used to being noticed but never for good reason. She was Johnny and Danny’s wild little sister who wore dirty coveralls and ran barefoot most summers. She was the girl who did not do so well in school and struggled to read passages in books assigned by teachers. She was the girl who ran shine and was rumored to be drinking the brew as young as twelve. A backwoods hellion.
But today, she was the girl who worked for Mrs. Olivia Carter and got to wear a fancy coat.
She watched as Miss Olivia walked inside the store, her head held high and her gaze just a little cool as it swept over the interior. Mr. Sullivan stood a little straighter and welcomed her as she tugged off her gloves and then took a piece of gingham fabric between her fingers and felt it for softness.
“What can I do for you today?” Mr. Sullivan asked.
“Miss Sadie has a list for you,” she said with her proper English accent. “Supplies the cook needs for supper.”
Sadie removed the carefully folded note from her pocket and handed it to Mr. Sullivan. A slight smile curled the edges of his mouth as he looked at the long list. Knowing Mr. Sullivan, he was already calculating the profit he would make today.
“It’ll take me a few minutes to fill the order,” he said with an air of deference to the pair.
“Take your time,” Miss Olivia said, moving to a bolt of soft yellow fabric. “Sadie, is there anything you need?”
“Ma’am? No, I’m fine.”
Sadie moved to a collection of soaps packaged in pretty white paper. She hesitated to touch the soaps until Mr. Sullivan turned to grab a box of salt. She lifted the soap to her nose, inhaling the soft scent of honeysuckle. She considered spending some of the money she would earn this week on it, but a glance at the twenty-five-cent price tag made her almost drop it.
As she looked around, her gaze settled on a green dress draped from a hanger near several other articles of clothing. She took the fabric in her hands, amazed at how soft it felt. She glanced down at her coveralls, wondering if folks would see her differently if she were wearing a dress like this.
“I have the bill ready,” Mr. Sullivan said, smiling. “Including that gardening journal that you ordered from Richmond.”
Miss Olivia opened her purse and handed him a crisp five-dollar bill. Sadie could only stare at the tremendous amount of money.
“Ruth,” he said, calling into the back. “I’ll need your help.”
Ruth was his daughter, with whom Sadie had gone to school up until Sadie had dropped out last year. Blonde with a pretty enough face, Ruth dressed the best of any girl in school and had the pick of the handsome boys.
“Yes, sir.”
Ruth pushed through the curtain separating the back and front of the store and smiled at Miss Olivia. When her gaze shifted to Sadie, her expression dimmed, as if she might have bitten into a sour apple but did not want anyone to know it.
Ruth went about finding the small items on the list, including cinnamon sticks, baking soda, and rose water. She carefully placed all the items in a box her father had already loaded with flour, sugar, and lard.
Aware Ruth was eyeing her, Sadie dropped her gaze to a hand-drawn sign featuring two dancers. She was not an especially good reader but knew enough to realize there was a party in March.
“Sadie, you sure do look lovely today,” Ruth said.
“Thank you,” she said, stepping away from the dress.
“You thinking about buying that and wearing it to that party?”
Ruth knew darn well Sadie could not afford the dress, and the chances of her going to any party were slim to none. Maybe if her mother could have mended a dress from the church box for her, and maybe if one of her brothers could have taken her to a dance. But neither brother was in town, and her mother was not going to mend a dress and send Sadie alone to a dance.
“I’m chewing on it,” Sadie said.
“I’m going with my beau,” Ruth bragged.
“Really?” Sadie shifted her attention away from the sign to the new Life magazine, featuring four young women dressed in sparkling dresses.
“I wish I’d have known you were coming; I would have saved my old magazines.” Ruth’s voice was so sweet it was a miracle the words were not drawing honeybees. “I know how you like to look through them.”