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"You really have to improve your game, Jack." Ernest Dawson had called him early into the office that morning. "As your brother I do find it difficult to tell you this, but I am also your boss."

It was only because he was the oldest out of the two who become the owner of the company after their father's passing. Jack could feel his blood starting to boil. Being not very fond of his brother was putting it mildly when it came to their relationship. Ever since Jack was twenty he had been seriously involved with his family's business. He would go to meetings with his father to watch how he made deals and arrangements with the most powerful and successful men of North America and beyond. He knew how the job worked.

"Anyway," Ernest continued, "from now on. You have to be on it. We can't let those bastards from New York take our clients."

Jack stood up from his chair, straightened his back and looked his brother directly into his eyes. "Even as my boss, you don't fucking talk to me like that. Who had to pick you up from the streets completely jugged one hour before that meeting with Hockley Steel. I am not the one gambling all my money away."

"It sounds as if you want to quit. You can't quit."

"Of course I can't quit because you need me. You can't run this business without me and we both bloody well know it."

Ernest waved him off, pretending that he did not hear what he had to say. Raging, he marched down the stairs to the lobby. It was busy, a bit too busy for a Monday. The sound of ringing phones and typewriters banged into his head like hammers. The good morning Mr. Dawson 's of everyone irritated him more than ever. He was stopped by the sound of a voice, turned around and saw his grandmother sitting on the couch next to the reception.

"You haven't forgotten me, have you?"

He had.

"No of course not, gran. I only didn't realise that is is already eleven."

"Good. Now help your nan up." She held out a hand and he gently took it. Now could a day get any worse would one think after the events that had already been occurred. Before Jack was able to escort his grandmother outside he got called back again.

"Can't you ask my brother to have a look at it? I am about to leave."

The secretary looked at him with big eyes. She'd been working at the company no longer than two weeks and still didn't have a clue of how most of the things worked. She was a nervous little girl of just eighteen years old. "Mr. Ernest Dawson is having a meeting. Please sir." Feeling sorry for the girl, he agreed and walked with her up the stairs.

"It will take no longer than ten minutes." He had told his grandmother, who decided to wait outside. After a whole hour he came rushing down to see that his gran had not been waiting for him at all. She was nowhere to be found and no one had seen her.

"Fuck." Jack said a bit too loud. She couldn't be far now could she? Passing through the crowds he continued his search. Mrs. Dawson was an old lady and sometimes had moments of complete disorientation. At those moments her mind would go totally blank. Not knowing who she or anyone around her was or where she was going. Especially at times like this, it could be fatally dangerous. The doctor had often said she couldn't live alone in that grand house anymore, someone had to take care of her. Mrs. Dawson would laugh, walk out of the door and not show herself until that man was gone.

"No one will ever get me out of my house. They'll have to burn it down, but I will burn with it."

Then there she was on the opposite side of the street. She was sitting on a bench next to another woman who was leaning towards her. He called out for her and ran towards the bench. Jack saw she was having an episode, completely helpless his grandmother looked up at him. The woman helped her up. Now behind the long locks of red hair, who were sticking to her face because of the rain, he could see her complexion. He recognised her immediately.

"I have been looking for you anywhere, gran. You look distraught, are you alright?" He asked

"She is now," The girl answered for her, "she almost got run over. What does a woman of her age do here all by herself during this time of the day?" She looked angrily at him. Scolded him like a little schoolboy some more. Before turning away and leaving the two alone.

"Stop staring, my boy." Mrs. Dawson told him, "It is very rude to stare at a woman like that, even when one is so very beautiful."

Mrs. Dawson preferred to go home rather than to have a cup of tea with her grandson. She took some rest, instructing Jack to go home. The feeling of guilt he felt was horrible. His grandmother was is whole world, the only one he completely trusted. If something were to happen to her on his account, he could never forgive himself. His grandmother was a free spirited woman, unlike the rest of the family. She was always ahead of her time, never afraid to try new things whatever the consequences. People either hated her for it or completely adored her, there was no in-between. Even in the way she lived there was no middle ground. Everything was black or white, this or that. She would entirely go for something or not at all.

The very first time Mrs. Dawson held Jack as a little baby, she stared in his eyes and sighed deeply. "Finally." Was all she said and continued to stare. Nobody knew what it meant. Nobody knew Mrs. Dawson had finally found a true soul. It was in his piercing blue eyes he radiated nothing but love. But as Jack grew older it was sometimes hard to keep that love in his life. Growing up in the shadows of his siblings he was always compared to them. All the children were so very well behaved at school, why couldn't Jack be? Why can't Jack never keep his opinions to himself whenever we are in company? There was never an issue with the other children.

"My boy," his grandmother would then often say to him, "Your time will come. All God is asking is a little bit of patience."

Jack kept his sketchbook underneath his coat as he walked through the city. He strolled passed the docks and sat down, took his book out and started putting everything of the world he was not a part of onto his paper. Hard working men with clothes worn out and covered in dirt, this was reality to him. They were screaming at each other, then followed by a laugh. Songs could be heard singing. Not one but three drawings were created during the time of him sitting there. Then he returned home where the cook had prepared dinner, his bed was covered in fresh linen sheets and the fireplace was burning.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at his sister. She had picked him up early that day and asked if he would sit down at the table with her. Having it well thought out, Rose knew there was no other option. Mrs. Adams refused Rose to go through with her plan.

"I am not happy with it either, Sara. But the landlord already wanted to throw us out when mother died and now I won't get another chance if I don't pay in time."

Mrs. Adams wanted to help, but could barely pay the rent herself. After requiring some information, Rose was ready to inform her little brother.

"You're almost turning ten, Olly. They're looking for some extra hands at the docks. It means if you start working there we can stay in the apartment."

He shook his head, clearly not happy with the situation. "Why can't you just let me go to school, Rose? If I have time to work I must have the time to go to school."

"I've told you many times, Oliver, that we don't have the money to let you go to school. I barely have enough money to pay the rent and buy us food. I have made my decision and that is final." She didn't mean to sound as angry as she did, but the whole situation was hopeless and Rose was frustrated. Her brother stood up and went to his room. Before he closed the door he looked at his sister one more time, frowned and said: "You don't let me do anything. I can't even go outside by myself. I wish mamma was still here."

A silent tear escaped when Oliver was out of her sight. It broke her heart to hear his words. She wanted to give him the world, but it was simply impossible. There was a small bottle of liquor hidden in a cabinet in the kitchen. She took it out, poured the bottle empty and let the burning sensation of the alcohol warm up her body. It made her somewhat calmer, even if it was only temporary. In the background she could sense her neighbours fighting, like they did almost everyday. Rose could figure out the whole progress of their relationship just by the words they screamed at each other. He had fucked another, that was for sure and it supposedly was her sister.

Two weeks had passed before the visit of special a guest. The renovation Mrs. Woodbridge had intended for her atelier had still not taken place. According to witnesses, Mrs. Goodwill had spent the money on some very fine things for herself. After the Vanderbilts's ball, the orders were limited. Only some undergarments here and there as well as nightgowns. The work wasn't special and the atmosphere in the room was tense. A lot can change during a fortnight, even when one was still clueless.

Jack had not forgotten about the girl who had saved his grandmother's life and neither had Mrs. Dawson herself.

"If only I could thank her again." She said one night to her grandson who was staying for dinner. The next morning he went to his sister.

"That girl, Cecilia. Who was here when I came by." He said, "who is she?"

"Miss Smith? Why do you ask?" The question came completely out of the blue for her.

"Why was she here?"

"She made my dress for the ball."

"So she is a seamstress?"

Cecilia, now even more confused simply nodded her head. "Why do you care?"

"Nothing. It's nothing."

As the seamstresses continued their work in total silence the door opened. Mrs. Woodbridge welcomed the guest and gave her a big smile.

"Welcome ma'am, how can I be of service to you." She asked as the guest came in.

"Good day, Mrs. Woodbridge. I am looking for a miss Smith, Rose Smith."

"Alright. But I am afraid she is a little busy at the moment."

"I'll wait ma'am. A woman my age doesn't have anywhere else to go."

Mrs. Woodbridge sighed turned around and called Rose to come to the front of the shop. "I believe Mrs. Dawson is here to see you."

Rose was confused. She didn't know anyone with that name. But as soon as she saw the older woman it made sense to her. She was pleasantly surprised to see her so suddenly.

"Mrs. Dawson. What a pleasant surprise."

"Good morning, miss Smith. How are you doing?"

"I am fine, thank you ma'am. You look quite well yourself if I may say so."

Mrs. Dawson asked her to step outside for a moment and startled Rose with a business proposition. After having heard how beautifully she made her granddaughter's dress, she wanted her to give her own wardrobe a total transformation. Rose was flattered, she couldn't deny it, but having to work extra hours and not earning a single penny for it was a mistake she couldn't make twice. So she declined her offer, leaving Mrs. Dawson very unsatisfied.

"Of course I'll pay extra for it, dear."

"I know, ma'am, but that's not it."

"Then I don't see the problem. What's wrong, miss Smith."

"Nothing to bother you with, ma'am."

You could almost say the lady forced young Rose to speak the truth. She was appalled by what she heard and placed a piece of paper in-between her hands. It had the address on it and the time Rose was expected the next day.

"I'd like to see tomorrow morning, miss Smith. And we'll keep the financial business strictly between the two of us."

"What brings you here?" Mrs. Dawson was of course expecting someone else, but found Jack and his friend Amelia Huntington waiting outside her house.

"I finally got this man to go outside, nana." Amelia laughed and kissed Mrs. Dawson's cheek. She looked at her grandson and gave him a look of sympathy. He looked tired, having probably worked all week with barely any time for a break.

"I'll ring the bell for some tea, children."

Jack sighed. "You don't have anything stronger, nan?"

"He has been complaining all day on how tired he is." Amelia walked passed them and headed straight over towards the drawing room. She handed her coat, hat and gloves to the maid who came walking in and sat down. They chatted for a while, the three of them. Listening to the endless stories of the charity work Amelia had been doing for a couple of weeks. She felt a bit too proud of her accomplishments and felt the need to share it with anyone anywhere. Just before

Mrs. Dawson could find an excuse to flee from the company she was in, she was saved by the bell. Literally.

"My apologies, Mrs. Dawson." Was the first thing Rose said as she arrived at the manor. "I got totally lost along the way. And I couldn't find the servants' entrance." Completely out of breath she was holding two big boxes full of sewing supplies. Mrs. Dawson gave her a smile of sympathy and ordered the servants to take the heavy luggage out of her hands and bring her a glass of water. Having seen Mrs. Spencer's house, Rose thought she had seen the core of all luxury. This house was even more beautiful. It was even bigger, but still had warmth to it. Everywhere she looked there were vases filled with fresh flowers.

"You have a beautiful home, ma'am." Rose was completely in awe.

"Thank you, dear. Although I might be old and the servants take all the work out of my hands, all the decorating and flower arrangements is something I always do myself."

"You have a wonderful taste, Mrs. Dawson, truly. Where would you like me to go?"

Jack had already recognised the sound of the voice that was coming from the hallway. It was only when the person entered the room, his assumptions were right. It was her

"Jack, surely you remember miss Smith."

"Of course I do." He stood up from his seat and gave her a nod of acknowledgement, "How do you do?"

"I am very well, thank you."

"Miss Smith, may I introduce you to miss Amelia Huntington."

"Pleasure to meet you, miss Huntington."

"Hello."

"Miss Smith will be working here for some time to make me some new garments." Mrs. Dawson explained and soon after led her to the library. Mr. Dawson used to work in there and hadn't been used since his death. It was a beautiful room, looking out over the garden. Mrs. Dawson he'd even bought the latest sewing machine so Rose could work as efficiently as possible. And so it all began. This day was only an afternoon of installing everything and writing down all of Mrs. Dawson's wishes.

"Are you alright ma'am?" Rose asked her after a fe hours. Clearly noticing the old lady was worn out.

"I'm afraid at my age one's energy level has been quite limited."

"Why don't you rest, ma'am. I'll see myself out."

"You're too kind child."

As she was ready to leave presence was felt behind her.

"You've made yourself quite the list of customers I see. If you keep going like this all the ladies of Boston's society will be wearing your designs." Jack had come by and was leaning against the doorframe to light up a cigarette.

"I doubt that, sir. It doesn't matter how much effort I put into things, all the credit will eventually go to Mrs. Woodbridge."

"Then why do you do it?" He asked

"Do what?"

"All the extra work and time you put into this? Making custom dresses for first my sister and now my grandmother plus god knows how many more."

She sighed and closed her sewing box. Also this time she could feel his eyes burning in her skin. She wanted to disappear to avoid his examination. "Because it brings food on the table and it's the only way for me to see anything else of this city other than the store and my apartment. And besides, I happen to like your grandmother."

"You look stressed, miss Smith." He said out of nowhere and even handed her his cigarette, "Have a smoke."

"No thank you. I have to go."

"To where?"

Silence.

"As I thought."

"Where is your friend?"

"Miss Huntington? She has gone to meet a friend."

"Someone might see us." She quickly said.

Jack closed the door. "Now they won't."

"Are you always this rude, sir? You know this is very inappropriate."

He just laughed at her.

"What's so funny about this, Mr. Dawson? If I get caught with you alone in this room it will definitely cost my job."

"Dear miss Smith, would you please have a cigarette with me? After that I promise I'll let you go."

Don't she thought to herself, but before she knew it she found herself taking the smoke from this complete stranger.

Later that night, as the time was ticking on and she couldn't get herself to sleep, Rose thought about the afternoon that had occurred that day. Something about how he presented himself during their conversation, the way he spoke, made her realize he was a lonely young man.

Jack Dawson was born the last out of five children. With the two eldest both dead by the age of five he was left with his other brother and sister. His father died three years ago, leaving the business in the hands of Ernest Dawson. Unfortunately, Ernest Dawson had no intentions on running it all by himself.

"It's like he has taken my father's role all upon himself. Jack do this, Jack do that."

"Then why do you do it? Why do you keep doing the things you don't like when you clearly have the opportunities to do the things you do like?"

Jack sighed deeply. "I think it's best for you to go, miss Smith. My apologies for keeping you up."

As clock hit two o'clock, Jack Dawson was roaming the streets of town. He had his sketchbook clutched in his hands. The streets were calm, the rain and the autumnal cold had kept most people away. There were only two girls making their way over to him. They smelled of tobacco mixed with a perfume that was too sweet. When the blonde girl smiled at him and swiped her soaking wet hair out of her face, Jack indeed felt the need to be comforted by warmth. And that night, he found it in their arms.