Chapter 67: Finding Wendy

"And this concludes our meeting for today," Molly Brown says to the women's group. Wendy blinks a few times, trying to remain alert, but it just wasn't coming to her anymore. The women were discussing the potential of a Christmas bazaar in December and most of the duties would fall on their new secretary and typist.

The former maid stands up with her notes and goes to her desk to start the day's work. She had to send a few telegrams, mail potential sponsors for the upcoming bake sale and file more paperwork.

It had been a few weeks since Wendy started work in the Women's Rights group and the excitement of working at a new job had worn off and she was beginning to become bored. The work she had to do was becoming repetitive and there didn't seem to be a lot of support for the cause. The world was not changing fast enough to meet the group's expectations and even consider emulating their ideas. At this point in time, the women were basically doing things that they would do at home or for the church community; baking and raising money. Wendy felt like she wasn't really contributing much anyway and was mostly there to take notes and do mindless busy work. She wasn't being challenged in any way and a few times longed to go back to service… The one fortunate thing was that since the new secretary could do all her work quickly, she could use the typewriter for her own personal use.

Wendy was becoming increasingly inspired to write her book. Every day she would write down new ideas and type up manuscripts for each chapter on the brand-new typewriter. It felt nice not having to remember which letter key was missing and readjust the ribbon every few sentences. Here, her writing went smoothly. She asked Eric and Saul about stories they picked up during their travels and at the bars, picking the most interesting ones to write about. She'd ask Tommy about the miners and what kind of tales they spun as they worked in the dark all day. She'd also borrow library books so she could learn about the different styles of writing and emulate them herself. With every passing day, Wendy became more confident in her writing and she was hoping that maybe one day, she'd become a published author.

On this particular day, the former maid thought that it might be a good idea to write about Molly's experiences of being a common woman and rising to a socialite. As the other women cleared out, Wendy stood up to talk to the woman.

"Excuse me, Miss Brown," she says.

"Wendy, darling, I've told you to call me Molly."

"I'm sorry…Molly, but I wanted to get your story about going from an ordinary woman to the unsinkable heiress you are today."

"What might this be for? The newsletter?"

Wendy swallows. She becomes nervous, thinking that Miss Brown might discourage her writing stories on the side instead of doing her job during business hours.

Molly comes around Wendy's desk and spies the file folder of her typed manuscripts on top of several library books. Before the secretary can stop her, the socialite begins reading them. The writer's heart is pounding in her chest as she wants to grab the papers back. She wasn't ready for anyone to read them, she hadn't even read them aloud to herself. She just wanted to get the stories down and worry about everything else later. The room becomes very silent, except for the ticking wall clock.

Before too long, Molly begins to chuckle, scaring the daylights out of the secretary. Her hands shake while holding the pages and her eyes are alight with joyful laughter. She continues through each of the stories, not putting them down until she's finished. When the heiress does, she locks eyes with Wendy.

"Darlin' you have quite the sense of humor and way of telling tales."

"Y-You're not mad?"

"Mad? Why on earth would I be mad?"

"I'm typing them when I should be working…"

"Wendy, you're actually doing more than this right's group could ever do. Many people don't listen to those picketing lines and a group of women shouting for their entitlement to vote and have fair pay, but in print, that's a different story. They will listen to an author, especially if it is entertaining and these certainly are."

"Well, t-thank you."

"You've really captured the essence of not just the common man, but we, womenfolk as well."

"I can't really take all the credit, I get a lot of the stories from Saul and Eric, Tommy's roommates who still work in bars."

"Well, they certainly are something and darlin' I don't blame you for spending your time on other things. Our group can't do much right now. We're basically dogs chasing our tails."

"You mean you knew we weren't getting anywhere."

"Of course, I did. I see it in your eyes and pretty much everyone else's in the group. It's the look of hopelessness. Sure, we talk a big game about being able to vote and equality among the sexes, but in the end, it doesn't make a lick of difference. It's just that, it's not the right time to be fighting. The world is too engrained in the past. Heck, some people would wish Queen Victoria back to the throne if they could. The rich circle still think that they own everything and that their way of life is the 'right' one. Those of the lower classes are more open to change, but the pompous jerks of high society don't want to hear it. If they found out that the foundation of their world was crumbling, they'd probably burst their corsets and eat their top hats. Just you wait for it Wendy, one day some big event will happen and everything will change. We don't know what that is yet, but once it does, the world will be thrown into chaos and that is when we make our move."

"So why have the group at all?"

"We're planting the seed in people's minds. Once it's there, we just need to wait for it to sprout and grow. We need to let them know that our cause will not die that easily and remind the men out there that we, women are tough. We were the ones who brought them into this world and therefore, we deserve our equal dues and credit. We've done a lot to make history happen. They may ignore us now, but trust me, in a few years, we'll be the talk of the entire city. We will make history, just you wait."

Wendy smiles, very happy to hear this and to know that Molly was just as passionate about her work as she was. She was a person that the young woman could look up to and emulate.

"But until then, you're pretty much free to do as you please with that typewriter. Make a change in your own way. A small action can have a massive effect."

"It certainly does not feel like it," Wendy admits.

"Right now, it doesn't but you have to keep your head and your hopes up and don't give up."

Wendy beams at the socialite and gets up to hug the woman. "Thank you."

"You're welcome child, not how about that story."

The two women sit down as Molly spins her tale of "rags to riches" as she called it, which became the title of that chapter. The two laughed and spent the rest of the afternoon in the enjoyment of each other's company, daydreaming of a changing world.

…

Meanwhile, a private investigator makes his way along the streets in the rougher part of town. He'd been following leads on this "Wendy" for weeks now and was mostly coming up with dead ends. The name was very common and he still didn't know her last name. Additionally, he didn't have a picture either. He knew that the unusual double wedding was fast approaching and he didn't want to let Rose down. He knew the maid meant a lot to the girl and he thought that this would be his wedding present to the bride to have her true friends there.

After spending most of the afternoon, chasing down a few false leads and knocking on doors, he decides to stop into a local bar for a few drinks and some nourishment. Henry Calvert was not the type of person who would give up so easily, but this case was so far stumping him. He didn't know a lot about the girl, other that she was an aspiring writer and used to work for the DeWittBukater's. He also knew that she spent time with a man named Tommy, but again, that was a very common name. The unopened invitation for the girl seemed to be gathering dust in his coat pocket.

"May I have a scotch on the rocks with a twist," the man orders.

"Comin' right up," a youthful face says

Mr. Calvert pinches the bridge of his nose, very deep in thought. He wanted to start smoking a cigar to calm himself, but since he'd started courting Ruth, she insisted that he cut back. He used to smoke so much that it would cover his entire face. She knew it could not be healthy.

The private investigator pulls out a picture of Ruth and Rose. Two very beautiful and feisty women, both of whom had found love in the most unlikely of places.

"Those are right pretty lasses," the bartender comments as he serves Henry his drink. "They yours then?"

"I wish, the mother is the one I'm courting and the daughter is getting married soon."

"They seem like right Lovely Lasses, you're a lucky man."

"I suppose I am," he says, taking a swig of his whiskey.

"Is the elder one a widow?"

"Yes, her husband passed away a few years ago. They were high society for a long time until the man left them in debt. They lost pretty much everything but each other."

"But they seem to have found a lot, don't ya think?"

Henry smiles. This cheerful man had managed to brighten his day and make the private investigator feel a lot better about himself. The well-meaning compliments and witty antics he performed behind the bar like juggling glassware or making toothpicks and napkins into cigarettes by light the ends, made it more entertaining. For a few moments, he managed to forget his current dilemma.

As the evening approaches, Henry is eating some greasy pub food and having a second drink, when three people walk in. Two men and a woman. They go straight to the bar and greet the tender.

"How are you, Saul?" One of them asks. The man is covered from head to toe in coal dust and despite this, the woman seems to be clinging to his arm the entire time.

"I'm fine, how was work my coal mining friend?"

"Busy,"

"And how about the lovely lass?"

"I got a new chapter done and got an inspiring speech from the great Molly Brown."

The name perks Mr. Calvert's interest. He recognized the name. Ruth often talked about the famous socialite, calling her a friend and someone who had helped her when she was in need. He'd read about her in the papers and apparently, she, Ruth and Rose had all sailed on the Titanic together. Ruth did not go into detail about Molly's actions in the lifeboat and Henry didn't press her. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like in the Atlantic, the sounds of people drowning around them, unable to help. He figured that she was haunted by the experience and he'd seen a great amount of trauma in his life. Additionally, Henry knew that Molly Brown would be coming to the wedding and he'd hoped that he could formally introduce himself as well as get to know this fascinating, "unsinkable" woman. He pretends to be distracted and quietly listens in.

"I cannot wait to meet her someday," the bartender, Saul says.

"It might not happen," the woman says. "She's a very busy woman."

"I can imagine," the coal miner says.

The third man finally speaks up. "When do you get off work Saul? Tommy wants to go to the moving picture show at the Nickelodeon."

The name again peaks the P.I's interest.

"I'll be off by eleven."

"I really want to see Helen Gardner in Cleopatra," the woman pipes up.

"Well come and make yourselves comfortable, it'll be another hour."

"I'm going to wash up," the coal covered man says. "Stay here with Eric and Saul my Wendy bird, I'll be back soon."

Wendy-bird. That was from Peter Pan and the girl's name was Wendy. Henry's mind was connecting the dots in his mind. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, this might be the Wendy he's looking for. He cannot get his hopes up too much, his mind is buzzing, wanting more information from her to confirm his suspicions.

"Alright," she says. The former maid sits on a bar stool next to the private investigator. He examines her from the corner of his eye, she seemed the right age and fit Rose's description almost to a T, but he could not be certain. He swirls the ice in his whiskey, hoping for more.

An idea hits him. Slowly, he pulls out the photo of Rose and Ruth and places it next to himself as well as some cash for the drink. He hopes that if the woman does recognize her former employers, she'll say something.

The potential writer is happy that she no longer works in a crummy place like this, she hated the constant abuse from the drunken men and the low pay. At least at her new job, she had some respect. Her eyes wander a little bit to ensure that she will not be victimized by someone when she notices the photo on the bar. Her heart skips a beat and she looks at the man next to her. He didn't look like Mr. Dawson, but she also knew that Mrs. Bukater's husband had long since passed, so who else would have a picture of her friend Rose and Mrs. DeWitt Bukater. She thought he might be a family member or a friend. She was very curious to know what had become of Rose and whether she'd had the baby yet. She wondered how she and Mr. Dawson were doing. Her eyes flicker from the man to the photo and back.

"Excuse me?' she finally says. "Those two women in the photo, do you know them?"

"Why yes I do," Henry says, turning to face the woman. He knew in his heart that he'd found Wendy, he just needed to ask. "In fact, I am courting the older one."

"Mrs. DeWitt Bukater?"

"Yes, do you know them. Miss…? Uh…?"

"Galton. Wendy Galton. And yes, I know them. I used to work for them."

"Really?" he says, trying to sound intrigued. He decided to reel in his catch before presenting her with the invitation. "What did you do?"

"I was their maid for a long time."

"What made you leave?"

"It's a bit of a long story that I won't bore you with, but do tell me how is Miss Rose."

"She's quite fine actually."

"Is the baby all right?"

"Yes, and in fact, Miss Rose will be getting married in a few weeks."

Wendy's face fell for a moment and her heart began to sink. She was happy for her friend, but as her friend, one might expect to get an invitation to the event. Maybe she didn't know Rose well enough, or maybe Rose forgot about her entirely. She fights back the tears in her eyes and swallows the lump in her throat.

"Oh…" she manages. "Well, please give her my congratulations then."

"It's going to be a simple affair, but I'm afraid Miss Rose will not be very happy on that day," Henry says.

"Why?"

"Because one of her very good friends will not be there. A woman named Wendy." He then removes the invitation from his coat pocket and hands it to her.

Wendy's eyes go wide in surprise as she takes the envelope from him. She lets a few tears slip from her eyes as she sees her name written on the front. She immediately recognized the handwriting. Her heart flutters as she rips open the top.

Sure enough, inside is a wedding invitation for October 22, 1912, addressed to her. The former maid begins to laugh loudly and a smile spreads across her face. She looks up at the man in surprise, he gives her a small smirk.

"Forgive my cheekiness Miss Galton, but I believe that this invitation was for you."

"She… she didn't forget me?!"

"Heavens no, in fact, I was hired to find you. Luckily my affinity for whiskey led me right to you."

The girl impulsively hugs the man and lets out a scream of laughter through her happy tears. Saul and Eric look at her very confused and slightly alarmed. Even other bar patrons are looking at them funny.

"Thank you," is all she can say.

Just then, Tommy comes into the bar and sees the scene.

"Oy!" he hollers. "I can't go away for five minutes and have some man putting his hands all over her."

"Tommy relax, this man just gave me very good news and I was hugging him to thank him."

"What news?"

"You know my former employers the DeWitt Bukaters?"

"Aye,"

"Well, my friend, Rose is getting married and we've been invited."

"We?"

"I'm allowed to bring a guest; will you go with me, Tommy?"

He reaches over and hugs his bright-eyed girl. "Of course, I will."

She smiles and kisses him on the mouth in the moment of passion. Both pull back in surprise for a moment and Wendy wraps her arms around the man she was courting. She knew that she was falling in love with him, truly. She was getting those feelings that Rose talked about the ones she had with Jack Dawson. Joy, passion, excitement, curiosity, and everything in between. She turns back to the private investigator. He smiles at the happy couple.

"I'm sure Miss soon to be Dawson will want you to visit before the wedding, so here's her address." He hands a card to her.

Wendy embraces the older gentleman. "Thank you so much," she squeals happily.

"I hope to see you at the wedding then," the private investigator says, paying for his meal and tipping his hat to the happy couple.

Another case completed.

…

A few days later, the doorbell of Emma and Peter's home rings. Rose gets up to answer it, ensure that Sybil stays in the living room. She shifts to carry her bulging stomach a little more comfortably as she answers the door.

Her green eyes widen in shock when she sees who's at the door.

"Wendy?!"