel and had never done so alone. Her father or Hamilton, her older brother, had always accompanied her. A southern lady never traveled without a chaperon and never dreamed of entering a hotel without one.
Faith recalled her upbringing with a sad smile. Since the war began, she had done a lot of things southern ladies didn’t do. This was just one more example. She bit her lip, straightened her back in an imitation of Aunt Virt, and marched up to the entrance of the hotel as if she owned the place.
A uniformed concierge in a long, jade green overcoat adorned with gold braid stepped forward to open the door. Faith nodded regally in his direction and strolled into the opulent foyer. She paused for a second, summoning her courage, then walked to the registration desk and informed the clerk on duty that Mr. David Alexander was expecting her.
The clerk looked her over, up and down. Faith did not flinch under his haughty scrutiny. She had seen the same scornful expression on hundreds of faces since the war. She knew he thought she lacked the necessary commodity for prompt, efficient service. Money.
Faith’s gaze cooled to a crisp, slate gray as she stared through the insignificant clerk.
“I’m afraid Mr. Alexander is occupied at the moment, miss,” the clerk informed her.
“Madam,” Faith corrected, “and he’s not too busy to see me.”
“He’s very busy. He can’t be bothered.”
“Surely, that’s for Mr. Alexander to decide,” Faith said. “Shall we go ask him?” She stood her ground.
He shrugged and rang the bell for the bellboy. “Escort madam to Mr. Alexander’s suite.”
“Yes, sir.” The bellboy started toward the stairs with no more than a mere glance to see if Faith followed.
He led her up the stairs, down a corridor, and into a suite of rooms at the end. “He’s down there. At the table.”
Faith slumped against the wall. A quick glance at the line of women waiting to enter the sitting room confirmed her worst suspicions. The place was literally wall to wall with women of all ages, shapes, and sizes.
Faith took a deep breath, then wished she hadn’t. The atmosphere was thick with the clashing odors of washed and unwashed bodies, fine soaps, and cheap perfume, layered with the contrasting smells of fried food and rancid grease. Her stomach heaved, threatening revolt.
It seemed the promise of cold, hard, cash appealed to all levels of society. The war had left a great many destitute widows and orphans in its wake. Many of them, Faith was sure, were much better qualified than she to care for an infant in the Wyoming wilderness.
The woman in line ahead of Faith turned and issued an order: “You might as well take a seat like the rest of us. It’s been like this since eight o’clock this morning. He’s taking his own sweet time about deciding. It�
��ll be a while.”
Faith nodded in mute affirmation, then looked around for an unoccupied seat.
The chairs lining the corridor were all taken. Many women sat on the floor, talking quietly among themselves, their skirts modestly arranged around them. Faith followed suit and sank to the floor, standing occasionally and advancing several steps as the line moved slowly, steadily, forward.
* * *
Three hours later, Faith had made little progress up the line. She was cold, tired, and cramped from sitting on the hard floor with her legs tucked beneath her. Her empty stomach rumbled hungrily.
The noon dinner hour arrived. Faith’s spirits rose as many of the discouraged job seekers left their places in line, and headed down the corridor, grumbling to themselves. Faith stumbled to her feet as the line surged forward. Several women hurried to claim the coveted spaces. She had hoped the dinner hour would force more of the competition to vacate the corridor, but she was disappointed.
All around her, women reached into their belongings and produced bundles of food. Faith swallowed a groan of dismay and settled into a more comfortable position against the wall, determined to ignore her stomach’s angry protests. The competition had come prepared. She sat in miserable silence.
Mr. David Alexander continued to work through dinnertime. Faith hungrily eyed the tray of roast beef, biscuits, garden peas, and mashed potatoes with gravy that the hotel staff delivered to his desk. Her mouth watered, and her empty stomach knotted up as the enticing aromas slipped past her nostrils. She even detected a whiff of apples and cinnamon on the tray—an apple cobbler maybe, or a slice of pie. And coffee. Hot steaming coffee. It was almost too much for her. She pulled her legs up in front of her, and locked her arms around her knees to keep from marching up to Mr. Alexander’s desk and drooling all over his meal. She glanced around at her neighbors on the floor, hoping for a handout, but not one of her neighbors on the floor offered to share her meager meal, and Faith was much too proud to ask. She’d come to Washington unprepared. She had allowed her family’s optimism to affect her judgment. They had assured her she would march into Mr. Alexander’s office and come out with the job in a matter of minutes.
At last, the crumpling of oil cloth and newspaper signaled the end of the dinner hour. Hope surged within her. Surely, it wouldn’t take all afternoon to complete the interviews. She stood up to stretch her legs and looked around, gauging the length of the line and the strength of her competition. Around her other women rose and stretched their cramped limbs, some of them carefully moving softly snoring toddlers from their laps to the floor. Others, tried to soothe infants and tired cranky children, who loudly wailed their displeasure at the exhausting wait. Faith breathed a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t brought Joy along as Aunt Virt suggested to “help sway Mr. Alexander.”
Faith had reached the limit of her own patience, and Joy would have lost it hours ago. She was afraid she might burst into tears at any moment and wail right along with the children.
She looked around and saw on the faces of all the women in line the same look of hope, tempered by desperate need. They needed work just as desperately as she did. Many of them had probably been needier for a far longer time and had lost as much as she. Perhaps, more. Although, Faith had lost parents, brothers, cousins, and a comfortable wealth, she had never known the loss of a child, or of a husband or lover.
A low buzz of anxious whispers surrounded her, and she heard the rustle of fabric as women smoothed the creases from their dresses, straightened their bonnets, and patted their hair into place. Some of them even pinched their cheeks and bit their lips as if preparing to greet a beau. Faith wondered what had prompted this display of feminine energy and wiles until she spotted Mr. Alexander in earnest discussion with another man in the doorway of one of the suite’s sitting rooms.
“Who is he?” Faith asked the woman ahead of her, awed by the sight of him.
“He’s the one.”
“The one?” Faith asked.
“The one doing the hiring.” The woman removed her gloves, discreetly licked the palms of her hands, then patted her brassy blond hair into place. “You wouldn’t happen to have any rouge, would you?”
Faith shook her head, watching in fascination as the woman adjusted the lace-trimmed bodice of her bright pink gown to display a scandalous amount of flesh. “I thought Mr. Alexander was hiring.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Alexander is the one at the table taking down all the information. He’s a handsome devil, too. But not like the other one.” She bit her lower lip. “If Alexander approves you, you get to go in and talk with the other man. And I’m looking forward to that!”
“Who is the other man?” Faith asked again.
“I don’t know,” the woman replied. “But Mr. Alexander is just his agent. The other man is the boss. Take a good look. Have you ever seen anyone like him?” she gushed.
Faith looked up. The answer popped into her brain. No. She had never seen anyone like him. He was beautiful. There was simply no other word to describe him. Faith let her gaze wander over him from the top of his head, across the wide expanse of chest, down the seemingly endless length of hard-muscled thighs and calves, to the toes of his gleaming shoes.
She had to force herself to look away from him. Just the sight of him was enough to make her pulse race. Faith slowly closed her mouth. If he possessed flaws, they had to be on the inside, because the outside of him was perfection. No wonder the room was crowded with females seeking employment. Word must have gotten around.
Faith wondered if he realized he was the drawing card, the main attraction, that the amount of gold he offered for the job of caring for an infant paled in comparison.
It seemed to Faith that she stood mesmerized by the man for hours, but it could not have been more than a minute or two before he lifted his head from his conversation with David Alexander, and straightened up. His midnight-black hair touched the top of the doorframe. Faith could see it was long and silky. He smiled at something Alexander said, then casually scanned the corridor bustling with anxious women and children. Faith’s gray gaze locked with his.
The sudden eye contact sent a shiver of pure excitement racing across her nerve endings. His eyes were brown, she noted, a delicious chocolate brown, flecked with gold and framed by black lashes and brows. Her breathing quickened. Her face felt warm, flushed. She moved back against the wall, and busied herself by studying the tips of her battered shoes.
Reese Jordan stood unmoving as the young woman seemed to disappear before his eyes. One minute she was there staring at him and in the next instant, she had faded into the milling crowd and become hidden from view.
“Who is she?” he asked Alexander.
David Alexander glanced down at the paper he was holding in his hand. “Mary Stephens, nineteen years old, three-year-old son named James. Husband killed five months ago in a tavern brawl. She’s next.” David indicated the girl waiting patiently in front of the table, holding a blond toddler anchored to her hip.
“Not her.” Reese barely glanced at the girl. “The other one. The one in the center of the corridor a moment ago.”
David looked around the crowded hall, then back at his cousin and employer. At least a hundred women were milling about in the room and at least forty of them stood in line in the center of the hallway. “Could you be a little more specific, Reese? Which of the multitude has caught your discerning eye?”
Reese Jordan scanned the crowd, searching. “She was here a moment ago. Dammit, she couldn’t have just disappeared. Where is she? I don’t see her.” He looked at David. “Send the next one in, but keep an eye out for her—petite, black hair, dark eyes, very pretty.”
David shot a glance at his cousin. Dark haired, dark-eyed, petites were not Reese’s preference. Big, buxom redheads and hard-edged blondes were his normal choice. “Are you sure you want to continue? It’s late and you must be tired. I know I am.”
Reese fingered the gold chain danglin
g across the side of his waistcoat and removed his watch from its pocket. He flipped it open. “I have time for one more. Send her in.”
David gestured at the girl in front of him. “Mary Stephens.” He handed Reese the sheet of paper outlining the applicant’s history.
Reese looked closely at the young woman for the first time and shook his head. “She won’t do.”
“Why not?” David was puzzled. “She meets all the requirements.”
“Look at her, David,” Reese instructed.
David gave the girl a cursory glance. “What about her?”
“She’s obviously in the family way, David. She meets the requirements too well. She won’t do,” Reese said with finality.
David shook his head at the young woman. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stephens, but—”
“I heard him,” she said dully. “I won’t do. But you coulda said something earlier. I been waitin’ here all day just to see him. If you’d looked at me, you woulda seen I’m expectin’.”
“I realize that. I just didn’t realize…I mean…” David Alexander faltered.
“I’ll pay her off and let her be on her way. We don’t have time to waste arguing,” Reese interrupted, reaching inside the breast pocket of his jacket to remove his wallet.
The woman shook her head. “I came for an honest job. I don’t take charity from nobody.”
“It isn’t charity.” Reese made an effort to curb his annoyance. “I’m reimbursing you for your time. I should’ve had Mr. Alexander inquire as to whether any of you were expectant mothers before we began. A woman in your condition…”
“A woman in my condition can get along fine without your charity.” She informed him angrily. “You said I wouldn’t do and I won’t, but I won’t take no reimbursing or charity or whatever you call it from you neither.” She turned on her heel and addressed the crowd. “All you other women in my condition can just forget about this job. He don’t take expectant mothers. Ain’t no sense waitin’ around.” She picked up her belongings and made her way through the crowd. Several other women followed in her footsteps.
“Well, that lets me out,” the brassy blonde in front of Faith announced. “I’m not showin’ yet, but I will be soon enough. What about you, honey?” She turned to Faith.
Golden Chances Page 2
