ROSE GOES ON
Chapter Three

Rose walked slowly down the sidewalk, looking back and forth at the establishments lining the street. A job could be difficult to find, she knew. She had few skills, at least those skills needed for the type of work she was seeking. She had never had to cook, clean, or sew, though she had some knowledge of cooking and sewing, and she had to avoid any place that might be frequented by members of the upper class. The last thing she needed was to be seen by someone she knew. She had no doubt that her mother and Cal had already told everyone they knew about her death, and if one of their acquaintances saw her, they wouldn’t hesitate to report her whereabouts.

Her steps slowed as she caught sight of a Help Wanted sign in a restaurant window. She no experience serving food or washing dishes, but she was sure that she could learn quickly enough. She had seen food being served, and it didn’t look difficult.

Opening the door, Rose stopped in front of the counter, looking around. Several waitresses moved amongst the customers, and the door to the kitchen swung open and closed as people went in and out. A dark-haired woman wearing an apron saw her standing at the counter and came to greet her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing Rose oddly.

"Ah...yes. I saw the Help Wanted sign in the window, and I’m here about the job..."

"Let me get the manager." She disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a tall, heavy-set man wearing an apron and a chef’s hat.

Rose held out her hand. He shook it gingerly, looking her over.

"I’m here about the job," she told him, wondering at the look that he was giving her.

"I don’t think this establishment is the place for you," he told her bluntly.

"Whyever not?"

"We have a certain level of standards to be upheld here."

Annoyed that he hadn’t even asked her about her skills before dismissing her, Rose protested, "Sir--"

"No. I’m not hiring you." He turned and walked back into the kitchen.

The hostess escorted her to the door.

"I really would be a good worker," Rose told her, resisting the woman’s attempts to push her out the door.

"Out. Or I’m calling the police." Several patrons stared at Rose suspiciously.

Rose turned and walked out the door, not wanting to push the woman farther than she already had. Upset by the reaction of the people in the restaurant, and puzzled, she hurried down the street, still scanning the businesses for Help Wanted signs.

Why had they been so rude to her? she wondered. No one had ever been that rude to her before, except for Cal, and even he had covered it with a gentlemanly facade.

Well, she reassured herself, she had only looked for a job in one establishment. She couldn’t expect to be successful every time, and that was certainly one restaurant she wouldn’t visit once she had employment.

Her confidence renewed, Rose continued her search, only to be rejected again and again. After the fourth employer had turned her down, she began to wonder if she was going about her search in the wrong way. Perhaps she was asking the wrong people for employment, or coming in the wrong entrance. Perhaps the places she had asked for jobs at were looking to hire men, not women.

She stopped, another idea about the reason for her lack of success occurring to her. Catching sight of her reflection in a shop window, she realized just how disreputable she looked. Her long, tangled red hair hung loose down her back, and her once elegant gown was stained and tattered. Her ruined shoes peeked out from under the shredded hem of her dress.

It was no wonder people had looked at her suspiciously, she thought. She looked like a homeless beggar searching for a handout. Even though she was asking for legitimate employment, she didn’t look like someone a person would want to hire. She looked dirty and bedraggled.

More glad than ever for the money Cal had inadvertently given her, Rose temporarily gave up her search for a job. She wasn’t likely to succeed, looking like she did, and she had no other clothes to wear, nor anyplace to go when night came. She needed decent clothing and a place to stay, if she could find one.

Resolutely, she walked down a side street, getting away from the area where people might recognize her. Scanning the small businesses along the street, she caught sight of a secondhand store on the corner and made her way there.

The sales clerk wrinkled her nose when she first saw Rose, but when Rose dug into her coat pocket and brought out a twenty-dollar bill, the clerk was far more willing to help her shop.

"Can I help you find anything?"

Rose grimaced inwardly, realizing how important money was, no matter what sort of places she frequented. Greed was not limited to the upper class, and money could buy her enough respectability to not be thrown out of the dusty shop.

"I need to buy some clothes--dresses, undergarments, that sort of thing."

"Of course. We have clothing that might fit you over here."

Rose followed her, looking through the racks of used clothing. She had never worn anything but the newest, latest fashions before, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, and the simple clothes would be far more practical than the expensive garments she had worn in her old life.

After digging through the clothes and trying several things on, Rose selected two sets of undergarments, two simple dresses, and a skirt and blouse set. After paying for her purchases, she slipped back into the fitting room and changed into one of the new dresses, stuffing her old clothes into the shopping bag.

Looking with distaste at her shoes, she closed up her bags and headed to the rack of shoes she had seen at the back of the store. The sales clerk followed her, as though afraid that she would steal something.

Rose searched through the shoes, trying to find a decent pair that would fit her. Most of the shoes were well worn, not much better than the ones she was trying to replace, but at last she found a slightly scuffed pair of flat, high-button shoes that fit her.

Glad to be out from under the sales clerk’s suspicious eyes, Rose paid for the shoes and a buttonhook, put them on, and hurried from the store. On the next street, she found a small emporium with reasonable prices, and purchased a brush, hairpins, and a simple hat. Ignoring the stares of passers-by, she stood in front of the window, using the reflection from the glass to untangle her hair and pin it into a respectable looking style. Putting the hat on her head, she continued on her way.

Her next order of business was to find a place to stay. Not knowing where else to look, Rose started by looking at the apartments in the area.

She was soon set straight. The apartments in the area, though not so expensive as the ones that members of the upper class lived in, were well beyond her means. She had the money to pay for an apartment initially, but she needed to save as much as she could of the money she had, in case she was unable to find work, and she doubted that she could continue to pay for one of the apartments on the salary she thought she might command.

The first apartment building she asked at was enough to let her know that a private apartment was unaffordable. After seeing a Room To Let sign, she stopped and knocked at the landlord’s door.

"I saw your Room To Let sign, and I would be interested in seeing the apartment."

The landlord looked her over, taking in her worn shoes and simple clothing, but allowed her to look at the apartment.

It consisted of two bedrooms, a living room, a small bathroom, and a kitchen. Rose was delighted until she learned the cost.

"How much is the rent?"

"Fifteen dollars a month."

"Fifteen dollars?" That was a lot of money, considering that she was unemployed and had to pay for necessities.

The landlord rolled his eyes at her look of dismay. "You won’t find many apartments for less, unless you want to try the tenements."

"Ah...thank you, anyway. I think I’ll try that."

Rose left the building quickly, wondering where to go next. She wasn’t sure where the tenements were, and from what she had heard, they were chiefly filled with immigrants. She was an American, and wasn’t sure that she would be accepted in one of the immigrant neighborhoods--if she could even afford a tenement apartment.

As she made her way down yet another street, Rose saw another option that she hadn’t realized before--boarding houses. With her limited experience, the thought of trying to find a single room had never occurred to her. Hoping that a single room would cost less than an apartment, she began knocking at the doors of the boarding houses, hoping to find a place to stay.

When she got to the third boarding house, she got her first bit of luck that day. There was a room available, at a cost of nine dollars a month. It was much cheaper than the apartment would have been, and the small room contained a bed and a battered dresser. There were hooks on the back of the door that she could use to hang her clothes, and two meals a day were served, breakfast and dinner.

After paying four dollars and fifty cents for the rest of April’s rent, Rose locked the door to her room and unpacked her few belongings. It was growing late, too late in the day to continue her search for work, but at least she now had decent clothes and a place to live. She would begin her job search again in the morning.

Chapter Four
Stories