Lorna Seilstad Page 3

  Rosie blushed, apparently not used to that kind of attention.

  “Tell me. How did you do?”

  A smile curled the corners of Rosie’s lips. “I was selected. You?”

  “I guess we’re both on our way to becoming Iowa Telephone’s newest Hello Girls.”

  Rosie clapped. “I’m so glad. It will be much easier coming to school on Monday knowing someone—not that we really know each other, but I hope we will, and that we can become friends.”

  Hannah covered Rosie’s clasped hands. “We are friends, and I hope we’ll become fast friends.” She started down the steps, and Rosie fell in beside her.

  When they reached the sidewalk, Rosie turned to her. “I don’t live far from here. Perhaps you can join me for some refreshments. My mother will be happy to know another student operator.”

  Rosie looked so hopeful, Hannah didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. “Maybe I could for a little while, but then I need to begin looking for a room to rent.”

  “You need a place to stay?”

  “My sisters and I do. Our parents passed this winter, and now we need to move off our family farm.” She swallowed against the wave of compounded loss. “The bank owns it now.”

  “That has to be awful for all three of you.” Rosie patted her arm. “But let me talk to my mother. We might be able to help.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Hannah sat down on the couch and surveyed the parlor of the Murphy home. White curlicues embellished the cornflower-blue wallpaper, reminding her of a cherished dresser scarf her grandmother had once embroidered. The scarf still adorned the highboy in her parents’ bedroom.

  Her parents’ bedroom. What would they do with the beautiful bedroom furniture now? It would never fit in a rented room.

  The scent of gingerbread reached her nose, and her stomach growled. She pressed her hand to her midsection. Maybe she should have eaten more than a biscuit for breakfast.

  Rosie entered with a plate of sandwiches cut in neat quarters and set it on the table. She sat across from Hannah and dropped her gaze to the plate. “Egg salad. I hope you like it.”

  “I do.” Hannah unfolded one of the napkins on her pinstriped skirt. “And to be honest, I’m starving.”

  Rosie’s mother waddled into the room with a mismatched china tea service on a silver tray and set it beside the sandwiches. “Oh, I like a lass who’s not afraid to admit she’s hungry.” She removed a plate of gingersnaps from the tray before pouring a cup of tea and passing it to Hannah. “Eat up.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Murphy.”

  “It’s you I should thank, dearie. My Rosie told me how you helped her today. All she’s talked about for a year is how much she wants to be a Hello Girl.”

  Hannah selected a sandwich from the plate. “I didn’t do anything. Having to be a certain height to answer the telephone seems like a silly rule to me.”

  Rosie added sugar to her cup and stirred it. The spoon tinkled against the porcelain. “I’m sure they have their reasons for everything they do, Hannah.”

  “Then why do you think they hired only the prettiest girls?”

  From her neck to her forehead, Rosie’s face blossomed pink. “I … uh …”

  “I’ll tell you why.” Hannah lowered her sandwich. “Those men think if they hire only the prettiest young ladies, it’ll make their company look good.”

  Rosie gasped, but her mother chuckled. “You certainly speak your mind, Hannah Gregory. I bet you’re a surprise a minute.” She held out the plate of cookies. “Now, I have a surprise for you. Rosie said you’re needin’ a place to rent, aye?”

  “Yes, ma’am. My sisters and I need a room with a stove.”

  Mrs. Murphy crossed her thick arms over her rounded midsection. “Well, lass, I believe I may be able to help. I have a small cottage, and the renters up and left only last week.”

  “But I don’t have—”

  Holding up her hand to silence Hannah’s protests, the woman continued. “And I won’t accept a cent until you’re a bona fide operator.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say yes.” Rosie captured her hand. “It will be such fun to be neighbors.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, lassie,” Mrs. Murphy said. “God placed you in our path for a reason, and he’s smilin’ on you.”

  Hannah smiled. “Then who am I to argue with God?”

  With April rain clouds threatening an afternoon shower, Hannah stepped off the streetcar at its northernmost stop and hurried down the street toward their farm. In a half mile, the street gave way to the familiar dirt-packed road. She sent up a prayer asking God to hold off the rain until she’d made the two-mile walk home. Still, even if she were soaked in a downpour, nothing could dampen her spirits today. Not only had she secured a position with the phone company, she’d also found a small house to rent.

  Only one concern still prodded her. On Saturday, they’d need to move out. And while she and her sisters could handle most of the things in the house, a few larger pieces might require a man’s muscle. Worst of all, she’d need a wagon to transport their belongings. Surely they could use her father’s. Even if it now belonged to the bank, borrowing it for one day wouldn’t be the same as stealing it, would it? But if uppity Mr. Cole didn’t agree, there’d be an argument for sure.

  Lord, help me work this all out. My sisters need me.

  Her rapid pace ate up the road, but not quickly enough. Raindrops began to sprinkle her face.

  “Hannah!” Mrs. Calloway spotted her walking and called from her porch. “Come on in here and get out of the rain before you catch your death.”

  Hannah hurried up the brick path to the Calloways’ farmhouse and onto the porch. “Thank you for the shelter. I don’t mind getting a little wet, but I would rather not get soaked.”

  “No, I wouldn’t think so. Why don’t you come in and dry off?”

  “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stay out here and watch the rain. I’m sure this spring shower will be over in no time.”

  Mrs. Calloway eyed her for a minute. “You like the rain?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Hannah drew in a deep breath. “Especially in spring. I love the fresh smell.”

  “Humph. All I smell is the hog lot.” Mrs. Calloway chuckled. “But you go right ahead and sniff all you want.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are you girls doing?”

  “We’re fine.”

  “Then the rumors aren’t true?” She glanced across the yard to the road, refusing to meet Hannah’s gaze. “I heard you may be losing the farm, and Mr. Calloway and I feel badly about not being able to help you girls more.”

  Hannah swallowed hard but forced an indifferent shrug. “We’ve had a lot of neighbors and church friends offer to help, but the farm is still too much for three girls to tend. I found us a place in town, and I’m starting operators’ school on Monday.”

  “That’s wonderful, dear!” She draped her arm around Hannah’s shoulders and squeezed. “Congratulations. I heard they only hire the loveliest and the brightest young women to be operators.” She pulled a dishcloth from her pocket and knocked down a cobweb in the corner of the porch. “And with your silky voice, I’m sure they snatched you up.”

  Her heart grabbed. That same silky voice, her father had said, would help win cases in front of a jury. Would he be disappointed to know she’d quit college?

  Holding her hand out over the porch railing, Hannah noted only a few raindrops dampened her palm. “I think it’s beginning to clear.”

  Mrs. Calloway laid her hand on Hannah’s arm. “If you girls need anything …”

  Hannah’s first impulse was to turn down the offer, but something stopped her, and warmth spread over her chest. Had God answered her prayer so quickly? She and the Calloways’ son, Walt, had been friends for years.

  She turned to Mrs. Calloway. “We could use help moving on
Saturday.”

  The middle-aged woman withdrew her hand. “You’re moving so soon? This Saturday? I sure wish I could promise Ethan and Walt’s help, but with spring plowing, I don’t dare, Hannah. You understand.”

  She forced a smile. “Of course, Mrs. Calloway. Thanks all the same.”

  Stepping off the porch, she made a mental list of others who had wagons. All of them would be plowing. She sighed. Oh well, she and her sisters would move themselves, heavy pieces and all, using her father’s wagon and his matched pair of plow horses. The only one she could count on was herself, and she might as well get used to it.

  Mr. Cole would simply have to understand if they borrowed the wagon. If he didn’t, he’d soon learn she could argue as well as any uptown lawyer.

  4

  Hannah leaned against the door frame of the parlor and waited for her bickering sisters to notice her. Spending every evening packing up their possessions—and their memories—had taken its toll on all of them, and now it was moving day. They’d be moving across town, and everything would change—their schools, their friends, and their whole way of life.

  “We can’t take it all, Tessa.” Charlotte wrapped a footed cake plate in a dish towel and set it in the wooden crate.

  “But we can’t leave the rosebushes.”

  “Where will we plant them? At the rental house?” Charlotte shot a stern look at Tessa. “Don’t be ridiculous. Roses aren’t a necessity.”

  Tessa swept her arm over the boxes. “And all these pots and pans are? How many could you possibly cook with at the same time?” She jammed her fists on her hips. “And besides, the roses were Momma’s favorite.”

  Hannah stepped into the room. “They certainly were, Tessa. Yellow tea roses.”

  “We can take them, can’t we?”

  Flowers meant as much to Tessa as they had to their mother. Both of them loved tending the garden and watching things spring to life. The roses were as important to Tessa, she supposed, as the pots and pans and rolling pin were to Charlotte, who had so lovingly packed them to take along. Charlotte and her mother had shared a love of cooking and baking. Hannah sighed. She and her mother had shared a love of knowledge, and that was more difficult to pack up in a box and take with them.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Charlotte secured another dish in the box.

  Hannah grinned. “I came in somewhere between roses and ridiculous.”

  “So we can take Momma’s roses?”

  Hannah drew in a long breath. The roses probably wouldn’t survive, and digging them up would take time they needed to finish packing, but surely they could squeeze in a few bushes.

  “Dig up three of them. No more. That way we can each have a bush in our own homes someday.”

  “Got it!” Beaming, Tessa headed for the door.

  The screen door banged shut, and Charlotte frowned. “You know we don’t need those flowers.”

  “We don’t, but Tessa does.”

  Charlotte pushed the filled crate of dishes to the center of the table. “Maybe you’re right. This is hard on her.”

  “It’s hard on all of us.”

  Hannah laid her hand on a stack of books. She and her mother had read and discussed nearly every one, and each represented a treasured moment in time. But they couldn’t take all the tomes. Pots and pans they would need, and rosebushes they could squeeze in, but cases of books? Where would they possibly go in the little house?

  She picked up a volume of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s The Song of Hiawatha and traced the gold swirls on the moss-green hardbound cover. It transported her to the day her parents had given her the book—her sixteenth birthday. She opened the front page and found her mother’s familiar script.

  You’re a young woman now, and I pray daily that God is preparing a man for you like he prepared your father for me. Remember, nobility knows no race or station. Always judge a man by his heart and actions.

  She closed the book and slipped it beside the cake plate in Charlotte’s box. This little book she’d take.

  Charlotte picked up a different volume. “Aren’t you taking them all?”

  “No, we won’t have room.”

  “I’m sorry, Hannah. I know how much they mean to you.”

  Hannah caressed the pebbled surface of one of the larger tomes, then pulled her hand away. “I’m going to go hook up the wagon.” She lifted her cape from a peg by the back door. “Let’s be ready to load in an hour.”

  Outside, the April dawn had given way to morning. Her gaze swept the farm. Today she’d be saying goodbye to all of it. If only she could keep the image of the barn door, hanging cockeyed on its broken hinge, etched in her memory forever. And what about the spreading oak tree where Tessa had once broken her arm, or the cluster of daffodils sitting at the base of the windmill that made the perfect bouquet on their Easter table? How would she remember them?

  She swiped the chilled tears from her cheek with the back of her hand before tugging open the barn door. This was no time for nostalgia. She needed to focus on what needed to be done. Her sisters were counting on her.

  After she hitched the wagon to the sweet-tempered plow horses, she led them to the front of the house. Her sisters came outside to join her, and she explained they needed to put the largest items in first. “Let’s start with the chiffonier in your bedroom, Charlotte. If we take out the five drawers, it should be lighter to move.”

  “It’s still not going to be easy to get it down the stairs.” Tessa held the door for her sisters to enter.

  Hannah climbed the staircase. “Since when did difficulty stop any of us?”

  “Easy, now. One more step.” Hannah and her sisters lowered the dresser onto the floor at the bottom of the staircase. Pressing her hands to the small of her back, she sighed. At their current rate, they might be packed by Christmas. She glanced at the chiffonier. There had to be an easier way.

  “I’ve got an idea.” Hannah tapped her finger against her lips, then hiked up her skirt and climbed into the hollowed-out dresser. Once inside, she stood and lifted the dresser as if she were carrying a large box.

  “You look like you’re a turtle.” Charlotte hurried to open the door as Hannah waddled toward it beneath her shell.

  With the wagon backed up to the porch, all she had to do was walk directly into the bed of the wagon. “Tess, go hold the horses. I don’t want them moving while I’m getting in.”

  As soon as Tessa shouted that she had the horses in hand, Hannah moved the dresser from the porch to the back of the wagon. The wagon shifted beneath her feet a bit, but she steadied herself and managed to move the awkward piece to the front of the wagon.

  Applause sounded from the ground near the porch, and she looked up. Who was this man? Her cheeks flushed ember hot, and she collected her skirts in her fist and climbed back through one of the wide drawer openings. Quickly she shook out her skirt and adjusted the folds. “How may I help you?”

  “You can kindly get out of the bank’s wagon.” A slow smirk formed on the man’s face, and his eyes seemed to say he enjoyed the one-sided game he was playing.

  “Excuse me, but who are you?”

  He removed his hat, revealing a balding head. “I’m Cedric Knox, attorney from the law firm of Williams and Harlington. We represent the bank to which that wagon now belongs.”

  Hannah marched out of the wagon and onto the porch. “Hasn’t your law firm done enough damage? We’re moving like you asked. How are we supposed to get our things to the new house?”

  Mr. Knox set his hat back on his head and hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his vest. “I don’t really care how you do it, as long as it doesn’t involve stealing the bank’s property.”

  “Stealing!” Charlotte nearly dropped the crate in her arms. “It was our father’s wagon.”

  The sound of a second wagon approaching drew their attention. The driver pulled his wagon in front of Hannah’s, and her eyes widened in recognition—Mr. Cole. What was he doing here? />
  She sucked in her breath and squared her shoulders. If he thought he could team up with this Cedric Knox fellow, then she’d set them both straight.

  Mr. Cole climbed out of the wagon and joined Charlotte on the porch. He eyed Mr. Knox. “Why are you here?”

  Mr. Knox frowned. “I could ask you the same.”

  Hannah held up her hand. “Gentleman, my sisters and I don’t have all day. Let me explain to both of you that we were simply planning to borrow the wagon to transport our things to our new home in town. Then we were going to return the wagon and horses to the barn before the auction this afternoon.”

  Mr. Knox chuckled. “I’m well aware of what you’re planning to do, Miss Gregory, but as I said before, you won’t be using this wagon. It belongs to the bank now.”

  “What is the harm in us using it?” Charlotte looked from Mr. Knox to Mr. Cole. “The auction isn’t until four this afternoon.”

  “And what if you break an axle or a wheel? Have you the money to pay for the repairs?” Mr. Knox rocked on the heels of his well-polished black boots. “I know from your state of affairs you do not. Therefore, this wagon isn’t going anywhere.”

  “But nothing is going to happen,” Hannah said. “What are we supposed to do with our things?”

  Mr. Knox shrugged. “Leave them. They’ll be auctioned off with the rest of the farm goods.”

  “Cedric.” Mr. Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “You and I both know there’s no harm in letting them use that wagon.”

  “The law’s on my side, Lincoln, and you know it. Do I need to get the sheriff?” He raised his thick eyebrows.

  “Leave the sheriff out of this,” Mr. Cole growled.

  Hannah glared at the newcomer. “What kind of game is this? Last week you took our farm, and today you act like you’re on our side?”

  “I’m not on anyone’s side. The bank took your home. Not me. Today I came to help you move. I thought maybe you could use a second wagon, but it looks like it may be the only one at your disposal—thanks to him.”

  He came to help them move? Hannah took in Mr. Cole’s dungarees, chambray work shirt, and leather-gloved hands. If she hadn’t seen him dressed in a fine suit earlier in the week, she’d never have guessed he was a lawyer. But why would he come to help them? What was in this for him?