Free An Uncertain Dream by Judith Miller Page B

Pullman that recounted, in painstaking detail, the man’s rise from poverty to a position of fame and fortune throughout the country. The discourse had set Fred on edge. For nearly forty minutes, the preacher had touted the model town as an experiment in contemplated beauty and harmony, as well as a place of health, comfort, and contentment for the residents. Never once did the preacher mention the suffering or current needs of his flock.
    Since that time, the preacher hadn’t been quite so flagrant with his remarks, but he never failed to include at least an oratorical ‘‘tip of the hat’’ to Mr. Pullman or members of management in his sermons. While most members of his congregation wore the white ribbons tied to their wrist that displayed unity with the strikers, the preacher’s lapel continued to bear the small flag that signified his alignment with the company.
    Olivia grasped Fred’s arm and offered him a bright smile. ‘‘I’m pleased to see you. I had hoped to stop by last evening, but with the shortage of help in the kitchen, I worked late. By the time I left, I wanted nothing more than a soft bed.’’
    ‘‘I thought my mother had been hired to fill the vacant position. Was there some misunderstanding on her part?’’
    She heard the concern in his voice. ‘‘There was no misunderstanding. Both of the bakers left, and though your mother is quite talented, she can’t complete the work of two women. I stayed behind to restock items for her so she wouldn’t be overwhelmed come Monday morning.’’
    Fred greeted several groups of men before the two of them ascended the steps and entered the vestibule. ‘‘I’d think there would be a number of women eager to apply for the other position.’’
    ‘‘Indeed. But so far, Chef René hasn’t received authority to hire anyone else. I don’t think Mr. Howard was overly pleased when he discovered your mother had been hired without his approval.’’ Olivia inched her way in front of a couple who refused to scoot to the center of the pew and sat down. ‘‘He may feel that Chef René needs to be taught a lesson for overstepping his bounds. Let’s don’t forget what happened last week when Mr. Billings hired a washwoman.’’
    The closing of the laundry had presented Mr. Billings with a difficult situation: mountains of dirty hotel linens that must be laundered. Without Mr. Howard’s permission, the hotel manager hired a washwoman. When Mr. Howard discovered the hotel manager had set up an independent laundry and usurped Mr. Howard’s authority as company agent, a public argument ensued between the two men that permitted comic relief for both strikers and management alike.
    The incident had led to a general agreement that no one would ever override Mr. Howard’s authority in the future. But now it had happened again. And Chef René could well suffer the same dressing-down Mr. Billings had received.
    Mrs. DeVault bustled into the church and entered their pew while the organist struck the opening chords of the hymn that signaled services would soon begin. ‘‘I thought I was going to be late,’’ she whispered to the two of them.
    Fred grinned at his mother. ‘‘You are late, but your secret is safe with us.’’
    While the congregation stood, his mother touched a gloved hand to her lips in an effort to stifle a giggle. The hymn singing and Scripture reading continued without incident, but when Reverend Oggel stepped to the pulpit, he delivered an attack that condemned the strike and branded the union leaders as agitators. He sent the congregation home with his final words ringing in their ears—half a loaf was better than none.
    Fred jumped up from the pew and grasped Olivia by the elbow. ‘‘Until that man has been replaced, I’ll be attending church in Kensington. It’s one thing to have an opinion about the strike, but it’s quite another to use the pulpit to promote that agenda.’’
    Olivia noted the look on Mr. Howard’s face