“Winnie, can you help Olive take down the booth while Rhoda and I hail the driver?”
Jarred from her inner thoughts, Winnie pasted on a smile. “Of course.”
Clem hesitated, as though scrutinizing her, but Rhoda’s low, appreciative whistle distracted them.
“Look at the beauty that just pulled up.” Rhoda gestured to an automobile across the square in front of the Pioneer Building. The luxurious royal blue body and brass headlights gleamed despite the cloudy day, as if someone had lovingly polished it that morning. Though automobiles were becoming increasingly popular in Seattle, there were few enough that they could still cause a commotion. Surrounded by delivery wagons and private carriages, it stood out as the epitome of wealth.
“Do you know much about automobiles?” Clem asked.
“As much as I’m allowed,” Rhoda replied wryly. “My father has bought every one of Mr. Ford’s models. I think he’s more excited about the arrival of the Model T this fall than he is about his thirtieth wedding anniversary.”
“I’ve never been in one,” Olive said.
“One day, I’ll take you on a spin in our Model K.”
“I see our driver on the far corner,” Clem said. “Rhoda, come along.”
The pair made their way across the square together since it wouldn’t do to wander the area alone. Rhoda matched her pace to Clem’s uneven, slower one, and Winnie once again noted the elegant woman’s innate kindness, though she tried to hide it beneath sarcasm and pretend indifference. She had just started gathering their belongings when a trio of boys around ten years old crouched in the dirt in front of the booth.
“What does your sign say, miss?” a curly-haired boy asked.
His friend, freckled and thin, squinted at the writing. “Something about women.”
“Woman suffrage,” Winnie said. “It means women want to vote, just like men do.”
Olive sidled near. “Wouldn’t you like it if your mothers could have that right?”
“No. Pa says the vote’ll put grand ideas in Ma’s head,” said the third boy, a towhead. Winnie snorted in amusement. “Can I have it? I want to show my Pa.”
“I’m afraid not,” she began, but the boy was already grabbing the fabric with both hands.
Olive’s hand clamped on his wrist. “None of that now. Let go.”
The boy gulped, his eyes darting to his friends, who watched uneasily. A flush crept up his neck, but he refused to let go. A few passers-by stopped to see what was happening.
“If you don’t put my friend’s pennant down,” Olive said, looming over the boy. “I’ll find your mother and we’ll take away all your toy swords. You’ll never play pirates again.”
Winnie swallowed a laugh. Who knew timid Olive could negotiate as if she were a ruthless buccaneer herself?
The freckled boy was scandalized. “Don’t risk it, Jeb.”
Jeb’s eyes darted around, clearly not liking the way he had become the center of attention. “I’ll get you for this,” he hissed, and a second later, the boys darted away.
Winnie and Olive dissolved into laughter. “What on earth was that? Olive, you were wonderful. How did you know he plays pirates?”
“It was a lucky guess. My brother is about that age.”
Winnie removed the pennant and folded it. “Well, I’m glad you were here. Jeb didn’t take a liking to me.”
“We make a good team.”
Working together, they broke down the booth within minutes. “I thought the carriage would be here by now,” Winnie said.
“It’s over there.” Olive pointed beyond the automobile they had admired earlier. “Looks like there’s a jam.”
“It’s not that far. Think we can manage?”
Olive hefted the folding table in answer, and Winnie grabbed the two baskets filled with their materials. They started across the plaza, dodging carriages, automobiles, and pedestrians. They were just passing the royal blue automobile when a familiar high-pitched voice called out in a singsong voice. “Oh, miiissss.”
