and I worked very hard on it.”
“I especially like the square grand piano.” Ida sipped her cocoa, letting its warmth soothe her travel-weary body.
“She’s storing the piano for Morgan until our house is finished,” Kat said.
“September’s not even over yet, and here you are.” Miss Hattie peered at Ida over the top of her cup.
“Yes ma’am.” Ida glanced at the flocked wallpaper on the far wall.
“Kat said you’ve been attending business school and would complete your course at the beginning of October.”
“I completed my schooling earlier than expected.” Ida took a big gulp of the chocolate drink.
“It was because of a man, wasn’t it, dear?” Miss Hattie twisted to face Ida. “I can see it in your eyes.”
Ida blinked. This woman’s tenacity would shame the most diligent of worker ants. Ida set her saucer on the table and rose from the sofa. She walked over to the fireplace, looking for warmth, but the snaps and pops only competed with the barrage of questions that had been unleashed by her evasion.
“Is Hattie right?” Kat had followed her and now stood beside her. “Did you leave early because of a man?”
Ida needed to tell them the truth. They cared about her. They’d believe her, if anyone would. “Yes, I left early because of a man—a very improper man. A guest professor.” Tears stung Ida’s eyes. She detested the quiver she heard in her voice, a sign of weakness. How could she have been so trusting? So naive? “He began … He kissed me, then offered me a job in New York if I would agree to be his … companion. He said that was the only way I’d find success in the business world—that women couldn’t make it on their own.”
“You must have been mortified.” Kat held both of Ida’s hands and squeezed them, her eyes full of compassion.
“What did you do?” Nell sat rigid on the edge of her chair.
“I slapped him. Told him he was wrong, and then ran out of the room.”
“Good for you. We women have to stand up for ourselves.” Hattie clucked her tongue. “For the life of me, I don’t understand why men can’t keep their lips to themselves. Until we ask for them, anyway.”
“You said he was a guest professor. Did you report him to the school’s director?” Kat led her back to the sofa.
“I did.” Ida sat down and Hattie patted her knee much the way she imagined her mother would. “The professor is a powerful businessman and a childhood friend of Mr. Merton, the school’s director, but I convinced him to give me a certificate of completion and a glowing letter of recommendation.”
“That’s what I love about you Sinclair girls.” Miss Hattie shook her fist in the air. “You might get knocked down, but you get right back on the horse.”
Ida bit back a giggle and gave the hand on her knee a squeeze. “Thank you, Miss Hattie.”
The sound of wagon wheels churning the rocks on the road drew Miss Hattie to the window. She pulled the curtain back and stood on her tiptoes, her face pressed against the glass. “It’s the ice wagon and Otis with a man I don’t know. You girls will have to excuse me.”
When the three of them nodded, the older woman rushed out of the parlor.
The faith and support Ida saw in her sisters’ eyes made her believe this was where she belonged. Hopefully, Mollie O’Bryan would agree.
Tucker removed his hat and wiped his brow with his coat sleeve while Otis parked the wagon in front of a yellow, two-story clapboard house. Hattie’s Boardinghouse was their last stop for the day. His body was tired, but his mind raced with possibilities, thanks to Otis, and he was anxious to get back to the house and put them to paper.
If he could secure a bank loan to expand the business to three wagons delivering ice every day, they could make enough to pay six men and cover the costs of the care his father and Willow required.
Tucker hadn’t received a report since he’d left Stockton, but he had to hope Willow
Learning to Kill: Stories