“I make enough from Mrs. Carter to meet my needs and don't have any housing expenses, since she provides the rooms over her shop. I'd prefer giving a little of it up, if it meant helping you and these girls.”
Kizzie didn't know why she kept calling them “girls” when some of them were older than she was, but for some reason, she felt like she needed to care for them. Help them. Prove to them that there was more to their lives than the messes they'd gotten themselves into.
“We'll work that part out as it comes, I think.” He started to say something else, but George stepped into the room, his gaze moving between them as his lips took a mocking turn.
“Don't the two of you look rather chummy together.”
Noah sent her another quick smile before turning to his brother. “Kizzie and I have been brainstorming a way to increase our workers at the mill, George.” He relayed the information, and George scoffed.
“I'm afraid women of their ilk would cause more harm than good. Distract the men from their work.”
“No more than men are distracted by women anyway,” Kizzie shot back.
“And none of these women are living in their past ways now,” Noah continued. “They're trying to start over, and we need workers. In one sweep, we could hire a few.”
“And they'd bring others too.” Kizzie rushed ahead, seeing a hint of interest on George's face. “If they knew they had an opportunity for jobs. They've stayed away because they knew you wouldn't even consider hiring them.”
George narrowed his eyes at her, but Noah intervened.
“You know as well as I that between the robbery and the loss of workers, we're not going to survive another year, George. You may not want these types of workers, but we need them. Father entrusted this mill to us. And it's our job to honor that.”
George's attention flashed to Noah, and his features softened ever so slightly. “New workers would help us earn back what we've lost.”
“Exactly.” Noah paused and then looked over at Kizzie. “And we could open up the three cottages as homes for some of the women too. If you're worried about their characters, that would keep them close for observation.”
He was handsome, kind, and brilliant. What a remarkable combination. Kizzie nodded at his statement. “And they'd surely be more dedicated to their jobs if they had their own place. It would give them a sense of dignity, and it would open up more space in the boardinghouse for paying guests.”
“And all the children we'd inherit from this endeavor?” The doubt in George's voice stiffened Kizzie's spine.
“Kizzie has already worked up a solution to keep the children out from under foot and watched after without costingyoumore money.”
For the briefest of moments, a look of sadness crossed over George's features. He glanced from Kizzie to Noah. “I don't like it.” His shoulders slumped. “But it seems I have few choices.” He raised his head and pointed to Kizzie. “But I expect their wages to be docked to pay for their accommodations.”
Kizzie nodded, afraid to say anything else in case he might change his mind.
George turned to Noah. “And I'm holding you personally responsible for them, Noah, since you're so keen on this idea.”
“I'll take that responsibility.” Noah sat up straighter.
“Mr. Lewis!” A call came from the front of the house, followed by a slam of a door. “Mr. Noah!”
George bolted from the room with Noah on his heels, and Kizzie followed.
Mr. Sykes stood in the foyer, out of breath, his hair disheveled and a stream of dirt lining one side of his angled face.
“Sykes?” George reached him first. “What on earth is the matter?”
“The thief, sir.” He breathed out the words. “I caught him running from the mill store.”
“Where is he now?” Noah ran toward a nearby closet and removed a coat. “Which direction did he go?”
“I … I lost him, sir.” Sykes shook his head. “In the woods.”
And that's when Kizzie noticed something about Mr. Sykes’ jacket. The way the gaslights glimmered off his shiny buttons.
Her face went cold.
Buttons that were blue and gold.
