"Well, I'm sure all of them aren't as bad as they're made out to be." Lucinda was prepared to give the Irish nurse a chance, but her voice was dubious. There were some Irish families who had made good names for themselves back east, but they were few and far between. Most of them had reputations as drunks and brawlers. But Mrs. Wigfall obviously knew that already.
The landlady seemed like she would be amenable, as long as Lucinda gave her advance notice of any changes to the rooming situation. "Of course. I should be glad to do that."
"Lucinda Dietrich." She leaned forward to watch as the woman wrote her name down and then looked at the tea tray. "Might I pour you some tea, Mrs. Wigfall?"
" ... - - - ... "
"Lucinda Dietrich." She leaned forward to watch as the woman wrote her name down and then looked at the tea tray. "Might I pour you some tea, Mrs. Wigfall?"
Mrs Wigfall had shoved the completed guest-book in Hector's direction, but he had unceremoniously dumped it on the antimacassar and bustled in to take over the tea pouring duties.
"Please allow me, Mrs Dietrich, after all, you are our guest, even if you're a paying guest!" he beamed. "And may I say, how very brave of you to come to a new town and make a new start so soon after your sad loss. You must please, please tell me if there is ever anything I can do to help. Even for a very beautiful young widow it must... yow!!"
Mrs. Wigfall had reached for a toasting fork and shoved it in his backside.
"Hector! Stop drooling in Mrs Dietrich's tea cup and go to work! She'll have to deal with enough mashers like you outside of here, don't add to her troubles when she's at home!" Hector tramped off, rubbing the affected area and Mrs Wigfall shook her head.
"I don't know what to do with him, Mrs Dietrich, girl mad he is! Oh, I've tried all the usual remedies: bromide in his cocoa, cold showers, bible readings, nothing seems to work."
Lucinda was rather amused at Hector's behavior until his mother told him to stop drooling in her tea, which was enough to give anyone pause. It was figurative language, of course, but it was not pleasant to think about.
Was Hector really figuratively drooling over her? He had seemed so polite. Maybe his politeness was meant to...well...woo her? Ugh. He was...well, maybe not that much younger than her, but she had been married before and he obviously had not.
She tried not to make a disgusted face as Mrs. Wigfall listed the many cures she had tried for Hector's "condition," but couldn't help tightening her lips slightly as she sipped from her teacup and set it down. "I'm sure it is just a phase. He has no father to help you with his...troubles?"
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
She tried not to make a disgusted face as Mrs. Wigfall listed the many cures she had tried for Hector's "condition," but couldn't help tightening her lips slightly as she sipped from her teacup and set it down. "I'm sure it is just a phase. He has no father to help you with his...troubles?"
"His Father?!" queried Mrs Wigfall, somewhat dizzily, before recovering herself "Oh, you mean my husband!" she smiled wafting a hand breezily to a monochrome Daguerreotype on the mantle that showed a slight, bald, snub-nosed bespectacled man who looked nothing like either of the two dark haired children.
"I might as well be a widow like yourself Mrs Dietrich for all I see of him: he works day and night at that telegraph office and sneaks home at night after I'm asleep and hides himself in a spare bedroom. You'd think he was scared of us all! I've had to bring those two children up virtually alone!" she informed her guest.
"Not that I miss him particularly, I mean, it's not as if we..." but then the door opened and Jemima clomped in. "Case's in your room, Missus." she informed Lucinda and looked around like a cat who thinks there might be a mouse in the room. "Where's Hector?" she asked suspiciously.
"Oh, I've sent him off to work, he was bothering Mrs Dietrich here." explained Ma Wigfall.
Jemima sniffed and nodded. "Yeah, he'll do that. He's a dirty little rascal." she boomed in her deep, flat contralto voice. "You should start making him wear that thing again, Ma! Where is it?" she declared, referring perhaps to some god-forsaken surgical device of the type then in vogue at the time to prevent uninvited and unwanted, ahem, physiological reactions to the fairer sex.
"Oh do be quiet, you're just as bad with boys!" admonished the mother, before turning back to the shabby-genteel seeming Lucinda. But Jemima got in first. "You looking for work, Missus?" she asked Mrs Dietrich, point blank.
Lucinda had been about to make a polite comment about how handsome Mrs. Wigfall's husband was, but that was before she saw the daguerreotype. After she saw it, she decided it would be better not to say anything at all. And it turned out she didn't need to, thanks to Jemima's return.
"Thank you, Jemima," she said after the girl let her know that her trunk was up in her room. The stocky girl was so...so...mannish. She was almost worse than Hector, who was actually not uncouth, just very...boyish. The way Jemima talked about her brother was most demeaning. Whatever did she mean by "that thing?" It certainly couldn't be anything that should be talked about in polite society.
She was taken aback by Jemima's question. It wasn't proper to discuss work at a time like this, and certainly not if it was referred to as "work." More properly, it should be "a situation." She glanced at Mrs. Wigfall and answered, "Why...ah...yes, Jemima, I am looking for 'work.' But I have been promised a place at the Lickskillet by Emeline...I mean Mrs. Pike...if I'm unable to find anything else."
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
She was taken aback by Jemima's question. It wasn't proper to discuss work at a time like this, and certainly not if it was referred to as "work." More properly, it should be "a situation." She glanced at Mrs. Wigfall and answered, "Why...ah...yes, Jemima, I am looking for 'work.' But I have been promised a place at the Lickskillet by Emeline...I mean Mrs. Pike...if I'm unable to find anything else."
Jemima sniffed, working a few different jobs, she had a good idea about the pros and cons of different employment situations. "Yeah, that oughta be all right: you'll get good tips and all you want to eat while you're working there but, all the same, make sure she pays you the going rate. Downside is you'll be sweating like a horse by the end of the day in the heat from the kitchen and you'll have to be polite to some of the pigs you'll have to wait on, some folks like to go to places like that just to treat the waitress like dirt."
She stood back and folded her arms as she took Lucinda in properly.
"Hmmm, and no offence, Missus, but you look kinda fancy to me. You might wanna dowdy down a mite before you go to work there: folks won't give you big tips if they think you're rich. I'd spread it around that you've had a tragedy and you're down on your luck, that'll get those tips rolling in." said Jemima, kindly offering the new guest her expert advice.
Mrs Wigfall held out her hand to Jemima's "Such a good hardworking girl, Mrs Dietrich, I don't know what I shall do without her when some fine handsome young fellow comes along and sweeps her off her feet!"
Jemima snatched her hand back with a curt "Get off, Mother!"
Had Mrs. Wigfall not taught her children any manners? Young women of Jemima's age ought to know better than to use words like sweat. And sweating like a horse was even worse! Lucinda tried to keep from wrinkling her nose in distaste and tried not to show how unsettling Jemima's words were. Were there really people like that, who would go to a diner just to be unpleasant to the people who worked there?
"Thank you, Jemima. I suppose widowhood doesn't count as a tragedy?" she asked with a glint of humor in her eyes. "I don't intend to 'dowdy down' at all, however. I would hope that tips would be based on the quality of my service, not the quality...or lack of quality...of my clothing." There was nothing wrong with her clothes, in her eyes. In fact, she felt dowdy in the clothes she had brought out west with her. They were nothing like what she would have worn back home.
She watched the interaction between mother and daughter curiously. It was strange how...normal Mrs. Wigfall seemed and how...abnormal Jemima was. Hector was slightly abnormal, but maybe that was because she hadn't been around young men in a while.
After Jemima's outburst, she finished her tea and rose from her chair, then cleared her throat to gently interrupt. "Mrs. Wigfall, are there any rules here I should be aware of? Do you have a curfew for your boarders?"
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
Posted July 16, 2021
"Thank you, Jemima. I suppose widowhood doesn't count as a tragedy?" she asked with a glint of humor in her eyes.
Jemima tipped her head. Her smile was so horrible that she did this instead to show what little amusement she found in the world. "Widders and orphans are ten a penny in these parts. And half the widders shot their husbands, and half the orphans worried their parents to death, so no." she replied.
Mrs Wigfall took out a hanky and dabbed her eyes "Well, the second part might be true!" she declared.
"I don't intend to 'dowdy down' at all, however. I would hope that tips would be based on the quality of my service, not the quality...or lack of quality...of my clothing." There was nothing wrong with her clothes, in her eyes. In fact, she felt dowdy in the clothes she had brought out west with her. They were nothing like what she would have worn back home.
Jemima shook her head slowly and sniffed. "I like you, Missus, you're optimistic. I wish I was." she said, wondering how the fine lady would get on during Granny Miggins' or some other ornery ratbag's next visit to the diner. She'd like to be a fly on the wall on that day.
After Jemima's outburst, she finished her tea and rose from her chair, then cleared her throat to gently interrupt. "Mrs. Wigfall, are there any rules here I should be aware of? Do you have a curfew for your boarders?"
Mrs Wigfall rose, too, of course. She had manners and, indeed, had once considered herself a lady, as well: before a passionate love affair and an unwanted teenage pregnancy had put paid to that self-delusion. Still, one could still observe the niceties.
"For unmarried girls yes, but not for a respectable widow-lady like yourself, of course. We make an exception for Miss Leane, because she works as a nurse and needs to be out at all hours. I only ask that you inform me if you are expecting a gentleman caller, it helps me to keep away pests."
"Except Hector." muttered Jemima.
"Ahem!" Mrs Wigfall tried to drown her daughter out with a polite cough.
"I will give you a key. This one is for your room, this one for the front door." she said, handing over the sacred objects. "Breakfast is at seven."
It was just as she had suspected: widowhood out here was not a tragedy but a normality. And maybe that made it all the more tragic. If this wild land was so deadly to the men, what chance did the women have in it? Her thoughts were much less optimistic than the ones she had voiced to Jemima previously. And speaking of Jemima...
Lucinda smiled again. "Thank you, Jemima." She wasn't sure if being called optimistic in this case was a compliment, but it never hurt to be polite.
She politely ignored Jemima's aside about Hector and listened to Mrs. Wigfall's house rules, of which it sounded like there were few...for her, anyway. She took the keys from her new landlady and slipped them into her handbag. "Thank you, Mrs. Wigfall. I doubt that I will be receiving any gentleman callers, but I shall be sure to inform you if I do."
She moved toward the door. "I hope you both have a pleasant evening. I am going back to the Lickskillet to help out Mrs. Pike, but I will not be out too extremely late. Please give my regards to Hector. I'm sorry he was unable to stay with us." She smiled again and put her hand on the door handle.
"THERE'S SOMEBODY AT THE DOOR!!!"
She politely ignored Jemima's aside about Hector and listened to Mrs. Wigfall's house rules, of which it sounded like there were few...for her, anyway. She took the keys from her new landlady and slipped them into her handbag. "Thank you, Mrs. Wigfall. I doubt that I will be receiving any gentleman callers, but I shall be sure to inform you if I do."
"Oh, you'll be surprised, Mrs Dietrich" Mrs Wigfall laughed. "... a handsome young woman such as yourself: the men around here will be dancing around you like moths round a flame, believe you me! I'll wager the Lick Skillet's custom will go up tenfold in the next week, if I know the men around here!" she joked, rather daringly. Jemima just winced: another rival for the hearts of all the handsome single men in town!
"Of course, if that does happen and you want to know anything about any particular gentleman, you just come and ask me!" her new landlady advised. "I can tell you which are the gents and which are the rapscallions!"
"Yeah, like Richard Orr!" spat Jemima suddenly, dodging her mother's hand as it tried to grab her.
"Jemima Wigfall, you take that back! Your Uncle Dick has always been more that kind to you!" Mrs W. chided. "He's NOT my Uncle!" Jemima fumed, looking at Lucinda. It just made her mad, listening to that hussy talk about 'gentleman' like that: her mother didn't even know what a 'lady' was.
"Oh, children!" sighed Mrs Wigfall, standing along with Lucinda.
She moved toward the door. "I hope you both have a pleasant evening. I am going back to the Lickskillet to help out Mrs. Pike, but I will not be out too extremely late. Please give my regards to Hector. I'm sorry he was unable to stay with us." She smiled again and put her hand on the door handle.
"Huh!" grunted Jemima at the last comment, but then as Lucinda exited, turned and reminded her "Don't take less than 50 cents an hour, plus tips and eat all you can while you're there." She'd decided Mrs Dietrich was all right, despite being too beautiful.