intimidating image. She could do this.
Turning the corner at the Imperial Hotel, she stepped up onto the boardwalk at Bennett Avenue and drew in a deep breath. This morning she was stepping into her future as a businesswoman. This was the day she’d prove the Bradley Ditmers of the world wrong.
At First Street, she pulled her mother’s pendant watch from her reticule. It was 8:50. Ten minutes early was her norm. She returned the watch toits protected place and crossed the street to the narrow brick building two doors down from the corner.
Moistening her lips, Ida breathed a prayer for grace and wit, then reached for the doorknob, which didn’t give in the least. She’d beat her employee to work and the door was locked.
Ida turned around just in time to see a familiar man and his mule stop in front of the building.
Boney Hughes spit a brown streak into the dirt. He waved his worn canvas hat. “Hello, little lady.”
Heat crept up her neck and into her face as she forced a smile and dipped her chin. “Mr. Hughes.”
He clucked his tongue and wagged a crooked finger.
“Mr. Boney.” Ida brushed a piece of lint from her cape, remembering the two hours it took to wash the mud out of it Tuesday evening.
“You cleaned up right nice, Miss.”
“Thank you.” She glanced down at her new shoes. “My boots didn’t fare as well.”
“I’m sure sorry for your troubles.” He patted his mule’s ears and looked around as if expecting to see the ice wagon appear out of nowhere as it had on Tuesday afternoon. “I take it Mr. Raines saw you home all right.”
“He did. Thank you again for your help.”
“Happy to do it, ma’am. Just wish it hadn’t been necessary. Me and Sal hate to see a lady in distress.”
And she detested being one. Even if her rescuers were charming.
As Mollie rounded the corner at First Street, Boney bade her best wishes, and then he and Sal moseyed up the road.
After two hours of rapid-fire instruction from the tireless Miss O’Bryan, Ida was grateful her new employer had taken a telephone call in her office. Ida sat at her own desk, surrounded by files and ledgers, a telephone, and a vase full of sharpened pencils, and drew in a long, deep breath, hoping she’d be able to decipher her notes.
“You think you’re ready for your first dictation job?” Miss O’Bryan stood in the doorway of her office.
Ida nodded. “I am.”
“Good. That was Mr. Blackmer at the Olive Branch Mine on the telephone. I told him you’d be right over for a stenography job.”
Ida felt her pulse quicken. This was the opportunity she’d hoped for—learning more about the mining business. She closed the bakery ledger she’d been working on and pulled a fresh steno pad from her desk drawer.
“This is your opportunity to prove yourself.” Mollie pointed a finger at her. “Remember what I told you.”
Ida’s mind raced with all she’d learned in those first two hours.
Mollie giggled. “I suppose I did run off at the mouth a bit.”
“You gave me a lot of instruction.”
“Listen well and keep good notes on everything you hear.” Her eyes narrowed, Mollie gestured as if she were writing. “Those tasty tidbits prove profitable at the Exchange.”
Ida pulled her reticule from the drawer and three pencils from the vase. “Is that acceptable?”
Mollie chuckled. “What? Paying attention?”
Ida swallowed a bite of frustration. “I meant using information overheard while we’re being paid to take notes.”
“You do have a lot to learn.” Mollie pulled a sharpened pencil from Ida’s desk. “We have a job to do, and we do it. We listen and learn. There’snothing wrong with acting upon what you know. Everyone does it every minute of the day.”
She hadn’t thought of it in that way. It made good sense. “I’ll do my best.”
Ida donned her cape, and after a quick wave, she stepped out onto the boardwalk and into her bright future. Miss O’Bryan was right—she did have a lot to
Turning the corner at the Imperial Hotel, she stepped up onto the boardwalk at Bennett Avenue and drew in a deep breath. This morning she was stepping into her future as a businesswoman. This was the day she’d prove the Bradley Ditmers of the world wrong.
At First Street, she pulled her mother’s pendant watch from her reticule. It was 8:50. Ten minutes early was her norm. She returned the watch toits protected place and crossed the street to the narrow brick building two doors down from the corner.
Moistening her lips, Ida breathed a prayer for grace and wit, then reached for the doorknob, which didn’t give in the least. She’d beat her employee to work and the door was locked.
Ida turned around just in time to see a familiar man and his mule stop in front of the building.
Boney Hughes spit a brown streak into the dirt. He waved his worn canvas hat. “Hello, little lady.”
Heat crept up her neck and into her face as she forced a smile and dipped her chin. “Mr. Hughes.”
He clucked his tongue and wagged a crooked finger.
“Mr. Boney.” Ida brushed a piece of lint from her cape, remembering the two hours it took to wash the mud out of it Tuesday evening.
“You cleaned up right nice, Miss.”
“Thank you.” She glanced down at her new shoes. “My boots didn’t fare as well.”
“I’m sure sorry for your troubles.” He patted his mule’s ears and looked around as if expecting to see the ice wagon appear out of nowhere as it had on Tuesday afternoon. “I take it Mr. Raines saw you home all right.”
“He did. Thank you again for your help.”
“Happy to do it, ma’am. Just wish it hadn’t been necessary. Me and Sal hate to see a lady in distress.”
And she detested being one. Even if her rescuers were charming.
As Mollie rounded the corner at First Street, Boney bade her best wishes, and then he and Sal moseyed up the road.
After two hours of rapid-fire instruction from the tireless Miss O’Bryan, Ida was grateful her new employer had taken a telephone call in her office. Ida sat at her own desk, surrounded by files and ledgers, a telephone, and a vase full of sharpened pencils, and drew in a long, deep breath, hoping she’d be able to decipher her notes.
“You think you’re ready for your first dictation job?” Miss O’Bryan stood in the doorway of her office.
Ida nodded. “I am.”
“Good. That was Mr. Blackmer at the Olive Branch Mine on the telephone. I told him you’d be right over for a stenography job.”
Ida felt her pulse quicken. This was the opportunity she’d hoped for—learning more about the mining business. She closed the bakery ledger she’d been working on and pulled a fresh steno pad from her desk drawer.
“This is your opportunity to prove yourself.” Mollie pointed a finger at her. “Remember what I told you.”
Ida’s mind raced with all she’d learned in those first two hours.
Mollie giggled. “I suppose I did run off at the mouth a bit.”
“You gave me a lot of instruction.”
“Listen well and keep good notes on everything you hear.” Her eyes narrowed, Mollie gestured as if she were writing. “Those tasty tidbits prove profitable at the Exchange.”
Ida pulled her reticule from the drawer and three pencils from the vase. “Is that acceptable?”
Mollie chuckled. “What? Paying attention?”
Ida swallowed a bite of frustration. “I meant using information overheard while we’re being paid to take notes.”
“You do have a lot to learn.” Mollie pulled a sharpened pencil from Ida’s desk. “We have a job to do, and we do it. We listen and learn. There’snothing wrong with acting upon what you know. Everyone does it every minute of the day.”
She hadn’t thought of it in that way. It made good sense. “I’ll do my best.”
Ida donned her cape, and after a quick wave, she stepped out onto the boardwalk and into her bright future. Miss O’Bryan was right—she did have a lot to
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