If Henry were here she could ask his opinion about putting in a wooden spindle. He’d also know how to do it. Could she trust a peddler? One trained in saying anything to make a sale?
If the wooden spindle could absorb enough vibrations to keep her frame working, she’d at least be competing on even ground. After today, she was in danger of losing her job. Could a wooden spindle make all the difference? There was only one way to find out.
She had to find the peddler.
Chapter Thirteen
Ania had already cleared out her things by the time supper was over. She must have slipped in while they were eating, likely more eager to move in with her friends than to worry about saying good-bye to her old room-mates.
“Stay long enough to go over our expectations with us,” said Ethel when Briar tried to leave after supper. Her eyes were sympathetic, acknowledging how hard this was going to be for Briar.
Ethel had no idea. To have a constant reminder of what could have been with her ex-sweetheart was beyond what Briar could handle. She pivoted in the doorway, weighing the decision. She was eager to slip out of the house and search for the peddler while it was still light out.
“It won’t take long.”
“Of course not.” Briar sat down on her bed to wait for Sadie. They’d learned to have the talk about expectations early and straight out, so everyone would be comfortable in voicing their concerns, and small irritants wouldn’t grow into big fights later on. They didn’t spend a lot of time in their rooms, but they didn’t want that time to be miserable, either.
Mim was already taking stock of her space, a look of concern as she eyed the places that should belong to a fourth girl, but that she had already taken over.
Ethel joined Briar on their bed. Soon, Sadie came in with more belongings than Ania would ever hope to have, and Mim willingly gave up more space to her.
“Are you sure you only need that much room under the bed?” asked Mim. “I can stack some of my things up in the corner here. Just let me know.”
It was more than Briar could take. It was as if Mim was being extra friendly to punish Briar for her comment about Pierre. Briar stood and put a shawl around her shoulder. “I’ll be back before curfew.” Ethel was really the one who cared about the rules anyway.
“Stay with us,” said Sadie sweetly. “We’re just starting to get to know each other.”
“And the rules…” said Ethel.
Briar waved her hand above her head on the way out the door. Two steps outside and she was able to take a deep breath. Her churning stomach was sufficient motivation to find the peddler. Briar couldn’t tell if she didn’t like Sadie because she was seeing Wheeler, or if she didn’t like Sadie because of Sadie herself.
She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders to guard against the evening chill. The damp vapors seeped through to her skin and on any other night would have made her retreat to her room. The fog hung heavy, creating softly glowing balls of light around the lampposts turned on early because of the strange mist.
Up and down the street, various peddlers’ carts parked in front of the boardinghouses, but with the mist she couldn’t tell one apart from the other. She ran to the edge of the road where her peddler had been. She started to walk out of town, but quickly decided that was a bad idea. It was already growing dark and the curfew bell would go soon. Besides, he was a transient and had probably moved on to the next town.
He’d wanted to give her a gift. Why had she fought taking the spindle?
Her mood shifting with the mist, she returned down the long row of boardinghouses, eyeing the carts as she passed. No sign of an overpacked cart pulled by a rough-and-tumble old donkey.
She drudged home, letting the long day weigh on her. It was not meant to be.
At her boardinghouse, a peddler cart had pulled up last minute to catch all the girls leaving from visiting, and going back to their homes. Several girls had crowded around so she couldn’t get a good look at it. Could it be?
She pushed her way through. “Excuse me,” Briar said. But it was only Jolly Jim at the helm of his cart, a regular who never had anything of interest for her. Cheap goods that broke as soon as he left town. Disappointed, she squeezed through the mob again and started up the stairs.
“Seems to me the girl changed her mind,” came a voice out of the shadows on the porch.
The peddler!
“Where is your cart?” asked Briar, both eager and frightened at the same time. Something about this man sent shivers down her neck, and she found herself wishing Ethel were here to help her keep a level head.
“I don’t need my cart. Only this box.” He looked down at the bench.
Briar blinked. She didn’t remember a box being there a second ago, although with the shadows it was hard to tell.
“Is that…?”