Chapter 11

Three letters written and discarded riddled Sadie's bedroom floor. Each was an attempt to tell Otis she was sorry for the

way she'd reacted, but they felt trite and inadequate. The jesting and pseudonyms that had been used in their previous letters

felt wrong under these circumstances, and when she tried to express herself in a serious tone, she struggled for words.

In the end, she snuck off to work at the duster factory without facing him. A coward's move, but fear was a powerful foe.

Until she had the right words, she'd simply keep to herself.

***

Mildred came in late the night before and went directly to her room before Otis could corner her and ask if she'd discovered

anything about where Monti's illegitimate children might be hidden. It was for the best. His mood had been foul since his

encounter with Sadie.

He'd driven Sadie away all because he feared she would run. He saw her leave for the factory, earlier than necessary, head tucked in and pace swift. Eager to turn her back on the mansion and on him, and he had no way of knowing if it was his temperament or his scars she ran from.

"Elisabeth," he said aloud. His niece. She would not run. He would go to whatever lengths necessary to convince her that he

was more than he appeared. Today he would focus on her. She was what mattered.

If sleep were not medicine for the elderly, he'd have knocked on Mildred's door. Instead, he waited impatiently for her to

rise. Three songs in the music room and he was back to pacing and hoping with all his might that she'd found a lead for them

to follow.

"Otis," Mildred said, surprising him when she entered the parlor at seven thirty in the morning. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting."

"It's no matter. I hope you enjoyed your night out."

"There is something delightful about a room full of women, especially when it gets late. That's when the best conversation

happens." She sat and leaned back, a tired smile on her face. "Your name was mentioned."

"Let me guess, a money-hungry mother wanted to know if I would ever come back and marry her daughter."

"They may have been thinking that, but they only asked if I expected you to return. They seemed eager."

He grunted. "Eager."

"Don't worry. I told them that your comings and goings were for you to decide." She studied him a moment. "Are you not a little

excited to see your old chums and become reacquainted? Dan and Andrew and some of the others still live around here. They

were all such nice boys."

As a child Otis's days were spent galivanting around with nearly every boy in Monti, but things were different then. He'd had a creek running through his yard and other niceties that the other lads couldn't resist. Grown men didn't feel the same urge to splash in the water. Picking up where they left off wasn't an option. Seeing Sadie's eyes when he tore off his hat had been harsh enough. An entire town turning tail and running? No thank you. "Tell me, were you able to learn anything about foundlings or orphans?"

"Not as much as I would have liked. But I would not call the night fruitless. I mentioned a different child, one with a similar

background who was born in Monti a few years ago. A poor little lad who had been unwanted. I asked if anyone knew what became

of him."

He cringed. Unwanted. It was a label no child, no person, should have.

"All the women became very quiet, and no one would look at me. I noticed a mother and daughter share a glance... I don't

know what it meant, but I kept thinking about it. I believe it was a knowing look." Her lips drooped into a frown, and her

eyes glimmered with dampness beneath furrowed brows. "It's a shame, the way we shun when we should rally around those who

struggle. And no matter how others behave, in the pit of their stomachs, I think they know it too."

"That is something I know about."

She patted his knee. "You, poor dear, should have been wrapped in loving arms, not sent away."

He cleared his throat. "Don't get all weepy on me. I may have grown into a grumpy recluse even if I stayed here."

"That may be." She sniffled, pulled her handkerchief out, and blew her nose. "Enough about the past. I plan to go and pay

a call on the mother and daughter. I believe they know something." She looked away, staring at nothing. "I'm not sure how

I'll bring up the topic again, but I'll do what I can."

"Will you go today?"

"No, she mentioned a trip to see a sister. I will visit once I hear she's returned."

It was impossible to hide his disappointment. He didn't want to continue waiting, grasping at threads of hope that may well lead to nothing. He wanted Elisabeth here, beside him. "No one else said anything?"

"One woman mentioned an orphanage in Des Moines."

He sprang to action, grateful for something he could do. "I'll write to them and ask if they've had a young child named Elisabeth

arrive in the last year. She may have been taken there when the payments stopped coming." Otis stood, ready to go for paper

and pen. "It's worth a try."

"Yes, you write it and I'll mail it." Mildred's voice grew softer. "Finding Elisabeth may take time. Making your presence

known might be important. There are people who might talk to you more readily than to me. Have you considered letting people

know you've returned?"

"If I become convinced it will help me find her, then I'll do it. But for now, I have no desire to be a spectacle."

"There are some good people here," she said.

"My own father couldn't stand the sight of me. He believed my lack of hair a sign of evil spirits. Even doctors said ludicrous

things. And all that was before the scars." He shook his head. The idea of having people in his life appealed, but not so

much that he was ready to walk the street in broad daylight.

"We all have scars," Mildred said. Shafts of light from the rising sun twirled through the gaps in the drapes, adding a dancing

brightness to the dreary room. He looked at his hands, half in the shadows and half in the light. "You don't have to hide.

People with good hearts won't care. Anyone who does, let them talk. You don't need them."

If only it were so simple. Perhaps it was. He pulled his hands away from the light. "Even Sadie gasped."

"She's not perfect, nor are you. But if I have any sense of her character, and I believe I do, she will try again. You've had ten years to grow accustomed to the face in the mirror—you can hardly blame anyone for being startled or staring a moment too long."

"I'll think on it," he said, knowing he had no intention of showing his face in Monti.

***

"I heard you were seen walking out of town last night," Sylvia said during their afternoon break. "I assumed you were staying

at a boardinghouse, but I don't know of one out that way."

"I've taken a new position." She tapped her toe nervously against the floor. Mildred had instructed that if she had to tell

someone where she was, she should say she worked with the Dawsons. "I'm at the Taylor mansion. The Dawsons were given permission

to hire other employees. I am helping around the house in exchange for my room and board."

"You can't mean that you are going to be living with Otis Taylor if he returns." Alta's voice was a harsh whisper brined in

accusation. "That's not fair. Had I known—"

"You make it sound scandalous, but it's not. I stay in the staff quarters. It's just a job."

Alta folded her arms across her chest like a spoiled child. "I should have known that a country girl like you would sneak

around trying to steal the very man I've dreamed of for years. He won't pick you. Don't go setting your sights on him. Once

he—"

"You can have Otis Taylor," Sadie whispered in a shaking voice. She leaned closer, trying to keep the dispute private despite the many people working near them. "I needed a job and a place to live. I can't give this up just because you have an infatuation with a man you know nothing about."

"I know enough! I grew up in this town—you didn't."

Think of Pa. She wouldn't lose sight of what was important, no matter how desperately she wanted to tell Alta that they worked at the same

factory and she had no right to act superior. "We should get back to work," she said, hoping to change the subject. "There's

no point to this argument. If Otis Taylor decides he wants to court a Monticello woman, you will find a way to stand out in

the crowd—I have no doubt about it. I came here to work, not argue over nothing. I heard Mr.Hoag say he might move a sorter

over to shipping."

"Shipping is as dull as sorting." Alta looked around the factory. "But it is near binding, and I wouldn't mind working near

Lorenzo."

Sadie shook her head. Alta was always batting her eyes at someone. "I thought you were waiting for Otis Taylor."

"I am. He's the one I'm truly after, but there's no law against noticing other men while I wait."

"But you haven't even seen Otis." She bit her lip, chastising herself for letting her mouth flap. Not engaging with Alta was

better. Safer. But an outspoken woman could only stay silent so long.

"I haven't, but I saw his brother." She smirked. "I don't approve of you working there, but they may have hired you because

they expect him to return. You'll need to tell me right away if he's there."

"It's not my job to speak of his whereabouts."

Alta grabbed her hand as though they truly were the dearest of friends. "I won't be mad at you for working there if you promise

to help me get to know him when he returns. Find out if he has a favorite food or if he has interests that I could take up

or educate myself on. I want to know everything."

Sadie tore her hand away. "He's my employer. I can't work behind his back."

Alta inhaled. "Stop being selfish. I helped you fit in here at the duster factory. You can help me too."

Sadie threw herself into her work. Body. Tail. Wing. Body. Tail. Wing. She sorted feathers faster than ever before. "What

you do with Otis is between you and him. I'm not working there to be your scout."

Alta humphed and turned her back on Sadie. The tension between the two women was palpable and lingered throughout the day.

Sylvia caught her arm later in the afternoon and said, "Alta is only jealous because she is used to getting her way. Can't

you just tell her that you'll introduce her to Otis when he comes back? I'm sure if you did, she would let you come to the

masquerade skate with us. Dr.Henry has them at least once a month. Please."

"I'm not a matchmaker."

"Will you try? It would mean so much to her. And we all have to work together here." Sylvia begged her friend's cause despite

having expressed her own interest in Otis Taylor mere days ago. "Please."

Sadie did not want to agree. She wanted to stomp her foot and yell that she wouldn't. But in the end, she nodded begrudgingly,

only because she needed to keep this job. "Tell her if I can , I will."

Upon returning from the factory, she paused in her room long enough to scribble a few lines to her sisters.

... Jealous, petty women are the worst part of my life in Monticello. I only just escaped a catty woman who is all sweet

and soft one minute and feral the next....