Janet Barton - Somewhere to Call Home

In a matter of seconds Miss Bancroft was back. “He’ll see you now, Miss Burton.”

“Thank you.” Violet held her head high and marched back to the office.

Harlan Black stood at the door, a smug smile on his face. Violet supposed many women would find him handsome with his thick blond hair and gray eyes. He was always impeccably dressed and one could not fault his manners, but there was something about his sinister smoothness that made her skin crawl.

He bowed slightly. “My dear Violet. How nice to see you today—”

“You might not think it is so nice once I tell you what I have to say. And, I am not your ‘dear.’” Violet swept past him and stood in the middle of the room, smoothing her skirts as she waited for him to join her. Then she pinned her gaze on the man.

“Please, take a seat, Violet, and tell me what has you so distressed.” He motioned for her to take the chair across from his desk.

Violet chose to keep standing. “You and your deceitful ways of keeping me from finding employment so that I can pay off the mortgage on my home are what have me so upset. How dare you?”

Harlan’s eyes narrowed, and the smile left his face. “Violet, dear, there is absolutely no reason for you to seek employment. I’ve told you I will forgive the mortgage, if only—”

“I will not marry you, Harlan Black. If my mind were not made up before, it certainly is now—after finding out that you’ve told the townspeople not to hire me.” The very thought of marrying the man nauseated Violet. “I will pay off the mortgage to my home, even if I have to leave here to do it!”

Harlan raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “And go where? Think about it, Violet. I offer you freedom from debt and a life of comfort. No woman in her right mind would turn that down.”

“Then I must have lost my mind, for I have no intention of marrying you. Not now, not ever!” Violet turned to leave, but Harlan beat her to the door.

He grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her near. His breath was hot on her face, and his nearness sent a cold shiver down her spine. “Don’t be too hasty, my dear. I can make you happy. You know I can. You have two weeks until the next payment is due. I’ll need your final word by then.”

Bile rose in Violet’s throat at his words and she willed herself not to heave as she jerked her arm away and yanked the door open. Never would she marry this contemptuous man. She’d lose the home she loved first—but not without a fight to keep it.

Chapter One

New York City

May 24, 1895

As the train came to a grinding stop in Grand Central Depot, Violet Burton’s heart beat in excitement at the same time her stomach fluttered with apprehension. She stood, shaking out the skirts of her brown-and-beige traveling outfit before joining the other passengers in the aisle and following them out of the train. Pausing on the top step of the car, she fought the urge to turn around and seek refuge back inside. Perhaps she could ask the porter to buy her a ticket right back home. And then what?

Go back and marry Harlan Black? Violet shuddered. No. Never. Instead, she should be thankful her mother’s old friend had come up with a solution to her problem. Violet took a deep calming breath and let it out. Once...twice...and again.

“Hurry it up, miss,” a man behind her said. “Are you getting off or what?”

A woman beside him reached out and pushed Violet’s shoulder. “Yeah, missy. You’re holding up the line and we don’t have all day.”

Heat stole up Violet’s face and her heart hammered in her ears as she gave her hand to the waiting porter and hurried down the steps and out of the way. She didn’t know in which direction to look for Mrs. Heaton. There were more people here than she’d ever seen in one place, yet she’d never felt so totally alone in her life.

Mrs. Heaton had told her each railroad line had its own waiting room, baggage facilities and ticketing operation in the building, so Violet assumed it wouldn’t be hard to spot her. But she’d been mistaken. She didn’t know how she’d ever see her mother’s friend among all the people coming and going from every direction.

“Your trunk and bags will be over at the New York Central baggage claim area, miss.” The porter pointed across the way. “Over there, where all those people are gathered.”

“Thank you.”

He tipped his hat. “There’s a waiting room there, too. I’m sure someone will be here to meet you soon, miss.”

“Yes. I hope so.” He’d been very helpful on the trip and she hated to see him turn away.

Violet tried not to panic. What was it Mrs. Heaton had said in her letter? She’d be there to meet her. But where was she? And what would she do if Mrs. Heaton didn’t show up? Violet began to think she might have made the biggest mistake in her life by coming here. Her mother had always warned her about big cities, and Violet knew she would not be happy she’d come to New York City. Yet, she was certain Mama would not have wanted her to marry Harlan Black under any circumstances. Besides, she really had no choice.

She took another deep breath and looked around. The only way Violet could see how the name Grand could apply to this depot was its size. It certainly couldn’t be considered a grand place to be—not with all the steam, smoke and ashes spewing from the locomotives, hovering overhead and condensing with the odors of people from so many walks of life. From the sweet scent of toilet water to the strongest perfumes, they all intermingled with the smell of unwashed bodies and sweat, pervading the huge room, making Violet more nauseated by the minute.

Grand Central Depot wasn’t only the largest building she’d ever been in—it was also the busiest. No sooner had the train she’d just arrived on chugged away than another one arrived in its place. Passengers poured out of it, heading off in every direction. Some of the travelers looked as lost as she felt.

She glanced around again but there seemed to be more people than ever, many speaking languages she couldn’t understand. There was all manner of dress, from elegant to almost threadbare. Men pulled out their watches to see if the time matched the huge clock in the depot while mothers tried to keep their children close to their sides. The noise level seemed to rise with each passing minute as Violet made her way across the room.

A man spit near one of the spittoons positioned all over the depot, but he didn’t seem to have good aim as his spittle ran down the outside of the cuspidor and ended up on the floor beside the vessel. The sight, mixed with the smells, made Violet’s stomach roll, and she picked up her pace.

Trying to tamp down her anxiety, Violet pulled a picture of Mrs. Heaton out of her reticule and looked at it once more, although she was certain she would recognize her old neighbor. Surely she couldn’t have changed much in three years. She turned in a small circle, looking closely at each woman she saw. Finally, when she’d about given up hope, she saw a woman she thought was Martha Heaton hurrying across the building. The older woman waved, and Violet breathed a sigh of relief as her mother’s good friend reached her.

“Violet? It is you, isn’t it?”

Her eyes held such warmth Violet couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

Mrs. Heaton grasped Violet’s hands in hers. “How lovely you are, all grown up. You look just like your mother when she was your age. You have her dark hair and blue eyes and even her coloring.” Mrs. Heaton pulled her into a quick hug. “Oh, you bring back so many memories of my younger days.”

The older woman’s blue eyes sparkled, and her fading auburn hair was done up under a large hat that matched her afternoon dress of blue-and-green stripes.