“Before we begin,” Piper continued, setting her case on the table with careful precision, “I want to remind you that everything I’m about to show you remains entirely under your control. If anything doesn’t feel right, if you want changes made, or if you decide not to proceed at all, that’s completely your choice. This story belongs to you, and to Florence and Miriam.”
Patrick reached over and squeezed Kathleen’s hand. Chloe settled into the chair beside her, practically vibrating with curiosity.
“I’m ready,” Kathleen said, surprised by how steady her voice sounded.
Piper opened her laptop and connected it to a small portable projector she’d brought. As the device warmed up, she pulled several bound documents from her case, each one carefully labeled and organized.
“I’ve structured the documentary around three interconnected narratives,” Piper began, her professional manner softened by her obvious enthusiasm for her work. “The historical context of underground networks helping unmarried mothers, the specific story of Florence and Miriam’s work here in Sapphire Bay, and the discovery that brought this legacy to light.”
The first image that appeared on the makeshift screen took Kathleen’s breath away. It was a beautifully rendered illustration of a young woman standing at the front door of Kathleen’s Victorian house, clutching a small leather bag and looking over her shoulder with a mixture of fear and hope. The artist had somehow captured both the desperation and the courage that must have defined those moments when women first arrived seeking help.
“This opening sequence would introduce viewers to what it might have felt like to arrive at Florence’s door,” Piper explained, her voice taking on the tone of someone committed to the truth of the experience. “But rather than dramatizing or sensationalizing these women’s stories, we would use artistic interpretation combined with Florence’s own words from her journals.”
The next series of images showed maps of the western United States and Canada, with subtle lines connecting various locations where similar networks had operated.
“The documentary would place Florence and Miriam’s work within this broader context,” Piper continued, advancing through several more beautifully designed graphics. “Viewers would understand that what happened here wasn’t an isolated act of kindness, but part of a coordinated effort to provide a better life for pregnant women.”
Chloe leaned forward in her chair. “How would you handle the fact that so many of these women’s real names have been lost to history?”
“That’s actually one of the most powerful aspects of the story,” Piper replied, her eyes brightening with passion. “Florence and Miriam gave these women new identities specifically so they could disappear into new lives. The documentary would honor that choice by focusing on the impact of their work rather than trying to track down individual women or their descendants.”
Kathleen felt a wave of relief. She’d been worried about the privacy of the families who might be descended from the women Florence and Miriam had helped, many of whom probably had no idea about their ancestors’ true stories.
The next section of Piper’s presentation focused on Florence and Miriam themselves, and Kathleen gasped when she saw how beautifully the filmmaker had woven together the journal entries, sketches, and historical documents that Dr. Mitchell had shared. Rather than simply reading Florence’s words aloud, Piper had created visual narratives that brought the Victorian house to life, showing how the secret room had been used, how the network of local supporters had operated, and how the two women had managed to help so many people.
“This is incredible,” Patrick murmured, and Kathleen could hear the admiration in his voice.
But it was the final section of the proposal that moved Kathleen to tears. Piper had crafted a segment about the modern discovery that somehow managed to capture both the accidental nature of finding the hidden room and the profound responsibility that had come with the discovery. Instead of focusing on Kathleen personally, the documentary would explore what it meant to become the guardian of such an important piece of women’s history.
“The film would end by connecting Florence’s legacy to contemporary issues,” Piper explained as images of modern women’s shelters and support networks appeared on the screen. “Not in a heavy-handed way, but by showing how the fundamental human need to help others in crisis continues today.”
When the presentation concluded, no one spoke. Kathleen stared at the final image—a sunrise over Flathead Lake, photographed from the veranda of her house.
“The documentary will be better than I imagined,” she said finally, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve found a way to celebrate Florence and Miriam without exploiting their story or sensationalizing what they did.”
Piper’s face brightened with relief. “That was always my goal.”
Kathleen looked at Chloe and Patrick. “I keep thinking about something Dr. Mitchell said. Florence documented everything so carefully because she believed these stories mattered. I think she’d want her work to inspire other women who are facing impossible situations.”
“And think about what this could mean for Sapphire Bay,” Chloe added, her voice gaining excitement. “Not as a tourist attraction, but as a place where people come to learn about this important piece of women’s history. It could be bigger than the discovery of the letter written by Abraham Lincoln.”
Patrick nodded. “It will attract the kind of visitors who appreciate the everyday history that we take for granted. As well as Kathleen’s home and the Lakeside Inn, we have the old steamboat museum, the flour mill, and heritage cottages and retail stores that are wonderfully restored. There’s something for everyone in Sapphire Bay.”
Piper smiled. “I couldn’t agree more. You have an amazing town.”
“I have one more question,” Kathleen said to Piper. “How long do you think it will take to complete the documentary?”
“If everything goes smoothly, about six months,” Piper replied. “That would give us time to work with the Smithsonian as they continue their research, to coordinate with local historians, and to ensure that every aspect of the story is presented with the respect it deserves.”
Six months. Long enough to do it right, but not so long that the story would lose its momentum or fall victim to other people’s attempts to exploit it.
“I think,” Kathleen said, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice, “that Florence and Miriam would approve of what you’re proposing to do.”
Piper’s eyes widened. “Does that mean you’re willing to move forward?”
Kathleen looked once more around the table. After Chloe and Patrick nodded, she smiled. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s tell Florence and Miriam’s story the way it deserves to be told.”
Piper’s wide smile told Kathleen all she needed to know. Florence and Miriam’s story was in good hands.
