Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Ivy Goodhart had learned in her three years of renting from Edward Grimsby that a certain knock on her door meant trouble.
Sometimes it was only the sound of his footsteps approaching.
This morning, it was a knock. A hard one.
Even when Mr. Grimsby pounded on the door, he made it sound as though he were doing her some courtesy by announcing his presence with a fist that resembled a battering ram.
When Ivy finally opened it, after drawing satisfaction from making him wait, he looked down his nose at her as if he were making a social call.
He would even straighten his cuffs or smooth his mustache.
Sometimes he smiled, though most times he did not.
Even after she opened the door, he tapped on the doorframe, as if he knew she hadn’t answered right away.
Ivy’s stomach twisted as she looked up at him.
His dark hair was slicked back, and he gave her an oily smile.
“Why, Mr. Grimsby, what can I do for you?” She glanced over her shoulder at her grandmother, who sat by their small stove.
Grandma Evie’s shawl was wrapped tight around her shoulders as she held her hands out to the stove to warm them.
She frowned at Mr. Grimsby, then aimed that same frown at Ivy.
Why did you have to open the door? the look said.
Ivy fought the urge to roll her eyes and turned her attention back to their landlord, who stood there with a silly smile on his face. The man could stand all day, his posture conveying that there was nowhere else he’d rather be. Which was often the case when he was collecting rent.
“Miss Goodhart,” he cooed, “I’m gratified to find you in.”
“Where else would I be at this time of the morning? I haven’t even made breakfast yet.” She sighed and smiled at him. “Again, what can I do for you? It’s not the first.”
Indeed, it wasn’t. So why was he here?
Mr. Grimsby gave her another smile. He wasn’t going to kick them out, was he?
Yes, they were behind on the rent, but only by a month.
Perhaps it would be a blessing in disguise.
Their apartment consisted of a single long room above a shop that always smelled of flour, onions, and tobacco, depending on the day.
They lived over a small market where men gathered several days a week to gossip.
Mr. Grimsby looked past her and smiled at Grandma Evie, then took in the room.
Ivy glanced over her shoulder again. The room came furnished, which was one of the reasons they’d taken it.
There was one large bed with a careworn quilt.
The stove was small but serviceable for cooking.
A settee sat before the windows overlooking the street, and Grandma Evie occupied the only chair.
A small table stood near the sink, and the residents shared a bathroom down the hall.
Ivy smoothed her skirt, gathering her courage. “If you’re here about the back rent…”
“My, but it’s chilly in here.” He peered past her again and gave her another oily smile. “Is everything all right? Have you enough coal for your fire?”
Ivy didn’t like the sound of that. “Yes, we’re fine.”
“Good. I’d hate to think of the two of you suffering in the cold. This weather wouldn’t be good for your grandmother, I’m sure.”
Her stomach dropped. “Neither would I.”
He chuckled low in his throat, the threat unmistakable. “I won’t keep you. I merely wished to check on my tenants’ welfare.”
Ivy stiffened as he pulled a small notebook from an inside pocket of his jacket and jotted something down. “Ah yes, your past rent. Let’s see… with added interest, that brings the total to seven dollars.”
“Seven dollars!” Ivy’s jaw dropped.
“Coupled with this month’s rent, that comes to…” He tapped his pencil on the notepad. “Thirteen dollars. Unless you’d like me to add interest to this month’s rent as well.”
“It’s only the fourth, Mr. Grimsby,” she protested.
“Yes, but your grace period is nearly up. Then you’ll owe me fifteen dollars.”
Grandma Evie’s chair scraped against the wooden floor. “You’re robbing us!”
He looked past Ivy. “I’m tolerating you.
” His gaze returned to Ivy. “You have until the end of the week to pay last month’s rent.
Then I’ll consider not adding interest to this month’s, provided you pay it by the middle of the month.
I think I’m being very lenient. Don’t you?
” He leaned closer, a devilish smile on his face.
Ivy fought the urge to shrink back. “I told you, I’m still looking for work.”
“Ah yes,” he said, straightening. “It wasn’t your fault the textile mill burned to the ground, and you lost your job.”
“She could have lost her life!” Grandma called from across the room.
“That would have been a pity,” he purred, then looked at Grandma. “You’d be in the street without her.”
Grandma Evie scowled and huffed.
Mr. Grimsby chuckled again. “Now that I’ve reminded you of your obligations, I’ll be on my way.”
“Consider us reminded,” Ivy said, her jaw tight.
He raised an eyebrow, the look in his eyes downright predatory.
He often dismissed anything Grandma Evie had to say and lingered too long in the doorway, just as he was doing now.
“I hate to think of the two of you alone. It must be difficult. After all, the world we live in can be a cruel place.” He paused, as he always did, for dramatic effect.
Ivy gripped the doorknob and resisted the urge to slam the door in his face. “We get along.”
“No, you don’t. Or your rent would be paid.” He smiled again.
Rats. She couldn’t argue with him there.
His gaze slid to her hands. “I believe a sensible solution is best.”
Evie squeezed her eyes shut, uncaring how she looked. Here it comes…
“I could give you more time, my sweet.” His voice softened into false honey, making Ivy’s skin crawl. “I’d truly hate to displace you. What you need is a man’s protection. His… provision.”
Her shoulders slumped as she opened her eyes. “No.”
“Oh, but yes you do, Miss Goodhart. And I could take care of you.” He smiled again.
Ivy was surprised he didn’t twist his mustache. Her life had turned into a bad melodrama, just like a play she’d once seen.
“No?” he drawled, stepping back as if slapped, then just as quickly leaned in again. “But it would solve all your problems. A young woman like you ought not shoulder burdens meant for a husband.”
“I don’t have a husband,” Ivy shot back.
“So I’ve noticed.” He stuffed his notebook and pencil back into his pocket. “I’ve been thinking about you, Miss Goodhart. A lot.”
Grandma Evie grabbed the rolling pin off a small table. Ivy knew the sound by heart.
Mr. Grimsby ignored her and continued. “I mean to ease your burdens, Miss Goodhart, if you’d only let me. I’m offering you security.”
Ivy swallowed hard. “Thank you, but no thank you.”
“Respectability,” he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “A roof over your head. And I promise not to boot your grandmother out into the snow.”
Grandma Evie gasped and left her chair, the rolling pin gripped firmly in her hand. “You heard the girl. She said no. She always says no!”
He steepled his hands and smiled. “Mrs. Goodhart, I’m speaking to your granddaughter. No one asked your opinion.”
“You’re going to get it anyway, you oily snake!”
Ivy shut her eyes and shook her head. “Grandma…”
“Yes, handle the wildcat,” he said mildly. “She may be old, but she’s more than aggravating.” He took a step back. “I’ll leave you with my offer, my dear. As always.”
Grandma wasn’t finished. She joined Ivy at the door. “You waltz in here like you’re doing us some favor with your proposal. Why, you’re nothing but a buzzard circling a rabbit!”
He smiled. “Ah yes, the rabbit. Thank you for reminding me.” His gaze slid to Ivy. “Have you gotten rid of it?”
“You allow pets. It’s in the lease.”
“A rabbit is livestock. Something meant to be eaten.” He glanced over her shoulder, clearly searching for King Alfred. “I’m sure he’d be delicious. Saving him for yourselves, are you?”
Ivy’s shoulders slumped. He was enjoying this. She needed to say something, anything, to make him leave. But men like Mr. Grimsby didn’t retreat. They departed when it suited them.
He adjusted his cuffs again. “I’ve stated what I needed to. You have until the end of the week. Remember that.”
Her heart stuttered. Four days. How was she supposed to come up with that much money so quickly? She hadn’t been able to find work since the mill fire weeks ago.
“Good day, ladies.” He straightened, gave Ivy one last oily smile, and left.
She shut the door, turned, and leaned against it. “Goodness. What a horrid man.”
“That man is a despicable,” Grandma spat.
Ivy crossed the room and sank onto the settee. “Yes, he is.” She buried her face in her hands.
“If he dares toss us out, I’ll… I’ll bite him!”
Ivy let her hands slide down her face as a laugh escaped. “Grandma!”
“Well, I will.” Grandma Evie returned to her chair. “Don’t you worry none, Ivy, dear. We’ll manage.”
Ivy nodded. “I’ll get a newspaper. Check the job listings. Maybe today I’ll find something. But will they give me an advance? That’s the question.”
“Maybe knowing you’ve got a job will appease that snake,” Grandma said. “And don’t you dare settle for scrubbing floors for mere pennies.”
“No, that kind of work won’t do.” Ivy rose, went to the coat rack, and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. “I’ll be back with the paper.”
She left the apartment, went downstairs, and stepped into the swirling snow. She’d thought December was bad, but January was far worse. She bought a paper and hurried back inside, shuddering as she tried not to imagine herself and her grandmother trying to survive in such cold.
Once settled, she scanned the advertisements. Most were aimed at men, offering work of various kinds. She was about to give up when her eyes caught on a small notice at the bottom of the page.
HELP WANTED
Ivy’s heart beat faster. “Grandma, listen to this: ‘Respectable business in Chicago seeks a dependable young lady for office work. Must be organized, discreet, and capable of following rules. Comfortable with paperwork and assisting young ladies in distress.’” She looked up, thoughtful.
“It goes on to say, ‘Steady position for the right candidate. Please inquire at The Sisters’ Mail-Order Bride Company, 14 Wabash Avenue.’”
She read it again. “I can do something like this. I read and write well, and I’m organized, aren’t I, Grandma?”
“Of course you are, dear. You need to apply.”
The job might mean long hours and longer walks home, leaving Grandma Evie alone in a flat Ivy didn’t trust to stay warm without her. It might mean being turned away, judged wanting, and coming back with nothing but more shame to swallow.
But if she didn’t try, if she stayed put and waited for mercy, there would be no one left to protect Grandma at all.
“You’re right. Today. This moment.” Ivy rose and headed for the coat rack again.
“Ivy, eat something first,” Grandma urged.
Ivy nodded, her gaze drifting to the small cage used to transport her rabbit. “Mr. Grimsby sounds like he’d like to eat poor Alfred.”
“If he can get his hands on him,” Grandma said with a sigh.
Ivy winced. “That’s just it. What if he sneaks in and takes him? You have deliveries to make. What if we’re both gone and…”
“You could take him with you. Tell whoever interviews you that you’re caring for him. Saving his life,” Grandma said with a shrug.
Ivy nodded and studied the address. “It’s a decent neighborhood. Close to some very nice areas.”
“Good. Then maybe they’ll excuse King Alfred’s presence.” Grandma sighed. “Go on and take him, dear. I don’t trust Grimsby as far as I could throw him.”
Ivy hated to do it, but what choice did she have? She wasn’t sure which Mr. Grimsby wanted more. Her, or King Alfred in a stewpot.
She went to the hope chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out her best shoes. “I’m going to change. I need to look respectable.”
“And you need to eat something. I could make oatmeal,” Grandma offered.
“Thank you. That would help.” Ivy gathered what she needed and stepped behind the changing screen.
When she was dressed, she examined herself in the small mirror above the dresser.
She smoothed her auburn hair and braided it quickly.
Dark smudges shadowed her blue eyes, but that couldn’t be helped.
Her pale skin only made them more noticeable.
She tilted her head. She often looked younger than her eighteen years. But today she looked older. Tired. Worn thin by weeks of worry, job hunting, and dodging their landlord’s advances.
Grandma tsked. “Put some color on your cheeks, dear. It’ll help.”
Ivy sighed. “Do I look that tired?”
“Yes, because you are.” Grandma checked the kettle and set a pot on the stove. “You need this job. And I think it would suit you. Think of all the young ladies you could help.”
“Ladies in distress,” Ivy murmured.
“And right now, you’re one of them,” Grandma said gently.
King Alfred’s ears twitched. Ivy usually let him roam the apartment, but hesitated since she was about to leave. Then again, his cage needed cleaning.
“Yes, go on and let him out,” Grandma said, reading her thoughts. “And feed him. Otherwise he’ll escape and go looking for food.”
Ivy winced. King Alfred was a master escape artist. “You’re right.”
She let him out and set to work. By the time the oatmeal was ready, his cage was clean. Ivy washed her hands and sat with Grandma Evie to eat. When she finished, the two prepared to face their day.
Ivy could only hope that by the end of it, she’d have a job.