Jedodiah’s eyes shifted toward Matilda.
Not pity.
Question.
“Is that true?”
Matilda opened her mouth.
Abigail answered first.
“Yes.”
Jedodiah's stare sharpened.
“I asked her.”
Abigail went quiet.
Matilda looked at the floor.
The answer was complicated.
Other employers had refused her.
Some openly.
One hotel manager had taken a single look and said his floorboards were not designed for experiments.
A laundry owner said she would slow other women down.
The bakery owner wanted her until he decided customers might assume she ate the inventory.
Abigail had employed her.
That was true.
Abigail had also reminded Matilda of that mercy every day for nine years.
“I don't know,” Matilda whispered.
Jedodiah waited.
She forced herself to look up.
“I've been turned away before.”
He nodded.
“That wasn't my question.”
Matilda almost smiled despite everything.
“You ask difficult questions.”
“So I'm told.”
She looked toward Abigail.
Then around the boarding house.
Thirty men.
Steam.
Storm.
Her entire life seemed suddenly visible.
“I don't know whether anyone else would hire me.”
Jedodiah nodded once.
“That's honest.”
Abigail gave a relieved breath as if she'd won.
Then Jedodiah said:
“But somebody should've asked whether you needed hiring at all.”
Matilda frowned.
“What does that mean?”
The outside door slammed open.
Wind exploded into the room.
Snow spun across the floor.
Two men stumbled inside carrying a third between them.
“Close it!”
Somebody shouted.
The door slammed.
Everything changed.
The injured man groaned.