Meet Me at the Clock by Tanya E Williams

Author:Tanya E Williams [Williams, Tanya E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rippling Effects

Chapter 17

Thursday, October 6, 1927

Louisa

Several days have passed since my announcement and subsequent disagreement with Clara. Though we are polite to each other as we move about our small apartment, there remains an underlying tension. This unwelcome shift strains our relationship, despite my many attempts to smooth the disagreement.

I thought my prudent decision to square away my work schedule would be far more appreciated. After all, I took steps to ensure we would maintain our financial stability while I venture back into theatre life. It seems, though, that I have underestimated the importance Clara has placed on our Thanksgiving celebration. Even so, she doesn’t need me to get dinner to the table. We are both aware how she delights in planning and cooking, so I’m not sure why my presence will be missed before the actual feast.

Even within the walls of the hotel, Clara remains moody and indifferent toward me, sulking like a child over melted ice cream. Her avoidance of me has become the status quo these past few days, a situation that has caused more than one raised eyebrow among our gaggle of fifth-floor maids. Yesterday, Jane pulled me aside to inquire if all was well in the Wilson home. I can’t help but think that if Jane noticed, being famously unaware of others, then everyone must have.

I gather another bundle of soiled linens from outside a half-closed guest room door and add them to the laundry cart. Collecting the fifth-floor laundry this morning is the perfect task to accompany my contemplative mind. The discontentment between Clara and me runs through my thoughts on repeat, gaining no resolution and weighing me down. Normally, I would be less bothered by Clara’s coolness, but I can’t shake the notion that my sister, of all people, should be happy for me.

Pushing the laundry cart toward the service lift, I let out a defeated sigh. Thinking over the past few weeks, I continue to be pulled back to the situation on the sidewalk. I’ve asked myself a dozen times if Clara’s recent unsteadiness is about my new opportunity in the theatre or about what transpired that day. Perhaps seeing the way that drunk man treated the Asian man with the groceries struck a nerve in Clara. If I know anything, it is that once you’ve seen injustice up close, you simply can’t unsee it. Everywhere I look around this city, I become more aware of the pecking order, and I can’t help but wonder how it all came to be.

The lift arrives, and I squeeze myself and the cart inside. I press the button for the basement and feel the rush of cool air brush my skin, eliciting goosebumps up my arm. The laundry room is located at the far end of the dank basement, warmed by the heat of the oversized drying racks.

I say a friendly hello to those hard at work and position my cart in the long line to wait my turn to deposit the dirty laundry. Being a

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