the first bag or the first kiss.
Her only regret was that Jack did not come. Three weeks already and she had not seen him or her dog. She wanted him to hear her sing and see how the men cheered and stomped their feet. Somehow it mattered to her that he witnessed her success.
Lily had to admit that she had entertained worries that Jack would become like the men her mother had brought home as soon as they reached Dawson, using her for the warm bed, free food and pocket money she could provide. But it seemed the opposite was true. He didn’t need her for anything and that troubled her more than she had thought possible, for she still needed him.
The little tailor had arrived, hat in hand, but he reported having had to hock his scissors in order to eat. Lily went with him to retrieve them and then buy fabric. She allowed him to use her room when she was on the stage. Within the week, Luritz had made her two new dresses. One was pale pink with a tight bodice of satin and a frothy full skirt. The color complemented her pale skin and made her cheeks look rosy. The second was a heavy black velvet gown that matched her hair. During the final fitting, her tailor’s stomach gave a loud growl.
She eyed him suspiciously. “When did you last eat, Mr. Luritz?”
He hung his head. “I can’t find a mine owner to take me. Too little and too old, they say. But I wasn’t too little to climb those mountains.”
Jack had been right—all profitable claims were staked, leaving the newcomers without hope of mining their own land. Mine owners had their pick of the thousands that poured in from the lakes. Here, as back there, men had no work.
She’d never been in a situation where she had plenty while others went without, and she found she didn’t like it. She might not be able to feed them all, but she could feed this man. Lily went to her dresser, brought back the remains of her unfinished breakfast that held thinly sliced toast and strawberry jam and offered it to her tailor.
“Here, Mr. Luritz.”
His face colored, but he took it and ate it with a frightening speed. She remembered what it was to be that hungry. It devoured a person’s pride.
“Mr. Luritz, I have need of another outfit.” Two was actually more than she’d ever had or needed, but she had the gold and he needed it. “Not for the stage. A skirt with matching jacket. Are you up to the task?”
“Yes, yes.”
“You’re hired. Come back tomorrow morning at nine. We’ll have breakfast together and then go get the fabric.”
He tipped his hat, showing the second strange circular hat beneath. “You’re a good lady, Miss Lily.”
Then he left her. She watched him out the window as he crossed the street, wearing no gloves. Had he lost them on the journey or sold them?
That afternoon she went to buy men’s gloves. While she was out she spoke to every woman she could find about what a job Luritz had done on her gowns. Dolly Isles and Felicity Volmer, who both boarded at the same hotel, asked her to have him come round to see them, for the women in Dawson found no shortage of opportunities to earn a living.
Just before showtime, she tracked down Donald Trost, finding him in his office and asked him for the use of the smaller storeroom behind the stage.
He didn’t even glance up from his ledger. “For what?”
“A tailor shop.”
“I’m using it.”
“The tailor will pay you eight percent of his profits for rent. You’ll make money, Donny.”
“I like when you call me Donny.” He was on his feet now, smiling at her. It seemed an expression he had not much experience with. “All right, then.”
Lately she’d found him staring at her more and more, and not in the way a man looks at his cash cow. It made her wary.
He dropped the pencil and slapped the account book closed, then stood and tugged on his vest. He stepped out from around his desk, leaning back against the edge and held out a hand. She didn’t want to take it. He was too damned big and experience had told her to stay clear of a man’s reach. But he’d never threatened her, so she pushed back her uncertainty and accepted his hand.
“You know I’m fond of you, Lily. Very fond.” He lifted her hand