He brought the carriage to a stop in front of the nearest towered entrance. “Healthy workers are more productive, which is why better ventilation is next on my list of updates, as soon as I can afford it.”
She nodded as he climbed from the carriage and rounded it to help her down. “I'd say happy workers are even more so.”
He offered his hand, and the same strange thoughts of knights came to mind as they did during their snowy evening together. She slid her gloved fingers against his palm, and he guided her to the ground in front of him, keeping hold of her hand until her footing was secure … and maybe a little longer.
Or did she just want to believe some wonderful man like him would want to hold her hand a little longer?
Silly Kizzie. Stop this nonsense.
He stared down at her for a moment and then stepped back. “Exactly. Yes, happy workers do better work.” He retreated another step or two. “But I'm afraid George has lost sight of that. Just before he died, Father cut the working hours from twelve a day to eleven. We had our largest number of workers then. Folks felt appreciated and paid fairly for their work.”
He offered his arm, and with only a slight hesitation, Kizzie slid her hand to hook about his elbow. She never remembered walking in such a way with Charles. Of course, they never walked places together, really. Their meetings had been clandestine and fueled with more passion than real friendship. In fact, she didn't remember ever having as many genuine conversations with Charles in the whole of knowing him as she'd had with Noah Lewis during their short acquaintance.
The realization nearly ground her feet to a stop.
How was it possible she'd given her most intimate self to a man who didn't know her, let alone truly respect her? What lostness or emptiness had driven her to value herself so little?
And how was it, that in only a few months, God's work in her heart, Charlie's birth, and the mixture of situations surrounding her life, including meeting the Lewises, matured her into even recognizing these things?
But they had.
She drew in a breath, walking a bit taller.
She was not the girl she'd been a year ago, or even four months ago.
She truly was a new creation, from the soul out.
“It's even bigger the closer we get,” she whispered. “All brick and windows.”
“Just wait until you see inside.” He tipped his head toward her. “Bricks, windows, andmachines.”
The front door swung open to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man, wearing a dark gray uniform. He looked to be in his fifties, perhaps, with black hair peeping from beneath his bowler hat. His dark gaze shifted from Noah to Kizzie and back.
“Mr. Noah.” He nodded, removing his hat.
“Good afternoon, Sykes.” Noah turned toward Kizzie. “Mr. Sykes is our watchman who keeps an eye on the building during off-hours. He and Mr. Jones are the mill's two watchmen on salary.” He turned to Mr. Sykes. “Mr. Sykes, this is Miss McAdams, a recent friend of my mother's, and she is curious to see the mill.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Nothing to report, Mr. Sykes?” Noah asked as the man stepped aside for them to pass into a small entryway with a set of double doors directly in front of them.
“Quiet as a churchyard.”
Mr. Sykes nodded to Kizzie and then disappeared up a stairway to the left.
“The stairs lead to the floors above, one for offices and another for storage and some smaller machinery,” Noah offered, continuing forward through one of the double doors.
“And the tower on the other side is the same?”
His eyes lit, as if her observation pleased him. “Yes. Ease of access and additional escape, if necessary.”
Additional escape?
He must have noticed her expression, because he paused before proceeding. “There's always a risk of fire.”
She looked up at the sturdy brick walls and envisioned what a fire might do from the inside—turn the place into an oven? A shudder ran through her. “That's what your brother was talking about. A fire?”
He squeezed her arm. “I work hard to keep the employees safe, but with the machinery, fabric, and cotton, and the lint floating in the air, fires are always a possibility.”
