Somewhere to Call Home. Janet Lee Barton

The porter pointed across the way. “Over there, where all those people are gathered.”

      “Thank you.”

      He tipped his hat. “There’s a waiting room there, too. I’m sure someone will be here to meet you soon, miss.”

      “Yes. I hope so.” He’d been very helpful on the trip and she hated to see him turn away.

      Violet tried not to panic. What was it Mrs. Heaton had said in her letter? She’d be there to meet her. But where was she? And what would she do if Mrs. Heaton didn’t show up? Violet began to think she might have made the biggest mistake in her life by coming here. Her mother had always warned her about big cities, and Violet knew she would not be happy she’d come to New York City. Yet, she was certain Mama would not have wanted her to marry Harlan Black under any circumstances. Besides, she really had no choice.

      She took another deep breath and looked around. The only way Violet could see how the name Grand could apply to this depot was its size. It certainly couldn’t be considered a grand place to be—not with all the steam, smoke and ashes spewing from the locomotives, hovering overhead and condensing with the odors of people from so many walks of life. From the sweet scent of toilet water to the strongest perfumes, they all intermingled with the smell of unwashed bodies and sweat, pervading the huge room, making Violet more nauseated by the minute.

      Grand Central Depot wasn’t only the largest building she’d ever been in—it was also the busiest. No sooner had the train she’d just arrived on chugged away than another one arrived in its place. Passengers poured out of it, heading off in every direction. Some of the travelers looked as lost as she felt.

      She glanced around again but there seemed to be more people than ever, many speaking languages she couldn’t understand. There was all manner of dress, from elegant to almost threadbare. Men pulled out their watches to see if the time matched the huge clock in the depot while mothers tried to keep their children close to their sides. The noise level seemed to rise with each passing minute as Violet made her way across the room.

      A man spit near one of the spittoons positioned all over the depot, but he didn’t seem to have good aim as his spittle ran down the outside of the cuspidor and ended up on the floor beside the vessel. The sight, mixed with the smells, made Violet’s stomach roll, and she picked up her pace.

      Trying to tamp down her anxiety, Violet pulled a picture of Mrs. Heaton out of her reticule and looked at it once more, although she was certain she would recognize her old neighbor. Surely she couldn’t have changed much in three years. She turned in a small circle, looking closely at each woman she saw. Finally, when she’d about given up hope, she saw a woman she thought was Martha Heaton hurrying across the building. The older woman waved, and Violet breathed a sigh of relief as her mother’s good friend reached her.

      “Violet? It is you, isn’t it?”

      Her eyes held such warmth Violet couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

      Mrs. Heaton grasped Violet’s hands in hers. “How lovely you are, all grown up. You look just like your mother when she was your age. You have her dark hair and blue eyes and even her coloring.” Mrs. Heaton pulled her into a quick hug. “Oh, you bring back so many memories of my younger days.”

      The older woman’s blue eyes sparkled, and her fading auburn hair was done up under a large hat that matched her afternoon dress of blue-and-green stripes.

      “Thank you, Mrs. Heaton. It is good to see you again.” An understatement to be sure. It warmed her heart to see the older woman’s familiar face.

      “I am sorry I’m a bit late.” Mrs. Heaton shook her head and the green feathers on top of her blue hat bobbled to and fro. “Traffic is just awful today, and I’m so glad Michael came with me. Hopefully, it won’t be so bad on the way home.”

      At the mention of her son, Violet looked over Mrs. Heaton’s shoulder to see a man that looked very familiar, but so much...more, striding toward them. Dressed in a navy blue suit, a wing-collar white shirt and a blue silk cravat, his dark brown hair covered with a gray bowler, the young man she’d known back home seemed to have become a mature businessman. His warm brown eyes had an expression in them that made her wonder if he were as surprised at the changes in her as she was at his.

      “Violet, how good it is to see you,” Michael said, taking her gloved hand in his. “If Mother hadn’t been talking to you, I’m not sure I would have recognized you. You’ve grown up since I last saw you.”

      If anything, Michael Heaton was even more handsome than Violet remembered. “I could say the same for you, Michael. It’s so good to see you both.”

      “Mother has been looking forward to your arrival very much. She’s been fussing over your room for days.”

      She slipped her hand from his and turned toward his mother. “Oh, you shouldn’t have gone to any trouble, Mrs. Heaton.”

      “I’ve enjoyed every minute, Violet. I hope you’ll like it and feel right at home.”

      Michael quickly took charge, and before Violet knew what had happened, he’d procured a man to fetch her bags and help carry them through the huge building. She barely registered walking across the marble floor and outside, as she dodged first one and then another person hurrying to or from the trains.

      Michael helped them get seated in the hack waiting right outside for them, and once they were settled and he took his seat, Violet said, “Thank you for meeting me at the station. I’m not sure I would have known what to do otherwise.” She shook her head and chuckled. “I’ve never seen so many people in one place. Or such hustle and bustle.”

      “The city can be intimidating at first. And for a woman alone, I’m sure it’s quite frightening,” Michael said.

      As the driver flipped the reins and steered his hack out onto the street and into the traffic, Violet could well believe the city would overwhelm her for years to come.

      Once they were on their way, Mrs. Heaton turned to her. “I am so very sorry about your loss, my dear. Your mother was like a sister to me, and while I know your loss is greater than mine, I will miss her tremendously.” The older woman patted her hand as tears gathered in her eyes.

      Violet’s heart warmed at her sincerity. “Thank you. She missed you sorely after you left. She looked forward to each of your letters, and I read them over and over to her when she couldn’t read them herself anymore.”

      Mrs. Heaton dabbed at her eyes with the delicate handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve. “I’m so glad your mother and I stayed close through our correspondence. I know these last few months must have been grueling for you, dear, but I want you to know you have a place with me for as long as you need it.”

      Violet swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. The very day she’d walked out of Harlan Black’s office, she’d written a letter accepting Mrs. Heaton’s offer to help in any way she could and telling her why. In the two weeks since, she’d been so consumed with getting ready for the move and getting out of town without letting Harlan suspect what she was doing, she hadn’t had time to even grieve. The woman’s kind words were like balm to her battered heart. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much your kindness means to me.”

      Mrs. Heaton gave a brisk nod, as if to dismiss the sad thoughts. “I’m just glad to have you here with us.”

      Violet began to relax. She was here among friends—even though she barely recognized Michael. Just seeing him stride across the depot toward her had taken her breath away. Sitting across from him now, she tried to keep from stealing glances at him as he and his mother pointed out different sights to her.

      She wasn’t even sure she saw half of all the sights since she closed her eyes each time another horse-drawn vehicle seemed bent on running them down, just before it stopped or turned on another street. She’d never seen so many different modes of travel in her life. Mrs. Heaton pointed out omnibuses, landaus and the trolley.

      “Traveling