Disclaimer: This is a non-commercial work of fanfiction. Anything recognizable from Newsies belongs to Disney and not to me.
Chapter 113: Dinner with the Beckers
"Aunt Sadie!" Caleb burst through the door of the Becker apartment in a frenzy of twelve-year-old panic. "My scarf's missing! Have you seen it?"
Sadie looked up from the table where she had been reviewing The Ladies' Home Journal. "It was hanging on the arm of the sofa yesterday," she said, rising to follow her nephew to the sitting area. "Perhaps Lilly accidentally knocked it to the floor when she got up to go to her nap."
They conducted a thorough search, lifting up cushions and peering under the furniture, but the missing scarf was nowhere to be found. Before Sadie could think of another place to look, the front door opened, and her oldest sister came into the apartment and quickly corralled her son.
"Caleb, Aunt Sadie's busy preparing dinner right now," she admonished. "I'll help you find your scarf. Let's let her return to the kitchen."
"Sorry, Aunt Sadie," the boy apologized as he was hurried away.
"It's all right," she called after him. "I needed a break, anyway."
After taking one last glance around the sitting area, she returned to the kitchen, hoping that her nephew would be able to locate his muffler soon. The Feinberg family would be heading across town that evening to visit John's parents, and it would likely be a nippy carriage ride; the weather had been overcast all day, and snow was predicted for later that night.
Settling herself at the table again, Sadie scanned the recipe that she'd been poring over before Caleb's arrival. It contained instructions for how to make "The Most Delicious Buttermilk Biscuits," and though her initial plan had been to simply serve toasted bread from the baker's alongside the soup that she was preparing for dinner that night, the recipe had caught her eye, and she'd found her adventurous side wondering if she might whip up a batch to make the meal a little more special.
She'd been extra meticulous that afternoon while preparing the soup. The vegetables and meat had been purchased on the way home from school so that they would be of the freshest quality, and she'd taken pains to make sure that everything was painstakingly cleaned and uniformly cut. Being familiar with the recipe had helped to ease her nerves somewhat, and once she'd prepared all of the necessary ingredients and had started the pot boiling, she'd relaxed a little, knowing that she was on her way to a successful outcome without a single mishap to speak of.
So perhaps she'd been feeling a bit overly confident as she'd begun paging through The Ladies' Home Journal while she waited for the soup to cook. Her mother had briefly come to the kitchen to get a snack for Lilly, and, seeing Sadie eyeing the biscuit recipe, had warned her that trying something new on a night a guest was coming over was not a wise idea. It was sensible advice, and Sadie knew that she ought not to be entertaining the notion, but still, the idea had lingered, and she now found herself walking over to the pantry, magazine in hand, to see if she had all of the necessary ingredients available. She reasoned that it couldn't hurt to attempt something cautiously ambitious, for if her efforts proved disastrous, there was always the bread to fall back on.
A quick investigation confirmed that all of the items she needed were available, including the buttermilk, and Sadie felt a little thrill of excitement as she carried the various baking elements to the table. Once she'd gathered everything she needed, she took a quick peek at her soup. Satisfied that it was coming along nicely, she eagerly returned to the table to begin her experimental endeavor.
"What's all that for?" came a voice from the doorway.
Sadie looked up to see Abby eyeing the potpourri of baking supplies with a look of mild suspicion.
"I'm making biscuits," Sadie explained, holding up the recipe. "'The most delicious buttermilk biscuits', in fact."
"I'd settle for you making unburnt biscuits," Abby remarked candidly. "Don't you think it's a bad idea to try something you've never done less than an hour before David's supposed to be here?"
"Perhaps," Sadie shrugged, far too used to her sister's blunt opinions to be deterred. "But if they turn out well, they'll be hot out of the oven right in time for dinner."
"Or you could just burn the whole place down."
Sadie blew a wisp of hair out of her face. "Are you offering to help me, Abby?"
"No indeed," the youngest Becker replied, backing away a step. "I'm staying as far away from this kitchen as possible. Besides," she tapped the book that she was holding, "I have to finish the last chapter of Journey to the Center of the Earth. I promised David that I'd discuss it with him when he comes over tonight." So saying, she retreated to the sitting area, and Sadie was left alone again in the kitchen.
Well, so much for votes of confidence from the family. She nibbled her lower lip, wondering for the first time if she ought to abandon the attempt…
But no - tonight was different, and it only seemed right to honor the occasion by making something special, even if it was only a batch of buttermilk biscuits. She knew that Davey wouldn't scorn a simple meal and that he'd graciously partake of whatever was set in front of him, but it would be fun to tell him afterwards that she'd successfully baked something new, and to see his surprise at her achievement, even if it was only an insignificant victory in the grand scheme of things.
Having resolved this, Sadie studied the recipe one last time, then went to fetch a bowl and a rolling pin from the cupboard. Setting them down, she began to work, her determination growing as she imagined the delicious smell of hot, buttery biscuits filling the air…
Despite the fact that it had been a tough day of selling and that it had taken longer than usual to move the last of his papers, Davey managed to make it home in time to change before heading over to the Beckers'. He knew that he was only attending a casual meal with the landlord and his family, but he did want to look respectable and show that he recognized the invitation to dinner for the kind gesture that it was.
After donning a clean shirt and trousers, the less-threadbare of the two vests that he owned, and his favorite tie, Davey bid his own family goodbye and made his way up to the third floor. Abby answered his knock and greeted him with an eager smile, beckoning him inside and immediately beginning to chatter away about the book she'd just finished, peppering him with questions about whether he thought Jules Verne's storytelling prowess was at its height in Journey to the Center of the Earth or Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. She was so excited to discuss the matter, that they spent the next few minutes talking just inside the doorway, the youngest Becker sister too engrossed in the conversation to bother moving it further into the apartment, and Davey too polite and fondly amused to suggest otherwise.
Eventually, though, the sound of their voices drew the other members of the family into the common area. Philip was first to appear, and he gave Davey a hearty welcome before gently suggesting to Abby that the conversation on Verne might be better facilitated inside the apartment proper. Miriam, appearing at her husband's shoulder with Lilly on her arm, added her appeals that Davey make himself comfortable, then led the way to the sitting area of the large room, bidding her guest and her youngest daughter to follow.
On the way there, they passed by the kitchen, and Abby, lingering behind, tugged on Davey's sleeve.
"Want to see an honest-to-goodness real-life miracle?" she asked, her eyes bright with amusement. Before he could answer, she pulled him over to the doorway.
"My sister decided on a whim to try a new recipe," Abby whispered, "and we were all worried that she was going to botch it like she normally does, but I think she actually managed to pull it off this time. She's been completely engrossed this last half-hour; we've all been checking in on her, but she's hardly even noticed."
Inclining her head towards the kitchen, the youngest Becker motioned for Davey to peek in, and he cautiously did as he was directed.
Sadie was standing at the stove, her expression one of intense concentration, and, as Abby had described, she didn't even notice his perusal, so caught up was she in trying to finish the last of her dinner preparations. The sleeves of her dress were unbuttoned and pushed haphazardly up to her elbows, and the apron that she was wearing was splotched with flour in several places. Wisps of hair clung to her face, damp from the steaming pot on the stove, and her cheeks were just a bit flushed.
Even slightly disheveled, she was a thoroughly endearing picture.
"Isn't that a sight?" Abby asked, clearly entertained.
"Yeah…" Davey absently loosened his tie. "She - I mean, it is."
Abby gave him a concerned look. "You don't sound so good," she remarked. "Are you feeling all right?"
"I'm fine." He forced himself to tear his eyes away from the kitchen and gave the younger girl a smile. "Just a little...surprised, I guess."
"We didn't think she could do it either," Abby said matter-of-factly as they withdrew to let Sadie work in peace. "But my sister is stubborn. Mama told her that she shouldn't try baking something new with a guest coming over, but Sadie went ahead and did it anyway. I think she wanted to impress you, as silly as that sounds, even though they're only buttermilk biscuits."
"Abigail!" Miriam called from the sitting area. "Please stop waylaying David and let him come sit down."
"Yes, Mama," Abby answered. She tugged on his sleeve, and Davey followed, trying his best to focus.
He was invited to take the same chair that he'd sat in the day he'd come over to read to Sadie, and as he settled into it, he found himself drawn into conversation by Miriam, who inquired after his family and asked how his father had been feeling. It was an easy topic of discourse, and Davey was grateful for a chance to talk with Mrs. Becker in a less rushed setting. He hadn't had much interaction with her other than the first time he'd met her, and she'd been preoccupied on that initial visit and had come off a little brusque, but now she was much more cordial. She reminded him of Abby - straightforward and frank, but genuine in her care, even if she expressed it without the affable warmth that Philip and Sadie exuded.
Lilly, too, seemed to be in good spirits. She said nothing, seated on the couch next to her mother, but her eyes were attentive and bright, and Davey saw her smile a few times, though as before, she chose not to respond to his conversational questions. He was a little more ready for her silence this time, and easily reassured Mrs. Becker that he wasn't offended at all by her daughter's reticence.
After a few minutes of light conversation, Sadie's voice was heard as she emerged from the kitchen.
"Mama, the food's all ready and I just finished setting the table and put a bowl of soup off to the side to cool for Lilly. I'm going to change now before - " She stopped short, catching sight of her guest sitting in the armchair.
"Davey!" she exclaimed. "I'm so sorry - I didn't realize that you'd already arrived." Her hands brushed at her skirt, something he'd come to recognize as an indicator that she was nervous or caught off guard, and he remembered Judith mentioning earlier that week that Sadie had been apprehensive about hosting and anxious for the dinner to go well.
"Hello, Chare." He greeted her with a smile, risking the use of the nickname in an effort to ease her nerves. It was probably overly-familiar to do so in front of the family, but he wanted to reassure her that all was well, for she might have felt under-equipped and out of her element, but she looked absolutely lovely, and the dinner smelled delicious, and there was no doubt in his mind that everything was going to turn out fine and that she would fulfill the duties of hostess with the graciousness and warmth that characterized most everything she did, despite her concerns to the contrary.
Of course, it wouldn't do to say as much aloud, so he settled for merely remarking on the aroma of the food, but he saw her relax a little at his words, and inwardly was pleased.
The family moved to the kitchen while Sadie went to change, and Davey found himself seated next to Abby, an empty chair left open for Sadie beside him. She re-appeared soon after that, her dress clean and her hair smoothed into place, and the family continued chatting as she ladled out bowls of steaming soup from the large pot on the stove.
"You're in for a treat tonight, David," Philip said as a bowl of soup was set in front of him. "This is Sadie's signature dish."
"He means the only thing that I can reliably cook well," his daughter laughed, though Davey could tell that she was heartened by the compliment. "Don't expect too much; Papa's the kind who will eat anything I make and find something good to say about it, even if it was absolutely terrible." She set a bowl of soup in front of her mother and then Lilly, working her way around the table.
"I heard that you passed your competency exams at school, David," Miriam said conversationally. "What do you plan to do now that you're almost done with your schooling?"
"I'm not sure," Davey confessed. "I want to find a job where I can help people and use my education to make a difference, but I'm not sure what that would look like, or how I'd figure that out. When I was younger, I used to think I'd work really hard and earn a scholarship to go to college, but eventually I realized that wasn't realistic."
He smiled tentatively, then added, "I don't know what my family's situation will look like next year, and I'll probably need to keep working as much as I can for a while, but once my dad's back on his feet, I'll take some time to think things through a little better and figure out what to do next. I've learned a lot from being a newsboy, but I'm definitely getting a little too old for the profession."
He'd turned eighteen earlier that year, shortly after his family had moved to Manhattan, and while he knew that he wasn't the only older newsie out there hawking headlines, the truth of Jack's maxim - that "younger sold more papes" - was becoming increasingly more apparent with every passing day. A steady circle of regular customers like the generous Lorina kept Davey in the game and put coins in his pocket, but it was getting more and more difficult to move his papers, and he was acutely aware that his ample height and serious demeanor made him appear every inch the young man that he really was, even if he didn't feel quite like an adult yet.
"Would you consider a job out of the area?" Philip inquired.
"I wouldn't rule it out," Davey replied. He'd considered the thought before when he'd happened to see job postings around the city. "If it was up to me, though, I'd prefer to stay in Manhattan. My family's already moved so much that it would be nice to settle down for a while."
"We live in a location ripe with opportunity," the landlord remarked. "And there are so many businesses here that I'm sure someone with your intelligence and work ethic won't have a problem finding a good situation when the time comes."
"Thank you, Mr. Becker." Davey acknowledged the compliment with a slightly self-conscious nod. "I'm grateful for the skills I've learned from working around the tenement as well." He paused, then added impulsively, "Besides the know-how and the income, though...I have to say that one of the most unexpected rewards has been getting to know your family. Before moving here, we never had much contact with our landlords."
"Well, we count ourselves fortunate to know you all as well," Philip responded warmly. "One of the great advantages of living on this property has been developing rapport with our tenants, many of whom are now quite dear friends. It makes the work of maintaining the property much lighter, and moments like these even more gratifying." He smiled, looking around the table. "On that note, I think it's time we all enjoy the dinner that Sadie has prepar - "
Before he could finish speaking, Lilly suddenly jerked forward, her body dipping towards the table with alarming speed. Miriam reached out and caught her, but not before Lilly upset her glass of water, spilling it across the table where it quickly soaked both Abby and Davey's napkins and began to drip into their laps. Abby gave a little cry of dismay as Sadie reached over in an attempt to stop the overflow with her own napkin.
For several moments, no one spoke, the only sounds being that of Sadie quietly mopping up the water and of Philip murmuring soothing words to Lilly as she tensed and rocked slightly in her chair, supported by her mother's protective hold.
Eventually, Lilly relaxed slightly, slumping forward even as her body remained rigid.
"I think this might be a bad spell," Miriam said tersely. She was still holding on to her daughter, who appeared to be in a state of disorientation. "It would be better if we could move her to the sofa and have her lie down to rest before the next one hits."
Philip nodded, and together they took Lilly by her arms and helped her to her feet. After some difficulty, she was able to shuffle forward a few steps, but her movements were stiff and unsteady. Sadie rose to flank the little group from behind, her hands ready to catch her sister if she should fall, and eventually the party made it out of the kitchen and over to the sitting area.
"Abby, please get a towel and clean up the rest of the spill," Miriam called to her youngest daughter.
Abby did as her mother requested, procuring a clean towel from the cupboard and wiping up the table and floor as best as she could before clearing away the soggy napkins as well. In the midst of all the sudden activity, Davey felt both out of place and completely useless, but he didn't want to jump into a situation he was ill-prepared for and inadvertently make things worse, so he stayed where he was.
"Did the water spill on you very much?" Abby asked, setting the waterlogged linens in the sink.
"Not too badly," he answered. Relative terms aside, it was mostly a lie, but the one thing he could do to help was not give the family something else to worry about on his account. It was just a little water, and, with any luck, it would dry before anyone noticed.
"Well, my skirt is soaked, so I'm going to change," Abby informed him. "I'll be right back." So saying, she left the kitchen just as Sadie was returning.
"Is Lilly going to be all right?" Davey asked, noting the concerned look on her face. "Is there anything I can do to help? I can leave if that would make things easier, or - " he floundered a little. "I mean, if it would be better for your family to be able to take care of her without having to worry about a guest."
"That's kind of you to offer, Davey," Sadie smiled slightly, "but we wouldn't think of sending you away. My sister is strong and resilient, and she's going to be fine. You're not burdening us with your presence - I'm just sorry that dinner was disrupted."
Despite the lightness in her tone, he could tell that she was disappointed. The carefully-set table was now in disarray, the soup was beginning to cool, and the basket of biscuits that had been sitting in the middle of the table had been haphazardly placed atop the adjacent credenza by Philip, who'd had the presence of mind to save the container from being deluged but had forgotten to return it to the table in his haste to care for his daughter.
"Mama said we ought to go ahead and eat once Abby is done changing, as it may be some time before Lilly is able to return to dinner," Sadie said, walking over to fetch the bread basket and setting it down in its place once again. "I'll reheat the soup while we wait." She took the untouched bowls over to the stove and poured them back into the pot.
"Abby told me you worked hard on these biscuits," Davey remarked as he examined the woven container in front of him. "They look perfect."
"So did my cookies, and you know how they turned out," Sadie quipped lightly.
It heartened him to see a hint of her humor return, but her persistent self-deprecation puzzled him, and he found himself saying quietly in response, "You're terrible at taking compliments, Sadie...I wish you would give yourself more credit."
It was a rather frank disclosure, and he wasn't sure what had prompted him to say it, especially when she was trying to keep the conversation lighthearted, but something in him sensed a quiet dejection in the droop of her shoulders and the tone of her voice, and though in the moment she was putting on a brave face and doing what needed to be done, he didn't want to ignore those signs and pretend that everything was fine, when likely that wasn't entirely true.
Given the Becker family's situation, he wondered how many times Sadie had done this, had set her own feelings aside and had simply soldiered on. He certainly knew what that felt like, knew the fortitude it required and the necessity that it was on some occasions - but he also knew the lonely, quiet ache that came from repeatedly having to do so, and if he could keep her from feeling that ache, at least in this moment, maybe it was worth the risk of some well-intentioned probing.
Sadie hadn't said anything in response to his statement, and he watched as she slowly stirred the pot of soup, her face turned slightly away from him. Would it be inappropriate to press the subject now when she seemed so reluctant to speak about it? A few months ago, he wouldn't have dared to persist, reasoning that she was already upset and that he ought to just retreat and let her be. But knowing her better now, he was reluctant to let the moment pass, not without trying to confront her. She might be put off by his frankness, but he had to trust that their friendship could take a little tension, and he really did want her to know that, despite things not going according to plan that night, she was doing an admirable job.
It might have been Judith's comment on the rooftop that was prompting his candor, too. The disclosure that Sadie had been through some experiences that had made her unsure of herself had surprised him somewhat, and since then he'd been wanting to ask her about it, though he sensed that it was a delicate subject and not something to be broached with her unless he was going to tread very carefully.
"Chare…" he ventured slowly, "I know you say those things partially in jest, and I'm not trying to criticize you...but I want you to know that you're not as inept and careless as you make yourself out to be."
There was a beat of silence.
"Are you sure about that?" came her quiet question.
"You know I don't say things unless I mean them."
"But you consider yourself an authority on the subject?" Her words were uncharacteristically sharp as she turned slightly over her shoulder to look at him. "You think you've seen enough of me to make a thorough and accurate assessment?"
"I think I've seen some different sides of you," Davey countered, refusing to back down despite the challenge in her eyes. "So yes, I'd say it does give me enough experience to judge correctly."
She dropped her gaze, turning back to the stove.
"I see."
The words were dispassionate, one of the polite deflections that he had seen her use before whenever she was uneasy or sad, and as she began portioning out the warmed-up soup, he found himself struck by the urge to go to her and gently take the ladle from her hands, to stop her from skirting around this issue that seemed to go deeper than what he could fathom. He wasn't sure what he thought such interference would accomplish, but it troubled him that she couldn't see the brightness that he saw in her, and he wanted to help her somehow, to hold this evasive, quick-witted, confusing girl still for just a moment so that the truth could sink in.
It was probably a good thing that he was stuck where he was.
Sadie worked in silence for several moments, filling the bowls and bringing them to the table before she sat down next to him and finally broke the impasse. "I apologize for speaking so sharply, Davey," she murmured. "I didn't mean to snap at you like that."
"You didn't snap at me, Chare," he assured her. "But it seems like this is something that's hard for you to talk about." If she side-stepped him one more time, he would back off, but he wanted to at least give her the option to open up about it, to let her know that he was here to listen if she felt ready to share.
"I suppose it is a rather touchy subject," Sadie acknowledged. "I ought to have graciously accepted your compliment rather than rebuffing it as rudely as I did..." She brushed at her skirt, hesitating for a moment before she concluded, "I think I just need more time to warm up to the idea. When you're the third of four sisters and both the oldest and the youngest of them are far more intelligent than you, it can be easy to fall into the role of unremarkable middle child sometimes, especially when you've no inclination towards school or domestic pursuits or anything particularly useful."
That poignant, lighthearted sadness was there again, and Davey found himself recalling a conversation that they'd had at their very first tutoring session, when Sadie had described her other sisters in affectionate (if teasing) terms, but had evaded responding to the question of how she would define herself and her own position in the family. Abby had supplied an answer - that the third-oldest Becker sister was impulsive and an incorrigible flirt - and though Sadie had been shocked at the description, she hadn't denied it at the time, even when Davey had prompted her to do so. He'd thought that she'd simply wanted to brush over the matter and move on, but now that he knew her better, he found himself wondering if maybe she'd actually agreed - at least in part - with Abby's words.
Did she really think that was all there was to her?
It bewildered him that someone so cheeky and confident could possibly have such a paltry opinion of herself, but as he considered the matter further, he realized that sometimes the bolder the front, the more that front was actually hiding. It was true with the newsboys, who often masked their insecurities under swaggering exteriors, laughing things off or winging back an insult whenever the conversation became too personal. Perhaps Sadie's acceptance of her so-called "unremarkable" nature was a way of hiding, too...though that still begged the question of what it was she was hiding, and if the explanation she'd given him was really the full story.
Suddenly realizing that he hadn't responded to her disclosures, Davey scrambled to cover the silence that had stretched on for nearly a minute as she'd waited for him to speak.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I was just thinking. About what you said." He selected his next words carefully, knowing that he needed to strike the right balance between acknowledging her confession but also respectfully disagreeing with it.
"You might not be particularly inclined towards the things your sisters are interested in," he said slowly, "...but that doesn't mean you don't have strengths of your own. They just lie in other areas of life." A memory came to him of the conversation he'd had with Les several weeks ago, when the younger boy had expressed his frustration at being expected to act and perform like his older brother.
"Les and I were actually just talking about this a while back," Davey said, deciding that maybe a short anecdote would help make his point. "He was upset because he felt like everyone else was expecting him to be like me, especially in school, and as you know, we're nothing alike, so the pressure was getting to him and he started acting up. We had to have a talk, and I had to remind him that we're two different people, and that our strengths lie in different areas. There are things he's good at that I only wish I could do half as well as he does." He gave Sadie a small smile. "It's the same with you and your sisters. You've got your own strengths and abilities that are just as important as theirs, and I bet that if you'd ask them, they'd tell you they wished they could be like you in some ways."
She laughed a little. "That's an amusing thought!"
"You should try it," Davey insisted. Lowering his voice, he added, "Maybe start with Judith, though - Abby can be a little blunt sometimes. But that's exactly what I'm trying to say. Your younger sister is smart, and she loves learning and is good at school, but you've got a knack for bringing people in and making them feel wanted. You helped me transition to life in Manhattan more easily than I'd ever adjusted to a new neighborhood before, and to some who's always felt like an outsider, that means a lot...more than words can say."
It was true - he knew that he might still be struggling to find his footing if it wasn't for her, and that realization made him even more thankful that the girl sitting next to him was exactly the way she was.
"You may feel like you'd be a better version of yourself if you were more like someone else," he said aloud, "...but for what it's worth, Sadie, I'm glad that you're you. And I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that."
The landlord's daughter looked astonished at his disclosure, but before she could speak, Abby returned to the kitchen.
"I just checked on Lilly," she announced as she joined them at the table. "She's seizing again, but it's more mild this time. Mama said we should go ahead and eat. She and Papa will stay with Lilly until she's stable again."
Sadie nodded. "The soup's been reheated, and I suppose now's as good a time as any to see if I managed to pull off this biscuit recipe." She reached for the bread basket, hesitantly offering it to Davey. "Would you like to try one?"
"Absolutely." He took one of the rolls, waiting until Sadie had served Abby and herself - but before he could take a bite, Abby began tucking into her portion.
"It's good!" she exclaimed around a mouthful of crumbs. "I can't believe you actually did it!" Dipping the biscuit into her bowl of soup, she took another taste. "Your cookies and brownies might not be that great," she informed her older sister, "but these are perfect. I guess you're not completely inept at baking - you just had to find the right recipe."
"See?" Davey murmured, giving Sadie a slightly-teasing grin. "I told you, Chare."
