Free In the Company of Secrets by Judith Miller Page A

walked to the stove and helped himself to a cup of coffee. Wrapping his large hand around the cup, he ambled back to his chair and sat down. ‘‘If she plans to keep company with the likes of Mr. Howard, then she’s not figured out how to separate the wheat from the chaff.’’
    His mother flapped her hand. ‘‘She’s only just arrived. It’s too early for her to make a judgment on the man’s character. And you’d best keep your voice down. The windows are open. No need giving the neighbors something to talk about.’’
    Though she smiled with the admonition, Fred knew she feared his remarks would be overheard and eventually reach the ears of company officials, which was only one of his many complaints about living in Mr. Pullman’s perfect town. Though no one would ever admit to such behavior, there was little doubt in Fred’s mind that spies lived among them in the row houses—men and women willing to report on their neighbors for an extra favor or an added dollar or two in their pay. Fred found such actions appalling and had proposed moving to Roseland or Kensington on several occasions.
    However, his mother feared moving from Pullman. Too many of her friends’ husbands had been laid off once they moved outside the town. She worried the same would happen to Fred. And though he’d attempted to assure her there was little chance of layoffs in the foreseeable future, she’d been reduced to tears at the very thought of moving. He’d finally given up on the idea—at least for the time being.
    Fred gulped a final swig of his coffee as Albert returned to the kitchen. ‘‘This certainly has been a surprising day! I never imagined I’d come home and be greeted by my cousin Olivia. Difficult to believe!’’ He smoothed his damp hair with the palm of his hand. ‘‘She was here, wasn’t she?’’
    Mrs. DeVault chuckled. ‘‘Indeed she was. And she seemed a very nice young lady. It’s fortunate that she’s located a position so quickly, too. Some of the women in our sewing circle have had their names on the waiting list at the laundry for nearly three months now.’’ Careful to use a folded towel to protect her hand, she pulled the baking tin from the oven and placed it on the wood worktable. ‘‘Of course, Olivia has lots more experience and training, what with her education and skills in cooking.’’
    Fred watched his mother brush melted butter atop the perfectly rounded mounds. He was thankful they had enough income that she wasn’t required to seek work in the huge laundry or sewing departments where some of the town’s women labored. Intermittent income from her midwifery duties provided a bit of money for what she often referred to as her rainy-day fund.
    He’d seen the arrival of carloads of soiled uniforms and linens that needed to be washed and then pressed on the huge mangles and shirt-pressing machines. Occasionally he’d visited Homer Lindsey on the second floor of the laundry, where fifteen hundred pounds of soap were made each day, then piped downstairs and delivered to the huge washers, where the dirty items were restored to snowy white perfection. Homer’s wife worked as a seamstress in the linen department, and they hoped to save enough to buy a house of their own in Roseland one day. Fred doubted they’d ever reach the goal, given their wages, but he didn’t voice his opinion to Homer.
    ‘‘Martha mentioned one of the hotel maids has quit her position to take a job in the knitting mills next week.’’ Albert appeared pleased he’d remembered to pass along the information. ‘‘You might tell some of the ladies they could apply at the hotel.’’
    While most everything required for the building and repair of the Pullman railroad cars had purposefully been incorporated into the multiple buildings that formed the Pullman Car Works, the positions for men far outweighed those available for women. And it seemed Fred’s mother was often searching out prospects for one lady