Disclaimers: You know the drill…don't own anything…yada yada yada….
Chapter Fourteen
And so the job search began. By the first week of February, Moira had narrowed her list of potential employers to a list of twelve. Four of which she would have to take the train to other parts of New York. She sat, making up a list of credentials for each school she was going to apply. So far, she had one list started, for Landbury Academy, an hour away by train. On this list, so far, was one item: Has worked with children since age thirteen. And so far, that was it. Moira blew a sigh through her bangs and tried to think.
The bell jingled and she looked up to see David and Les walking toward the desk. Les grinned as he placed an apple in front of her.
"Well, hello there, Mr. Jacobs. What brings you to these parts?" She asked, not caring which Jacobs boy answered.
"We wanted to bring you lunch. In case ya got hungry or something." Les explained, pointing to the apple.
"And, to see if we could help with anything. Jack told us you're filling out applications." David filled in, pointing the papers all around her. She nodded.
"That's very sweet of you. But I'm not sure how you help me list my credentials."
"Then don't do that part right now. Why not fill out the actual application. You can always give them your credentials at the interview, after all. Besides, you'll feel like you've done more when you do the part you know." He winked and unearthed one from the stack. "Here we go, Amburst Preparatory School For Girls."
Moira took it and glanced over the criteria she was to fill out. "Name: Moira Elizabeth Bailey. Age: Eighteen. Place of Birth: Boston, Massachusetts. Date of Birth: July 8, 1882. Mother's maiden name: Kathryn Frances Kloppman. Father's name: Brian Morgan Bailey." She looked up from her work. "These are easy!" She exclaimed, smiling. David smiled back. "Hmm. Current Place of Residence: New York City, New York. Current Marital Status: Unmarried. Current Source of Income…hmm…" Moira looked up at David, who shrugged. "Do you think they would pity me if I wrote down 'none'?" She asked, chewing her inner cheek.
"You could try." Moira shrugged and scribbled it down. She continued on at this pace for a little while longer, and was finished with her apple and applications in no time.
"Moira, can I help?" Les asked, looking bored.
"Of course you can help! Here, we're going to have a little work line. I'll put these in envelopes, you put a stamp on them, and then give them to your brother to seal." This seemed to satisfy the little boy, and the three of them spent the next few minutes, until all twelve envelopes were sealed and addressed, ready to be mailed. "So, which one of you lucky gentlemen wants to walk me to the post office?" She asked, hopefully.
"I will!" Les exclaimed, jumping down from the stool that he'd been perched upon. Moira laughed.
"Sorry, David. Looks like he beat you to it." She shrugged, making David smile. "I suppose you have to go back to work?"
"Correct." He admitted regrettably.
"Do you want me to just bring Les back here after the post office?"
"I've got to work too!" The little boy interrupted. His two older companions looked at him.
"Why don't I meet you both at Tibby's in twenty minutes." David suggested, and Moira looked at Les,
"Does that sound good to you?" She asked, awaiting his approval, which he gave with a nod. "Good, that's settled. I'll see you in a few minutes then. Thank you for your help." David waved goodbye and Moira and Les set out for the three-block walk to the post office.
"Y'know, I should've let Davey go with you." The ten-year-old child told her, as they stepped around a sewer grate.
"Why?" She asked, eyeing him with interest.
"I don't know. Davey likes you an awful lot, Moira."
"Oh, really?"
"Yup."
"How do you know this? Did he tell you?"
"No, but I can tell. He always talks about you, and he shines his shoes for at least an hour before he goes to visit you." Les informed her, with the insight that only a child possessed. Moira smiled.
"That's interesting."
"Do you like him?" She stopped walking. That was a quite a question, and she didn't know just how to answer it. "Well, do you?" He pressed, eyebrows raised.
"Well…of course I like him, he's my best friend." She finished, with the safest answer possible. Les nodded, slightly disappointed, but said nothing as they began walking again. She ruffled his hair, "And since when are you so concerned with who David likes?" Les blushed and rolled his eyes.
A month from the day she sent her applications, Moira received twelve letters back, ten asking for interviews, the other two basically telling her not to waste her time. She tore each open with enthusiasm. Just as she was finished with the last one, Jack strode in, as he usually did, to find a completely elated Moira.
"What's goin' on, Moira?" He asked, not being able to help smiling as her green eyes scanned the paper she held. She showed it to him,
"Interviews, at almost all the schools I applied to." Jack smile grew wider,
"Congratulations!" He exclaimed, though not really sure what that meant. He didn't have to wait long, however, as Moira flattened the letter out further and read some of it to him.
"Dear Miss Bailey,
We at Amburst Preparatory have received you letters of interest, as well as your application. We would like to meet with you, to discuss any possible future that you may have with our school. Please contact us to set up an interview at a desirable time for you…" Moira stopped reading, but looked up, cheeks glowing.
"So, you'se gonna get a job?" Jack asked, making sure he understood what she'd just told him.
"Maybe. It certainly sounds like though, doesn't it? I suppose that if I do well at my interview, I'm going to be considered." This was all he needed to hear- he lifted her off the ground and spun her around in a hug, making her squeal with laughter. Jack stayed and talked with her for a few minutes, before regrettably returning to work.
Moira watched as he walked past the window, smiling giddily. It had been a very good day.
***
March 9, 1900
Dear Diary,
I received word from TEN of the schools that I sent applications to. They want me to come for an interview! All ten of them! Isn't that exciting? I told Mother, she was thrilled (if I'm out of the house, she won't have to pay for my meals anymore- remember that) and took me to dinner to celebrate.
In other news, Sarah is still having problems with her wedding dress. She apparently bought it from some woman at the seamstress shop, where she works, because she figured she could just mend it and it would be fine. From what she tells me, the woman who had attempted to wear the dress before her was at least five hundred pounds. Well, not really, but you get the idea. Anyway, I offered her mine. I'm not going to be using it anytime soon, I've never worn it- it's good as new. Of course, I then had to explain all about Jonathan, and how the wedding gown itself had been a present for my sixteenth birthday. She laughed, actually, at the thought of being given a wedding dress as a birthday present, especially when it meant you were going to marry someone you barely knew. It's times like these that I realize that, although we're friends, Sarah and I are very, very, different. But she and Jack are ridiculously happy together. And I can't help but be happy for them.
-Moira
Now, Delaney was more confused than before. Now Sarah was marrying Jack? This was like some sort of turn-of-the-century soap opera. So, Sarah was with Jack, although it was now common knowledge that Moira was supposed to end up with Jack, and then there was David- who had really become kind of inconsequential to this whole messy business. There was, of course, that one entry after Les had told Moira that David liked her. So, David liked Moira, who would eventually fall in love and marry Jack, who was engaged to Sarah, who was Moira best friend. Of course! It made perfect sense!
Delaney shook her head, and went back to stirring the spaghetti sauce. From outside, she heard Keaton's Cavalier pull up and quickly put the diary away. The last thing she needed was for him to get up in arms about her reading while she was cooking. Keaton never shared her enthusiasm for things like that. No, she hid the book in the cutlery drawer- Moira's confusing life could wait. Pasta couldn't.
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Authors Note: Mreh! My reviews kick absolute butt! I love you all sooo much! Your feedback is my life's blood, even though it feels like it's taken a really long time for me to get this chapter up. I, once again, don't feel it's up to par. However- the next chapter plans to be rather interesting- I hope. Enjoy! LA VIE BOHEME!!
