by Al Lacy
The sign at the next gate announced that the Alfred Morleys lived there.
The pain of losing her family was sharp in Kathleen’s heart as she stepped up on the huge porch and lifted the knocker. When there was no response after several seconds, she lifted the knocker again. This time there were light footsteps. When the door opened, a middle-aged woman, dressed in an expensive dress and wearing flashy jewelry, looked at Kathleen with disdain and said, “What is it?”
“Are…are you Mrs. Morley?”
“Yes. And we don’t give handouts.”
Kathleen glanced down at her shabby coat, then back at the woman. “Oh, I’m not asking for a handout, Mrs. Morley, I’m looking for work. You see, my entire family died in the fire a week ago yesterday, and I’m all alone. I can do cleaning jobs and household chores. I’m willing to—”
The door slammed in her face.
Kathleen headed for the next house. Her shoes were hurting her feet, but it didn’t come close to the pain in her heart.
By early afternoon, Kathleen had knocked on thirty-one doors. A few people were kind when they turned her down, but most were curt, as if her presence on their doorstep was an offense to them.
Before starting on another street, Kathleen sat down on a tree stump and took off her shoes. The raw wind bit through her stockings as she rubbed her aching feet. “Papa, Mama…” she said, her voice breaking, “I need you.”
She wept for a few minutes, then slipped her shoes back on. As she was tying the laces, a fancy carriage drove by. A young man with sandy hair was at the reins, and riding alone. He smiled at her, tipped his hat, and drove on.
Kathleen finished tying her shoes, wiped her tears, and said, “Well, at least a few people in this neighborhood are friendly. All right, Miss O’Malley, let’s see what you can find in this block.”
KATHLEEN COVERED FOUR MORE BLOCKS on one side of the street, and after rejections at every house she leaned against a large oak tree and wept. Her feet were hurting too much to go on. She would find a place to sit down, rub her feet good, then head home.
Through her tears, Kathleen looked up the street and saw the fancy carriage that had passed by earlier, the one with the handsome young man at the reins. The carriage was pulling out of the driveway of a large, beautiful brick house a block away. It turned her direction as the driver put the horse to a trot.
Kathleen quickly dried the tears from her cheeks.
The same young man was driving the carriage, and he was alone. He pulled rein when he saw Kathleen. When the carriage had come to a complete stop, he smiled down at her and said, “I saw you earlier today, didn’t I?”
“Yes. I was several blocks over that way.”
“Are you looking for some particular address I could help you find?”
Kathleen looked down at her worn and faded clothing and felt unworthy to be greeted by such a well-dressed and obviously wealthy man. “Ah…no sir, thank you. I…ah…I’m just enjoying a nice walk.”
“Oh. All right. Well, I hope you enjoy it.”
Kathleen managed a half-smile.
The handsome young man tipped his hat, clucked to the horse, and drove away.
Kathleen sighed deeply and headed back toward her part of town and her drab little room. She would come back here tomorrow and take up where she’d left off. She walked to the tree stump she’d sat on earlier and removed her shoes. A big red blister had formed on her left heel and it burned like fire.
She rubbed both feet to soothe them, put the shoes back on, and limped westward. The cold wind off the lake nipped at her ears and knifed through the secondhand coat.
By the time Kathleen reached downtown the sun was setting, and at the rate she was walking, it was still another thirty minutes to the boardinghouse. She had eaten nothing since early morning, and her empty stomach growled in protest.
While limping across Kedzie, Avenue, Kathleen spotted a small cafe. She forced her cold, weary body up the two steps to the door. As she moved inside, warm air greeted her, along with the fragrant, tantalizing smells of homemade bread and roasting beef. She looked around timidly and spotted an unoccupied table next to a front window. The place was cozy with glowing lanterns and a roaring fire in the brick fireplace.
Kathleen removed her coat, draped it over a chair, and sat down. There were eating utensils on the table, wrapped in napkins, and a pair of tin cups. Behind salt and pepper shakers, menus leaned against the windowsill.
A pert young waitress stepped to Kathleen’s table. “Hello,” she said, smiling. “Cold outside, isn’t it?”
“That it is,” Kathleen said, picking up a menu and placing it on the table in front of her.
“How about some hot coffee to warm you up?”
“That sounds good,” said the weary redhead, pushing a cup toward the waitress.
“Maybelle!” came a male voice from the kitchen. “Order for table five!”
The girl poured the steaming black liquid into Kathleen’s cup and said, “I’ll deliver that order and be right back.”
Kathleen picked up the menu and studied it for a moment. The coffee was five cents a cup. The least expensive food item on the menu was a bowl of vegetable beef soup with two slices of home-made bread. The soup and bread order was sixty cents. Kathleen let her eyes rove around the room. A man at a nearby table was slurping soup from a bowl and chomping on a slice of bread. It looked good.
“Okay, Maybelle’s back,” the waitress said in a cheerful tone. “What would you like, honey?”
“Would it…would it be possible to order a half-bowl of the vegetable soup and one slice of bread?”
Maybelle’s brow furrowed. “A half-bowl of soup?”
“Yes, please.”
The waitress bent down close to Kathleen’s face. “Honey, is this because you’re not very hungry, or because you’re a little short on funds?”
Kathleen swallowed hard. “Well, it’s, ah…it’s—”
“Tell you what. I’ll bring you a full bowl of vegetable beef soup and two slices of bread, and you will only pay half price. How’s that?”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Yes, you could. And the second cup of coffee will be on the house.”
“I don’t know what to say, I—”
“Just say, ‘Hurry up with the bread and soup, Maybelle; I’m hungry.’”
Kathleen laughed for the first time since her family had died in the fire. “It’s very nice of you to do this, Maybelle. Are you sure you won’t get in trouble with your boss?”
“Nah-h-h. The boss is that fella back there in the kitchen. He’s my dad. I won’t get in trouble.”
Kathleen nodded. “Thank you.”
As the girl hurried away, Kathleen put the menu back against the windowsill and picked up the tin cup. She studied the other customers in the cafe as she sipped hot coffee. People were talking and laughing, enjoying each other’s company. The only other person in the place alone was the man eating the soup.
Her loneliness felt like a cold hand squeezing her heart. Life would never be the same without her parents…without Donnie and Patricia. What would become of her? Would she find a job or starve to death?
“No, Kathleen,” she said under her breath. “You’re not going to starve to death. You will find a job. Someone in that fancy side of town will hire you. Just keep knocking on doors. There’s bound to be someone who could use your services. Like the parents of that nice young man in the carriage. He—”
Kathleen shook her head and continued to mutter to herself. “You really messed up, Kathleen. You should’ve told him the truth. He seemed to like you. Maybe he could have talked his rich parents into—Wait a minute. Why not start at his house tomorrow? Who knows, maybe his parents are as nice as he is. First on the agenda will be 1402 Mockingbird Lane.”
When Maybelle arrived with her order, Kathleen’s eyes bulged at the size of the soup bowl, which actually looked like a large gravy bowl. The bread plate had four slices of bread an
d four chunks of butter.
“There you go, honey,” Maybelle said. “Eat up. If that doesn’t fill your tummy, there’s more in the kitchen.”
Kathleen smiled. “I…I don’t know how to thank you.”
Maybelle chuckled. “You can thank me by eating till you’re full.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Kathleen hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she looked at the thick vegetable beef soup and the hot bread on the plate. She picked up her spoon with gusto and suddenly thought of Hennie Killanin and her family. They always prayed before they ate and thanked the Lord for their food. Kathleen was very appreciative of what had just been set before her, but she was not about to bow her head and pray in front of people. She dug in. After a few minutes, Maybelle came back and poured her another cup of coffee.
Kathleen didn’t put her spoon down, except to butter the bread, until she had eaten all the soup and all four slices of bread. When it was all gone she sat back with a sigh, and for a moment she stared out the window and watched people passing by under the street lanterns. Then she rose to her feet and put on her shabby coat, buttoned it up tight around her throat, and went to the counter. Maybelle met her there, took her money, and said, “You come back again, won’t you, honey?”
“I will. And thank you. Thank you very much.”
Maybelle showed her big smile again. “You are so welcome. Bye now.”
The sky was overcast when Kathleen stepped into the cold and headed for home.
When she entered the boardinghouse, her landlady was in the hall about to enter her own room. Hattie Murphy was a short, stout, jolly widow of sixty.
“Kathleen! There you are. I recall you said you wouldn’t be here for lunch, but I expected you for supper. Come on down to the dining hall. I have some leftovers I can heat up, and—”
“I already ate supper, Mrs. Murphy,” Kathleen said politely, “but thank you.”
Hattie cocked her head to one side. “So did you find work, honey?”
“Not yet. But I’ll try again tomorrow. See you at breakfast.” As Kathleen spoke, she headed down the hall.
“Honey, why are you limping?”
“Oh, I’ve just got a blister on my left heel. I bought these shoes in a secondhand store, and they’re a bit small for my feet. I’ll have to go the price and buy a new pair.”
“Come in, child, and let me look at that blister.”
Kathleen entered her room feeling more cheered than when she’d first returned to the boardinghouse. She had a small container of salve in her hand and a bandage on her blister. There was also money to buy a new pair of shoes, which she would do as soon as she could. Her landlady had told her not to worry about paying back the money until she sold her land.
Each room in the boardinghouse had its own potbellied stove. Kathleen kept her coat on while she built a fire, and soon the room was warm. She set a pail of water on the stove to heat up, then sat down and removed her shoes. The blister felt much better after Hattie’s doctoring.
She washed up, brushed her hair, then put on the only flannel nightgown she had—a used one shed purchased at the secondhand store. She snuffed the flame in the rooms only lantern, padded across the floor, and slipped between the cold sheets.
As Kathleen thought of her family, the tears began to flow. She forced herself to put her mind on what she would do in the morning. The first door she knocked on would be at 1402 Mockingbird Lane. If she got turned down there, she would keep on knocking on doors until she found work. She came very close to asking God to let her get a job at the house where the nice young man lived. Instead, she nestled her head deeper into the pillow. Her body was fatigued from all the walking she had done, and soon her eyelids drooped, ushering her into a dreamless sleep.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky the next morning as Kathleen turned onto Mockingbird Lane. The blister had not hurt so much when she first left the boardinghouse, but after walking all the way to the wealthy section of town again, it was giving her some pain. No matter what happened today, she would make it downtown before closing time to buy shoes that fit.
The sun gave off little heat, and the wind off the lake seemed colder than yesterday. Kathleen tugged at her coat collar as she drew up in front of the posh mansion. Her mouth dropped open when she read the name on the metal plate attached to an iron post: JOHN M. STALLWORTH.
Everybody in Chicago knew that name. John Michael Stallworth owned the Great Lakes Railroad Company. He was one of the wealthiest men in the city.
Kathleen took a deep breath and limped onto the porch. She stared at the ornate knocker for a moment, then lifted it and let it fall. She expected a butler to answer, but the footsteps she heard were definitely that of a woman. Probably the maid, she told herself.
The door swung open to reveal a stately woman in her midfifties. Her dark hair was streaked with gray and pulled back in a lovely upsweep. “What can I do for you, young lady?” she said.
Kathleen’s stomach churned. “Are you Mrs. Stallworth, ma’am?”
“Yes. I am Maria Stallworth.”
“My name is Kathleen O’Malley, Mrs. Stallworth, and I just need to talk to you for a moment.”
Maria Stallworth took a step back, swung the door wider, and said, “Please come in out of the cold, dear.”
This was the first time Kathleen had been invited inside a house since she started canvassing the neighborhood. “Oh. Why, thank you, ma’am,” she said, moving inside.
“Come,” Maria said, “let’s sit down in the parlor.”
The dignified woman led Kathleen into a beautiful room where a fire was crackling in the fireplace.
Kathleen was directed to sit on a love seat, and Mrs. Stallworth sat down opposite her on an overstuffed chair. “Now, Kathleen O’Malley,” she said, “what did you need to talk to me about?”
“I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, Mrs. Stallworth, so I’ll be brief. My entire family died in that awful fire a week ago last Sunday. I am the only one left. Our house was destroyed.”
“Oh, you poor thing. Are you needing a donation to help meet your necessities?”
“I am not looking for a donation, ma’am. I’m looking for work. I can do all kinds of cleaning jobs, and any kind of housework. I’ve been knocking on doors here in your part of the city, but so far no one has needed my services.”
Maria squinted, tilted her head, and said, “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“I am a senior this year, ma’am, but I can’t stay in school because I have to earn a living now.”
“I see. And you are willing to do any kind of cleaning? You know, bathrooms, kitchen, hardwood floors, windows?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kathleen’s pulse quickened.
“You said your house was destroyed in the fire?”
“Yes, ma’am. My—my parents, brother, and sister were trapped in the house when it went up in flames.”
“I’m so sorry, dear. What I am wanting to know is, where are you living now?”
“I have a room in a boardinghouse just west of downtown.”
“And if you find work here in our area, you will walk every workday from there?”
Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, honey, no one can say you’re a lazy person, that’s for sure.”
Kathleen pressed a smile on her lips. Butterflies flitted in her stomach. Was she about to be offered a job?
“Tell you what, Kathleen, we had a live-in maid and cook, but quite recently we had to let her go. John—that’s my husband—and I have agreed that I would do the cooking, and we’d simply find a cleaning lady and have her come three days a week. The live-in situation just didn’t work. We’ve never had a butler because we’re such private people.”
Kathleen nodded, waiting hopefully.
“I can handle the cooking with no problem,” Maria went on. “There are only three of us in the house…John, our son Peter, and me. You do know who we are, don’t you, dear?”
“Yes. You’re the railroad people.”
“That’s right. The Great Lakes Railroad Company. Well, Kathleen, if you’d like the job, it’s yours. You would come Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to do the cleaning. We’ll pay you a dollar a day, and we’ll buy you a couple of uniforms. We’d like you to wear a uniform when you’re working here, so that when we have guests, they will be pleased at the way our cleaning lady dresses.”
A warm feeling washed over Kathleen. Smiling broadly, she said, “I’ll take the job, Mrs. Stallworth. Thank you!”
“And we’ll be happy to have you, dear. Now, before you go, let me take some measurements. One of my husband’s employees has a wife who makes dresses, and she also makes uniforms.”
When the measurements had been noted, Maria walked her new cleaning lady toward the door. “Can you start Thursday?”
“Certainly.”
“All right. Your workdays here will start at eight o’clock in the morning, and you will finish at four. I’ll see that you have some lunch each day. Your uniforms will probably not be ready till Saturday, so we’ll get by on Thursday with whatever dress you wear.”
“Fine, ma’am,” said Kathleen. “What I’ll try to do now is find a cleaning job on the alternate days.”
Marias hand went to her cheek. “Wait a minute! I think I can get you that very job.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We have some close friends who live just a couple of blocks from here on Sunset Drive. Are you acquainted with Massey’s department store downtown?”
Kathleen knew Massey’s was where rich people bought their clothes and other expensive items. “I’ve seen it, but I’ve never been inside.”
“Well, the Ralph Massey family owns it, and they’re looking for a cleaning lady. At least they were up till two days ago. If they haven’t hired one yet, I know you’ll get the job.”
