no, Matty, whatever would make you think that?”
He threw back his head and laughed, causing her to expel a breath of frustration. But his laughter was contagious and Millicent giggled in spite of herself—frustrating her to no end. They had the oddest relationship ever. One minute he had her laughing with him, the next he said something that tempted her to wallop him over the head with her parasol—or anything else within range. They reached their stop a few minutes early and she hoped they could make it through the evening without him irritating her to that point.
Their trolley arrived and Matt motioned Millicent on first, then followed her up the aisle, taking a seat beside her once she’d slid over by the window. She pretended to be looking at the scenery outside while trying to relax before they arrived at the Talbots’. It did no good to let Matt get under her skin—doing so only served to frustrate her further.
It was a beautiful September evening. Not too cool yet, with only a light breeze, making her glad she had a jacket on. If she didn’t already know she and Matt were totally wrong for each other, she’d be thrilled with the opportunity to spend this time with him without the others around.
“How is the quest to open your business going?” Matt asked.
His question surprised her. Matt rarely showed any interest in her profession, and she wasn’t going to pass up the chance to talk about it. She loved being a photographer.
“Actually, quite well. After taking wedding photographs of Luke and Kathleen, John and Elizabeth, and Ben and Rebecca, word is getting around, and I have several weddings booked this month. I’m thankful my business is growing. I’m hoping to find the right place for a studio before long.”
“That’s good news, I suppose. You do take very good pictures.”
What was going on with him? He’d never complimented her about her photographs or anything else she did. “Why, thank you, Matt. It’s something I love to do. I’d be taking photographs even if I never got paid for it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I would. But since I do need to support myself, I might as well be in charge instead of working at a position I don’t like.”
He gave a little nod. “I suppose I can understand that. It’d be awful to have to work at a job I hated.”
“Are you saying we might have something in common after all, Matt?”
Matt laughed. “Oddly enough, I think we might.”
Their trolley came to a stop and they hurried out into the aisle, Matt blocking the people from behind until Millicent made it out in front of him.
He crooked his arm once more and raised an eyebrow as if challenging her to take it. The way she’d felt when they first got on the streetcar would have her ignoring the polite custom, but there was no need to start their visit with friends on bad terms. She took his arm and they headed down the residential street to the Talbots’.
John opened the door wide for them to enter. “Come in, you two. We’ve been watching for you.”
“I hope we aren’t late,” Matt said. “If so, it’s entirely my fault.”
“No, you aren’t late,” Elizabeth said from behind her husband. “You’re right on time. It’s wonderful to see you both.”
She led them into the parlor and Millicent noticed the brass bowl the boarders all had chipped in to buy their friends for their housewarming party. It held a nice fern and sat in the bay window. “Your home is as cozy as Heaton House, Elizabeth.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “I must say I admire how Mrs. Heaton makes it feel like a true home for all who live there. Much of my decorating skills, such that they are, came from seeing how she arranged things and the little touches she added. Let me just go dish things up and we’ll be ready to eat very soon. Come keep me company, Millicent. John, you and Matt can take your seats now if you wish.”
The ladies soon returned and began placing dishes in the dining room.
“We took the table’s leaves out to make it a bit smaller, so that it has a more intimate feel when we’re dining with only a few guests. Most nights John and I take our meals in the kitchen, so it feels like a real event when we eat in here,” Elizabeth said as she took her seat at the end of the table nearest the kitchen. John seated his wife while Matt pulled out a chair for Millicent before taking the one across from her.
John said the blessing and began serving the roast chicken his wife had prepared. Once they were all served, Matt turned to John. “Now tell us, what it is you want to discuss with Milli—cent and me?”
Millicent was surprised at his effort not to call her Millie. Lately he’d begun to use it even more, and she appreciated his restraint at the moment.
“As you know there’s been a couple of near-fatal accidents to others working on your building in the last few months.”
Millicent’s stomach clenched. Matt never mentioned anything about those accidents—at least not in her presence.
“I do. And there were several less serious ones last week. Thankfully, no one was badly hurt, although it could have been disastrous if their harnesses hadn’t held them. Are you doing an article about the accidents for the Tribune?”
Because of the articles he and Elizabeth worked on, him for the New York Tribune and her for the popular ladies magazine the Delineator, describing the appalling conditions of the tenements, John had recently become one of the paper’s top reporters. He shook his head. “Not an investigative piece so much as informative one. Many people aren’t aware of how dangerous it is to build those sky-touching buildings you love to work on. I’m hoping my boss will get your supervisor’s permission for me to do a series of articles on the building. He wants me to write about how these high-rises are built and the danger in working on them. It’d be great publicity.”
“So what is it you’re thinking of doing?”
“I’d like to be able to go floor to floor and interview the workers, see for myself how dangerous it is and—”
“Elizabeth, aren’t you worried about that?” Millicent found herself interrupting.
“About John going up so high? Not really. I feel if they get behind the article, they’ll keep him away from the really dangerous areas.”
“I’m sure we would,” Matt said. “But what do you need me to do? I’m not the boss. I can’t give you permission.”
“I know. But should he bring it up to you, should he want to know what you and the men under you think about it, I’d like you to give me a good word.”
“You’ll have it.”
John nodded. “I appreciate it.”
“But how does any of this have anything to do with me?” Millicent asked. “Or is there something different you want to talk to me about?”
“Not really different,” Elizabeth said. “You take such wonderful photographs—you tell her, John.”
“My editor at the paper
