Echoes of Mercy: A Novel Read Free

before on previous missions and knew the appropriate responses. Even so, she hesitated. Somehow putting lies down in black lead on cream paper made them more glaring.
    The other woman gave Caroline a conniving look. “You need me to …”
    Pride swelled. She’d never set foot in a schoolhouse, but thanks to Annamarie, she could read and write as well as anyone who’d attended several years of school. “I can do it.”
    The woman heaved a mighty sigh. “Fine.” She bent back over her page.
    Despite the grim situation, a grin twitched at Caroline’s cheek. What might the woman have written for her if given the chance? It would be amusing to see, but she had a job to do. Placing the page on the desk again, by rote she filled in the lines with her carefully invented information, tweaking the facts just enough to mask reality but not so much it would raise suspicion.
    Just as she finished, the door opened, and Hightower breezed back in. A sugary scent accompanied him, almost heady in its sweetness. Saliva pooled beneath Caroline’s tongue, and her belly twisted in desire to taste the treats being manufactured on the lower levels. Chocolate smelled so much better than beets.
    He plucked the sheets of paper from the desk and held them out. “So we have Carrie Lang and Agatha Brewer. Correct?”
    Caroline nodded, and the older woman blared, “Mrs. Agatha Brewer, that’s right.”
    “I see neither of you has factory experience,” he went on, his gaze bouncing from one page to the other, “although Mrs. Brewer has worked in a bakery and a hotel laundry.”
    Her round face flushed pink. “That’s right. Ten years at both places. I ain’t afraid of hard work.”
    Caroline’s hopes lifted. If Mrs. Brewer had more experience, she’d demand a higher wage. Caroline, with her supposed inexperience, would require much less, giving her an advantage. Factory owners always filled the unskilled positions—and toting required no skill whatsoever—with lower-wage employees first. A bitter taste attacked her tongue as she considered how some filled their floors with children, who worked the same hours for less than half the compensation of an adult.
    “I see you’re both available to work ten hours Monday through Saturday.” Since he seemed to be talking to himself, Caroline stayed quiet, but Mrs. Brewer inserted, “Mm-hm. Mm-hm.” He muttered a couple more comments, too low for Caroline to discern, and then he frowned at Mrs. Brewer. “Am I reading this correctly? You’ll accept the starting wage of four dollars a week?”
    “That’s right.”
    Caroline drew back in surprise. With twenty years of work experience, why wouldn’t Mrs. Brewer demand a better wage?
    The hiring agent pinned Mrs. Brewer with a steady glare. “You could make more than that as a hotel laundress. The Claiborne Hotel in Wichita gives its laundresses five dollars and four bits a week.”
    Mrs. Brewer’s pink jowls quivered as she seemed to chew the inside of her cheek. Some of her bravado faded. For a moment Caroline thought she saw tears in the woman’s eyes. But then she straightened her rounded shoulders and peered at the agent through squinted eyes. “Qualifications didn’t say a person had to ask for wages to match her experience.” She sucked in a breath and held it, her pink cheeks reddening as the seconds ticked by.
    The man shook his head and tapped his thigh with Mrs. Brewer’s paper. “All right, then. It’s your choice.”
    The breath wheezed from the woman’s lungs, bending her forward slightly. Her relief was so evident Caroline came close to offering a few comforting pats on her sloping shoulder. Obviously Mrs. Brewer needed a job badly enough to grasp whatever crumbs were offered. Caroline tried to swallow the unpleasanttaste filling her mouth. Fighting for the position became more difficult by the minute.
    Smacking the pages onto the desk, Hightower pointed his chin toward the door. “Come with me to the landing now