As Luck Would Have it

Betsy looked at the directions to Richard Baker’s house and wondered what kind of man invited a woman to a poker game as she straddled her broom. “Take me to 11 Canal Street, Hollis.”

Betsy looked at the well-manicured lawn of the Victorian house, which was freshly whitewashed. Nervous by the extravagant quarters she was about to enter, she rang the doorbell. A woman in her fifties or sixties dressed in a gray dress opened the door. “Maybe I take your coat?”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Betsy said.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Baker that she has a visitor,” the woman said.

“Thank you.” Betsy, looking at the painting of landscapes wondering if she should recognize the name of the artist, walked into the foyer and admired the nearly black paneling of the foyer and staircase. The hardwood floor shined like it was polished daily.

Mrs. Baker was dressed not much fancier than the maid and the only jewelry that she wore was her engagement and wedding rings. Betsy could hear a baby crying in the background. “Have we met?” she asked.

“I’m a friend of Mr. Henry Newcastle. He’s playing poker with your husband.”

“You can join me in the kitchen if you like. Mr. Newcastle has never brought a woman friend before. I’m Nancy.”

“Betsy. It’s good to meet you.” Betsy followed her into the kitchen. It was smaller than the kitchen her mother had in Maine but it had running water and a gas stove. The kitchen wasn’t as clean as the foyer and staircase.

Betsy eyed the dark-haired baby crawling on the well-waxed floor in nothing but a diaper. He couldn’t be more five months old. As Nancy picked up the baby boy from the floor and put him to her breast, Betsy looked over the buxom woman only an inch or two shorter than her. “This is my son, Richard Jr.”

“Hello, handsome,” Betsy said, looking at the pale thin baby with the patch of dark hair. The baby had no sign of the normal baby fat but had short scrawny limbs; he looked to be all head and belly. The nearly bald, large headed child could only be beautiful to a mother.

“I need a little help making snacks for the men if you don’t mind,” Nancy said. “Richie is a handful.”

“What would you like me to do?” Betsy, stopping herself from pacing on the slick floor, sat down on one of the two kitchen chairs and tried to fold her legs in a feminine style. Betsy had never learned to be a lady but she wanted Mrs. Baker to like her. Making small talk was a new experience for her. Other women have always shunned her due to her hominess and awkward manner. Her brother Frank taunted her by saying that she acted like a boy and would never make any friends.

“I have a potatoes and sausage on the stove warming; can you keep an eye on it? I would like you to slice the bread that I brought from the bakery. Henry will eat the whole loaf if it isn’t cut into slices.” Nancy sat on the other kitchen chair holding the tiny baby to her breast.

Betsy eyed the scrawny thing wondering how such a little thing could continue to thrive and if Nancy fed the poor baby on the regular basis. Maybe her milk turned sour and the poor child wasn’t getting enough to eat. “Henry has a good appetite.”

“How long have you known him?” Nancy moved the baby to her other breast.

“I worked in his factory seven years before he noticed me.” Betsy folded her hands on her lap: the wiggling baby was making her nervous.

“He just came up to you and asked you to go to a poker game.” Nancy smiled slightly. “That seems rare odd.”

Betsy redirected her eyes off Nancy trying not to look at the poor child struggling at her breast. Nancy had a classic beauty like a Greek goddess; she was tall with think brunette hair that was escaping her bun and full figured. Betsy might have been taller but she was gaunt and hungry looking in comparison. Nancy’s brown eyes were like Helen of Troy’s and could sink a thousand ships. “No, he asked me to accompany him on a trip. I thought it was very odd but Mr. Newcastle is so polite. He doesn’t act like other men.” Betsy could see how a man of Richard Baker’s status would want to marry such a Venus.

“How do other men act?” Nancy asked.

As Betsy focused on Nancy, she was mesmerized by her beauty and ignored the ugly child that Nancy had just placed on the ground. Nancy walked over to the stove to check on the food. “Horribly.” Betsy shed few silent tears; she had always felt invisible around men. Betsy rarely cried; she didn’t know what brought her to tears then. Then, she realized this beautiful woman was talking to her. She never felt this happy before. With Henry as her friend, she was finally treated like a real human being not dirt to be pushed aside.

“I’m glad that you found one that treats you with respect.” Nancy turned and smiled at Betsy.

Betsy stood up slowly, feeling the slippery floor under her heavy work boots, walked to the counter careful about each step and started to slice the bread. The knife slipped from her hand; she used her magic to direct the knife to cut the bread thinly. As it cut the bread thinner than humanly possible, Betsy laughed slightly trying to be comfortable around her new friend. “Mr. Newcastle told me that he needed my company because I had magic.”

“Magic is supposed to be very sexually attractive. I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t blessed any. Richard has enough for both of us.” Nancy, flashing a smile showing her perfect nearly white teeth, picked up the baby to walk around him. Betsy was amazed that he could move at all on those tiny arms and legs; he didn’t really crawl but drag himself against the ground.

“I’ll take the bread out to the men.” Betsy bit down on her lip embarrassed by her yellowed teeth.

Nancy put the baby back on the floor. “I’ll bring them the tea. The sausage and potatoes should be done soon.”

“Don’t you have a cook?”

“I like to do my own cooking. Richard says that I’m a fine cook. Don’t you know the way to a man’s heart is through the kitchen?” Nancy picked up the teapot. “Since Richard is a small eater, the food needs to be finely prepared and elegantly presented. Quantity won\'t impress him.” Nancy continued to make small talk.

“I’ll have to practice in the kitchen.” Betsy followed Nancy with the bread and put the bread on the table. “Henry loves to eat.”

“Darling, you should stay out here and give me a little luck.” Henry took Betsy’s hand.

“How could anything that ugly bring you luck?” A man at the table wearing a gray suit looked at Betsy briefly before filling his cup with tea.

“Would you like to take that outside?” Henry was a large muscular man with a powerful voice that intimated most men. Betsy wondered if he hadn’t dated much before because women were frightened by this bear of a man. When Betsy looked at him, she was intimated herself by the large hairy man that wore the long sideburns of the day.

“No,” the man replied looking back his cards.

“Nancy could use my help in the kitchen and with the baby.” Betsy stepped away from the table.

“You should have put Junior in his crib hours ago,” another man holding a pipe in his hand said most likely Mr. Baker, wearing his crisp white shirt and gray trousers since he had tossed his waistcoat and jacket on the back of his chair. His tie was loosened around his neck in a haphazard way. He didn’t look like the dignified bank president that he was outside the house as he casually put his pipe in his mouth, full of tobacco but not lit.

“Mr. Richard Baker, my oldest truest friend, I would like to present my lady friend, Miss Elizabeth Logan,” Henry said, in a grand way as he lit his cigar.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss,” Mr. Baker said, as he stood up. Betsy thought he stood up but his head didn’t seem much higher than it was a moment ago when he was sitting down. Betsy looked at him again. He was a very short slight man; she couldn’t see how such a tiny man could manage three branches of a powerful bank. “I see Henry that you like tall women too. My Nancy towers over me.” Richard Baker took his seat and examined his cards.

“Henry is slightly taller than I,” Betsy said, touching Henry’s shoulder lightly. “No wonder your baby is small.” Betsy was sorry that she said that: Her mother always told her to mind her manners and here she was insulting the man and his child. Women weren’t supposed speak until spoken to. She felt awful for thinking that her dumb comments liked that reflected badly on her whole sex.

“I tell Nancy that he’ll grow. Nancy is worried about him being so small. I was a ten-pound baby and you see how big I am now. Junior could grow up to be as big as Henry.”

“He isn’t well. He takes so little milk and he cries every time I put him down,” Nancy said. “Honey, I should take him to see a healer.”

“Take him. The healer will tell you the same as I. All babies grow at their own speed. No child with lungs as strong as Junior’s could be ill. Let him cry himself to sleep,” Mr. Baker said to dismiss Nancy complaint.

“Where’s the beer?” the first man asked.

“Later.” Mr. Baker lit his pipe. “I know how you’re after your third beer. Nancy, I can’t concentrate on my cards with Junior screaming.”

“I’ll try to get him to go to sleep,” Nancy said. “The food will be done any minute. Darling, I can bring out the beer if you would like.”

“Not until I ask for it,” Mr. Baker said.

Betsy headed to the kitchen. After flicking the ashes off the end of his cigar into an ashtray, Henry rose from his seat and touched her arm. “Stay here with me. I didn’t invite you so you can talk to Mrs. Baker all night.”

“After the food is served, I’ll sit with you a short while.” Betsy walked back to the kitchen. After serving the food, Betsy held Henry’s hand briefly. Betsy could hear Nancy pacing with the baby upstairs.

Nancy returned to the dining room after finally putting the infant to bed. “Betsy, help me with the dishes. Watching the men play must be awful boring.”

“I’m not bored,” Betsy said. “Henry is teaching me the rules. He just won a factory from Mr. Downing.”

“Come into the kitchen before the men teach you their bad habits.” Nancy looked at Betsy and then the kitchen in a way that told Betsy that she should go with the lady of the house. Women should be seen not heard and raising her voice to the lady of the house was totally unladylike.

Betsy never had friends at the factory. The other women at the factory barely tolerated her. They teased her for spending her short breaks reading instead of eating. They said that she rather buy books than eat. Betsy ignored the other women’s comments as she read her books on magic and science. Betsy followed Nancy to the kitchen. “What does your husband do for a living?” Betsy asked although she knew the answer.

“He owns several banks in New Hampshire.” Betsy loved the way Nancy said it like it was nothing. “When I suggest that we hire another servant, he complains like I’m lazy.”

“I would like a couple servants myself. It’s very boring to go back to my plain apartment every night.”

“Dolores has been with my husband’s family for years. She keeps thuse use clean but she doesn’t help with Junior or do anything in the kitchen. She says that she isn’t a cook or a nanny.”

“She seems pleasant.”

“Are you and Henry planning to get engaged?”

“I don’t know. He barely notices that I’m a girl.”

“He seems rather taken by you. He has never invited a woman to our house; I could see him smiling at you.”