Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [15]
“Give me the key.”
“No.”
He opened the box and took pieces out of her game, examining them.
Whipping off her earpiece, she jumped to her feet. “That is quite enough, sir.”
“What are you, some kind of Nellie Bly follower?”
She snatched up the box and began to replace the pieces. “Nellie Bly is one of the greatest women of our time.”
“She’s a troublesome female who puts ideas into the heads of our women.”
Tightening her lips, Georgie returned the game to the shelf. “Exactly what ideas are you referring to? The ones which say women are good for more than just cleaning, sewing, and keeping house? The ones which say a woman should be permitted to have a career if she so chooses? A career like—I don’t know, a telephone operator? Would that be the kind of idea you object to?”
“It certainly would be. If you were a man, you’d have allowed me to prioritize my job the way I wanted to. You’d have shown me the list of subscribers. You’d have given me the key the moment I asked.” With each statement he puffed up like a grackle. “Now, stop all this nonsense and either do as I’ve requested or go back to your sewing, cleaning, and keeping house.”
Walking to the screen door, she opened it. “Get out of my home, Mr. Palmer.”
“Give me the key, Miss Gail.”
“When pigs fly, sir.” Her entire body trembled. She clearly remembered her mother being told the farm they’d spent their whole life working would be taken from them without Papa. Didn’t matter he’d died. Didn’t matter he wanted Mama to have it. All that mattered was Mama had been a woman and therefore unworthy of being a landowner.
But Nellie Bly was different. She’d secured a job as a newspaper journalist. She’d pretended to be insane so she could expose the atrocities occurring in asylums. She’d broken a world record by traveling around the world in seventy-two days. By herself. At age twenty-five she’d become the most famous woman in the world.
And Georgie owned every product Miss Bly had ever endorsed except for her hat. But one day, when she’d saved enough, Georgie would buy herself a Nellie Bly hat.
In the meanwhile, she had no use for men who were so narrow-minded they could look through a keyhole with both eyes at the same time.
Mr. Palmer grabbed his hat from the stand. “I’m going to pick up my supplies. When I get back, you better have that key sitting on top of my desk or I’ll rip out every drawer in it. Don’t think I won’t.”
“I wouldn’t advise it. You’d be damaging company property.”
“When I tell Marshall why, I have a feeling no one will be blaming me.” He jammed on his hat. “You have thirty minutes, missy.” He stormed out the door.
She slammed the screen behind him. It bounced open and closed before settling. But she knew he was right. If Palmer destroyed the desk, Mr. Marshall would hold her responsible and it would be her pay which was docked.
She watched Palmer swing up into his saddle, then take off at a full gallop.
Opening the screen door, she slammed it one more time, but it didn’t change anything. He was still a male and she wasn’t. Which meant her desk—and its key—would now be his.
Chapter Five
Luke gently shook the reins, prodding Honey Dew and the green installer’s cart he rode. The smell of fresh bread billowed out of a bakery, making him glance up at the sun to judge how long before supper.
He sighed. Several hours yet. Carriages of every sort parked along the street, stepping blocks at their sides. Ladies flitted in and out of shops. A woman sporting a top-heavy hat slipped beneath a faded red awning leading to Scobey’s Curiosity Shop.
He squinted, trying to see through the glass. He loved curiosity shops. As a boy he’d once seen a two-headed calf preserved in spirits. The aged cowboy running the place had said two heads made him half as difficult to rope. Luke smiled at the memory.
The syncopated rhythm of horses’ hooves clashed with the sound of whistling coming from an open window. A man with a measuring tape about his neck stood inside the millinery’s display window, setting a new monstrosity toward the front. A driver