and bustle.”
“The city can be intimidating at first. And for a woman alone, I’m sure it’s quite frightening,” Michael said.
As the driver flipped the reins and steered his hack out onto the street and into the traffic, Violet could well believe the city would overwhelm her for years to come.
Once they were on their way, Mrs. Heaton turned to her. “I am so very sorry about your loss, my dear. Your mother was like a sister to me, and while I know your loss is greater than mine, I will miss her tremendously.” The older woman patted her hand as tears gathered in her eyes.
Violet’s heart warmed at her sincerity. “Thank you. She missed you sorely after you left. She looked forward to each of your letters, and I read them over and over to her when she couldn’t read them herself anymore.”
Mrs. Heaton dabbed at her eyes with the delicate handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve. “I’m so glad your mother and I stayed close through our correspondence. I know these last few months must have been grueling for you, dear, but I want you to know you have a place with me for as long as you need it.”
Violet swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. The very day she’d walked out of Harlan Black’s office, she’d written a letter accepting Mrs. Heaton’s offer to help in any way she could and telling her why. In the two weeks since, she’d been so consumed with getting ready for the move and getting out of town without letting Harlan suspect what she was doing, she hadn’t had time to even grieve. The woman’s kind words were like balm to her battered heart. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much your kindness means to me.”
Mrs. Heaton gave a brisk nod, as if to dismiss the sad thoughts. “I’m just glad to have you here with us.”
Violet began to relax. She was here among friends—even though she barely recognized Michael. Just seeing him stride across the depot toward her had taken her breath away. Sitting across from him now, she tried to keep from stealing glances at him as he and his mother pointed out different sights to her.
She wasn’t even sure she saw half of all the sights since she closed her eyes each time another horse-drawn vehicle seemed bent on running them down, just before it stopped or turned on another street. She’d never seen so many different modes of travel in her life. Mrs. Heaton pointed out omnibuses, landaus and the trolley.
“Traveling in the city is a bit harrowing the first few times,” Michael said. “But you’ll get used to it.”
“Thankfully, Grand Central isn’t far from Gramercy Park, where our home is located. We’ll have plenty of time to show you the sights and teach you the best way to get around, once you’re settled,” Mrs. Heaton said.
Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever learn how to get around and was more than a little relieved when the hack pulled up outside a nice four-story brownstone on the corner of a quiet residential street. A small sign outside read Heaton House.
“We’re home, dear,” Mrs. Heaton said, patting her hand. “This is my boardinghouse.”
Michael and the driver took Violet’s baggage to the door, which was quickly opened wide by a young woman near her own age. She was slightly plump and wearing an apron and cap, her blond hair curling out from under it.
“I was getting worried, ma’am,” she said as Michael and the driver brought Violet’s trunk and bags into the foyer.
The foyer was wide and long, the floors polished until they gleamed. A long table with a vase of fresh flowers in the center of it and a holder for calling cards stood against one wall. There were several hat racks and coatracks on the opposite wall, and Violet assumed they got a lot of use when all the boarders were there.
“The traffic was quite heavy today, Gretchen.” Mrs. Heaton took off her hat and put it on the rack. “This is Violet Burton, a dear friend from home and our new boarder. Violet, this is Gretchen Finster. She and her sister, Maida, help me out in the house and the kitchen Monday through Friday, and then on Saturdays and Sundays one goes home and the other stays to help with meals and the boarders’ laundry. I don’t know what I’d do without the two of them.”
“How do you do, Miss Burton?” Gretchen’s smile was welcoming.
“I’m fine, thank you.” Now that they were out of the traffic and congestion, she felt much better. “It’s nice to meet you, Gretchen.”
“Come, let me give you a quick tour of downstairs while Michael and Gretchen take your bags to your room,” Mrs. Heaton said.
“I’ll see you later at dinner, Violet. I must get back to work for a while,” Michael said.
“I’m sorry I interrupted your day, I—”
“I was glad to take some time to come greet you, and we’re glad to have you here.” He kissed his mother on the cheek and smiled at Violet before heading up the stairs with Gretchen following.
“See you later, dear.”
“I’ll try to get home early,” Michael said just as he disappeared on the landing.
Violet forced her thoughts off Michael and back to Mrs. Heaton as the woman turned and pointed to the right of the foyer. “This is the front parlor, Violet. Some, if not all, of the boarders gather here most evenings before and after dinner.”
The room was quite lovely and large, with a piano in one corner and at least two very comfortable-looking parlor suites covered in a plush burgundy color, along with several rocking chairs upholstered in a gold-and-burgundy stripe, stationed around the room. The draperies were of the same material as the rocking chairs. She would have liked to look closer at the paintings and portraits on the wall, the framed pictures on the tables, but there wasn’t time before Mrs. Heaton led her across the hall to the dining room.
This room was attractively furnished, as well. There were the same drapes on these windows and a beautifully carved sideboard along the opposite wall. The lace-covered table was huge—it must seat at least twelve people, and Violet wondered if there were that many boarders. Next came the kitchen, and her stomach rumbled at the wonderful aroma coming from the large range. The room was large and sunny with plenty of cupboards and a large worktable in the center.
“We’re having roast chicken this evening.” Mrs. Heaton took up a pot holder and checked the contents of a large pan in the middle of the oven. There appeared to be at least two big hens in the pan. Mrs. Heaton seemed to determine all was well as she closed the oven door and motioned to Violet to follow her.
Across the hall from the kitchen was the back parlor. A bit smaller than the front parlor, it seemed cozy and inviting. It was decorated in greens and blues and was quite restful. “This parlor is more for reading or quiet conversation. Several of our boarders bring their callers here to visit with them. Gretchen or Maida are always glad to bring tea or coffee for our guests.”
The next room, between both parlors, was Mrs. Heaton’s private study. It was paneled with shelves reaching from floor to ceiling, packed full of books. “You’re welcome to come see me here anytime, Violet. And the books are available for all the boarders.”
Although she’d only gotten a glimpse of each room, the homey feel of the house comforted Violet. “It is quite lovely, Mrs. Heaton.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll show you to your room now,
