Ashes of Roses by MJ Auch

Author:MJ Auch
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

18

First thing Monday mornin’, I headed for Mr. Moscovitz’s shop with the finished stems. Maureen had whined about goin’ along with me, but I didn’t want her to cause problems.

A dusting of snow had fallen durin’ the night, makin’ the sidewalks slippery as I walked along. The girls were just settlin’ in at the tables when I got there. Mr. Moscovitz looked up. “Ah, so the little thief has returned.”

I handed him the bundle of stems. “I didn’t steal them. It just took longer than I expected to do them.”

He opened the bundle, dumped the stems on the table, and started tossin’ some of them aside.

“What are you doin’?” I asked.

“I’m throwing out the bad ones,” he said. “You don’t expect me to pay for stems I can’t use, do you?”

“If you show me what’s wrong with them, I’ll fix them.”

Mr. Moscovitz kept addin’ to the discard pile. “I’m running a business here, not a school.”

I picked up one of the rejected stems and looked it over, but I couldn’t see a thing wrong with it. I remembered what Mr. Moscovitz had said about me being charged for the materials on the stems I had ruined. I could see the money for our hard work slippin’ away with each stem he rejected.

“Please, Mr. Moscovitz,” I said quietly. “I really need the work now. My mother and youngest sister have gone back to Ireland. I have to earn the money to take care of me and my sister Maureen.”

Mr. Moscovitz raised his eyebrows at this remark, but said nothin’.

Laughter came from the workers’ table. I had spoken so quietly to Mr. Moscovitz, I was sure they couldn’t have heard me. Tessa had just said somethin’ to the others, and looked at me with a smirk on her face. How had I ever thought she might be a friend? Wasn’t there anyone I could trust in this country?

Mr. Moscovitz shoved the stems aside. “It will take too long to sort these out now. You come back tonight, after the shop closes, and I’ll give you the pay you deserve. Not a cent less … or more.”

“What time is that?” I asked, rememberin’ that I had left early the day I worked here.

“Come at eight,” he said.

I left the shop feelin’ helpless. I had hoped to go home with money in my pocket. Now I knew Mr. Moscovitz could pay me as little as he pleased, and I had no way to fight it. The thought occurred to me that I might be better off workin’ at the shop again, instead of takin’ work home. That way there would be witnesses to what I had produced, although I couldn’t see any of the other girls stickin’ up for me if I got into a dispute with Mr. Moscovitz. As far as they were concerned, I was an outsider, and not worth riskin’ their jobs over.

When I got home, Maureen and I went out to buy tea and a pot to steep it in. They were both more expensive than I’d expected, but Mr.

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