AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The northeast corner of the room was full of perhaps three dozen women in practical working garb of trousers, headscarves, and sturdy shoes. Many, though, still wore a pop of color or flutter of floral in their bandannas or buttoned blouses, as if determined not to surrender every vestige of femininity. Some used the pamphlets she’d had Frederick distribute to fan themselves, providing some relief from the humid air tinged with the smell of overdone mass-produced meat.
Some of the women looked up as Louise approached. Watching her. Waiting.
She should smile. Yes, that would help. Louise tried her best—and then the glimpse of Ginny and Martina sitting in the front row made it a shade more genuine.
She stood before the group and licked her dry lips as more stares turned her way. “Welcome, everyone.” This declaration stopped most of the chatter, though a few women at the fringesstill seemed to feel their conversation was too important to be paused and continued it in whispers.
“As a resident of nearby Derby, I have been called upon to address a potential difficulty. I’m sure some of you have comfortable arrangements with relatives for childcare as you work. But for those who do not, we would like to provide a low-cost alternative.”
There. It wasn’t so bad, especially if she kept her eyes fixed on the back wall and not aimed directly at the women. The few times she did, they seemed ... well, not eager or excited, but certainly polite.
Her confidence and volume rose as she went through the carefully prepared speech, sharing that by Christmas, they hoped to have an operational facility for children. Ginny paused in ravaging a sandwich long enough to pass out informational cards for the women to fill out to indicate interest, while Louise explained the benefits of professional childcare, then closed the ten-minute talk.
There was no applause at the end—it wasn’t the Metropolitan Opera—but she’d ended a full three minutes early, and no one had fallen asleep. That must mean something.
The women pressed the informational cards into her hands as they left, a few thanking her for the food and lemonade, most shyly looking away and hurrying either home or to their stations in the foundry. Some, she noticed, had left their cards on the table nearest the door rather than approach her. It was difficult trying not to be intimidating when you’d spent your whole life trying to become more so.
Soon the cafeteria was all but empty. “How do you think it went?” Ginny asked, swinging up beside her and re-knotting the blue kerchief that bound up her blond hair, Martina by her side.
“Fairly well, I think.” Louise straightened the cards with a tap on the table, lining up the corners. “We had ample time for all the information I wanted to communicate, and I trust—”
She paused, noticing something for the first time: the top card was blank.
So was the next, and the next.
Ignoring Ginny’s curious stare, she sat and thumbed through the whole stack. Only three women, one of them Martina, had bothered to give their information to be contacted when the center opened.
Maybe she hadn’t given them enough time to ask questions, or perhaps the form was too detailed. That was it, probably. She should have asked only for names and home addresses rather than including the names and birthdays of their children. Or perhaps some of them weren’t even literate. Who could say?
“Tough sell, huh?” Ginny asked sympathetically, her nose poked over Louise’s shoulder.
Heat rose to her cheeks, and she quickly gathered up the unmarked cards. “I don’t understand. If they all had alternative means of childcare, why did they bother to attend the meeting?”
“For the lemonade, probably,” Ginny offered thoughtfully, then broke off with “Ow!” and a glare at Martina, who shifted her foot off Ginny’s a little too late to evade Louise’s notice.
“You have to understand,” Martina said, dark eyes sympathetic. “It is ... difficult for some women to accept charity. Even if they need it.”
Just as Frederick had told her weeks before.
“It’s not charity. They’re serving our country with their labor. We’re simply making sure their children are cared for. Why, there’s even a small cost associated with the nursery school.”
“Maybe so. But if you were in their place, wouldn’t you wish to be able to care for your own children?”
Louise huffed at the implication. “Certainly not. I would evaluate the situation practically and take the commonsense solution.” As she had. As she always did.
Martina shook her head. “I suppose I can’t ask you to understand, having never been a mother.”
Don’t flinch.Martina didn’t mean to be hurtful, Louise was sure, so she bit back a harsh response.
A bell resounded, shrill and loud, and Louise startled. “C’mon,” Ginny urged, tugging on Martina’s arm. “Foreman’ll have our heads if we’re late.”
That left Louise alone with an empty pitcher ringed with a thin sludge of sugar and three dozen blank interest cards.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she said, shaking her head. The empty cafeteria didn’t reply.
She had been so certain that this was an act of Christian charity she was called to do to support the war effort. But what if she closed the library and spent a fortune to renovate it into a childcare center—and no one came?
You could still change your mind. Keep the library open.
