“Lydia—it’s a wonder you had anything in you to bring up.”
“Bee, I’m not going to be able to do it.”
“Speak?”
“No, win. Rosemarie was right: The film didn’t make the traditionalists angry—it made them anxious.”
Beatrix put an arm around her sister. “It’s OK. It’ll be OK. Try again next time.”
“I don’t think I couldstandit,” Lydia said—as if four years of waiting for a much-desired goal was impossible, instead of a fraction of the time Beatrix had spent deferring her own dreams.
She took a calming breath. She reminded herself that Lydia was sixteen (sixteen!) when she declared she would lead a women’s rights group and change everything. No doubt she felt she already had waited four years.
“Look,” Beatrix said, “you’ve revived a dying national organization. You’ve fought the wizards to a draw. Ofcourseyou can win.”
Shades of what Ella had said the day she moved in. The thought of it made Beatrix wince—and her words did not have the rousing effect she’d hoped for. Lydia stood, listless,while Beatrix fixed her hair and pinched her cheeks in an attempt to bring some life back to her sister’s face.
“Come have some juice,” Beatrix said, taking her by the arm. “I’m afraid you’re going to faint.”
Gossard was still talking—“our children are counting onusto do what is right”—and Beatrix hoped she would continue for her full half-hour. Lydia was in no condition to go on.
“Here,” she said, handing Lydia a glass of punch and standing by in case she was required to catch either the glass or her sister. But she turned reflexively at the sound of voices behind her—loud, boisterous voices.
Schoen’s weekend shift streamed from the factory. Some of those workers, attracted by the unusual sight nearby, were coming their way.
Ohno.She hadn’t considered quitting time and what it might mean. The men in front were laughing and pointing.
Yet again, Rosemarie had been right.Disaster.
“Entertainment!” one of the men called out. “How thoughtful of the boss!”
“Well hello there, ladies!” another yelled, putting a great deal of meaning into the words.
Gossard stopped mid-sentence and gaped at the fast-growing crowd. But she quickly recovered.
“This,” she said, gesturing with one white-gloved hand, “is why you need an experienced leader guiding the League.Thisis why a twenty-year-old girl cannot be trusted with the presidency. No other conference in ourhistoryhas been so poorly organized. Miss Harper seeks to excuse it byclaiming that wizards interfered, but we havealwaysstood against the wizards, and somehow we havealwaysmanaged to put on a conference worthy of the League’s reputation. She is thefirstto fall down on the job.”
“Sing ‘Kiss Me Bobby Benjamin’!” yelled a burly man, to guffaws and hoots.
Ella rushed over, eyes wide with anxiety, as if she hadn’t set the entire debacle in motion. (Maybe she didn’tran through Beatrix’s mind—in exactly the way, years ago, she’d thoughtmaybe Mom will be OK.)
“What can we do?” her friend—enemy—whispered. “There must be somethingwe cando.”
Beatrix couldn’t think of a single thing. These were not the sort of men to be shooed, especially in such numbers. As for the general manager who’d agreed to let them use his lot for practically nothing, his stipulations were that they didn’t touch any of the equipment—and didn’t bother him again.
The swarm of noisy men expanded by the second as workers turned from their cars to come see what the fuss was about. Helen Hickok and theNews-Register’s columnist were both scribbling furiously in their notepads.
“We need to run this organization with the dignity it deserves,” Gossard said, drawing herself up. “Please send that message with your vote.”
The League’s president stalked into the tent, getting stony silence from the pro-Lydia minority but loud applause from most of the rest. Beatrix couldn’t seem to catch her breath. She had ruined her sister’s chances. Completely ruined them.
She turned, broken apologies on her lips, but was brought up short by the look on her sister’s no-longer-pale face.
“Oh,” Lydia bit out, staring fixedly at the empty stage. “Oh, I’ll showher.”
She strode to the spot Gossard had vacated, her auburn hair bright against her billowing black coat. The hoots and catcalls increased in volume.
“I seen you in the papers, gorgeous!” the burly man yelled.
