September 3rd, 1898

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The heavy oak doors before her swung open a crack before Clara's raised fist and an older man with a round face and a set of round spectacles perched on the tip of his nose peered out at Clara. He looked her over, raised an eyebrow at the teenage girl standing on his steps, and cocked his head slightly in curiosity. Clara took a sharp breath. He looked very much like an owl staring down his next meal. "Good day, Miss. What is your business with Mayor Strong?"

"Hello sir," she said with a smile, "My name is Clara Lemay. I have an appointment with him for nine o'clock about-"

"Yes yes, come in." He opened the door the rest of the way and led Clara into the waiting room, then disappeared into the mayor's office. She took a moment to settle her nerves and look around the room. The walls were covered in dark wood paneling and a small suggestions box sat on a coffee table, overflowing with notes that hadn't been collected yet. Clara took a pen from the table and poked the ones that had fallen out closer to the box. One bore the date of July 15th.

The doorman re-emerged from the office and took his seat at the front desk.

"Is the Mayor available now?"

"No." He didn't look up from his books.

Her face fell. "Oh. When will he be free to talk?"

"He said he'd call for you when he's ready. Please sit down, Miss."

Clara resisted the urge to huff at him. After what felt like a millennium but what her pocket watch told her was only fifteen minutes, the doorman's intercom buzzed. He emerged from behind the stacks of papers and waved her towards the door. "You may go in now."

She gave him a polite nod and entered into the office where she took her seat across from the mayor.

He scarcely glanced at her when she sat down and gave a long sigh as he closed his books. "What do you want, Clara?"

"Hello sir, thank you for agreeing to see me today!" Clara started, putting on a cheerful tone and pulling a handful of paper from the folder she carried. "I just wanted to deliver my resume and application to you personally for the aide position that you advertise in the summers. I applied last year too, but I live in Brooklyn so I worried maybe mine hadn't made it to you in time."

He raised an eyebrow at her and took the papers that she slid across his desk, though he didn't read any of them. "Oh, I'm afraid you're mistaken, I did receive your papers last year. I'm sorry to have you make the trip all the way to Manhattan for nothing."

Clara started to frown but caught herself and made a confused face instead. "I didn't receive an acknowledgment or confirmation that you had received them, which is why I thought there might have been a mistake."

"I can assure you there was no mistake on my part. We don't send anything to the applicants who don't earn the position."

Rude. Couldn't they send some short note, if only to provide some closure? Clara nodded slowly. "I see. Well, thank you for your time. I hope you find merit in my application when you review it."

He nodded several times in response and turned back to his books. "Yes, of course, I'll have Jim look over it this afternoon. Good day."

"Goodbye," Clara responded, mustering all the patience and grace she could manage and making her way to the door. As she left the office, who should walk in but her own classmate, Lucas? He nodded politely at her as he crossed the room to the front desk to a hearty welcome from the doorman, who immediately let him into the mayor's office. The door slammed behind them as if they hadn't even seen Clara standing there, and she heard exuberant greetings and laughing and congratulations through the door as if they were old friends. She stood there still for a minute.

Staring at the door.

Waiting.

For what? It was over. Just like that, it was over. They were old friends, and Lucas would get the job for a second year, and that was that. Well. No use standing around. She had work to do back at Graham Windham, and she'd already wasted enough time as it was. With a quick breath, she composed herself and left the building to hail a carriage back across the bridge.

Soon enough, she'd arrived home. Thankfully her mother was still occupied with errands, and the apartment was empty when she pushed the front door open. Clara stormed up the stairs to her room, dumped her bag on the ground, ignored the papers scattering all over the floor, and collapsed on her bed in a huff. For all her initiative in going to speak to the mayor personally to make her case, this is what she got for her troubles?! Another year come and gone and the award or job or accolade awarded to Lucas of all people. The plagiarizing, cocky, condescending, entitled, little-

She snatched a pillow from the headboard to muffle her shout of frustration and with a final long-suffering sigh, she collected herself and retreated to her desk to collect her thoughts and plan her next move. It was clear she wouldn't be getting anywhere with Mayor Strong no matter how much she tried, and it would only be a waste of both of their times for her to try anymore. She needed a different angle.

But first, she needed to clean up this mess. Nothing like frustration-cleaning to clear the head. No point in working in a messy space, her mother always said. And besides, her mother would be annoyed if she left her room a mess before heading to work at the orphanage.

Clara crawled under the desk to start gathering up her things, only to come across several other items she'd dropped without noticing over time: several pens and nubs of chalk from her school slate, paperclips and a half-used eraser, her missing spool of red embroidery thread, the core of an apple that'd missed the wastebasket, and… what was this?

She dusted off the small scrap of cardstock and clambered to her feet with the rest of her collection which was unceremoniously dumped on her desk for future organization so that she could read the card by the light of her window. It was the old business card that Roosevelt had given her at the Refuge all those years ago. She didn't realize she'd kept it. It got tossed on the desk with the rest of the odds and ends as she went back to tidying her room.

Wait!

Roosevelt! He was her new angle. If she couldn't get a position with the Mayor, she could go above his head and try with him! She snatched the card up again. "police commissioner" it said, and she had to laugh that such an outdated card might be her chance. She would go above the Mayor's head… to the person who was running for Governor.

In the following weeks between school, her studies, and shifts at the orphanage, Clara started trying to get an audience with Roosevelt. The first thing to do was try to set up a meeting, but when his secretary politely informed her that he would be booked clear through to November and that she was welcome to leave a note in the meantime, Clara gave up on trying to get in touch with him through any of the customary means. For such a large public figure, he never stayed in the same place for longer than a few hours, and by the time Clara found him through the paper or word of mouth that he'd been around the neighborhood, he'd already moved on, and even when she did find him at public speaking events and rallies, she couldn't get close enough to actually talk with him.

It was only by a stroke of luck (and maybe just a bit of stubbornness) that when she found herself making her way up the steps of his office to talk with his secretary for the third that time week to ask if any meeting slots had opened up, that Roosevelt himself came out. He rushed down the stairs, energetic as ever, and briefly touched his hat as he started to push past Clara.

She blanked, just for a moment, and he'd nearly escaped into the carriage when she snapped into action. "Sir! Just a moment, if you will!" she called, hurrying after him.

He halted the carriage just before they took off and looked down at the odd girl rushing breathlessly down the sidewalk toward him. "Can I help you, miss?"

She shoved her hand into her pocket, pulled out the business card, and handed it to him triumphantly. "My name is Clara Lemay. I believe we've met before – at the Refuge four years ago."

His expression clouded for a moment in a mix of amusement and bewilderment as he took the ancient business card and looked from it to Clara's bright red face. He lit up in a smile as he remembered.

"Oh, yes! You were the loud little one that stopped me on the street. Quite opinionated if I remember correctly, and it seems you haven't lost your penchant for planting yourself in my way to get my attention. What can I do for you?"

Loud little one?! A sharp response sprung to her tongue but Clara pushed the incredulous response away and plowed on with the speech she'd rehearsed a thousand times, "I'm a senior at Park Slope Prep School, I work at Graham Windham, I'm applying to Barnard College with the hope of going to law school, and I'd like to work for you."

For a second, Roosevelt was speechless. Clara took that as a good sign and continued on, "You remember correctly, I am loud… and opinionated. But I'm a hard worker and a quick learner. I'm really eager to get some experience in politics. Even if I could just tag along with you as an aide, I'd really appreciate that, and I can help you run your campaign for governor. I've organized several public functions and-"

"Something tells me you won't take no for an answer," he interrupted. As unorthodox as her proposition seemed, he was taken by curiosity at what could possibly compel a person such as her to be so bold.

What was this? A trick question? A wrong response could cost her this opportunity for good and she clenched her teeth at the thought of being thrown back to square one. Clara hesitated, and studied his face, searching for an answer. Despite the harsh tone, he held back a grin. She took a shaky breath and smiled right back.

"No, sir."

Roosevelt broke into raucous laughter, leaned down, and shook her hand. "Loud, and opinionated, and stubborn. I like that."

"Thank you, sir?" It hardly sounded like a compliment but if she could own it, she would, and it was a more positive response than she expected. Clara lit up with wild excitement and she shook back, bouncing lightly on her toes.

"You know, I've been called a professional busybody myself, which I think is just a polite way of calling me a politician. I think we'll get along alright anyhow. I'll speak to my secretary about getting you on the staff list. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. My day starts at 5:30 am and I'm on the road by 6:30 or 7 most days, so stop by the office as soon as you can and we'll get you set up."

"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much!" Clara waved as he told the driver to get moving, twirled once, and started sprinting towards home. She couldn't wait to tell her parents and Hannah the good news.

A/N: Clara's job searching comes to an end, but it's only the beginning of her new adventure! Next chapter we'll hear from Crutchie again, and we're getting closer to the canon-era timeline so there are a lot of fun moments to be had! Thank you for coming along for this journey with me. I'm having a lot of fun with it, and I hope you're enjoying the story too. :)

To the guest reviewer on chapter 20: Thank you for commenting! I hope you enjoyed this reappearance of Roosevelt, even if it's not how you expected him to show up again. We won't see much of Clara's rival in the long run, but he will be making a brief appearance in two chapter's time, so I hope you like that interaction. I really appreciate you took the time to respond to the story so thank you again for that :)