The Mistletoe Kiss

“That’s good news, I suppose. You do take very good pictures.”

What was going on with him? He’d never complimented her about her photographs or anything else she did. “Why, thank you, Matt. It’s something I love to do. I’d be taking photographs even if I never got paid for it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I would. But since I do need to support myself, I might as well be in charge instead of working at a position I don’t like.”

He gave a little nod. “I suppose I can understand that. It’d be awful to have to work at a job I hated.”

“Are you saying we might have something in common after all, Matt?”

Matt laughed. “Oddly enough, I think we might.”

Their trolley came to a stop and they hurried out into the aisle, Matt blocking the people from behind until Millicent made it out in front of him.

He crooked his arm once more and raised an eyebrow as if challenging her to take it. The way she’d felt when they first got on the streetcar would have her ignoring the polite custom, but there was no need to start their visit with friends on bad terms. She took his arm and they headed down the residential street to the Talbots’.

John opened the door wide for them to enter. “Come in, you two. We’ve been watching for you.”

“I hope we aren’t late,” Matt said. “If so, it’s entirely my fault.”

“No, you aren’t late,” Elizabeth said from behind her husband. “You’re right on time. It’s wonderful to see you both.”

She led them into the parlor and Millicent noticed the brass bowl the boarders all had chipped in to buy their friends for their housewarming party. It held a nice fern and sat in the bay window. “Your home is as cozy as Heaton House, Elizabeth.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. “I must say I admire how Mrs. Heaton makes it feel like a true home for all who live there. Much of my decorating skills, such that they are, came from seeing how she arranged things and the little touches she added. Let me just go dish things up and we’ll be ready to eat very soon. Come keep me company, Millicent. John, you and Matt can take your seats now if you wish.”

The ladies soon returned and began placing dishes in the dining room.

“We took the table’s leaves out to make it a bit smaller, so that it has a more intimate feel when we’re dining with only a few guests. Most nights John and I take our meals in the kitchen, so it feels like a real event when we eat in here,” Elizabeth said as she took her seat at the end of the table nearest the kitchen. John seated his wife while Matt pulled out a chair for Millicent before taking the one across from her.

John said the blessing and began serving the roast chicken his wife had prepared. Once they were all served, Matt turned to John. “Now tell us, what it is you want to discuss with Milli—cent and me?”

Millicent was surprised at his effort not to call her Millie. Lately he’d begun to use it even more, and she appreciated his restraint at the moment.

“As you know there’s been a couple of near-fatal accidents to others working on your building in the last few months.”

Millicent’s stomach clenched. Matt never mentioned anything about those accidents—at least not in her presence.

“I do. And there were several less serious ones last week. Thankfully, no one was badly hurt, although it could have been disastrous if their harnesses hadn’t held them. Are you doing an article about the accidents for the Tribune?”

Because of the articles he and Elizabeth worked on, him for the New York Tribune and her for the popular ladies magazine the Delineator, describing the appalling conditions of the tenements, John had recently become one of the paper’s top reporters. He shook his head. “Not an investigative piece so much as informative one. Many people aren’t aware of how dangerous it is to build those sky-touching buildings you love to work on. I’m hoping my boss will get your supervisor’s permission for me to do a series of articles on the building. He wants me to write about how these high-rises are built and the danger in working on them. It’d be great publicity.”

“So what is it you’re thinking of doing?”

“I’d like to be able to go floor to floor and interview the workers, see for myself how dangerous it is and—”

“Elizabeth, aren’t you worried about that?” Millicent found herself interrupting.

“About John going up so high? Not really. I feel if they get behind the article, they’ll keep him away from the really dangerous areas.”

“I’m sure we would,” Matt said. “But what do you need me to do? I’m not the boss. I can’t give you permission.”

“I know. But should he bring it up to you, should he want to know what you and the men under you think about it, I’d like you to give me a good word.”

“You’ll have it.”

John nodded. “I appreciate it.”

“But how does any of this have anything to do with me?” Millicent asked. “Or is there something different you want to talk to me about?”

“Not really different,” Elizabeth said. “You take such wonderful photographs—you tell her, John.”

“My editor at the paper asked if we could talk you into being the official photographer for the articles. Elizabeth is going to do a different take for her articles for the Delineator—more of a human-interest piece on what the families of these men think about the work they do. Our articles about the tenements were received so well, our editors love the idea of doing the different kinds of views of the Park Row Building and we’re really excited about it.”

“What kind of photographs will you be wanting me to take?”

“You’d need to take the ones you feel would best illustrate the stories we want to write.”

“What do you think, Millicent?” John asked. “We know you don’t like heights, but you are the best photographer we know and we didn’t even have to bring your name up. You’ve been asked to come in with us. Will you do it?”

Millicent let out a deep breath. There was no doubt in her mind this could be the opportunity she’d been waiting for. But why did the chance of a lifetime have to involve her going to the top of what would be the tallest building in the city—the very thing that paralyzed her with fear?

“Even if you get permission to go up, John, I’m not sure my supervisor would ever agree to letting Elizabeth and Millicent up where the men are working. And with Millicent’s aversion to heights—”

“Oh, surely when he knows she’s the one the Tribune trusts to do the job—”

Matt shrugged.

“We won’t know until he’s asked. I’ll make my decision then,” Millicent said decisively. “At least I have time to think it over.”

“The color drained out of your face at the thought of it now.” Matt glanced over at John. “There’s no need to put her through—”

“It’s Millicent’s decision to make, don’t you think, Matt?” John asked.

“Of course it is.” Matt shrugged again. “It may be a moot point anyway. I just don’t see how having a woman on the job is going to happen.”

Not if he had any say about it, Millicent was sure of that. And that attitude irritated her. If the opportunity to do this photo shoot came about, she’d pray and ask the Lord to ease her fear, at least long enough to get the job done. One thing she knew for sure. She certainly wasn’t going to let Matt’s opinion keep her from trying.

Chapter Two (#ulink_e0567ce7-7407-5a23-b016-57527a9cc971)

By the time Millicent and Matt left Elizabeth and John’s, she had a raging headache. After their friends told them they’d be in touch once John’s editor gave them the go-ahead on the articles, they’d played a few games of charades after dinner. But Millicent could think of little else than what she would do if Matt’s supervisor said yes. Now on the trolley back home, she rubbed her temple and closed her eyes.

“You know,” Matt began, “you don’t have to say yes to this, Millicent. I realize it’s a good opportunity, but I also know how emphatic you’ve been about your fear of heights. If you don’t want to—”

“Matt, John’s articles are probably going to make the front page, and the exposure of my photos could bring in enough business that I could finally open my shop.”

“What if you agree and then find you can’t...do it? What will that do for your reputation?”