I climbed out of the carriage, carrying what few items I had. Father was helping Mother down so I waited patiently for them so I could retrieve the rest of their belongings. As I was walking back over to the carriage, some bystander whammed into me. Appalled, I turned to tell them off but they were gone. I scoffed. How rude!

"Isabella? Darling, help us, will you?" I gave a "Yes ma'am" and grabbed all I could, stumbling into the building. Nothing too extraordinary, really. In fact, I was sure it was one of those houses where many families lived.

"What did you say the name of this city was Mother?"

"Chicago, dear." I nodded.

"But why here, Mother? We could have gone to New York, you know how you fancy their dresses. Or possibly Boston? They're by the sea and I'm quite frank that you're found of the water. There's even Detroit, with all those new cars, though awfully cold at times. Perhaps even Madison! Think of it, cheese galore! Or—"

"Isabella, please. You're lucky that Phil could get us here. Now, we still have a lot of settling in to do. Shall we?" I gave a sigh and followed my mother to our portion of the building.

After an hour or two of getting settled, Mother told me to go get ready for tonight. When I asked why, she gave an exasperated sigh and reminded me that we were meeting with the Bears tonight. "Oh," was all I managed to muster.

"And the dress I should wear?"

"I don't know darling," she sighed. "Wear something presentable."

I went to my wardrobe and considered my selections, finally deciding on an off-white dress. It wasn't too fancy but it didn't have the air of poor. Looking at myself in the mirror, I did my best to decide how to wear my hair. Down or clipped? Or should I put a bow in? I finally decided to just have Mother braid it. But I should most likely comb it first.

Dinner was…interesting. Though, I did not understand a word that was said. The head of the Bears happened to be Edward Mason, Sr. His son had bronze hair and green eyes. He seemed a gentleman at first, but once you got to know him, you would change your mind. His hair was perfect for his personality. Wild, untamed. He was a good negotiator though. Very sure of what he believed in. And I admired that. But not enough to fall into the depths of his emerald eyes. Most of the women there did, though. We left the restaurant around eleven. Phil seemed quite overjoyed. But they would not tell me if he had gotten signed or not. I only asked because I did not understand their mindless baseball chatter. Still, they wouldn't tell me.

After we arrived home, I changed into my nightgown and fell asleep.

I just realized that I didn't mention the time. It'll be 1914, making Bella and Edward 13. Of course they'll seem more mature than that but they were raised that way so…

Don't forget, I'd like to hear what you think I should call this story!