Glimmers of Change (18 page)

“Robert is a wise man,” Abby replied. “And Annie is a wise woman. All of them will grieve over losing Sadie and the rest, but they will move forward.”

“I’m so glad she had a chance to be free,” Carrie said. “So glad she had a chance to travel, to go to school.” Her eyes filled with tears again. “All of them were so remarkable,” she said sadly. “I’m so glad I had the chance to know them.”

Silence filled the room for many long minutes.

Abby was the one to break it. “I’m sorry if I picked the wrong time to tell you. I was going to wait until after the dance…”

Carrie shook her head. “I’m glad you told me,” she replied. “There is never a good time for news like that.” She took a deep breath. “If the war taught me one thing, it is that we all have to choose life in the midst of death and suffering. Any of us could die in an explosion at any moment. We have to hold tight to joy and life every way we can.” She stood and looked at her reflection in the mirror. “I will go to the dance. I will have a good time.” Her voice was determined.

She looked back at Abby. “Do you know where Opal and Eddie are living? I would like to visit.”

Abby smiled. “I was sure you would. Spencer will be here at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to take you and Robert there. Since it is Sunday, Eddie will not be working.”

Carrie nodded her appreciation and then frowned. “I’ll tell Moses, June, and Annie when I get home.” She knew she didn’t have to tell Abby how much she dreaded it.

“That won’t be necessary,” Abby responded. “Eddie and Opal want to break the news themselves. Though it wasn’t anyone’s fault, they feel responsible for what happened. Since Sadie was in their care, they want to be the ones to tell them. Thomas and I have made arrangements for Spencer to take the family out there on Monday. They’ll be back in a week. It will be good for all of them to have some time on the plantation.”

Carrie smiled. “You’re a good woman.”

“Yes,” Abby agreed calmly, smiling when Carrie laughed. “I’ve never seen the sense of false modesty. We are both amazing women.” She turned serious. “We are going to have to be to make it through all that is going to happen.”

Carrie refused to think about all that Matthew had said that day. Abby’s shocking news of the fire was all she could handle. “That may be true,” she agreed, “but right now all we have to handle is being escorted by two dashing men to a dance. And
you
, my darling mother, are not ready. I’d say that is your biggest concern right now,” she finished firmly.

Carrie forced thoughts of the deaths from her mind as the carriage pulled up to a brightly lit house. All she was going to focus on tonight was the joy of being with Robert, her father, Abby, Jeremy, and Matthew. She planned on dancing until her feet could no longer move. She smiled brightly as Robert helped her from the carriage, relishing the look of pride on his face as he offered her his arm to walk up the stairs.

“You are absolutely ravishing, Mrs. Borden,” he said, his eyes never leaving her face.

“And you are the most handsome man here, Mr. Borden,” Carrie replied with a grin. “I do believe I’m going to get my earlier wish that every woman here tonight will wish she was me.” She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “They’ll simply have to be disappointed.”

“One will not be.” Abby’s amused voice sounded behind her. “Robert is quite handsome, but I’m afraid Thomas is the only man I want to be with tonight.”

Carrie smiled with delight as she looked back at her father and Abby. She could hardly remember the grief-stricken man who had fled the plantation after her mother died. Her father’s eyes sparkled with life and love as he gazed down at Abby. “I don’t believe you have attended a dance with my father, have you?” she asked.

“We’ve been too busy with the factory,” Abby admitted. “I’ve only danced with him at the wedding.”

“Prepare to be swept off your feet,” Carrie warned her. “My father is a fabulous dancer. You may have a hard time keeping up with him.”

Abby fluttered her eyelashes and merely smiled. “I’ll do my best,” she said coyly.

Matthew barked a laugh. “Abigail Livingston Cromwell could out-dance any woman in Philadelphia,” he announced. “People made the mistake of thinking she was only a successful businesswoman. She had no trouble setting them straight.”

Thomas’s smile grew wider. “You continue to be a surprise,” he murmured.

Abby’s smile turned into a grin. “You have no idea, Mr. Cromwell.
No idea
…”

Laughter rang through the air as they climbed the stairs and entered the warm house.

Carrie gazed around with delight. Richmond was still struggling to recover from the war, with much of the downtown area not yet rebuilt after the fire that had almost destroyed the city, but you would never guess it from the home they were in. Dances during the war had been simple — called “starvation dances” for a reason. The music had always been plentiful, but the only refreshments had been water.

She tried to remember what she knew about the owner of the home they were in but couldn’t even pull forth a name. A glance in the dining room revealed a long table full of delicious-looking food. Mounds of country ham towered over platters full of sweet potatoes, carrots, and butternut squash. Fluffy biscuits and cornbread rested beside fresh pies and plates of cookies. If there wasn’t as much as could be found before the war, no one was complaining. It was more than had been seen at a social function for years.

Music flowed from the front room as lanterns and candles filled the house with light. Most women wore new, brightly colored gowns. Yet more evidence that Richmond’s economy was slowly rebounding. Carrie was relieved that not one man was dressed in uniform. She had seen enough of military uniforms for a lifetime. She prayed there would never be another war.

“The house belongs to Mrs. Penelope Manson,” Abby leaned over to whisper. “She lost her husband and one of her three sons in the war. Her remaining two sons are merchants here in the city.”

Carrie nodded. That explained the relative opulence she was seeing. Richmonders were strapped for cash, but they were also hungry for goods. During the war, the stores had either been empty or the prices too exorbitant for almost anyone to afford. Money was still tight, but when people had it available they were eager to spend it. Merchants were slowly filling their stores again. Profits were being made.

“Should I be surprised we were all invited?” Carrie asked, keeping her voice low enough for the music to cover it. “I thought people were angry about the factory.”

Abby smiled, nodded when Thomas asked her if she would like a drink, and then answered. “People
are
angry, but they are also desperate for money to build back the economy. We are one of the largest employers in Richmond now. They can’t afford to ignore us.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt that you’re one of the investors in the bank,” Carrie murmured with amusement.

Abby’s eyes twinkled. “That, too. Though I don’t have any control over loans, neither am I making an effort to be sure people know that.”

Carrie chuckled and reached for the glass of lemonade Robert held out to her just as the small orchestra struck up a lively waltz. She hesitated before taking the lemonade.

Robert grinned. “Drink your lemonade. You’re going to need it to keep up with me tonight.”

Carrie laughed but drank it willingly. The cold air during the carriage ride had dried her throat terribly.

Abby smiled her thanks as Thomas handed her a glass, her foot tapping time with the music. “Do you know the history of the waltz?” she asked, continuing when no one responded. “It was created in Vienna just past the turn of this century. It was condemned as wildly immoral in England.”

“The
waltz
?” Robert asked. “Am I missing something?”

“It is quite different from the way people used to dance,” Abby replied, watching as the first wave of dancers moved onto the floor. “Dancing used to be very stately, slow, and distant. The minuet and the allemande were very courtly and elegant dances. They were subdued, characterized by stern attitudes and slow, complex patterns. They were performed at arm’s length. Dancers wore gloves so there would be no fleshly contact even at that distance.”

“And they called that
dancing
?” Carrie gasped.

“It was a different time,” Abby responded. “When the waltz was first created, people were appalled by the close dance position, the rapid tempo, and the constant twirling and turning.”

“The very thing that makes it so enjoyable,” Thomas stated. He put down his lemonade, took Abby’s from her to place on a nearby table, and then turned to her. “Care to see if you can keep up with this old man?”

Abby smiled up at him. “First you’ll have to show me the old man,” she said affectionately, moving into his arms. Moments later they were sweeping across the floor, Abby’s light blue gown swirling around her.

“They look wonderful,” Carrie breathed, correctly interpreting the look in Robert’s eyes as she moved into his arms. He pulled her close as the music soared around them.

And just like that, the magic returned. The strong, virulent man holding her close wiped away all memories of how close to death he had come. All that mattered was the music and the feel of his arms around her. They moved as one, completely oblivious to anyone else in the room.

Jeremy watched the dancers swirling on the floor and then turned away to speak with several businessmen he knew, content to enjoy the music and the conversation. He knew there was a lot of resentment in town about the wages they were paying their black employees, as well as the fact that they were hiring blacks instead of hiring only white war veterans, but evidently everyone had decided to be on their best behavior tonight. Jeremy was glad. The last weeks had been exhausting as they brought the factory up to full speed. Their first filled orders would be going out the following week. It was a heady feeling.

He was chatting easily with the owner of Thalhimers when his eyes caught a woman sitting on a sofa against the wall, her dark blue dress setting off her porcelain skin and striking red hair. She appeared relaxed and confident as she watched the dancers, her free hand keeping time with the music as she sipped apple cider. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Excuse me,” he finally murmured, walking over to where she was sitting. “Good evening,” he said.

The woman looked up, her brilliant blue eyes open and relaxed. “Good evening,” she replied with a warm smile.

She wasn’t a classic beauty, but Jeremy had never been quite so taken with someone before. “My name is Jeremy Anthony. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”

“I am Marietta Anderson. You don’t know me, but I know who
you
are, Mr. Anthony.”

Jeremy stared at her, bemused. “You do? How is that possible?”

“You manage the Cromwell Clothing Factory that your brother and sister-in-law own,” she replied, smiling at his look of surprise. “Many of my students work there,” she explained.

“Your students?” Jeremy asked, and then smiled. “You are a teacher.”

Marietta nodded. “I am. I teach classes down at the Second African Church.”

Jeremy tried to hide his surprise but knew he was unsuccessful when she continued on with a question.