Secrets of the Heart (14 page)

When the tour was over, Kathleen was given her two uniforms. They were black with white collars and cuffs, and white, stiffly starched aprons that covered the dresses from collar to hem. To complete the uniform she was given two soft white mobcaps, each with a small ruffle encircling it.

Maria Stallworth showed Kathleen to a room where she could change. When she appeared in one of the uniforms—which fit perfectly—Maria said, “You look fine, Kathleen!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Stallworth.”

Kathleen worked hard all morning, and Maria found her at noon in the master bedroom upstairs, polishing the dark wood of the huge bedstead. She took her downstairs to the kitchen, where she had prepared lunch for the two of them. While they ate, Maria told her of hiring Carlene Simms to cook, explaining that Carlene would start her job on Saturday but would not be living in.

The conversation then led to the Stallworths railroad company, and Maria explained that their son Peter—who had graduated from the Chicago Institute of Business in May—had been given a position of junior vice president upon graduation.

Kathleen went back to work and was just finishing up her last job for the day in the big pantry off the kitchen when she heard male voices. They were coming down the hall from the front of the house toward the kitchen. Her heart began to race.

“Kathleen!” came Marias voice. “My men are home. I want them to meet you!”

Kathleen swallowed hard and stepped into the kitchen.

“Kathleen, this is Mr. Stallworth…and this is our son, Peter.”

Kathleen smiled at John, watching Peter from the corner of her eye. She did a curtsy and said, “I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Stallworth.”

Peter stared at her.

“And I’m glad to meet you, Kathleen,” said John.

When her eyes met Peter’s he said, “I know you, young lady!” He took a step closer. “We talked on the street the other day, remember?
You were leaning against a tree up the street, and—”

“Yes, I remember.”

Peter had been stricken with Kathleen’s beauty and sweet personality when they met on Tuesday. He was trying to recall what she had told him she was doing in the neighborhood, but it wouldn’t come to mind.

Kathleen curtsied and said, “You were very kind to me the other day, Mr. Stallworth. I am glad to know who you are.”

Peter chuckled. “Tell you what, Kathleen. Mr. Stallworth is my father. You can call me Peter.”

Kathleen smiled and nodded.

As the sun dropped close to the western horizon, Kathleen made her way home. It had been a hard day but a good one. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she thought of how exceptionally handsome Peter was, and the way he had looked at her.

Then she shook her head and said aloud, “Don’t be ridiculous, girl! He was only being nice and trying to put you at ease. Nothing more.”

Upon arriving at the boardinghouse, Kathleen ate supper with Hattie and the other boarders. At bedtime she crawled into bed, picturing Peter Stallworths warm eyes in her mind, and soon fell asleep.

At eight o’clock on Saturday morning, Kathleen rang the bell at the back door of the Stallworth mansion and was greeted by Maria, who took her into the kitchen and introduced her to Carlene Simms. Carlene was rather plain, with light brown hair and brown eyes, and was of a sweet disposition. The two young women liked each other immediately.

Upstairs, Kathleen encountered Mr. Stallworth in the hallway while sweeping. He was cordial and stopped to talk to her for a moment before vanishing down the winding staircase. While Kathleen
was changing the sheets and pillowcases in the master bedroom, she heard Peter come out of his room and hasten to the staircase.

The morning went by quickly as she cleaned the master bedroom then changed the bedding in Peter’s room and cleaned it thoroughly. She dusted and swept in the other bedrooms, then carried the bedding downstairs to the laundry room. She was doing the wash when Carlene came in and said, “It’s our lunchtime, Kathleen. I’ve already fed the Stallworths.”

“Oh. All right. What time is it?”

“Twelve-forty-five.”

Kathleen left her washing and followed Carlene. She had baked several small loaves of bread, and the aroma filled the kitchen. They had bread and cheese together, along with hot tea.

After lunch Kathleen returned to the laundry room and finished the washing. Her next task—as directed by Maria—was to clean and dust the library on the ground floor at the rear of the mansion.

A small cart had been provided on each floor to transport cleaning equipment. As she pushed the cart down the hall toward the library, the door of the sitting room opened, and Maria appeared.

“How’s it going, dear?” asked the dignified woman.

“Fine, ma’am. I’m finished with today’s work upstairs, and the washing is done. The wash is hanging up to dry. I’m about to clean the library next.”

“Good. Sounds like you’re right on schedule. You did have lunch with Carlene, didn’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Carlene makes good bread.”

“We found that out,” said Maria. “I won’t detain you any longer, dear.”

With that, Maria went back into the sitting room, and Kathleen pushed the cart to the rear of the house and opened the library door. She jumped when she saw Peter sitting at the desk. He shoved the chair back and rose to his feet.

“I didn’t know you were here, sir!” she said.

Peter took a couple of steps toward her. “Please don’t feel you
have to apologize, Kathleen,” he said in a gentle tone. “It’s your job to clean the house. You can’t be worrying about who’s in what room.”

“Well, sir, I knocked on your bedroom door before I entered it, but I didn’t think about knocking at this door.
I
… I’m so embarrassed.”

Peter took another step. “Please, Kathleen. Don’t be. It’s all right.”

She released a slight smile. “Thank you, Mr. Stallworth.”

Moving back to the desk, Peter said, “You go right ahead and do your work. You won’t bother me.”

“You’re sure? I can come back later.”

“No. Mom’s got you on a work schedule, and far be it from me to interfere. You go ahead.”

As she took her feather duster from the cart, Peter said, “And, Kathleen…”

“Yes, sir?”

“Remember, Mr. Stallworth is my father. I am Peter. I want you to call me Peter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you don’t have to call me
sir.
Just Peter. Okay?”

She nodded. “Yes…Peter.”

He smiled broadly “That’s better.”

While Kathleen dusted expensive paintings, washed mirrors, swept rugs, mopped the hardwood floor, and polished furniture, Peter told her all about his father’s company and his job as junior vice president.

As the one-sided conversation continued, Maria came out of the sitting room and moved down the hall. She stuck her head in the open library door and cut Peter off midsentence.

“Peter, you’ve been talking incessantly since this poor girl came in here to clean. I could hear you all the way from the sitting room. You need to stop the chatter and let her work.”

“But, Mom,” Peter said, “my talk hasn’t slowed her one bit. She
is
getting her work done.”

Maria glanced at Kathleen, who was polishing the mantel over the fireplace. “Well, honey, it looks like you’re able to work in spite of my sons chatter.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Kathleen with a smile. “I’m enjoying Peters chatter. He’s telling me all about his job and the company.”

Maria grinned, shook her head, and walked away.

During the following week, Peter Stallworth could hardly get his mind off Kathleen O’Malley. She had captured his imagination and was close to capturing his heart. He couldn’t wait till Saturday when he would see her again.

Kathleen, too, thought of Peter often. She admired him as a gentleman and found herself wishing he was from her part of town so they could be friends. At other times, Kathleen found portions of Dwight Moody’s sermons going through her mind, especially when he used the words from the song Ira Sankey had sung:

When Saturday came, Peter made sure he was in the kitchen with Carlene at eight o’clock. When the doorbell rang, Peter hurried to the back door and surprised Kathleen by being the one to let her in. Peter’s mother happened into the kitchen at that very moment and saw her son fall all over himself as he ushered the Irish girl inside.

An expression of displeasure crossed Maria Stallworths face.

Carlene, who had quietly observed it, ducked her head when the mistress looked her way.

During the morning, Kathleen was surprised when Peter appeared in different places in the mansion where she was working. He even offered to help her a couple of times, and she kindly told
him it was her job and she would do it.

Early that afternoon, Maria hunted through the house for Peter and found him in the large parlor, where he was scooting the long, heavy couch back into place. He looked up and said, “Oh, hi, Mom. I was helping Kathleen. You know, so she didn’t have to move the couch to clean underneath it and behind it.”

“Your son is such a gentleman, Mrs. Stallworth,” Kathleen said.

“Well, we’ve raised him to be that,” Maria said, smiling at the girl. Then to her son: “Peter, your father is busy with some business papers in the library. I need you to drive me downtown. I have to do some shopping.”

While mother and son rode in one of the Stallworth carriages toward downtown Chicago, Maria said, “I want to talk to you, Peter.”

“About what, Mom?”

“About Kathleen.”

“Yes?”

“You mustn’t be so friendly to her, Peter. It doesn’t look good.”

“To whom?”

“Well, anyone who would see it. You mustn’t show so much interest in a girl who cleans for us. You understand.”

Peter was quiet for a moment as the carriage moved along State Street. Then he said, “Well, Mom, I guess I might as well be honest with you about it. I’m quite attracted to Kathleen. I’ve never met a girl with so much natural beauty and such a pleasant and warm personality.”

Maria’s eyes widened and her face went dead white. The lines around her mouth hardened as she said in a tight voice, “Peter, I’m not going to have this. You stay clear of Kathleen or I will terminate her job. Do you understand me?”

“All right, Mom. I’ll not spend so much time around her on Saturdays. But you’d have a hard time finding a girl who does the quality of work she does.”

Maria set her jaw. “Peter, you will not spend
any
time with
Kathleen. I mean what I say. If I see you giving her any more than a passing word, she goes. Am I making myself clear?”

Peter stared straight ahead. “Yes. You’re making yourself clear.”

That night, Peter was in his room getting ready for bed when he heard a tap on his door.

“Yes?”

“It’s Dad. Can I come in?”

Peter opened the door. “Sure, Dad. Come in.”

John stepped inside and closed the door. “Son, your mother talked to me about the attention you’ve been showing Kathleen.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“She said she’s given you an ultimatum.” “Mm-hmm.”

“You
do
understand that if you should get interested in Kathleen and let yourself fall in love with her, we would have a big problem on our hands. We can’t have our son wanting to marry our cleaning lady.”

John leaned close and looked Peter square in the eye. “You
do
understand that we couldn’t let this happen, don’t you, son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So?”

“All right, Dad. I won’t pay any more attention to Kathleen.”

John smiled, laid a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and said, “That’s my boy. I knew you’d see it our way.”

W
HEN
K
ATHLEEN WASN’T THINKING
of anything in particular, she often found her thoughts returning to Dwight Moody’s sermons. On this Sunday, as she washed windows in her room that overlooked the street, it happened again. Immediately she forced her thoughts to the contemplation of handsome Peter Stallworth.
If only we were on the same social level…

As she dried the window, movement on the street below caught her attention. A carriage was pulling up in front of the boarding-house—a very familiar carriage.

She set aside her cloth and pail and dashed out the door and down the stairs.

Hattie Murphy, who had seen the carriage arrive, moved toward the front door and what she thought was a prospective roomer.

“I’ll take care of it, Hattie,” Kathleen said, rushing past her. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“A mighty good-lookin’ friend, I might say!” Hattie said with a wink.

Kathleen opened the door and looked up breathlessly at young Stallworth.

“Hello, Peter. I…I was upstairs in my room washing my windows when I saw you drive up.”

Peter tipped his hat, smiled broadly, and said, “It’s nice to see you, too, Kathleen.”

“I suppose you happened to be in the neighborhood and decided to drop by?”

“Ah…no. As a matter of fact, I’m here because I need to talk to you.”