You Within Me

Chapter 2-1

CHAPTER 2

Pittsburgh, 1919

“Violet, are you ready? It’s almost time to go,” Father called from the corridor.

Violet froze, set her book to the side and shoved her foot into her boot. “Almost, Father,” she called back.

Hiram knocked on her door and let himself in. “Quit fiddling with that damned book and get ready. You were the one who wanted to go to this party,” he groused to his daughter. “The grippe is far from settled, despite the relaxing of quarantine rules. Why would you drag us to a party neither of us wants to go to in the middle of an epidemic?”

“You should put in an appearance for the sake of your reputation,” Violet pointed out as she tied the laces into a bow and groped across the bed to retrieve her gauze face mask. “You haven’t made your way so high in your company only to molder at home as a recluse. Your reputation is based on your network of supporters. You need to get out and meet with them sometimes. Besides, no one in our circles has gotten sick, and you don’t even interact with the factory workers anymore. You just drink tea in the sunroom. Put on a mask, bring a hankie and go mingle.”

“I thought you were going to meet with that suitor of yours,” Hiram rebutted. “I don’t need some slip of a girl telling me how to do my job.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m reminding you of what you used to do. And I don’t have a suitor, Father. I hope you don’t mean that i***t you invited to dinner last week. He didn’t even bring a hankie. He sneezed all over the good napkins.” She shuddered.

“James Wilson is a good, solid young man. A rising star in the steel business. I hope we can keep him, and he doesn’t decide to go into competition against us.”

“Hence why you’re trying to arrange a reason for him to stick with the Carnegie corporation?” Violet guessed, rolling her eyes.

Hiram shrugged, creasing his suit coat and his forehead in a single movement.

A violent sigh tore itself from Violet’s chest. “Father, you’ll have to find some other incentive to keep Mr. Wilson on board. He’s eight years younger than me—too young to be a serious suitor, too old for me to train how to behave properly. That’s assuming I wanted to—which I don’t. And he still thinks he can boss me around. He’s definitely not someone I’m interested in.”

“You know,” Hiram pointed out, “the odds of you finding a man who will let you be the head of the household are extremely low. You should consider whether you ought to compromise that desire rather than be alone. You’re no spring chicken.”

“Exactly, Father,” Violet said. “I didn’t reach the great old age of twenty-nine alone by being desperate to find a partner. I’m comfortable being single. If my fate is to become an eccentric spinster, I don’t mind. I have quite a special job that I find very fulfilling. I have friends, and I’m not interested in being the head of the household, only an equal partner.”

Hiram laughed, though it didn’t hold much humor. “Good luck with that, princess. If your mother were here, I’m sure she’d be quick to disabuse you of such nonsense. I have no doubt that, with her guidance, you’d be long married by now. Maybe even a mother.”

“What a world,” Violet said, intentionally tweaking her father’s sensibilities, “where half the population is relegated to only a few of the possible goals, and only the ones that are least respected.”

“We’re not starting this again,” Hiram growled. “Get moving. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

Frowning, Violet tied the strings of her mask behind the back of her head and plunked a hat on. At the last moment, she grabbed her book, tucked it into her handbag—a large leather satchel heavily decorated with elaborate beading—and headed for the door. If nothing else, I can hide away in the corner and study these strange hieroglyphics one more time. Maybe different lighting will reveal something I haven’t noticed before.