Page 33 of The Harvey Girls

Twenty-Five

“There’s a party at the community hall tonight,” Henny told them the following Saturday. The last guest had left the dining room, and all the girls were scrubbing their tables and resetting for breakfast.

“What kind of party?” Billie had been to birthday parties and church suppers in Table Rock, but the way Henny’s eyes twinkled with enthusiasm made her wonder if this particular gathering might be less about cake and raffle tickets and more about… well, she didn’t even know what.

“You know,” said Henny conspiratorially, “a party .”

Charlotte’s expression went flat. “Drinking,” she explained to Billie.

“There might be a little bit of that,” said Henny, feigning innocence.

“We’re not going.” Charlotte was still addressing Billie. “You’re too young for that kind of foolishness.”

“What are you, her maiden aunt?” said Henny. “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

She’s no maiden, and I’m no adult , thought Billie. She blinked at Charlotte, wondering how to turn this worrisome conversation around.

“Well, of course she is,” said Charlotte a little too emphatically. “But she’s from a very sheltered background, and… and her father wrote to me asking that I protect her from… from certain elements.”

“He did?” said Billie, astounded by this revelation.

“I’m sorry, but he asked me not to tell you. So I think it best if we simply—”

“My father wrote to you?” In Billie’s memory, Malcolm MacTavish had never written a letter to anyone, ever.

Charlotte drilled her with a look. “Yes, he did. He was very concerned that you not be exposed to inappropriate language.”

Billie almost laughed. Her father would no more have said that than worn a gold crown to work. He actually prided himself on using inappropriate language.

“Well, I don’t think there’ll be much of that,” said Henny, who now seemed a bit stumped by the whole exchange.

“It’s just a community dance, not a Wild West saloon.

In fact, the boys will all be on their best behavior.

We’re the only females for miles and miles, and you don’t impress nice girls like us with rough talk. ”

“I thought the Fred Harvey Company had strict rules about men and women in their employ mingling,” said Charlotte.

“Oh, they do!” said Henny. “When I was at the Harvey House in Rincon we were forbidden to even look at the fellas in the kitchen, much less get friendly with them. We had to get the manager’s approval just to keep company with men who didn’t work there.”

“Well, then—”

“But it’s different here. There aren’t any outsiders to choose from, so it’s sort of a wink and smile about dating coworkers. There was a waitress a couple of years back who started going with one of the pastry men, and didn’t they get hitched right in the chapel!”

“So it’s just a party, but with dancing?” said Billie.

“And alcohol,” said Charlotte.

“Well, so what?” said Billie, getting tired of Charlotte big-sistering her again. “I drink a little alcohol from time to time.” A weekly sip from the communion chalice, anyway, though she hadn’t even had that since Topeka. She’d been good about her prayers and Rosary, though.

“Do you,” said Charlotte skeptically.

“Yes, I do, and if it’s all right with you, Auntie , I think I’ll go.”

“Look at the state of these dresses,” Charlotte scoffed as they changed into civilian clothes in their dorm room that evening. “They’re hardly fit for public view.”

Billie eyed herself in the mirror. “They are a bit tired.”

“Why don’t we stay in tonight?” said Charlotte. “I saw Mable with a Sears, Roebuck catalog. We could look through it and pick out some inexpensive things to order. They wouldn’t be fashionable, but at least they’d be new.”

Billie smiled over at her, and for a moment Charlotte thought the girl might agree. But then she said in an overly mild tone clearly meant to coddle, “Why don’t you want to go?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to go—”

“It’s clear as crystal you don’t.”

“These things can be rough affairs, Billie.”

The girl’s eyes went flat. “Not fancy enough for you?”

“That’s not it at all—”

“Isn’t it?”

“I never liked galas and soirees—I hated them, in fact. All that folderol, and for what? So the ladies can gossip behind their silk-gloved fingers about who wore the wrong shade of blue or patronized a less fashionable seamstress? So a match can be made with some boorish son of a boorish family, and all the silver can be passed around the same old circles?”

Billie’s eyes went wide. “You are rich.”

Charlotte indicated her faded garment. “As you can see, that particular problem no longer plagues me.”

“Are you ashamed?”

“It’s not the dress!”

“What is it then?”

“Don’t you listen? It’s exactly what I said it was.”

“The alcohol?”

“Yes, of course! It makes people do terrible things. Things they might not do otherwise. They might be intelligent, loving—” Charlotte stopped abruptly and pressed her lips together.

“Your husband’s an alcoholic.”

Charlotte took a breath to calm her roiling emotions.

Billie dropped down onto her bed. “We won’t go then.”

Charlotte sat on her own bed. Her heart was still thumping a little too hard. “I’ll ask Mabel for the catalog.”

“That’s okay,” said Billie. “We don’t need new clothes if we’re not going to parties. I should really send that money home anyway.”

Charlotte looked at the girl. Not a hint of disappointment showed on her smooth, pale face, though Charlotte knew how much she’d wanted to go.

Billie smiled at her encouragingly. “Maybe we can practice that card game Henny was trying to teach us. What’s it called?”

“Euchre.”

“Right! I still don’t get how the dower works.”

“Bower,” Charlotte corrected.

“I thought it was ‘dower.’?”

“?‘Dower’ means to give money or property to a man in exchange for his marrying your daughter.”

“You have to pay a fella to marry your daughter?” said Billie. “Doesn’t he just want to?”

Charlotte chuckled. “He should, shouldn’t he?”

Billie shook her head. “Rich people are funny.”

“Oh yes. They’re absolutely sidesplitting!” Charlotte laughed, and Billie giggled, too. She really was such a sweet girl.

When their laughter subsided, Charlotte said, “You were really hoping to go, weren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but maybe it’s better if I don’t.” She smiled slyly. “Especially if my father is so concerned about bad language.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s just that my da swears a blue streak!”

“Does he?”

“Yes, but not in an angry way. He knows it annoys my maw, so he teases her with it. I don’t think she actually minds it that much. It’s just the way they joke.”

“It sounds like they understand each other.”

Billie smiled and gave a little nod that said there was more than just understanding between her parents. There was love. And contentment. Charlotte had loved Simeon—quite passionately, in fact. And she knew that in his own way, he had loved her, too.

But there had never, ever been contentment.