The Fashioning of a Friendship
Summary: It's Christmastime, and Manhattan is nothing like Upstate New York…but maybe in time it will begin to feel like home.
A/N: This installment features Margaret Ellis, an OC from Something Worth Winning. It takes place pre-canon, during the Winter of 1894.
Manhattan, Margaret Ellis thinks to herself, is nothing like Upstate New York.
Shivering a little, she pulls her wool scarf more securely around her neck as she follows her parents through the crowded streets. All around them, pedestrians shove and jostle each other, hurrying about their business as they brace themselves against the biting cold. It's the middle of the afternoon, but the chill of the approaching evening is already beginning to seep in, and it makes the streets of Manhattan seem even more gray and inhospitable than before.
A carriage driver lets out an angry shout just a few feet away, and Margaret can't help but startle as the man begins to trade insults with the other driver who's inadvertently cut him off. The streets here are choked with traffic of both the wheeled and the walking variety, and it's more than a little intimidating for a girl who's previously known only the far less congested roads of Onondaga County.
This is home, now, she thinks, even as a pang of loneliness sets in.
Burrowing her hands into the soft, thick fabric of her scarf, Margaret thinks wistfully of her grandmother, who had given her the garment right before she'd gotten into the wagon that would take her and her parents to the train station.
"Be brave, my Marnie," Grandma had whispered, catching Margaret up in a hug that smelled of cinnamon. "I will miss you so."
So saying, she'd released Margaret, who had been too overcome with emotion to speak.
Grandma had stayed by the side of the road, waving until the wagon had rounded a bend and she was lost from view, but Margaret had clutched her warm, rose-colored scarf close to her and had looked back, longing for one final glimpse, until her father had gently bid her to turn around and look ahead.
Tears now prick in Margaret's eyes at the memory, and she scrubs away the droplets with the tails of her scarf. It's a childish thing to do, but she misses the comforts of home, wishes she could hear the whisper of the wind through the trees and breathe in the comforting smell of cinnamon and feel her grandmother's warm embrace in this cacophonous city full of strangers that seems so cold and reeks of smoke and sewage.
Manhattan is nothing like Upstate New York, and if Margaret could have just one gift for Christmas, she'd wish that she could be miles away, back home where she belongs.
"Well, it looks like all of the decorations survived the trip," Margaret's mother announces as she lifts a box out of its paper wrappings.
"Why don't you go help your mother unpack the ornaments for the tree, Marnie?" Margaret's father suggests. He's wrestling their just-purchased tannenbaum into place in the corner of the room, and Margaret sets down the gingerbread cookie that she's been icing and gets up from the table to do as he suggests.
Decorating the Christmas tree together has been a tradition in their family for as long as she can remember, but it feels different now that it's only the three of them. The festive sights that accompany a full house are missing, and it seems strangely subdued without the cheerful commotion of their extended family coming in and out.
"Would you like to put up the angel, dear?" Margaret's mother asks.
It's usually Grandma's job, but, of course, Grandma isn't here.
Margaret nods, receiving the handmade ornament from her mother and walking soberly over to the tree, which her father has managed to secure.
"I guess I went a little overboard with this one," he says, giving the fir an appraising look. "It's practically swallowing our sitting area, and I'm not sure where we're going to put the armchairs now."
Back home, the tree would have fit perfectly into their spacious parlor, but their apartment in Manhattan is much smaller. It's clean and new, and Margaret has her own room with a four poster bed and a sizable closet for her clothes, but it still feels cramped compared to what she's used to.
"We'll move the armchairs next to the window," her mother suggests. "It will be cozier that way, and we can sit there and enjoy the tree."
"An excellent solution," her father agrees.
As they work together to move the furniture, Margaret carefully secures the angel in place, then returns to the box of ornaments, kneeling down to take a delicate silver star out of its paper wrappings. It's the newest ornament of the bunch, one that Uncle Benj brought back from Albany on his most recent business trip, and it's just another reminder of everything that's been left behind.
The star is hung on a branch just above the angel, and Margaret manages to situate several more baubles before her parents complete their task and come over to help her unpack the rest of the decorations.
"I'll put up the mantel trimmings," says her mother. "Our apartment will look more like home once we have some familiar embellishments in place."
"Quite right," Margaret's father agrees. Turning to Margaret, he looks like he's about to say something cheerful, but leaves off when he sees her downcast expression.
"Why, Marnie…why the long face?"
"It doesn't feel the same here," Margaret answers. She wants to add that the apartment seems empty without the sound of Uncle Benj's infectious laughter and the smell of Aunt Nat's sugar cookies and the nonstop chattering of Addie and Lewis and Freddy; that the tree looks sadly cramped in their apartment, not festively grand like the Christmas trees that they'd had back home; and that it doesn't feel right to be hanging the angel ornament when Grandma always does it.
But she says none of these things, and after another moment, her father pats her on the back and says, not unkindly, "I know that it's not Onondaga County, Marnie…but Manhattan will grow on you if you just give it a chance."
There's a note of pleading in his voice, and Margaret nods obediently, but inwardly she thinks that it's much easier said than done. Her father grew up in Harlem, not too far away, and he's a city boy at heart, born and raised amongst the buildings and the busy streets. As such, he's far more at home here than he had been amongst the oak and maple trees of his wife's hometown, and though the first fifteen years of their marriage were spent in Upstate New York, he seems happy to be back in his element - and perhaps a little overly optimistic that his daughter will take to it, too, once she's had time to warm up to the idea.
Her father returns to putting up Christmas decorations, and Margaret spends the rest of the next half hour doing the same, but once the tree has been adequately decked out and she's returned to her batch of cookies at the table, she finds a more melancholy mood settling in, and not even piping cheerful smiles onto the faces of the gingerbread men can raise her spirits.
She finds herself wondering if anyone else in Manhattan decorates for Christmas. She assumes that it's so…but it's hard to imagine any kind of color and light in this dismal, gritty place.
Manhattan will grow on you if you give it a chance, her father's words run through her head.
She supposes that she hasn't really given it a fair shake yet. She's only seen the stretch of city between Grand Central Station and their apartment, and at the time, she'd been so shocked by the sights and sounds that she hadn't really absorbed much except for how different everything was.
Maybe tomorrow when Father is at work and Mother leaves to visit the Millers, I'll go exploring, she thinks. It's preferable to staying cooped up in the apartment, and back home she'd always had leave to come and go as she pleased (so long as her schoolwork was complete and her chores were done). She assumes the same rules still apply here in the city, for her parents haven't told her otherwise.
Perhaps Manhattan will improve upon closer acquaintance, she tells herself.
At the very least, this way she can say that she's given the place a chance.
It turns out that exploring Manhattan is nothing like exploring the neighborhoods of Onondaga County.
Margaret's sense of direction has always been fairly good, but it's easy to get disoriented by the side streets and alleyways, and the people - rushed and aloof as ever - all seem to know where they're going, so her meandering pace is far too slow for their liking.
After being jostled about a good bit, Margaret discovers that if she stays close to the edge of the sidewalk, avoiding the steadier flow of traffic in the middle, she can avoid most of the pushing and shoving.
Her goal this afternoon is to find a bakery and to purchase a fruitcake, which her family normally partakes of during the Christmas season. It's something that her mother could make, but Margaret overheard her parents talking the night before about how there wouldn't be time this year for many of their usual traditions, including much of the holiday baking, and she's determined to preserve this small bit of normalcy, for something as simple as a fruitcake shouldn't be too difficult to locate in a place as plush with shops as Manhattan.
She hasn't mentioned her intent to her parents, wanting to surprise them if she can and thinking that it will be a quick errand, but as she continues to scour the streets with no success, she begins to wonder if this maybe wasn't such a good idea after all.
"Hey there, little missy!" A boisterous voice breaks into her thoughts, and Margaret finds herself face to face with a dirty-looking boy who's probably a year or two older than she is. Despite the fact that it's almost bitingly cold outside, he's dressed only in a thin, worn-out coat and a pair of ill-fitting knickers, and even a cursory glance tells Margaret that he doesn't get enough to eat.
"You interested in readin' the latest news?" the boy continues, flashing a smile. "It'll only cost you a penny!"
"No, but thank you," Margaret says politely.
"You sure, sweetheart?" he winks. "We got some real good stories this afternoon."
Margaret is about to decline his offer again (despite the fact that she finds his wink rather charming), but before she can do so, someone pushes past her from behind, and she hears a gentleman say gruffly,
"One paper, boy - and make it quick."
The newspaper seller's attention is immediately diverted, and Margaret takes advantage of the interruption to hurry away, turning the nearest corner onto a slightly less busy street.
There's no bakery on this block, as far as she can tell, but there are several stores that catch her eye with their attractive window displays, and Margaret finds her footsteps slowing down in front of a dressmaker's shop, her attention caught as she watches several fashionable ladies perusing the wares within. She's never seen such beautiful frocks before, and for the first time she feels a little thrill of excitement, for here is something Manhattan has that isn't available in Onondaga County.
A gust of cold air blows past her face, and she shivers a little, forcing herself to leave the dress shop behind so that she can keep moving. Only a few doors down the street, she sees a lady's accessory store and contemplates going inside, for there's a muff in the window that's almost the same shade of dusty pink as her scarf, and she's tempted to buy it (and to get out of the cold for a bit). She isn't sure if things cost more here than they do back home, but she's got a whole dollar in her handbag, and would spend it in a heartbeat on such a pretty-looking accessory…
But then she remembers that her goal is to procure a fruitcake and reluctantly keeps walking, noting the name of the shop as she heads down the street so that perhaps she can return at a later time to purchase the muff.
A thorough investigation of the next several blocks yields no bakery, so Margaret decides to head back to Broadway, the main street that she'd turned off of to escape the crowds. As she retraces her steps and draws nearer the busy thoroughfare, the foot traffic predictably increases, and she finds herself once again caught up in a crowd of people, being jostled and shoved on all sides. She tries to scan the shops as she hurries past, but she can barely see in the crowd, and a little bit of panic sets in as she realizes that she really has no idea where she's being involuntarily herded off to.
Her hands instinctively reach for the comforting softness of her scarf, but they brush against the lapels of her coat instead, and as Margaret looks down in confusion, a sinking feeling immediately sets in.
Her scarf is gone.
Panicking, she turns around, trying to look behind her even as she's pushed along by the crowd, but with the sea of people milling about, and she can only see a few feet behind her. Consternation growing, she steps quickly to the edge of the sidewalk, preparing to fight her way back upstream to retrace her steps...but before she can do so, someone taps her lightly on the shoulder.
Turning around, Margaret sees a brown-haired girl with a cheerful smile holding out a familiar-looking band of rose colored fabric.
"Hello," she chirps. "You dropped your scarf back there."
"Thank you," Margaret answers, a flood of relief washing over her. "I didn't realize that I had lost it until just now."
"This is quite the crush of people, isn't it?" the girl remarks as she returns the garment. "I suspect that everyone is heading to Lenzi's for the special going on today."
Margaret is about to ask where Lenzi's is (and what coveted offering would incentivize such an assemblage), but before she can do so, a frantic voice cuts through the crowd.
"Sadie! Sadie, where are you?"
"Oh! That's my sister," the girl exclaims, waving to the caller. "She must not have realized that I ran ahead to give you your scarf."
Just as she's finished saying so, a young woman appears at her side, looking both relieved and a little exasperated.
"Sadie, you can't just run off like that without telling me!" she chides. "One minute you were right beside Della and me, and the next minute I looked over and you were gone! I had no idea where you'd run off to, and I had to send Della ahead to save us a place at Lenzi's!"
"I'm sorry, Ju," the shorter girl answers contritely. "I only wanted to return a scarf that I saw…" she glances at Margaret, realizing that she doesn't know her name.
"I'm Margaret Ellis," Margaret supplies.
The girl gives her a grateful look. "...that I saw Margaret drop," she concludes. Turning back to Margaret, she introduces herself.
"I'm Sadie Becker, by the way. And this is my older sister, Judith. We're heading to Lenzi's right now to celebrate the end of the school term for the year."
"Where's Lenzi's?" Margaret asks.
Sadie's eyes widen. "You've never been to Lenzi's before? Oh, Margaret, it's the best drugstore in town! They've got a lunch counter with a soda fountain where you can order floats and sundaes, and during the week they serve the most delicious cold custard you could ever imagine! Even better, all of their frozen treats are discounted today!"
Turning to her sister, she implores. "Might we invite Margaret along with us? I have some extra pennies from my allowance this week, and I'll treat both her and you!"
"You ought to ask Margaret if she likes frozen desserts on a cold day, first," Judith answers, smiling a little.
"Oh, of course!" Sadie turns to Margaret "Would you like to accompany us to Lenzi's? My sister is right to point out that not everyone shares my love of the cold, but if you don't like sundaes or custard or floats when it's chilly outside, the lunch counter serves sandwiches, too. Judith is bringing a friend along, and you can be mine - that is, if you're not heading anywhere important."
The invitation is accompanied by a disarming smile, and Margaret finds herself smiling in return.
"I'm not heading anywhere important," she answers, "and I do like ice cream."
Sadie claps her hands. "Excellent!"
"Are you with your parents?" Judith asks. "Do we need to ask their permission first?"
Margaret shakes her head. "I decided to explore on my own today. As long as I'm home by dinnertime, they won't mind - or even know that I'm gone."
Judith looks a little astonished by this, and Margaret wonders if it's not customary to go exploring alone here in Manhattan, but the young woman doesn't question her, and soon the little party is on the move, Judith setting a brisk pace as she leads the way towards the drugstore.
"That's a cunning little bag you've got there," Sadie remarks as they hurry to keep up. "It compliments your scarf quite nicely, and the beading is exquisite!"
"My parents ordered it for me from the Sears catalogue," Margaret says proudly. "It was an early Christmas present."
"I commend them for their good taste!" her companion enthuses, and Margaret finds it both endearing and a little odd the way this girl (who can't be much older than she is) speaks like a fashion-forward young woman…until she remembers that Sadie has an older sister from whom she's probably learned such things.
"Ju saw the prettiest bonnet the other day at Halston's while we were shopping," Sadie confides. "It had a lovely beaded edge, and the color would match your bag perfectly."
"What's Halston's?" Margaret asks.
Sadie gives her a quizzical look. "Why…it's the hat shop that we passed just moments ago," she replies. "You haven't seen it before?"
"My parents and I only moved to Manhattan recently," Margaret explains.
Sadie's mouth drops open. "You just moved here? Oh, Margaret, I'm so sorry! When you didn't know where Lenzi's was, I simply assumed that you patronized a different drugstore. I never thought that…" she trails off, clearly embarrassed.
"It's nothing to apologize for," Margaret says. "You couldn't have known."
Sadie visibly relaxes at her reassurance. "You are kind to overlook my blunder," she murmurs as they continue walking. "My mother would scold me for being so impolite if she'd happened to witness my misstep just now."
Margaret can't help but think that it's hardly a misstep worth scolding for, but she doesn't say so. She's always been close to her mother, who is warm and affectionate and tirelessly patient, but she knows that not all mothers are like this.
"If you'd like," Sadie continues, a little more deliberately, "I can ask Judith if we might stop by Halston's - or any other place you'd like to see - on our way home. It's quite daunting, trying to locate particular shops in a busy place like Manhattan."
"That's why I went out exploring this afternoon," Margaret discloses. "I was trying to find a bakery."
"The closest one is a few blocks from here," Sadie says. "I'm sure Ju won't mind if we make a stop there so that you can do your shopping - if you don't mind us accompanying you." A sly smile crosses her face as she adds, "In fact, I think a detour to the bakery would be a perfect way to end our afternoon, for it's right next to the confectionery, and maybe if there's time, Judith will let us stop there to sample the holiday truffles before we head home!"
This girl clearly likes her sweets, and Margaret finds herself wondering if she ought to invite Sadie over sometime to have a slice of lemon cake, a staple in the Ellis family icebox.
It seems a little soon for that, as she's known Sadie all of five minutes, but somehow it feels like they've been acquainted for much longer, and Margaret finds herself feeling slightly more cheerful than before, now that she's found a friend - or perhaps, more accurately, now that a friend has found her.
They spend the rest of the trip to Lenzi's in easy conversation. Sadie does most of the initiating, but her excited chatter is equally balanced between calling attention to points of interest that they pass and asking Margaret about herself, and Margaret is glad for the prompting, for though she is not shy by nature, she wouldn't have known where to begin if she didn't have a companion who was so interested in knowing about her life back in Upstate New York.
She finds herself describing home with surprising candor, and though she says nothing about her impression that Manhattan is a far less welcoming place, Sadie must sense her wistfulness, for a sympathetic look crosses her face, and she leaves off speaking for some time to simply listen. It's comforting to be able to share freely without having to keep a stiff upper lip, and Margaret is thankful that she can confide in this near-stranger who is the first bit of warmth that she's come across in this cold and crowded city.
The conversation is briefly interrupted by their arrival at Lenzi's, and all thoughts of home momentarily leave Margaret's mind as she stares in awe at the busy lunch counter and its plethora of tempting offerings which are listed on a menu board behind the soda fountain.
"Order anything you'd like," Sadie bids her. "It's your first time at Lenzi's, so you ought to try whatever appeals to you!"
It doesn't take Margaret long to settle on an ice cream sundae with chocolate sauce and a candied cherry on top. She's had ice cream several times before when Uncle Benj and Aunt Nat made it from scratch, but the fancy-looking desserts that she spies several patrons partaking of seem like delicacies of a different kind, and she's eager to try her very first sweet in the city.
She pulls some money out of her bag, ready to order, but Sadie hasn't forgotten her offer to treat.
"I'm paying," she beams, fishing a coin purse out of her own handbag. "You're my guest."
She hails the young man working behind the counter and places Margaret's order, then looks at Judith, who's still examining the list of offerings.
"What will you have, Ju? Don't forget that I'm treating you as well."
"I can pay for my own soda, Sadie."
The younger girl shakes her head. "I insist." And Margaret can tell that she takes great enjoyment in playing hostess, even in this very small way.
Judith capitulates, perhaps sensing the underlying desire in her sister's sociability, and requests a ginger ale. Sadie herself selects a cold custard as her dessert of choice, and the young man (or "soda jerk," as Judith calls him) soon has their orders ready, sliding the soda and the glass dishes containing the sundae and custard across the counter.
"That'll be twelve cents with the discount," he announces.
Sadie sets several pennies down in front of him, counting as she does so, but before she reaches the total, she appears to come up short. A look of dismay crosses her face, and she digs deeper into her handbag, rummaging through it in an attempt to locate additional funds.
Margaret can hear several customers behind them muttering impatiently, and Sadie must hear them too, for she glances guilty at her sister.
"Ju…I must have miscalculated."
The young woman wordlessly opens her own handbag and sets the remaining coins down on the counter, thanking the soda jerk before taking her order and motioning for the girls to do the same.
"I see Della over there at the corner table," she says as she leads them away from the lunch counter. Sadie follows her, obviously despondent, with Margaret bringing up the rear.
"You ought to pay more attention to your money, and to your sums and ciphering in class," she hears Judith admonish her sister. "The next time you make a mistake, I might not be here to bail you out."
"I know, Ju," Sadie sighs. "And I'm sorry for the blunder. You're right to say that I ought to pay more attention in class, but Master Crowell's lectures are so tedious, and my seat is right by the window. It's so easy to look outside and daydream. In fact, today I saw the prettiest bank of clouds sailing through the sky. They looked just like the candy floss we saw a vendor selling at Coney Island!"
"I'm sure that the clouds were riveting, but they won't help you count correctly," Judith says sensibly. Despite the reprimand, there's a note of fondness in her voice, and Margaret wonders how often the young woman has had to bail her vivacious but slightly flighty little sister out of a jam.
They make their way over to the corner table where Judith's friend Della has reserved a place, and after introductions are exchanged, the older girls become engrossed in conversation, and Margaret finds herself sitting across from Sadie, who seems to have left her momentary contrition behind and is happily tucking into her cold custard.
Margaret takes a scoop of her own sundae, making sure to get a good amount of chocolate syrup mixed in with the ice cream, then takes a bite.
"What do you think?" Sadie asks eagerly after a moment.
"It's delicious!" Margaret answers. "I've never had ice cream with chocolate syrup before, but now I'm not sure I'll be able to eat it any other way."
Her enthusiasm delights the other girl, who beams as proudly as though she'd made the dessert herself.
"How is your custard?" Margaret asks politely in return.
"Excellent, as always," Sadie answers. "I've tried almost everything on the menu here, and the cold custard is the best in my opinion, though you can never go wrong with a chocolate sundae."
"It sounds like you've been coming here for a while," Margaret observes.
"Ever since I was little. My family lives in a tenement not too far away from here - my father's the landlord."
"My dad works at the Fifth Avenue Hotel," Margaret offers in return. "He just got a job there as a hospitality manager. That's why we moved out here. Our apartment isn't too far away, either."
"Will you be going to school when it starts up again in January?" Sadie wants to know.
Margaret nods. "I've never been to a city school before." She can't help but add a little nervously, "My parents and my aunt and uncle have always been my instructors. Each of them taught a different subject to my cousins and me. The closest school was miles away, so it was easier to just learn at home."
"Did you enjoy that?" Sadie asks.
"Oh, yes. My mother and father taught reading, writing, and math, and Uncle Benj and Aunt Nat taught botany and history. We sometimes had our classes outdoors if the weather was good, and we'd occasionally take trips into town or to some other point of interest to do our learning there."
"That sounds lovely," Sadie sighs.
"It is - was." The correction comes out haltingly, and Margaret drops her gaze to her lap, studying the fringe of her scarf as the familiar ache of homesickness suddenly wells up.
I wish I was back home with Grandma and Uncle Benj and Aunt Nat and my cousins. Back home with the trees and the clean air. Back home where things were familiar and simple. Back home...
A silence descends, and she knows that she ought to say something…but the memories are crowding in just now, and it's difficult to keep them at bay.
Sadie quietly reaches across the table and takes her hand, squeezing it gently, and Margaret looks up, for it's an overly-familiar thing for the other girl to do…but there is such compassion in Sadie's eyes, that she feels tears beginning to form in her own.
"I'm so sorry that you had to leave home," Sadie says softly. "I'm sure you must miss it terribly."
Margaret nods, unable to speak in the moment, and a few tears fall upon the tail ends of her scarf.
She sees Judith glance at her surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye, but the older girl must decide that her sister is handling the situation well enough, for she says nothing, returning to conversation with her friend, and Margaret is thankful not to be questioned in the moment.
A few more tears escape before she rallies, giving Sadie a grateful smile before withdrawing her hand to wipe the moisture from her eyes.
"I know that I'll adjust in time," she says staunchly, thinking of her father's words. "Manhattan's not so bad. It's just so different from home."
"Of course," Sadie murmurs. "And you've only been here a short time." She pauses for a moment, then adds slowly, "I'm sure that attending school will feel very different, and that it won't be nearly as diverting as having lessons with your cousins…but I hope that you'll find it welcoming enough. It's not too large, as city schools go, and most of the students are nice. I know it doesn't make up for what you're missing…but I hope that it provides at least a little bit of reassurance."
Margaret gives her a small smile.
"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Sadie says.
Margaret is thankful that the conversation is moving along. "I'm thirteen," she replies.
Sadie beams. "I just turned thirteen in October! That means we'll be in the same class, and I can introduce you to all the girls and show you our lunch spot at the park. Usually only the older pupils get to leave the schoolyard for recess, but since Judith is kind enough to keep an eye on us, we get to go along, too, and it's great fun! We climb trees and fly kites and play the most amusing games."
It does sound inviting, and Margaret finds herself not as downcast by the prospect of formally attending school as before.
"I'm glad that you'll be there," she says candidly. "I was worried the only person I'd know at school would be James Miller."
"James Miller?" Sadie echoes, looking surprised. "I didn't know you two were acquainted!"
Margaret nods. "Our mothers grew up together, and James' family used to spend holidays in Upstate New York. My mother is out visiting his family now, in fact."
"Does it make school feel a little less daunting, knowing you've already got a friend in class?" Sadie smiles.
Margaret shrugs. She'd hardly consider James a friend. The last time they spoke was years ago, when they'd been kids, and her only memory of the oldest Miller boy is that he'd had a sizable gap between his two front teeth and that he liked to chase the squirrels. She has no idea what he looks like or what he likes to do now, and she's certain that he's just as easily forgotten her.
"James is one of the nicest boys in school," Sadie says, seeming to sense Margaret's indifference. "I'm sure he'll be surprised - and happy - to see you. He's very friendly, and he's always bringing snacks to share with everyone. He's the best in our class at kite-flying, too, and most of the girls are quite stuck on him."
A bit of Margaret's curiosity is piqued. "That doesn't include you, I suppose?" she can't help asking.
Sadie laughs. "James and I get along handsomely, but we're just friends." Her eyes are mirthful, and there's perhaps a hint of teasing in them. "Judith says that twelve is far too young to have a sweetheart, anyway, and of course she's right - though a few of the girls in our class have paired off with some of the boys, which means that they sit next to each other in class and sometimes share lunches at recess." The teasing look in her eyes grows, and she adds a bit impishly, "James is one of the unattached, however, so if you were thinking to set your cap at him - "
"I've never had a beau before," Margaret interrupts quickly. She'd held hands with a boy once when she was six, but that was hardly a romantic understanding. "I'm not sure I'd want one right now."
"We have our whole lives to find a sweetheart and settle down," Sadie agrees. "It's much more fun to be friends with everyone and not pair off with a singular person."
She takes a bite of custard, and Margaret remembers her own sundae, which has begun to melt due to her neglect.
"Do you like to bake?" Sadie asks as Margaret resumes eating. "I know that it's an offhand question, but seeing the chocolate syrup in your sundae reminded me that Judith promised to teach me her recipe for chocolate pie now that we're off school for the rest of the year."
"I bake a little," Margaret replies. "My mother's always making some sweet in the kitchen, and she's taught me my way around, but since there's always something in the oven, I don't find many occasions to bake on my own." Remembering her earlier thought about inviting Sadie over for lemon cake, she adds, "You could come over to our apartment sometime to try Mother's lemon cake. It took first prize last year at the county fair back home."
Sadie's eyes light up (whether in response to the invitation or at the thought of cake or perhaps to both, Margaret can't tell). "That sounds lovely! If your parents are agreeable to it, I'd love to come."
"I'll ask them," Margaret promises. She's sure that her parents will be happy to hear she's made a friend, and knows that they'll easily take to this impulsive but sweet-tempered girl who, in one afternoon, has made the bitter pill of trading Onondaga County for the city just a wee bit easier to swallow.
Taking another bite of sundae, Margaret lets the decadent taste of chocolate and vanilla mingle on her tongue as she savors the treat and looks forward to the prospect of future visits to come - for she has the feeling that this will only be the first of many visits to Lenzi's Drugstore. It's only a tiny consolation, hardly strong enough to offset her yearning for home…but it's a glimmer of the exciting possibilities that this still-unfamiliar place may hold, and she'll hold on to that hope just as tightly as she holds on to her warm woolen scarf and all of the familiar, cherished memories that it represents.
Manhattan is nothing like Upstate New York, she thinks as she pops the candied cherry from her sundae into her mouth. But maybe, in time, it will start to feel a little more like home.
A/N: Thanks for reading this installment! I'd love to hear what you thought of it! :)