Hearts of Smoke and Steam Read Free Page A

fear.
    Her father had often scolded Sarah that she was clueless when it came to money, but as she walked up the street toward her house with her salary in her purse and a smile on her face, she was sure that she had gained a much deeper understanding of finance now that she was forced to earn every penny, rather than simply having had them placed into her hands by a servant.
    Her entire week's wages were now less than she would have once spent on a single piece of fine French ribbon, but considering how perilously close she had come to being destitute in the first few weeks of life on her own, the paper in Sarah's pocket now seemed like a fortune. And it would be good to finally be spending money without draining away the last few dollars that remained in her bank account.
    Her time at the department store had been no less demanding today than it had been on any other day. Sarah was still constantly at the beck and call of women who seemed to think that she was there to be abused at their pleasure, but she had given a smile to the shy boy who cleaned up in the restaurant on the ground floor, and later he had handed her a good-sized slice of roast chicken wrapped in wax paper. And when she had gone to buy a sugar cookie, the friendly old man at the pastry counter had demanded that she take an éclair as a present for simply “blessing an old man with the pleasure of her company.”
    It all made Sarah blush to think about it, but at least she wasn't an old maid yet…
    As Sarah climbed her front stoop, the sun peeked out from the clouds, bathing her in a sudden feeling of warmth. She stopped to bask in it, and felt a wave of joy wash over her. For an instant she felt so good it made her want to burst into song, but she decided it might be better to simply hum instead. There were still so many tasks to do, but things were finally looking up!
    Reaching the landing, Sarah slipped her key into the lock of the front door. Her building wasn't anything special, but it was clean and relatively bright. Compared to the dark, dingy holes that some of the other girls had told her they lived in, Sarah had begun to think of her little tenement as positively palatial.
    As the door swung open she was greeted by the strong scent of whitewash. A fresh coat had been painted onto the hall just a few days ago, and despite the strong odor the whole place seemed more bright and cheerful for it.
    It seemed that the owners had recently been seized with a fit of pride in the place, and they had been adding a number of improvements, including cleaning up the halls and putting in window boxes under the front-facing eaves. Sarah was already imagining that perhaps she could use hers to grow a few fresh herbs once the weather warmed up a bit, although beyond sticking the seeds into some dirt and pouring water on top of them she had little idea how that would be accomplished.
    Normally after a long day on her feet she felt like the only thing she had the energy left for was collapsing onto her bed, but Sarah seemed to float up the stairs today. When she reached the third floor, she ran down the hallway towards her door as fast as she could, eager to get a chance to eat her dinner before the remaining sunlight vanished behind the rooftops.
    She had already reached a hand into her purse, and had begun to pull out her key when she saw that someone had placed a large iron padlock on the door. The tune she was humming died on her lips as she looked up to make sure that this was indeed her apartment. The painted number nine on the door left no doubt about it; someone had locked her out of her home.
    Trying not to let an obvious mistake ruin her day, Sarah put her shopping bag down in front of her door, took a deep breath to clear her head, and headed back down the stairs to the superintendent's room. Her feet felt decidedly heavier than they had on the way up.
    Arriving back at the ground floor, she rapped lightly on the door to the superintendent's apartment.