“How could you bring her out here? What were you thinking?”
The white lace curtain in the window fluttered in the breeze. Briar stared at it, straining to hear more. As if of their own accord, her legs started forward, taking her closer.
“I’m sorry, Mama.” His voice came out whisper-quiet.
“We don’t know what causes a girl to be drawn to the spindle. You need to be careful who you bring here. The farm is not a place for a girl, especially a girl like Briar. Take her home now.”
Henry had come out with a basket, the first of many that he would bring to the cottage filled with food from Mrs. Prince’s garden. His grin faltered when he saw her so close to the house, but then he smiled wide and led her out of the yard. He never explained anything.
Nor did he ever invite her back.
From then on, Briar not only avoided the farm, she avoided Mrs. Prince, who seemed to have something against girls “like her.” She couldn’t figure out if Mrs. Prince was against spinner girls in general or Irish spinner girls in particular.
Briar wanted to tell Mrs. Prince it wasn’t that she was drawn to the spindle, it was simply the only job she could get. Options were limited, which was why, with Mim’s help, she was hoping these housewives would take the time to judge her by her work.
Mim rang the doorbell of the first house, a new, two-story brick structure surrounded by a manicured lawn and a dozen purplish-pink azalea bushes. Mrs. Chapman opened the front door. Dressed in a pretty green dress with a lace collar and puffed sleeves, she beamed at Mim.
“Have you finished already?”
Mim handed Mrs. Chapman the wrapped package. “Yes, ma’am. And please meet my room-mate, Briar Jenny. I’ve been teaching her, and she is ready to start taking on her own clients. Do you have another dress that needs smocking, or do you know of another mother wanting fancywork done?” Mim pulled out a sampler showcasing Briar’s stitches.
Meanwhile, Briar stood silently under Mrs. Chapman’s penetrating gaze. She stiffened as the woman’s eyes roamed over Briar’s auburn hair, her freckles.
Making judgments.
This wasn’t going to work. Briar sensed it before Mim could.
There was no physical sign posted in the window, but Briar felt it in her being. She wasn’t welcome here. NINA. No Irish Need Apply.
Chapter Two
Oblivious to Mrs. Chapman’s reaction, Mim continued to sell Briar’s work. “Look at how beautifully Briar makes the baby-wave stitch,” she said. “Perfectly even: you’d think she was using a tape measure.”
Finally, the woman shook her head. “I’m full-up on clothes right present. Thank you, Mim.” With a final glance saying she should have known better, Mrs. Chapman snapped the door closed.
Briar shut her eyes, feeling the reverberations through her thin soles. And to think she dressed up for this.
Mim put her hands on her hips. “That’s a surprise. She’s always got work for me.” Mim led Briar down the steps. “Let’s try Mrs. Oxford.”
Turning back to their side of town, Briar said, “I should be getting on the road.” She had known none of these ladies would hire her. Too many immigrants had descended into Vermont too fast and some people didn’t like it.
“Just one more?”
Briar pointed to her hair. Though Mim had done it up for her in a Newport knot, the style didn’t hide the color. “They can spot me a mile away.”
“Oh, pooh. They’re not all like that.” Mim frowned, and then looped her arm through Briar’s as they walked back to their side of town. “How about I take in the jobs and you can help me with the work? What they don’t know won’t kill ’em.”
Briar gave a half smile. “Thanks.”
They were passing a group of town girls, one of whom was wearing the exact same hat as Mim. One of the girls pointed and said in a loud whisper, “That mill girl’s got your hat, Felicity.” The rest began to giggle behind upheld hands.
The girl, Felicity, said, “I never did like this hat much. Too cheap-looking. I’ve been thinking about putting it in the charity box.”
Briar felt Mim stiffen, but the two of them raised their chins and walked on like they hadn’t heard.
“They’re only jealous,” Briar said, “because you can buy your own hats but they have to wait for their fathers to buy theirs for them.”
“You’re darn right,” said Mim. “Spoiled lot. Wouldn’t last a day on the looms.”
They parted near the mill. “Give these to the children for me.” Mim handed Briar a small paper bag with three lemon drops inside. “See you tomorrow.”
“You need to stop sending me home with treats or they’ll expect them every time.”
Briar waved and started down the road out of town, wondering if Henry had waited or not. She quickened her pace, eager to be with her kin.
“Hey, wait up!” called Henry from a gathering of boys down the lane. He ran toward her.