Page 16 of Hearts of Locke Hill

The friends laughed.

Ruby was not only the youngest member of the Wendy League; she was also the most petite, the quietest, and the sweetest tempered. But they’d learned not to underestimate her strength, her wit, and a wisdom beyond her years. Violet had concluded that being the only sister in a sea of brothers had given Ruby scads of patience and long-suffering. Florrie referred to heras “Ruby amongst the mudstones.” A tongue-in-cheek description, considering the consistent good looks of that striking family. But it could not be argued. Ruby was as her name: a gem.

Violet grasped her hands in front of her. She wasn’t above begging. “Please, mull it over.”

Ruby ran her hands along the harp’s polished frame, biting her lip. She grinned, looking up at them. “I shall consider it and talk to Mama.” She grimaced. “I don’t see Cyril liking the idea, but perhaps, if I could convince Papa …” Her eyes dropped and she lowered the harp to the floor.

“Is your father any better, dear?” Florrie asked, stepping toward her.

Ruby took a breath and lifted her head. “He’s not any worse. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Her friends nodded.

“And your mother?” Violet asked. “How is she faring?”

Her expression softened. “As Oscar says, ‘She’s a brick.’ She appears strong and assuring, and we all seem to have made a silent agreement not to question that. Though …” She lifted a shoulder. “I know she’s worried. Perhaps afraid. The doctor is coming today. I’m sure I’ll know more when I return home.”

Violet crossed to Ruby and extended her hands, helping her rise. “I’ll ask Mama to visit her. Would she like that?”

“Yes, I think she would.” She gave Violet’s hands a squeeze before letting go. She lifted her olive-colored eyes to the room around her. “It truly is a stunning room. I’m thrilled for you. And all those girls, of course. How many students will you have? And when does the school open?”

“Would you believe in three weeks? We thought a summer opening would help us ease into things. To our surprise, wehave a full enrollment. Twenty-four girls ages fifteen to eighteen. Graduation is age twenty.”

“I’m not surprised,” Florrie said. “With your mother’s connections—meaning my mother, of course”—the others giggled—“I’d be shocked if you didn’t have a waitlist.”

“Wedohave a waitlist,” Violet said.

Florrie crooked a brow and nodded smugly.

“We’ll be opening up more spots in the fall, of course, once the staff quarters are completed and all positions are filled. You are all invited to the opening ceremony. There’s to be a garden party for the girls and their families.”

“How very exciting,” Lydia said, placing the books back on the shelf. “It almost makes me want to go back in time and redo school, just so I could attend here.” She smirked. “Well, almost.”

Violet returned the smirk. “I’m sure you’re quite content with how you’ve managed anyhow.”

Lydia smiled and sighed as if she couldn’t help it, the darling, lovelorn girl. “On second thought, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Florrie giggled and Ruby sighed. Violet shook her head. “Your brain has turned to mush.”

Lydia nodded, the movement reminding Violet of a horse she once saw at a fair that could answer its master’s questions with a yes or no.

“Follow me, Scout,” Violet said, garnering a look of confusion from Lydia. “Let’s see how the rest is coming along.” They exited the music room and made for the rest of the main floor. “We shall have two telephones. One outside the administrative office and one in the staff quarter’s hall. Mama talked Father intoelectricityin the kitchen, library, and dining room.” The womenoohedas they followed. “And I’m most curious to see if the out-of-doors sports course is complete.”

“For archery and badminton and the like?” Lydia asked.

“Mmm, something like that, yes,” Violet answered with a secretive smile. They would coach so many other sports.Like swimming, and track and field.

Y

Later, as the Wendy League toured the gardens, Florrie and Nibs walked alongside Violet, while Lydia and Ruby strolled ahead, arm in arm, hats bent together in discussing too many ideas, no doubt. Violet couldn’t blame them. Her head spun with prospects over what the school could mean to each girl who stepped through its front doors.

“Has your mother said anything more about”—Florrie dropped her voice to a whisper—“you-know-what?”

Violet’s breathing deepened. She knew what Florrie referred to, and though she wasn’t a superstitious being, she hesitated to share what wasn’t yet written in stone, for fear of jinxing it all. Her parents’ earlier exchange still rang in her ears. “I’m—hopeful.” Yes. She was hopeful.

“And? Surely, with the school opening so soon, you have a better idea of your position?”

She relented. “I wish I did.” She shook her head. “I believe we are waiting on Father’s approval.” Mama had given Violet a voice in how the school might be run, and the two of them had pored over anything they could find about running it—licenses and laws, cost and curriculum—and had allowed their vision to run along the edge of reason. This was, after all, a time for women and pushing boundaries and exploring possibilities. They’d armed themselves before approaching Father with the benefits of investing in a school. A turning-of-the-century girls’ school. Becauseas much as it was a time for women, very little could be done without Father, no matter that Mama was a woman of her own means.