The Carousel Painter (6 page)

I flashed a quick look in her direction before turning toward Mr. Galloway. He tipped his head. His tolerant smile made me feel like a little girl who had announced her wish to become a princess. But this wasn’t a fairy tale, and I wasn’t a little girl. I had to convince him that I could provide an excellent solution to at least one of his problems.

“Before you make up your mind, let me point out that I have excellent skills, and I believe my painting would create an even greater demand for your horses. I know you’ll be pleased with my work.” A weight settled on my chest while I awaited Mr. Galloway’s response.

“I don’t doubt what you’ve said, but there aren’t any women working in the factory. I don’t believe it would be suitable,” he said.

“You’re exactly right, Father. It would be more appropriate for Carrington to paint portraits and still lifes. We could help her arrange a showing of her work.”

“I don’t have any work to exhibit, Augusta. And preparing for an exhibit would take years.” Though I’d exaggerated my timeline, I hoped to elicit a response from Mrs. Galloway. I didn’t have to wait long.

The older woman shifted in her chair and tapped a fingertip on the table. “Carrington has a valid point regarding an exhibit. As for the portrait idea, perhaps some of our friends might step forward and engage her services, but the income wouldn’t be dependable. From what Carrington has told us, there are many starving artists—even in Paris.”

The woman was cruel! If I hadn’t needed her help to promote my cause, I would have responded in kind. “Then you agree that your husband should offer me the position?”

“I don’t generally interfere in Howard’s business decisions, but your suggestion does have merit. It appears that both of you would benefit.”

“Mother! You can’t be serious. I cannot believe what I’m hearing. Did you hear Father? He said no other women work there.”

Mrs. Galloway shrugged. “Someone must be first. Isn’t that right, Carrington?”

“Oui. Yes. And I’m willing to be that person.” I turned to Mr. Galloway. “I hope you’ll listen to your wife and give me an opportunity. You won’t regret hiring me.”

I could see the indecision in his eyes. “I don’t want to create problems at the factory, but—”

“Orders need to be completed, Howard. Isn’t that what you said? Carrington can help meet that goal. You don’t have any other qualified painters begging for work, do you?”

Mrs. Galloway had plowed over Augusta’s objections and taken up my cause with a fervor that could have matched Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s arguing for women’s rights. Mr. Galloway glanced first at his wife and then at his daughter. His brows knit together, and his eyes shone with concern. It was obvious he didn’t want to choose sides.

I leaned forward, silently imploring Augusta to look at me. “You know I must go to work as soon as possible,” I whispered.

“I know. Silly me. I had hoped you could live with us, and our friendship would continue to grow.” A haunting ache lingered in her words.

“Our friendship won’t end because I live somewhere else.” I straightened in my chair and forced a smile. “Besides, you’ll soon be engaged and marry some eligible bachelor. Then what will I do?”

Augusta shook her head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen in the near future.”

Mrs. Galloway clucked her tongue. “You’ve received several invitations to attend parties in the coming months. If you’d put Mrs. Higgen-brook’s etiquette and dance classes to use and quit hiding behind the potted plants the minute you arrive at a party, we’d already be fitting you for a wedding gown.”

Augusta splotched pink from bodice to hairline. “Mother! Do cease such talk.”

“I’m only saying . . .”

Mr. Galloway cleared his throat. “It seems we’ve strayed from our initial discussion. From what Augusta has told me about your painting ability, I’m certain you would bring a great talent to the carousel factory. And I can see this as an answer to my dilemma.”

“Of course you can. I told you—”

He waved his wife into silence. “However, I do worry about a young woman surrounded by workingmen. They are good men, but at times their language and behavior can be offensive.” Mr. Galloway rubbed his jaw and appeared to ponder the idea. “I doubt they would change because a woman is in the vicinity. If you object, it could create animosity, and they might retaliate or quit.”

I held my breath and waited for him to continue.

Finally he dropped his palm atop the table and looked at me. “You’re hired.”

Two simple words, but they were the ones I needed to hear. The words that would change my future. The words that would give me the ability to live under another roof. I didn’t know who was happier: me or Mrs. Galloway.

“When can I begin?”

“Why don’t we wait until Monday. That way Augusta will have a couple more days to visit with you.” He appeared relieved when there was no objection.

Mrs. Galloway stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee. “We can make a carriage available so you can locate a place to live. And we’d be pleased to pay your rent for the first few weeks, wouldn’t we, Howard?”

“Yes, of course. But she could also live here until she’s comfortable living alone in the city. And what if the job doesn’t prove to be what she expects? She’d need to return here. It seems to make more sense to hold off on any move.”

I held up my hand in protest. “I know I’m going to be very happy working at the factory. You need not worry about me.” I inhaled a quick gulp of air before continuing my argument. “If I could navigate the streets of Paris, I’m certain I can find my way around Collinsford.”

His nod was barely noticeable, a mere dip of his chin. “You and Augusta can search for your new living accommodations. When you find a place, Thomas can deliver your baggage while you’re at work.”

“You’re very kind,” I said.

“In the meantime, the two of you should enjoy yourselves.” He turned toward me. “You’ll wish you had this freedom once you’ve been working for a few weeks.”

The following morning I donned a navy blue skirt and white blouse. After securing my straw hat in place, I took one final look in the mirror. “Proper attire for seeking an apartment,” I muttered to my reflection before exiting the room.

One glimpse of Augusta’s soft green day dress and feather-bedecked hat and I questioned my choice of attire. There was no time to change, and even if there had been, nothing in my trunks would suit any better. Last year we had walked the streets of Paris clad in our incompatible clothes: Augusta wearing the latest fashion while I walked alongside clothed like a scullery maid. Even though she’d constantly pleaded to purchase clothes for me, I’d accepted only one time. Father had scolded me severely, but he’d gone the next day and purchased fabric for two new skirts.

Augusta and her mother bid me good morning when I sat down at the breakfast table. Thereafter, except for Mrs. Galloway’s occasional remarks, we ate our breakfast in silence. I suspected Augusta wanted to make sure I knew she was still unhappy with my decision. Once she’d eaten the last bite of her toast and sipped the remains of her tea, I pushed away from the table. “Shall we go?”

A curt nod was her only response. She remained aloof as we walked to the carriage. Thomas shifted his weight from one foot to the other while he awaited direction, but Augusta stared silently into the distance.

“Take us to the area surrounding the carousel factory, Thomas. If you see any signs for a boardinghouse in the vicinity, please stop,” I directed.

He tipped his gardener’s cap. “Yes, miss,” he said before helping us into the carriage.

During the drive, I did my best to draw Augusta into conversation. With each attempt, she refused to give me any more than a nod or curt response. Finally I scooted forward and clasped her hand. “I know you’re angry. You don’t hide your feelings very well.” I tried to sound cheerful. “Surely you agree that there is no other choice for me.”

Augusta’s fingers relaxed within my grip, and her angry eyes softened. “I know. But it doesn’t make me happy.”

The tightness in my stomach gently eased. “The only thing that will change is my address. We will always be dear friends, and if your mother doesn’t object, you can come visit me.”

“And you can come visit me, as well. I’m going to hold you to your promise to attend the housewarming party. Ronald will be home from college, and he’s bringing his friend Tyson along.”

“Tyson? The fellow you talked about when you were in Paris?”

Color flooded Augusta’s cheeks, and I knew I’d remembered correctly.

“No matter what I’ve said about him in the past, he truly is a nice enough fellow. And Mother approves of him. The Farnsworths live in New York City, and their family is on the social register.”

I should have known the social register would be enough of a draw to garner Mrs. Galloway’s approval when selecting a suitor for her daughter. Then again, who was I to judge? I had no expertise in such matters.

Still, I did recall a number of comments Augusta had made about Tyson while living in Paris. Comments about his boorish and ungentlemanly behavior. On several occasions he’d treated her with little respect, canceling their plans to go off with another woman. I couldn’t understand her interest in this man, but she seemed willing to forgive and forget. I wouldn’t question her decision, but it didn’t mean I approved. “Then you should have a wonderful time at the party.”

Even my lackluster tone didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. She clapped her hands and bounced forward on the carriage seat. “Only if you promise to come. I’ll ask Ronald to act as your escort, and I have a dress you can alter and wear. I’ll pack it in your trunk.”

Augusta flashed me a smile that said she’d resolved any possible reason for my refusal. Now that her mood had lightened, I didn’t want her spirits to plummet. When the carriage jerked to a halt, I offered a silent prayer of thanks that I could defer my answer until another time.

“This looks promising,” I called to Thomas. The gardener-turned-driver hurried to the side of the carriage and pulled open the door. I squinted at the posting on the front railing of the clapboard house. The signage didn’t reflect whether there were any vacancies.

Augusta and Thomas agreed to wait at the carriage while I questioned the owner. My inquiry didn’t take long. The housekeeper informed me they had no openings. “We’ve a waiting list as long as my arm. It’s the fine cooking. The men are willin’ to pay extra to live here,” she proudly added.

“Could you tell me where I might find a room for rent?”

She balanced a broom against the doorjamb and propped a hand on her hip. Straining to one side, she peered across the street. “Around here?”

I could hear the misgiving in her voice. Why would someone with a fine carriage and driver be seeking a room in the factory district? “Someplace within walking distance of the carousel factory,” I said.

“You’ll not find much of anything open. The workers from the factories hereabouts fill ’em up as quick as they empty.” She hesitated. “ ’Cept for Minnie Wilson’s place. She’s always got empty rooms.” The woman’s lips curled in disgust. “Horrid food. The woman can’t boil a potato that’s fit to eat. Her boarders stay only until they can find themselves someplace else to live.”

After I’d secured Mrs. Wilson’s address, I thanked the woman and turned to leave.

“If you rent a room at Minnie’s, you better come back tomorrow and get your name on our waiting list,” she called after me.

I waved and thanked her again, envisioning the horror awaiting me at Minnie Wilson’s boardinghouse.

CHAPTER
5

T
he carriage stopped in front of a tidy white frame house. Flower boxes punctuated the wide windows, and a thick wood railing fronted the broad porch. My fear diminished a tad. A sign hung from the porch railing and announced in bold black lettering that we’d arrived at Wilsons’ Boardinghouse. Directly beneath the boardinghouse name, the word Vacancy had been painted on a removable piece of wood that teetered back and forth in the breeze.

“Here we are. Would you like to come with me?” I glanced over my shoulder at Augusta.

She agreed, but if she felt any jubilation at my find, she kept it well hidden. “I don’t think this is a good location. These houses are occupied by factory workers. You won’t be safe here.”