“What an endorsement for intimate relations,” Clem said.
“Makes me want to give it a try,” Olive said, her eyes on her folded hands.
“Why shouldn’t you?” Rhoda said. “Men do and society doesn’t give a damn.”
“Maybe one day.” Olive’s voice was a mere squeak, her cheeks flaming.
“Leave her alone, Rhoda,” Clem said gently. “Winnie, what will you do now?”
“Stop crying, hopefully.” She sat up and withdrew an envelope that had arrived earlier that day—she hadn’t opened it, unable to take another blow. She fingered the return address of her attorney, and a wave of nerves threatened to overwhelm her. “Whatever is in this letter may well determine what Ihaveto do. And I’m terrified.”
She filled the girls in about her financial situation, John’s will, and the anticipated ruling. The letter in her hand was slightly fatter than the normal letters. A decision had been made.
“I quit my job. My remaining funds won’t cover my housing more than another week or two.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “My family in Boston would take me in, but I’m afraid my aspirations to be a journalist will end. My father barely tolerated my early days as an unmarried stenographer, so I am positive journalism will not pass muster.”
“You could continue as a stenographer,” Rhoda said.
“Unfortunately, a stenographer’s salary is not enough for me to live on my own. At least, not without considerable adjustments to my already difficult lifestyle.”
“But what do youwantto do?” Olive asked. “Do you want to return home? Or do you want to become a journalist?”
She shook her head, tears welling once more. “I can’t say. I’m afraid to hope.”
“Oh, posh. Don’t allow a letter to destroy your hope,” Rhoda said. “Decide now, before you even know what it contains. If money were no issue, what would you choose?”
She squared her shoulders.
“I want to be a journalist.” The admission sent a thrill through her. “But not only that. I want to be a voice for women. I want to document suffrage, to interview the many girls and women who deserve control over their own lives. There are so few mentions of us in the papers that go beyond bored conjecture or derision. IknowI could breathe life into those stale descriptions. I want men to read my words and understand we are not to be underestimated. That we will be crushed beneath their boots no longer.”
Clem squeezed her hand. “My dear, I have no doubt you will be the most glorious defender of our rights.”
“I have so many ideas that I’m fit to bursting.” She wiped her wet cheeks. “I’ve already made a list—notthatkind of list, Rhoda.”
Rhoda grinned and held up her hands in surrender. “As long as you interview me, you can make any list you want.”
“And me,” Olive said. “My story has value too.”
Winnie threw an arm around Olive. “Of course it does.”
Clem rose to her feet. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
She led them upstairs to a bedroom with yellow floral wallpaper and a grand four-poster bed occupying the wall opposite the bay windows. Winnie tore her gaze from the view and raised an inquisitive brow.
Clem smiled and gestured around her. “There’s no need to return to Boston. This is your room for as long as you need it.”
Winnie gasped, and Olive clapped her hands.
“Go sit on your gorgeous new bed and open the letter,” Rhoda said in exasperation.
Winnie let out a weak laugh and did as ordered. She read the missive quietly. “The will has been settled.” She struggled to speak over the new lump in her throat. “I’ll receive the funds within the month.”
The strain she’d shouldered for days was too much to bear. She buried her face in her hands, overcome by ragged sobs. Tears of helpless rage, that she had fallen for another wrong man. Tears of relief, that the settled will saved her from losing her freedom. Her friends surrounded her, holding her while she cried. At last, she raised her face and smiled tremulously at Clem.
“Can I still stay here until I get back on my feet?”
“Of course,” Clem said, rubbing her back soothingly. “As long as it takes. Aunt Della and Judith will adore having you. They have supported many women throughout the years for various reasons. Hosting a journalist will be a feather in their cap.”
Winnie sighed in relief. “I am so very grateful I met all of you.”
