New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [331]
For a ninety-year-old woman to host an event like this was quite a social coup. It wasn’t too often these days that she had a chance to be in the thick of things, and who knew if such a chance would occur again?
She might be ninety, but Hetty believed in moving with the times. She’d seen so much change. She’d seen canals come, then railroads, gaslights, then electricity, steamboats and now the motor car. She’d seen the old crowd at the Academy of Music yield to the rich crowd at the Metropolitan Opera, and families you’d never heard of, like the Vanderbilts, get into Mrs. Astor’s Four Hundred. If Rose wanted life to be a bit more decorous, Hetty in the last years of her life wished she had a bit more excitement. In fact, just for once, she thought she’d like to be in the forefront of fashion.
And the garment strike was the fashion just now. She had every sympathy with those poor girls in the factories, though she wasn’t going to pretend that she knew all the issues. But today’s lunch would be remembered. However small, Hetty Master was going to see if she couldn’t get herself in as a footnote in New York’s history.
So she surveyed the guests at her table with great satisfaction.
Inviting Edmund Keller had been an afterthought. She’d seen him at his father’s the week before, and asked him to come along, as it was always nice to have a man around. As for Rose, she really hadn’t meant to invite her at all. Indeed, she’d been surprised when her grandson’s wife had got wind of the event and said she wanted to come. “There’s no need, dear,” she’d told her. But Rose had been so insistent, it would have been awkward to refuse. And now she’d turned up with two young people from the Lower East Side, and insisted they sit with her. Had she suddenly been converted to the cause?
The conversation was all about the meeting that evening. Important union people would be there. Samuel Gompers, the labor leader, and his lieutenants were moderate; they wanted better pay and conditions, if they could get them. Others, with a political agenda, might be more strident. Nobody knew what was going to happen. It was all very exciting. She’d almost forgotten about her granddaughter-in-law and her young people when suddenly, just as the main course was being served, Rose stood up and announced that there was a young woman from the garment district whom she’d like them all to hear, and turning to the young woman at her side, she said: “You can stand up now, dear.”
Anna Caruso glanced down at Salvatore. She’d only agreed to come if her brother was there to protect her. “Just tell your story simply, the way you told it to me,” Rose had said. But faced with all these people, in this big house, and the fact that she knew her English still wasn’t so good, she couldn’t help being nervous.
She’d been surprised when Mr. Harris at the factory had called her over last week. “This lady,” he’d explained, “wants to talk to one of our loyal workers, and I’ve told her you’re a sensible girl.” It was pretty clear that she’d better do what he said. So she’d told the lady what she wanted to know. Then the lady had said she’d like to come back to her house and see her family. So at the end of the day, she’d collected Salvatore and Angelo from the park, and the lady had driven them all back to Mulberry Street in her car. The sight of the Rolls-Royce stopping outside their house had caused quite a stir. When the lady had said she wanted to take her next Sunday to tell her friends about the factory, her father had been dubious, but when Mrs. Master had given him her visiting card and address, and offered twenty dollars for the inconvenience, it was agreed that she should go, as long as she was accompanied.
“My name is Anna,” she began, “and my family lives in Mulberry Street.” She told them how they had arrived in America from Italy when she was a little girl, how her father had lost their years of savings in the panic of 1907, how her brothers had had to leave school,