2. Zeth
Zeth
“Chin up, back straight, hands relaxed,” I reminded Millie over the slow clop of our rented horses as we rode into Everdeen.
My back burned from the long journey, yet I still managed to ease my shoulders and raise my head, because we had a plan.
It didn’t matter how many barns we slept in to get here from the City; we would succeed.
However, my sister lost her patience two towns back and slumped into her saddle in rude reply to me. Her split skirt was designed for riding with modesty, but even that was hitched up until Millie’s hem lay above her laced boots, looking all willy-nilly and un-lady-like, damn her.
I frowned at her something fierce.
When she rolled her brown eyes like a child, I looped my reins into one gloved fist and pinched the long bridge of my nose with the other to keep from swearing, just like stopping a sneeze. It only worked half the time. Luckily, this time it worked.
That didn’t stop me from hissing, “You’re the one who came up with this con, so what happened to being a prim miss while I act the rich gent?”
“Well, I’m pooped,” she huffed from under her white bonnet. It was tied beneath her chin and charmingly plump cheeks, all flushed in a pretty way. Her glare wasn’t prim at all. “And annoyed with you. You and your pompous advice.”
“Mils—”
“Where’s my brother? The fun one. I want him back, so please remove that branch from up your ass.”
“Up my—” Inhale. I love my sister, I do. “Mildred Louise Washer, that’s hardly appropriate.”
Her nose squished, and she muttered, “To hell with propriety.”
A deep laugh rose up my chest, and I let it out with a shake of my head. Twenty years with a younger sister felt like a curse some days, while the rest were a delight. I adored her, even if she did rile me up more than average lately.
She was right to think me stodgy. Life gave me no choice. We never had it easy, being on the edge of poverty, and now with Mum gone, too much depended on me. I was doing a crummy job of providing for the last of my family. We barely owned more than the clothes on our backs.
A willful sister only made it harder. I needed to get that through her bonnet-covered head. “God help me, Mils. Behave for once, eh?”
When she leaned sideways to argue, I shot her my sternest man-of-the-house look.
I was good at those, always had been, and Millie demurred with a drop of angry eyes.
She even straightened into an almost-proper posture in the saddle.
Her lacy, white blouse and brown duster fit her curves well.
She appeared snitty but proper as we rode along Main Street.
“Thank you,” I rewarded her. Good behavior deserved rewards, and a lady should be complimented, even if said lady preferred to be treated like a man. She hated feminine compliments. That’s when the devil took me, “You know Mils, you look quite beautiful today.”
As expected, Millie’s head popped right up with a glare that promised damnation, and I was most certainly going to hell for enjoying her heated defiance. I chuckled with delight while my shoulders eased into the familiar companionship.
Was it wrong to tease my sister? Probably.
Did I enjoy teasing her? Yes, yes I did.
Grinning, I brushed some trail dirt from my dark blue pants.
Our new ensembles came from selling our small apartment in the City.
The tailored clothes were expensive and necessary to the con, but that didn’t change how powerful the fancy duds made me feel, as if I deserved to wear them.
I loved my jacket especially and planned on buying another like it as soon as I married well.
I needed to marry someone like the owner of the carriage that approached us.
Motor cars were the new toys of the rich, yet the glittering display of this carriage’s black paneling and iron trim still demanded respect.
Millie and I moved our horses into a single file to make room.
Other riders did the same, and the carriage passed with an awe-inspiring spectacle.
My, how the rich grew richer while I was away.
Even the old town was bigger and nicer. It was no capital city, like the one we’d left, but judging by the new estates we’d passed entering town, and the bustling inner streets, Everdeen had expanded to at least 15,000 townsfolk.
And from the looks of it, a variety of people of different cultures and nationalities were working and living here, sharing in Everdeen’s health and prosperity.
It was nice to see my hometown succeeding and her people happy.
Hopefully, I could say the same about myself and Millie soon.
We continued clopping along Main Street.
Next to me, Millie pulled a folded page of newspaper out of her coat to look over the sketch of the woman featured there.
She had done that a lot since she saved the article gossiping about Annabelle Winters’ ungodly wealth and recent visit to the City.
We’d gone to school with the elite woman, and reading about her travels since her family all passed sparked Millie’s idea to return to Everdeen—find Anna, con her, court her, and settle into a secure life.
I didn’t need to stare at a sketch to memorize that plan.
I remembered Anna’s prim-miss appearance well enough.
More interesting was the cute bakery cafe up ahead.
It used to be a simple bread shop. Now, it had fancy iron tables painted white set up outside like many of the City’s eateries.
Folks dressed as well as us basked in the sunshine and sipped from dainty tea sets.
The scents of baking delights we couldn’t afford smelled heavenly.
I savored the aroma with a deep breath and recognized the tall silhouette of the baker standing in the shop’s open doorway.
His hair had grayed on the sides, yet his eyes still danced with joy as he clapped his flour-covered hands to clean them.
He once knew me as the neighborhood kid who used to drool on his display windows before buying the oldest loaves.
I lifted my new cap to him, as if I wasn’t returning to Everdeen with a bag full of lies. First impressions, and all that. Thankfully, the baker nodded back at me nicely. I don’t think he recognized me now. He even motioned for us to visit his shop.
My stomach rumbled in agreement, but I ignored it to ride on. I ignored Millie’s stomach rumble too as I turned to her. “After our plan succeeds, we can visit the bakery every day for the rest of our blessed lives.”
Millie glared at me with petulance. “This town looks so different from what I remember. Pray tell, good sir, how much farther? ’Cause I need to piss.”
Dear heavens. A glance around confirmed no one heard her, and I ran my tongue over my teeth to stop a choice swear word or ten. Respectable. I was respectable.
I raised a hand to physically push up the edge of my lips until Millie took the hint and mimicked my tepid smile. Only then did I answer her, “The Laundry isn’t far. A block. Perhaps two.”
“I miss her.” Millie’s admission came out of nowhere. Grief was proving to be like that. Her simple words hit me hard and brought on a new set of tears.
I nodded and added softly, “As do I.”
Too fresh, Mum’s passing. I pushed the melancholy back. Now wasn’t the time, yet that didn’t stop a shadow from settling over us both. A real shadow. Above the rooftops, heavy clouds rolled in quickly.
“Just great,” I grumbled at the darkening sky. I hated rain. And I didn’t want to get my new suit wet. At least the old place was near.
Mum’s will was read last month, and my inheritance stirred up our plan from there. Patting my jacket lapel, I heard the rattle of paper and felt the iron key over my heart. I’d rather have Mum back.
“There it is,” Millie exclaimed softly, and my eyes flew to the next business in the long row.
This one had two large windows downstairs and the name WASHER painted boldly in black across the front.
Our name was the only nice thing about the worn-down facade.
Above that, two smaller windows on the second floor had creaking shutters, and the entry door’s red paint was chipping off, exposing old layers of blue, yellow, and green.
Even the display window curtains hung half off their hooks.
Not that it mattered, because the glass was too layered with dust to see anything inside.
That didn’t stop me from seeing the past. Memaw’s grey head bent over her sewing in the display window, her glasses shining in the sunlight every afternoon when I came home from school.
Beyond that, Uncle at the long counter taking payments.
I used to join him there to recount money and balance the books while his strong hand patted my shoulder.
And behind that, the backroom where Mum pumped water into a massive copper tub, scrubbing laundry before draping it on rope lines to drip dry.
I used to run through those wet rows chasing Millie.
Her high peals of laughter still echoed in my ears, along with Mum’s reprimands.
Then there were the memories of Amby. Of his big brown eyes glazing over from my explanation of quadratic equations, and his warm shoulder against mine as we spent hours on the front stoop just talking, as best friends do…
I slowed my horse to a stop at the empty step, marveling at how much I’d forgotten in the nine-plus years since leaving. So many good memories… all of them twisting painfully inside my gut. Thankfully, we already planned on selling the laundry.
“Let’s go.” I raised a leg and nearly fell to the ground as I slipped gracelessly off the large horse, groaning as my stiff body objected. I was no stranger to physical labor but I rarely rode a horse.