Somewhere to Call Home. Janet Lee Barton
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Prologue
Ashland, Virginia
May 1895
Violet Burton sighed with disappointment as she left the mercantile. How could things have changed so much in such a short time? Only moments ago, on her way to the post office, there’d been a help-wanted sign in the store’s window and another one in the milliner’s shop. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one seeking employment in her small hometown, for both positions were filled by the time she got through picking up her mail.
She walked along the main street, her gaze searching the windows of the businesses on each side of the street. When she spotted a sign in the café across the way, a flicker of hope nudged her to gather up her skirts to clear them from the dirt road and hurry across. However, just before she reached the door, the sign was yanked right out of the window. Violet’s hope sank once more, but she entered the establishment anyway.
She walked over to the proprietor, who was putting the sign under her cash box. “Good morning, Mrs. Wheeler. Has the position been filled already?”
The woman looked down at the floor and back up at Violet, her face a bright pink. “I’m sorry, dear. But I’ve decided I can’t afford to take anyone on today.”
It seemed an odd way to word the answer to her question, but Violet didn’t feel she should press. Since her widowed mother’s illness and death a few weeks earlier, she knew firsthand what it was not to be able to afford things. And if she didn’t find employment soon, she’d be able to afford even less. Worst of all, she could lose her family home if she couldn’t come up with the money to pay the mortgage her mother had taken out on the house as her illness progressed.
Violet nodded and sighed. “I understand. But if you should find that you do need someone after all, please keep me in mind.”
The woman opened her mouth as if to say something, but seemed to change her mind, closed her mouth and only nodded instead.
Disheartened, Violet turned to leave, but just as she reached the door a thought came to her. She turned back and walked over to the woman she’d known all her life. Violet didn’t want to put her on the spot, but she had to know. She kept her voice low and asked, “Mrs. Wheeler, by any chance, did Mr. Black tell you not to hire me?”
The older woman looked around to make sure none of her customers were within hearing distance before giving a curt nod. She motioned Violet closer and whispered, “He holds my mortgage, Violet. I can’t afford to make him mad.”
“I see.” All too well.
“I’m sorry.”
There were tears in Mrs. Wheeler’s eyes, and Violet knew she was sincere. She reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Mrs. Wheeler. I don’t blame you. Thank you for being honest with me.”
Still, Violet felt the flush of anger flood her cheeks when she turned to leave, her stride strong and purposeful as she went outside and crossed the street to the bank. With each step she took, her outrage grew. If Harlan Black thought this was the way to win her heart, well, he had better think again!
“Miss Burton, how nice to see you,” the receptionist said as she entered the building. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Black as soon as possible, Miss Bancroft.” Violet tried to keep the irritation out of her voice, but she had a feeling she failed as the woman took one look at her and stood.
“I’ll tell him you are here.”
“Yes, please do that.”
The receptionist hurried back to the banker’s private office while Violet tapped her foot as she waited.
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