Somewhere in the World

Chapter 4

Mr. Reynolds smiled broadly and rubbed his hands together. “That is good!  Miss Hale, please accept my apologies for the misunderstanding—and may I say that, while it is highly unusual for a man of my position to do business with a young woman, I believe it will be a pleasure dealing with you.”

Margaret nodded. “I believe we understand each other perfectly.”

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By late afternoon, Margaret had found what she believed to be a highly suitable property, and promised to return on the morrow with her father so that the deal might be closed. It was in a neighborhood on the outskirts of downtown Lovell, a brick row house within easy walking distance of the Merrimack River. It was close enough to the city for her father to make his way to and from his schoolroom, yet nearer the country so that Margaret might enjoy walks along the river and her mother might benefit from air less tainted by industry.

Walking back to their hotel with a satisfied smile on her face, she was deep in thought as to which pieces of their furniture would best fit in the rooms of the smaller space. As she considered how to arrange to have their belongings shipped to Massachusetts, a young woman barreled around the corner of a building and slammed into her.

Margaret dropped the few parcels she had purchased at the dry goods store, scattering them about the sidewalk. The young woman fared worse, however; she slipped to the pavement and lay there, winded. Ignoring her parcels, Margaret knelt by the girl and exclaimed, “Oh, I am so sorry—I was wool gathering! Are you all right?”

The young woman shook her head as if to clear it. “Oh, miss, I am sorry—I’m fine, just a bit winded. Let me help you.” Struggling to her feet, the girl quickly gathered the parcels and, dusting them off with her sleeve, handed them back to Margaret. As Margaret gathered her wits about her, the young woman peered at her inquisitively.

“Have I met you before?” she inquired shrewdly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Margaret.

Margaret returned the girl’s frank gaze with amusement. She appeared to be of an age close to her own; she had soft brown hair and bright, dark eyes. She was dressed in a worn calico dress with a faded apron that had seen better days. Her hands were work worn, but her smile was brightly infectious. Margaret liked what she saw.

“My name is Margaret Hale,” she said with a warm smile.