“Quit fighting over me.” Briar held up her hands. “I just want to have a night of fellowship. Getting in on that scissor game last night made me realize how much I’ve missed the fun.” Her voice cracked and she looked away.
All she said was true. Ever since Nanny left them, she’d been winding herself up tighter and tighter with worry over the future. It was nice to play for once. And she was so confused about Wheeler. Was Mim right, and he had only gotten cold feet with her? Or was Ethel, who thought Briar should get on by herself, taking up the cause of suffrage to change her future instead? She let out a deep breath. Mrs. Tuttle, the lecturer who came to the house, was a married woman. Briar could marry and still stand for herself and women’s rights.
“You’ve been shouldering so much,” Mim said, sympathetically.
They have no idea. Wheeler, Fanny, the spindle, and the children. Briar’s head would explode if she tried to think about it all at the same time.
Mim turned to Ethel. “She’s only going to be sixteen for a few more days. Why push her to act twenty-five?” She went over to her dresser and pulled out several outfits. “Did you want to wear my dress with the leg-o’-mutton sleeves?” Mim had a satisfied look on her face, like she had won the argument.
“Yes, she’s young, but she is flirting with trouble. There’s a difference.” Ethel moved to leave the room, her nose in the air in protest. “I’ve given all my advice to deaf ears,” she said as she stalked out the door. “Heaven help you now.”
Briar sighed. Her room-mates’ intentions were good, but some things she needed to learn on her own.
“I don’t know if I can wear something that fancy,” Briar said, examining the dress Mim was pulling out. Everyone marveled at how many dresses Mim had managed to acquire. Besides being an excellent seamstress, she was quite verbal to her sweethearts about what she wanted them to bring her. “No flowers” was rule number one, but yards of material were always welcomed. “I wouldn’t look like me anymore.” And it would look like I was trying too hard.
“Nonsense,” Mim said, holding up a buttercream gown to Briar’s shoulder with one hand and placing her other hand on Briar’s waist. “Do you have a better corset than that?”
“This is all I have.”
Briar looked uncertainly at the cosmetics. Mim was laying out cheek powder, some kind of cream, two bottles of perfume, and a handful of other products Briar had no idea what they were. Would Mam have approved? It was only a certain kind of girl who painted her face with store-bought items.
Mim rolled her eyes. “Don’t look like I’m about to teach you how to lose your virtue. When I’m done with you, you will still look like you, only better. Wheeler won’t even be able to tell I’ve done anything to your face, but he’ll notice you look especially attractive today. What you do with your virtue is your own business.”
Briar gasped. She crossed her arms and legs uncomfortably and looked at the empty doorway. Ethel had a point. A boy ought to like you the way you were.
But Mim wasn’t done with her lecturing. “Once you are all dolled up, you’ll have his eye. Be sure not to waste it. Hang on his every word, even if he is boring.”
“Oh, Wheeler’s not boring.”
“Sure he’s not,” Mim said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Briar. Mim’s tone was starting to sound like Ethel’s.
Mim grabbed Briar’s chin and tilted her face this way and that in the light. “I only mean that you seemed to have a better time with that Henry fellow than with Wheeler. I hate to admit that Ethel might have been more observant than me about this, but are you sure there isn’t anything between you?”
“Henry isn’t here,” Briar said, fully aware she wasn’t answering the question. She didn’t know what she thought about Henry anymore. He was Henry. There was no one else like him.
“At least Henry let you talk. Wheeler just goes on and on about himself. You do have a lot of freckles, don’t you?”
Briar pulled her chin back. Her freckles were a sore spot for her. Instead of an ivory-white complexion like a heroine in a novel, her skin was all blotchy. Leave it to Mim to zero in on it.
“Awk! Don’t take offense. A lot of you Irish girls have freckles. I’ve got rice powder to tone it down. When I’m a wealthy woman I’ll have pearl powder instead.” She’d already opened a canister and dabbed a brush inside. She gently patted down Briar’s face, stepping back to examine her work. “Hmmm, this blemish is a tricky one.”
Briar held up her hand to cover the red mark that had appeared on her chin that morning.
“Put your hand down. I can cover it better than that. You don’t see my blemishes, do you?”
Briar examined Mim’s always-flawless skin and shook her head.
With a sigh, Mim leaned forward and pointed at a tiny spot on her forehead. “We all get them. Some of us are just better at hiding them.”
Briar chose not to comment. Mim thinking her tiny dot was a big blemish was an overstatement.
Mim dabbed a bit more on Briar’s face, then tapped the lid back on, and opened another jar.