“I’m Mrs. Winnifred West. Come along.” Sliding her arm through the young woman’s, she led the way to the table in the corner.
An ornate porcelain tea set sat proudly in the center of the lace tablecloth, surrounded by an embossed silver chocolate set and hand-painted plates piled high with mouthwatering confections.
“I’ve died and gone to heaven,” Olive breathed, and then bit her lip.
Winnie chuckled. “You’re a girl after my own heart.”
She cocked her head and debated between a delicately iced cookie and a rich chocolate mousse. Finally, she shrugged and took both. Olive followed suit, selecting the mousse and a flaky pastry topped with cream and a strawberry cut into the shape of a rose.
They settled into chairs in front of the white marble fireplace, and Winnie strived not to moan with pleasure at the explosion of sugar on her tongue. She distracted herself by examining the room’s classical details, including curved ceiling designs of delicate ivory and brass light fixtures. And was that an Atwood landscape gracing the far wall? Her mother had always coveted one.
“I’m not sure I fit in here.” Olive plucked at her plain skirt.
“Me either, but Miss Lewis invited us regardless.”
“That’s true.”
“If it’s terrible, we can always swing by the closest drug store for a float,” Winnie added with a wink.
Attendance in the room had expanded to a full dozen. Miss Lewis ushered the latest newcomers to their seats, a woman in her early forties accompanied by a girl of about fifteen. Their nearly identical facial features identified them as family, warming Winnie’s heart. She couldn’t imagine attending a suffrage event with her own mother.
Miss Lewis took her place in front of a wooden podium covered in an assortment of papers. Though short and waif-like, her assertive demeanor gave the illusion that she was a much larger woman. She cleared her throat and called out, “I hereby call the first meeting of the Seattle Suffrage Society to order.”
A murmur of excitement spread through the room. Winnie clapped her hands loudly.
“It means so much to see women eager for change. Together, I hope we can improve our future. And now, please allow me to introduce my aunt, Mrs. Della Longfellow. She has generously offered her home as our meeting space, and she will act as the club’s secretary.”
The gray-haired woman wearing the silver sunflower badge scrunched her shoulders and waved.
“I would like to begin by acknowledging the importance of our work, which will undoubtedly involve a lot of time in each other’s company. So, while we are within these walls, I’d like to dispense with formality.” She gave everyone a serene smile. “Please call me Clem.”
A trio of older women in the corner let out a sound of dismay, but Winnie was thrilled. Before the decision could be questioned, she leaned into her new friend’s side. “I prefer Winnie.”
“And I’m Olive.”
There was a low bang at the double doors, as if something had smacked into the wood. Winnie twisted in her seat to see what the commotion was about. A trim, raven-haired young woman hustled into the room, breathing heavily and lugging a ruby velvet valise. Dressed in an exquisite forest-green walking suit trimmed in black soutache and an enormous hat sporting black feathers, she could have been a model in a New York fashion magazine. Winnie couldn’t imagine someone so well-appointed attending their meeting. Was she lost?
“Sorry I’m late.” The elegant woman blew a dangling feather out of her eyes. “Where should I sit?”
Clem took the latecomer’s arrival in stride. “Miss Rhoda Carlisle, everyone. Miss Carlisle, I was just saying I hope we can use our Christian names during the meetings.”
“Wonderful. I’m Rhoda.”
Clem beamed. “Take any open seat.”
Winnie waved a hand and pointed to the empty seat beside her. As Rhoda collapsed into her seat, Winnie reached to help her with the bag.
“Heavens, that’s heavy. Whatever do you have in there?”
“My rocks.” Rhoda peered around the room. “Hasn’t everyone got them?”
“For what, dear?” Clem asked.
“For throwing them. Isn’t that what this club’s about?”
Winnie covered her mouth, but a snort still escaped. Olive choked back a giggle, but not everyone in the room was so inclined. The trio of disapproving matrons muttered under their breath and gave Rhoda disapproving frowns.
Clem’s lips quirked. “We aren’t going to be throwing any rocks, dear.”
