Chapter 15

February1905

Since Christmas, Nora had been spending as much time as possible at the construction site while still putting in an appearance

at the drafting room each day, even when she wasn't needed. She was afraid being out of sight too much might mean Mr.White

would forget her when it was time to assign new projects.

She'd been working at McKim, Mead, and White for over nine months. There were hardly any rumblings or snide remarks from the

men now and no longer a need to pack up her equipment whenever she left her desk. Mr.Nast was the only one holding on to

some grudge that she didn't understand.

She was invigorated by the work and gaining incredible experience during the day. But when she was at home at night, with

her own designs laid out before her, when she tried to apply what she'd learned on the job to improve her own work, impatience

tripped her up.

She'd started on a new design during the Christmas holiday. Her first attempt at a tenement building. The first tenement law

had been passed four years before and it seemed to Nora that things weren't moving fast enough to help those who most needed

it now. She doubted MMW would ever stoop to designing a tenement building or a tuberculosis hospital. And she wondered if

she was making the right choice.

She spent more than one night, when sleep refused to come, worrying that by working on projects for pampered women and other rich clients, she was somehow failing her duty to Papa and Jimmy.

So in early February when Mr.White called her into his office, she felt a surge of hope. There had been talk of putting more

draftsmen on the Pennsylvania Station project, which was moving at a snail's pace. She loved her time at the construction

site, but when all was said and done, it was just another rich person's house.

As soon as she left the drafting room, she placed her hands behind her back, crossed her fingers, and prayed that this meeting

would lead to something new and useful to the people who needed it most.

She was surprised to see George Douglas sitting in the office with Mr.White. She'd hardly seen him at all since they'd returned

to work after the holidays. He was kept busy going from one site to the next, "like juggling knives," she'd heard Mr.Wojcik

say one day. But he didn't explain what he meant.

White motioned her in and told her to sit down.

She sat, feeling suddenly anxious since he'd never asked her to sit before. There were no plans on his desk to give her. George

looked serious. Had he complained about her for some reason? Oh, God, please don't say he was going to fire her. Her mind

rolled through the past few weeks, searching for any misdemeanor she might be guilty of, but came up blank.

"I have a new assignment for you. Something very important."

She sat up straighter. At last. She needn't have worried. Her mind raced ahead, wondering if it would be a completely new

project.

"I've been discussing the situation with George and he agrees that it will be good experience for you."

She merely perched on the edge of the chair. What could it be?

"I'm certain that the School of Applied Design taught you the importance of furnishings according to design. That as an architect you would be responsible for either buying or commissioning furniture for new construction or, in the case of renovations, to style the design to fit around the current furnishings."

Nora nodded slightly, suddenly not following his train of thought. She'd studied the styles and main features of each period.

Visited a few mansions and office buildings on school trips.

"Excellent. I find that I'm a bit overextended in that particular area and I've asked Elsie de Wolfe to take over that part

of the Colony Club design."

Elsie de Wolfe. The name sounded familiar. But Nora couldn't place her among any of the lady architects in town. He was turning over the

Colony Club to another architect. Odd, but it would free her and George to work on other projects.

"You are to be Elsie's assistant." He smiled at her as if awaiting a response. As the doors to Nora's future slammed shut

in front of her.

"And what will my duties be, sir?" she asked.

"Whatever she needs. For starters, the woman can't draw. So you'll have to render her ideas into readable plans and watercolors.

And I'll be consulting every now and then to see how things are going."

So a copyist, not even an architect. And to someone he obviously didn't trust. On her own.

"And since I'm sure Elsie will often be traveling to collect the interior furnishings, you will have to be on hand to receive

shipments, catalogue and store them. Other than that, she'll tell you what she needs. And you'll receive an extra stipend

for your work from the Colony Club itself."

That at least was something—but not enough to accept this setback. She risked a glance at George but he just looked... She couldn't begin to read his expression. Why didn't he say something? Stick up for her? Tell Mr. White that she was more useful in the actual architectural parts? Not as a secretary for an architect who couldn't draw. How had this Wolfe woman even gotten the job?

"I'm sure Miss de Wolfe will gather a team of artists and craftsmen to work with her. They can be a temperamental lot, but

George here thinks you can hold your own."

She cut a look to George, but he was watching Mr.White.

Mr.White slapped both palms on his desk and pushed to his feet. "Now I'm due to lunch at the University Club, but first thing

tomorrow I will take you over to meet her. And, Bromley..." He took a moment to scrutinize her appearance. "First impressions."

What was wrong with the way she looked? Did he expect a walking dress and feathered hat? He'd be sorely disappointed.

Before she could even form words, George stood and motioned her toward the door. And Nora, furious but stunned into silence,

stood up and left.

She heard the footsteps behind her as she stormed down the hall.

"Nora, wait."

Nora walked faster. Once again she'd been passed over—no, pawned off on a project they obviously didn't care about. All that

talk about the virtues of being on-site. How could she have been taken in like this? They'd never intended to give her a chance.

It was cruel to have given her hope.

"Nora!"

She had to get away. Not to the drafting room. They'd all have a good laugh soon enough. Nora, the doggie girl, was being

farmed out to a designer who couldn't draw.

Something, either a growl or a sob, escaped her. She was almost past George's office when fingers clenched around her arm

and she was yanked inside.

She turned on him. "What?"

"I know you're upset."

"You're a genius."

"If you'd stop and think, you'd see this as a great opportunity."

"To draw her designs because she can't? I'll be no better than one of those yappy little dogs that get a special room for themselves. I bet she has a yappy

dog. She gets to have the ideas and I have to make them a reality."

"That's what you do every day," George said, his exasperation palpable. "And it's a big responsibility."

"Whoever heard of an architect who can't draw? All it takes is a straightedge and a pencil. I've never even heard of her,

and trust me, I would have. I know of every working woman architect in town."

"She's not an architect."

That stopped her... momentarily. "What is she?"

"She's an actress."

Nora groaned. Elsie de Wolfe. Now she remembered where she'd heard the name. Lydia had pointed her out at the awards ceremony. Elsie de Wolfe flitting

about in her gossamer dress, kissing everyone on both cheeks, gesturing flamboyantly. Yes, she remembered her.

"Evidently she's had some success in the field."

Finally she looked up at him. "Why are you doing this? Why won't he use me on any important projects? I'm just as good as

the other draftsmen."

"Better than most of them," George agreed. "And this is important. I know you're anxious to build the next great generations

of buildings for the betterment of mankind but—"

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Never."

"It's not real work. I don't mind drafting, that's important work. But copying her ideas into pretty rooms for a bunch of

rich ladies? It's demeaning."

"Nora Bromley, I believe you're a snob."

A physical slap couldn't have stung her more.

"You're wrong," she spit back, tears pricking at her eyes.

He didn't answer. She'd thought he was different from the others.

"I am not a snob. How could I be? I don't have any hydro thingies, will never get a doggie playroom, I don't even have a dog.

Nor will I ever be able to afford a fur coat or even a fur anything. You're wrong."

"Am I? Then you need to stop thinking some projects are better than others, have more right to be built than others. Rich

people have a right to have what they want, and their money allows us to design and build things for people whose budgets

don't always accommodate their need. Every Fifth Avenue mansion we design, every Pennsylvania Station, means we can afford

to work for a little less for those unable to pay as much."

He pulled up a chair and nudged her into it. Pulled another up and sat facing her, leaning toward her in his earnestness,

their knees almost touching. "These ladies may seem like frivolous pieces of fluff to you, but they actually care about things.

They can be valuable allies when it comes to building things that we all care about. And they are willing sometimes to help

pay for them."

"You don't understand."

He took both her hands in his. "Then tell me."

She shook her head. How could she? Her hands felt warm in his, safe.

"I can't—" She tried to pull away but he held fast.

"Then make me understand."

"Because I'm only here because my brother died and couldn't be. He wanted to make homes for people who can't afford mansions,

but deserve a clean and healthy place to live." Like her family. If she couldn't do that, she would be betraying her brother's legacy and her papa's faith in her. "I promised him and Papa. I promised ." She bit her lip and gulped back the sob that banged in her chest.

He leaned toward her. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize."

She shook her head, unable to look at him. "It doesn't matter. I'll do what I have to do to keep working. But someday. Some—"

She broke off, unable to form the words.

"It does matter," George said. "I believe in what you believe in. There are a lot of us who do. We're the next generation,

Nora. Buildings will be completely different from the ones we know now. Fireproof and waterproof with heat and ventilation

in even the lowliest apartments. Efficient and inspiring, not just imposing. Interiors that don't follow a formula but are

useful and comfortable. They'll soar into the sky like—" He broke off.

Castles in the air , Nora finished for him. Jimmy would have liked him. But at the moment Nora didn't.

"No one will ever take me seriously."

"They already do. Do you really think that White would turn this over to someone he didn't trust? His reputation depends on

your success."

She looked past him to his designs. Buildings that would soar.

"For what it's worth, I believe in you, too. You have a future in architecture. I know you do."

Nora took a shuddering breath. Tried to remember all the things Professor Gerhardt had said. It was proving harder than she

imagined. "Okay, I'll keep my opinions to myself."

"That's my girl." He squeezed her hands, then looked down at them as if just now realizing what he was doing. He practically

flung her hands away, stood up. "Forgive me. I got carried away." He took a step away from her.

"I know. It's what I like best about you," she said, and fled.

Nora ran down the hall, not to the drafting room, but to the elevator. When it came, she flung herself inside and leaned against the cage's wall, her emotions at war: disappointment, distrust, and the one little question that wiggled past the rest.

Had he just held her hand? He had. George Douglas had just held her hand. Hands. Both of them. She lifted them to see if there

was any sign of being held. But they looked the same as before.

Maybe it wasn't a real hand-holding. More like a gesture to keep someone in place. Or to emphasize a point. It wasn't a real

hand-holding.

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor and she got out. But if it wasn't a real hand-holding, why did she feel so...

so... fizzy?

All three secretaries looked up when she burst into the room.

"What is it?" asked Higgie, sounding alarmed.

"Uh, I'm sorry," said Nora, already embarrassed about barging in unannounced. What if one of the bosses had been there? "I

just had a—Oh, I don't know—"

"That's it," Lavinia exclaimed and stood up. "Are those men giving you trouble again? I swear I'll—"

Nora shook her head.

"One man?" asked Sadie.

Nora nodded. "Sort of."

"That awful Collin Nast?" guessed Lavinia.

"Mr.White. And George."

Higgie stood, looking suddenly formidable. "Well, ladies, in that case—Lavinia, put up the Back in fifteen minutes sign. Sadie, get the kettle boiling. Come on, Nora. We want to hear all about it."

Over tea and a package of biscuits they always seemed to have just opened, Nora told them about getting assigned to drawing

for a decorator instead of architecture.

"What did George say?" asked Lavinia.

"That I was being a snob for not wanting to work with an actress who thinks she can design the interior of the Colony Club. Some of us have had to work so hard just to get a start. I know I've been lucky, but to just decide you want to decorate houses without any training and be given the entire interior of the Colony Club. Ugh. I just want to do some good. I'm not a snob."

"Of course you aren't," Higgie said. "I don't know what's gotten into him. He's usually very polite."

"Which actress?" Sadie asked.

Nora shrugged. "He apologized, but..."

"But which actress?" Sadie pressed. "Someone we'd know?"

"Someone named Elsie de Wolfe."

"Elsie de Wolfe?" Sadie clutched both hands to her chest. "She's just the most glamorous thing in the theater these days.

She orders all her gowns from Paris. She's just divine."

Lydia Rhodes had said pretty much the same thing about her at the awards ceremony. "I thought she was just flighty. Kissing

everybody that came near her."

"You met her?"

"Not really."

"Too bad," sighed Sadie. Then, perking up, added, "But you will. You'll be working with her. You can pick up tips from her,

and then tell us about them."

"Tips? From an actress?" Lavinia piped up. "Nothing you need to know."

Sadie made a face at her. "She's very cultured. She's been all over the world. I saw her in a play with Lionel Barrymore last

year. Dreamy. She was good, too, but Barrymore, he was heavenly and so handsome."

"Ladies," interjected Higgie. "I believe we're here to discuss Nora's dilemma, not the merits of Lionel Barrymore or Miss

de Wolfe."

"That's right," Lavinia added. "What do you want us to do?"

"Nothing," said Nora. "I just needed... I don't know."

"Some friends to listen," Higgie said. "You can count on us."

"Thank you." She'd meant to ask them about the hand-holding part, but decided against it. Friends or not, some things were just better kept to yourself.

Daisy had just returned with Ethel from walking in the park when she was surprised but not alarmed to see MissGleason hurrying

toward them.

"Oh, dear, what's afoot?" Daisy asked, untying Ethel's bonnet and handing it and Ethel to the parlormaid.

"There is a... delegation waiting to see you. I put them in the library since Mr.Harriman is home early and reading the

newspaper in the parlor."

"What kind of delegation? Couldn't you put them off?"

"I tried, but the Right Honorable Reverend Snyder said it was a matter of some urgency and that he would wait." She lowered

her voice. "He has an entourage with him."

"Snyder. Hmm. I don't suppose he said what it was about?"

"He wouldn't say, but I caught a snatch of conversation as I left; I believe they are against the idea of a women's club."

Daisy sighed. "How many ways can one say, ‘We're not an insurrection—we just want a place to visit and study and for out-of-town

members to stay overnight'?"

"I'm sure you will think of as many arguments as it takes to change stubborn minds."

"Then I'd better see them."

"Shall I stay to take notes?"

"If you don't mind. To show them we take their concerns seriously... and we do. Though there is no cause for this hysteria,

and I won't back down." Daisy straightened her shoulders and put on a pleasant smile, just enough to show them welcome, though

she wished they were anywhere else. And went to the library.

She took in their ilk in one glance: two dowagers; a young man soberly dressed and carrying a Bible; a balding, sallow-skinned man with a paunch; and the reverend, wearing a clerical collar and a censorious attitude. She strode straight to the latter, holding out her hand. "My dear sir, what a pleasant surprise."

The reverend was a wiry man, with thinning hair pomaded in sparse strips over a shiny pate. He shied back, avoiding her handshake,

and began abruptly, "I believe you know why I have come."

I don't even know who you are , thought Daisy. "I'm afraid I don't, but I see you've brought friends. Won't you all sit down?"

Having no choice but to act the gentleman, he waited for her to be seated, not behind the reading desk but in one of the occasional

chairs where the group had assembled. Then he motioned for the others to be seated before joining them on a straight-back

chair that Daisy had always hated.

When they were all in place, MissGleason sat primly behind the desk, her pen poised to take notes.

Her secretary was a gem among gems.

Daisy smiled at the clergyman and then at his friends.

Retrieving his manners, he introduced the two ladies, whose names MissGleason took down and Daisy promptly resigned to Kingdom

Come. The younger Mr.Edwards, an evangelical minister visiting from out of town, and Mr.Koch, a minor official in Anthony

Comstock's Society for the Suppression of Vice, which was enough to have Daisy boot him personally from the room. However,

being a lady, she merely gritted her teeth and tried not to look at him.

"I am the Right Honorable Reverend Snyder, and I've seen from the Tribune today that you have not relinquished this idea of a women's club." He could barely enunciate the words, his lips were so tightly

pursed.

Daisy merely smiled and hoped he choked on them.

"Indeed," she said. "Construction is proceeding nicely and we've recently hired a decorator. We already have four hundred members and are meeting weekly to discuss important events of the day."

"Instead of staying at home and attending to your husband and children, like a decent Christian woman," interjected one of

the ladies.

"Not at all. We women, as you must know, work as many hours keeping our households running smoothly as a man on Wall Street

or at the local grocery. And like men, we need a little relaxation time and refiring of the brain in order to keep in top

form. We intend the Colony Club to be that place for women just as the Princeton Club or the University Club is for businessmen."

"An outrage," exclaimed the young firebrand with the Bible.

"On the contrary. It's a rejuvenating tonic to expand our minds and enjoy the opportunity to engage with other women and their

ideas."

"You have morning calls for engaging with other women," countered one of the dowagers.

"Fifteen minutes of conversation about weather and fashion doesn't always satisfy the need for continuing education."

"Poppycock. It's just an excuse for neglecting your wifely duties."

"As a good Christian, I can truthfully say I have never neglected my wifely or motherly duty."

"Coming home this late? It's almost dinnertime."

"Yes, I admit my daughter and I are ready for our supper, but we were having such a good time in the park, we lost track of

the hour. And Mr.Harriman is waiting in the parlor and we shall dine as soon as we're finished here."

"Hmmph," said the dowager.

"So you refuse to honor the wishes of the church and these fine people and desist from your plans." Reverend Snyder appeared

to grow more colorless with each exchange.

"Well," said Daisy, "it's gone quite beyond my power to stop it, not that I would if I were able. The Colony Club will be a positive addition to the city. We have many plans to aid those in need, as well as..." Daisy hesitated, then thought, Why not? "Doing what we can to address the problems that so far neither the city government nor the religious institutions have been

able—or willing—to resolve. Now, I'm certain that you wouldn't want to deprive my husband of his dinner any longer. Thank

you so much for coming." She stood.

The reverend had no choice but to stand and, with a sharp nod to Daisy, herded his people out of the room, where the maid

was waiting to show them out of the house.

As soon as the door closed, Daisy let out a relieved breath.

MissGleason shut her notebook. "I'll tell the staff to stop the next group at the stoop."

"No, it will only make them more determined. Thank you for staying. Now, hurry off to your own dinner. We'll finish any other

outstanding business tomorrow."

Daisy waited for MissGleason to leave, then stopped by the wall mirror to tidy her hair and undo any vestiges of bad temper

from her person before joining Bordie in the parlor.

"Are they gone?" came Bordie's voice from behind his copy of the Times.

"At last." Daisy sat down across from him.

"Are any of them still standing?"

"Of course, Bordie. Even though Reverend Snyder refused to shake hands as if I were some Jezebel right out of the Old Testament."

Bordie lowered his paper enough to grin at her before gruffly clearing his throat and saying, "Daisy, really," before disappearing

behind the newsprint again.

"You know, sometimes I feel like for every step forward I take, I'm knocked two steps back."

This time Bordie's paper lowered just enough to show both eyebrows raising in disbelief. "You?" He put down the paper and patted the sofa beside him; she came to sit by his side.

"You just keep doing what you do. I have a profound faith in you, and your successes to date are undeniable. You just have

to stand firm until the rest of the world catches up to you."

"Oh, Bordie," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that."

"Well, it's true, even when I'm trying to read the evening paper."

Daisy laughed, the path suddenly clear before her. "Go back to your news. I feel much better."

Amazing what the tiniest encouragement could do. And being a woman in uncharted territory, encouragement was hard to come

by. She might just say a word of the same to that young architect, Nora Bromley, next time they met.