dreamed of what her life might be like if she were a mere domestic like Annie rather than the daughter of wealthy banker Gerald Bell Clark. She might sometimes choose to view herself as a middle-class resident of the City by the Bay but that didn’t mean she would be accepted as such by anyone who knew who she really was.
“I just had a thought,” Tess said, eyeing her boon companion and beginning to smile. “I think it would be wise if we both attend the lecture incognito. I still have a few of my mother’s old hats and wraps. It’ll be like playing dress-up when we were children.”
Annie rolled her blue eyes, eyes that matched Tess’s as if they were trueborn sisters. “To listen to your papa talk, you’d think we were still babes instead of eighteen. Why, we’re nearly old maids.”
That made Tess laugh. “Hardly, dear. But I do see your point. Papa probably sees us as children because he’s so prone to dwell on the past. He never talks about it but I don’t think he’s ever truly recovered from Mama’s passing.”
“I miss her, too,” Annie said. “She was a lovely lady.”
“And one who would want to march right along with us, arm in arm, if she were still alive,” Tess said with conviction.
“March? Oh, dear. We aren’t going to have to do that, are we? I mean, what will people say if we’re seen as part of an unruly mob? Susan B. Anthony was arrested!”
“And she stood up for her rights just the same,” Tess said with a lift of her chin. “According to the literature I’ve read, she never has paid the fines the courts levied.”
“That’s all well and good for a crusader like her. What about me? If your father finds out I went with you, he might fire me. You know my mother can’t do enough sewing and mending to support me and herself. She barely gets by with what I manage to add to her income. If I lost this job…”
“You won’t,” Tess assured her.
“You can’t be sure of that.”
“I know that my father is a fair man. And he does love me—in his own way—so he’ll listen if I find it necessary to defend you. I think sometimes that he’s afraid to show much affection, perhaps because of Mama.”
“You do resemble her. Same dark red hair, same sky-blue eyes, fair skin and sweet smile.”
Tess began to blush. “Thank you. I always thought she was beautiful.”
“So are you,” Annie insisted. “The only real difference I can see is that you’re so terribly stubborn and willful.”
“That I get from my father,” Tess said with a quiet chuckle, “and glad of it. Otherwise, how could I possibly hope to stand up to him, express my wishes and actually prevail?”
“When have you done that?”
“Well…” Tess’s cheeks warmed even more. “I shall. Someday. When I have a cause, a reason that I feel warrants such boldness.”
“Like woman suffrage, you mean?”
Tess sobered. “Yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Now, go find Michael and tell him what we need. Look in the kitchen. It’s Friday so he should be visiting his mother.”
“You keep track of his schedule?”
“Of course not. I just happened to remember that he has every other Friday afternoon free, that’s all, and I don’t believe I noticed him being here last week.” She looked away, taking a moment to compose herself and hoping Annie wouldn’t press her for a better explanation.
“Come with me?”
Tess arched a slim eyebrow. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”
“No, I just get this funny, fluttery feeling in my stomach when I see him and I can hardly speak, let alone be convincing. It’s as if my tongue is tied.”
Unfortunately, Tess knew exactly what Annie meant. Between the mischievous twinkle in the man’s dark eyes and his hint of an Irish brogue, he was truly captivating. “All right. We’ll both go. He might be more likely to agree to accompany us if I asked him.”
“Of course. He won’t want to jeopardize his mother’s job by refusing.”
It bothered Tess to hear that rationale. She had hoped to persuade the attractive, twenty-four-year-old fireman to do her bidding by simply appealing to his gallantry. The suggestion that her family’s importance, both at home on the Clark estate and in the city proper, might be a stronger influence was disheartening.
It was also true.
Michael Mahoney had come straight from work, shedding his brass-buttoned, dark wool uniform jacket and leather-beaked cap as soon as he entered the overly warm kitchen of the Clark estate.
He gave his mother a peck on the cheek, took a deep breath and sighed loudly for her benefit. “Mmm, something smells heavenly.”
Clearly pleased, Mary grinned and chuckled. “Of course it does.”
“Will you be wanting more apples peeled?” he asked, starting to turn back his shirt cuffs while eyeing a sugar-and-cinnamon-topped bowl of already prepared fruit. “I’ll be glad to help, especially if I get to taste one of those pies you’re making.” He pulled a stool up to the table and sat down.
Hands dusted with flour, Mary was rolling circles of crust at the opposite end of the work-worn oak surface. “That’s no job for an important man like you, Michael.” She used the back of her wrist to brush a wispy curl away from her damp forehead. “You have a career now. You don’t need to be helpin’ me.”
“Clark should have hired you a kitchen maid long ago,” Michael said flatly. “With all his money you’d think he’d be glad to lighten your burdens.”
“I’ve had a few girls here. None lasted. They were too lazy. ’Twas easier for me to just jump in and do their chores than to wait.”
“Still, I think I should have a talk with him.”
“Don’t you dare. I’d be mortified.”
“Why?”
“Because Mr. Clark is a good man and a fine boss. I wouldn’t want him thinkin’ I wasn’t grateful. He gave me a raise in salary you know.”
“Over a year ago or longer. If Mrs. Clark was still in the household you’d have gotten more than just the one.”
“I know. She was such a darling girl, poor thing. The mister’s not been the same since she passed.” Mary sighed deeply, noisily. “I know how he feels. Sometimes it seems like your da will walk in the door one day and greet me the way he did for so many wonderful years.”
Michael chose not to respond. His father had been lost at sea while working as a seaman almost ten years ago, and before that had only come home on rare occasions. If they hadn’t had a fading photograph of the man, Michael wondered if he’d have been able to picture him at all.
“It’s been a long time,” he said. “You’re still a
