another,” Sally said, her voice full of sisterly warmth, kindness itself. “You should be careful with your affections regarding this man. He may already be married.”
“Jehu would never do anything like that,” I said.
“Of course, you know him best,” Sally agreed, her voice dripping with sympathy. She turned a winning smile on the hostess. “May I have some more cake, Mrs. Staroselsky? It is simply delicious.”
“Anything without oysters is delicious, if you ask me,” Mrs. Hosmer confided. “I have eaten more oysters in my short time here on the bay than all the rest of my life!”
All of a sudden, Rose’s mewling cries echoed through the modest cabin.
“Come now, you must be tired, sweetheart,” Mrs. Staroselsky said, rocking the baby back and forth in her arms in a determined way. She turned to the group in exasperation. “All she does is cry. Do you have any suggestions, Jane?” She held the small, screaming bundle out to me.
Papa’s clientele had tended toward drunken sailors who cracked open their heads during bar brawls, not babies.
“I don’t have much experience with babies,” I said.
“Poor mite,” Mrs. Woodley said with a sympathetic cluck. “Probably teething. Try rubbing whiskey on her gums.”
“Whiskey?” Mrs. Staroselsky asked.
Mrs. Woodley shrugged with all the experience of a lady who had held many a fussing baby. “Only thing whiskey’s good for, in my opinion.”
The ladies chuckled.
“Here, let me,” Mrs. Woodley said, taking the baby with sure hands. “Fetch me a teacup with a tablespoon of whiskey.”
We all watched as Mrs. Woodley rubbed a little whiskey on the baby’s gums, and after a moment the child’s sobs softened to a tired hiccup.
“There, there,” Mrs. Woodley said, and walked the baby across the room to the small cradle. Mrs. Hosmer and Mrs. Staroselsky trailed behind her to admire the now calm baby, leaving Sally and me alone at the table.
“Would you care for a cup of tea, Jane?” Sally asked, extending a freshly poured cup.
I hesitated for a moment, recalling the last time I hadaccepted a beverage from her. Finally I took the tea from her with unsteady hands.
“Careful, Jane,” Sally murmured in a low voice. “You wouldn’t want tea stains on your new frock. It is a new frock, isn’t it? And my, what an unusual style. I believe I saw our maid wearing something like it. Is that a napkin sewn to the cuff? How clever.”
The ladies walked back over to us.
“Now, what were you two discussing?” Mrs. Hosmer asked eagerly.
“Fashion,” Sally said.
“You’ll have to have Jane make you a dress!” Mrs. Woodley said. “Our Jane’s a marvel with a needle and thread. Why, she sewed the dress I’m wearing! Mr. Woodley thinks it’s one of the nicest gowns I’ve ever owned. He says it complements my figure.”
I shot Sally a triumphant look. The tables had turned. She was on
my
territory now!
“Do you remember when I won the embroidery contest at Miss Hepplewhite’s?” I asked.
Sally returned my challenging stare. “How could I forget?”
Mrs. Staroselsky, who seemed vastly relieved by the fact that her baby was finally dozing off, asked, “Where is Mrs. Frink, Jane?”
“I’m afraid she wasn’t feeling well. Which reminds me, I was thinking it might be nice to invite Cocumb to join us next time.”
“Cocumb? What an unusual name. Is she French?” Sally asked.
“No,” I said. “She’s Chinook.”
Sally’s eyes widened in surprise. “She’s an Indian?”
“And she’s a very dear friend of mine,” I said. I was not about to let Sally Biddle of all people besmirch Cocumb’s character.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Sally uttered in a sympathetic voice, “Why, that’s terribly brave of you, Jane.”
“Brave? There’s nothing to be brave about,” I said a little too loudly. My voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the cabin.
The other ladies looked between us.
Sally took a careful
“Jehu would never do anything like that,” I said.
“Of course, you know him best,” Sally agreed, her voice dripping with sympathy. She turned a winning smile on the hostess. “May I have some more cake, Mrs. Staroselsky? It is simply delicious.”
“Anything without oysters is delicious, if you ask me,” Mrs. Hosmer confided. “I have eaten more oysters in my short time here on the bay than all the rest of my life!”
All of a sudden, Rose’s mewling cries echoed through the modest cabin.
“Come now, you must be tired, sweetheart,” Mrs. Staroselsky said, rocking the baby back and forth in her arms in a determined way. She turned to the group in exasperation. “All she does is cry. Do you have any suggestions, Jane?” She held the small, screaming bundle out to me.
Papa’s clientele had tended toward drunken sailors who cracked open their heads during bar brawls, not babies.
“I don’t have much experience with babies,” I said.
“Poor mite,” Mrs. Woodley said with a sympathetic cluck. “Probably teething. Try rubbing whiskey on her gums.”
“Whiskey?” Mrs. Staroselsky asked.
Mrs. Woodley shrugged with all the experience of a lady who had held many a fussing baby. “Only thing whiskey’s good for, in my opinion.”
The ladies chuckled.
“Here, let me,” Mrs. Woodley said, taking the baby with sure hands. “Fetch me a teacup with a tablespoon of whiskey.”
We all watched as Mrs. Woodley rubbed a little whiskey on the baby’s gums, and after a moment the child’s sobs softened to a tired hiccup.
“There, there,” Mrs. Woodley said, and walked the baby across the room to the small cradle. Mrs. Hosmer and Mrs. Staroselsky trailed behind her to admire the now calm baby, leaving Sally and me alone at the table.
“Would you care for a cup of tea, Jane?” Sally asked, extending a freshly poured cup.
I hesitated for a moment, recalling the last time I hadaccepted a beverage from her. Finally I took the tea from her with unsteady hands.
“Careful, Jane,” Sally murmured in a low voice. “You wouldn’t want tea stains on your new frock. It is a new frock, isn’t it? And my, what an unusual style. I believe I saw our maid wearing something like it. Is that a napkin sewn to the cuff? How clever.”
The ladies walked back over to us.
“Now, what were you two discussing?” Mrs. Hosmer asked eagerly.
“Fashion,” Sally said.
“You’ll have to have Jane make you a dress!” Mrs. Woodley said. “Our Jane’s a marvel with a needle and thread. Why, she sewed the dress I’m wearing! Mr. Woodley thinks it’s one of the nicest gowns I’ve ever owned. He says it complements my figure.”
I shot Sally a triumphant look. The tables had turned. She was on
my
territory now!
“Do you remember when I won the embroidery contest at Miss Hepplewhite’s?” I asked.
Sally returned my challenging stare. “How could I forget?”
Mrs. Staroselsky, who seemed vastly relieved by the fact that her baby was finally dozing off, asked, “Where is Mrs. Frink, Jane?”
“I’m afraid she wasn’t feeling well. Which reminds me, I was thinking it might be nice to invite Cocumb to join us next time.”
“Cocumb? What an unusual name. Is she French?” Sally asked.
“No,” I said. “She’s Chinook.”
Sally’s eyes widened in surprise. “She’s an Indian?”
“And she’s a very dear friend of mine,” I said. I was not about to let Sally Biddle of all people besmirch Cocumb’s character.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Sally uttered in a sympathetic voice, “Why, that’s terribly brave of you, Jane.”
“Brave? There’s nothing to be brave about,” I said a little too loudly. My voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the cabin.
The other ladies looked between us.
Sally took a careful
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