A Mother In The Making. Gabrielle Meyer

know anything about children?”

      Marjorie couldn’t tell her the truth—though she suspected the girl already knew. “I have a lot to learn, but you look like a good teacher.”

      Lilly’s shoulders lifted at the compliment. “I’ll change Laura and then when you have Petey clean I’ll help you make her a bottle.”

      Marjorie smiled at Lilly. “Thank you.”

      The girl stepped out of the water closet and Marjorie turned to her next task, determined to do this job well.

      She would not be sent back to Chicago.

      * * *

      An hour later, Marjorie opened her trunk lid and surveyed the gowns piled haphazardly inside.

      “Your clothes are lovely,” Lilly breathed beside Marjorie as they stood in the governess’s bedroom. The little girl ran her hand over a purple silk gown.

      The governess’s room was surprisingly large, with a fireplace, cheery floral wallpaper, soft white curtains and two generous windows overlooking the front yard. Two doors exited the room, one to the hallway and one to the night nursery, where Laura was finally napping in her cradle.

      Marjorie glanced down at her soiled traveling gown, memories of cleaning Petey still fresh in her mind. Thankfully the exhausted little boy was now napping. Marjorie wished she could rest herself, but she needed to unpack, and for the first time in her life there was no maid to do the chore for her.

      “I’ve only seen dresses like this in my aunt Dora’s Vogue Magazine,” Lilly said. “Where did you wear them?”

      “I didn’t get a chance to wear many of them—although I did wear this one.” Marjorie lifted out the exquisite green dress she had worn to her debutante ball in June of 1917, the day she had met Preston. It had been one of the last debutante balls in Chicago after the United States had entered the war. In June, the young men began to ship out of the city, on their way to fight, and a somber mood had fallen on the country. Instead of dancing and partying, Marjorie had filled her time volunteering for the Red Cross—and entertaining Preston.

      After he made his intentions known, her parents insisted that Marjorie allow him to court her. She was eager to finally please them, so she agreed.

      Preston was everything her parents had hoped for. With his wealth, success and good connections, it was supposed to be the match of the year. But by the time she realized Preston did not love her, it was too late to call the wedding off, and she was forced to leave him at the altar.

      Lilly sat on the bed and grasped the brass knob on the footboard. She studied Marjorie, her pretty blue eyes filled with a bit of uncertainty. “Do you have any work dresses?”

      Marjorie examined her trunk and put her hand on her chin. She had led a charmed life in Chicago and had very few serviceable dresses to begin with. She hadn’t thought to put any of them in her luggage when she packed so hastily. “I’m afraid not. I suppose I’ll have to make do with what I have.”

      Lilly shrugged. “I don’t mind if you wear these pretty dresses.”

      Marjorie walked the dress across the room and hung it in the large wardrobe against the wall. She put it in the back, since she would have no use for it until she reached California.

      Just thinking about the movies caused a trill of excitement to race up Marjorie’s spine, and she paused for a moment. Nothing else had brought her as much joy during the past few years as the movie theater, and she wanted to bring the same happiness into other people’s lives. If she could help them forget about their troubles, even for a little while, it would be worth all the hard work to get there.

      Lilly lifted her finger to her mouth and nibbled on her nail. “Papa might not like you in those dresses, though. I don’t think I ever saw Mama wear anything like them.”

      Marjorie’s attention returned to her task, and she took another gown out of the trunk, this one a soft muslin morning dress. She paused. “What was your mother like?”

      Lilly’s face filled with sadness and she dropped her gaze. “She was wonderful.”

      Marjorie lowered the gown and sat next to the girl. “You must miss her very much.”

      Lilly nodded but didn’t speak.

      “I’m sure she would be very proud of how you’re helping take care of Laura and Petey.”

      “Mama was very gentle and kind. She was never angry.”

      “And what of your father?”

      Lilly lifted her shoulder and toyed with a loose thread on the quilt. “Papa wasn’t home much before Mama died. He was usually gone by the time we came down for breakfast, and he often came home after Mama put us to bed.”

      “But he’s home more now?”

      Lilly nodded.

      “Do you like having him home?”

      Again, the girl nodded. “I like it very much—but I’m afraid that since you’ve come, he might go back to working as much as before.”

      “Did your mother ever ask him to stay home more?”

      “Mama always said we must never complain about how much he worked. She said he was a doctor, and doctors needed to make people well. Her father was a doctor, too, and she said it was our job to sacrifice so they could do their work.”

      Marjorie wanted to deny what the girl said. Yes, Dr. Orton had a demanding job, but his family should not have to suffer because of it.

      More than anything, Marjorie had wanted her own father present in her life when she was a child. He had always used his work as his excuse—and Mother had never pushed him to be present.

      Indignation rose in Marjorie’s gut. If Dr. Orton could make time to be home with his family now, surely he could have made time before his wife died.

      Marjorie looked off toward the window where the November landscape looked bleak against a pale blue sky. What kind of woman would Dr. Orton choose for his second wife? Would she be as compliant as the first Mrs. Orton? Would she keep quiet as he sacrificed his family? In the few minutes Marjorie had spent with him, she could tell he was authoritative and probably ruled with a stubborn set of principles—just like Marjorie’s father. He needed a woman who wouldn’t be afraid to stand up to him and tell him when he was being too rigid.

      Someone she wished her mother had been.

      But was Dr. Orton capable of finding someone like that?

      An excited bubble fluttered through Marjorie’s midsection—the same feeling she had every time she was about to undertake a new project. But this time, she wouldn’t leave the task half-completed. She would finally finish something she started. She would find a new wife for Dr. Orton—and she would make sure the woman he married was exactly who the doctor and his children needed.

      Marjorie could almost picture the lady in her mind now. She would be bold, vivacious and charming. She would stand up to the doctor when she needed to, and be an excellent mother to the children. Hopefully she was pretty and would look nice standing next to the handsome Dr. Orton—but that was a secondary concern for Marjorie.

      As soon as she had a moment, she would make a list of all the attributes Dr. Orton’s second wife should possess—and the first item on her list would be whimsical. He didn’t need a practical woman. Practical women forced their daughters into practical marriages and didn’t leave room for things like love and romance. He needed someone who would be his opposite, to balance his personality.

      Clearly Dr. Orton needed help with this important endeavor, and Marjorie was in a position to help him.

      “Don’t worry, Lilly.” Marjorie stood and lifted the muslin gown in her hands once again. She walked to the wardrobe and hung the dress inside. “I have a feeling your father will be around the house much more now that I’m here.” She would