The Point of Vanishing, Maryka Biaggio [top inspirational books TXT] 📗

Gladys said, with the stock market roaring away, you might as well join the confidence craze. And what, Barbara inquired, did they do?

At that, they all laughed.

“Do you ask?” Dolores giggled. “As little as possible, other than attend parties. Except for Phyllis here.”

Phyllis tsked and rolled her eyes. “Those two are flappers by vocation. But me, I work for the National Woman’s Party.”

“What does the Woman’s Party do?” asked Barbara.

“For one thing, we helped secure women’s suffrage, so you can vote when you’re of age. And if we manage to get the Equal Rights Amendment ratified, you won’t have to face discrimination in employment.” Phyllis gave her head a saucy toss. “Just a few little matters like that.”

“But I believe that females can do anything they put their minds to,” said Barbara.

Gladys glanced sidelong at Dolores.

“Watch out, Katherine,” said Dolores. “You’re about to get the lecture.”

“We most certainly can,” said Phyllis. “Only sometimes we’re not allowed to. You see, men make all the rules, and they like to keep it that way.”

“You mean about divorce and such?”

“Exactly, my dear,” Phyllis said. “They much prefer we remain under their thumb.”

Barbara nodded, mulling this over. Her mother had complained the house was in her father’s name, and it’d be an uphill battle wresting it from him. But wasn’t it a woman who had overpowered him—so much so that he’d abandoned the daughter he loved? Hadn’t her father told her she could be whatever she wanted to be, laws be damned? Why, she’d climbed mountains and published books and traveled the world. And now she was off to seek work. But her mother had also claimed that women were up against unjust laws and obstacles. “Do you believe men’s laws hinder females?”

“Precisely,” said Phyllis, relaxing against her seat.

Gladys raised her eyebrows and tucked her chin. “You got off easier than we usually do!”

That sent them all into giggles, after which the conversation turned to advice about applying for work, understanding the lay of the city, and learning the trolley and key system.

✭

Barbara took a modest room at the Spaulding, a compact brick hotel on O’Farrell near Union Square. By the time she got the bearings of her neighborhood, purchased two newspapers and a map, and savored a bowl of chowder with a hunk of butter-slathered bread, the city had turned twinkly with lights. Friday night, she thought, bracing her hands on the window ledge in her room and contemplating the rolling city. Such sweetness—freedom and anonymity. And nothing to do all Saturday and Sunday but explore the harbor, hike up and down the hilly streets, and peruse employment advertisements.

By Monday morning, Barbara had typed application letters for five office positions. Not wanting to waste the days it would take for letters to shuffle back and forth, she mapped out the route to the offices and delivered her applications in person. At each place, she made a point of handing her letter to someone who knew about the advertised post, explaining she’d be glad to take a typing test on the spot if they wished. But all declined, saying they’d be in touch with her. She wrote out the telephone number of her hotel for them and said she was eager to start work and prove herself a dedicated employee. She explained that, at seventeen, she didn’t have much formal work experience. But she’d been typing since she was a young child and had done a good deal of writing and transcription work. If they gave her a chance, she assured them, they’d realize her value in short order.

She grabbed Monday morning editions of two more newspapers from her hotel lobby and headed to her room to review the job ads. But the thought of her mother, whose ship would land in Honolulu in a matter of days, nagged at her. More likely than not, Dr. Schultz had panicked and sounded the alarm. A telegram would be the speediest way to reassure everyone that all was well. Certainly, it would be better for her mother to learn of her situation from her—and not Dr. Schultz. She inquired at the hotel desk about the whereabouts of a Western Union office and sent a dispatch to her friend Alice Russell: INFORM MOTHER AND DR. SHULTZ TRAVELING TO WORK IN OREGON STOP DOING FINE. Since they’d see that the telegram came from San Francisco, she thought it advisable to throw them off the trail by claiming she was Oregon bound.

Barbara kept up her application routine on Tuesday and Wednesday. She’d yet to receive a single reply and decided to economize by eating only inexpensive food from markets.

A letter arrived from Ethan Wednesday. He congratulated her on her move and wished he could join her, but the Vigilant was soon setting sail. In fact, by the time she received his letter, he’d be en route to Vancouver, Canada. He told her how to write him there and ended sweetly with, “Absence may make the heart grow fonder, but knowing you are near only makes the absence harder to bear, for I wish more than words can say that I could be with you.”

On Thursday, she deviated from her routine. She visited each of the offices she’d applied to, following up on her applications. Dodge Publishing said they’d intended to call her that day and invite her for an interview and typing test. Could she return the next morning at ten? Most certainly, she said.

That evening, feeling quite certain a job was in the offing, she treated herself to a colorful crab salad at Tadich Grill. She sat at the counter beside a dapper, gray-haired gentleman. He was a bank teller at Wells Fargo. She told him she was looking for work as a stenographer at a publishing house or newspaper, and he advised her to broaden her search and apply at banks, too. She thanked him for the advice, but she couldn’t imagine anything duller than fussing over numbers and money all day long. She required the richness