Warren sat back as the next course was served. “What if you make the attempt and get hurt? What will people say?” Warren asked, his voice rising. “They’ll blame the foreman, saying he should have known better than to hire a woman to do a man’s job.”
“Save your breath, Warren,” Jack cut in as he surveyed the table. Several eyes had been drawn to their conversation. “If there’s anything I know about Mattie, it’s that she’s ambitious, devoted to the causes she chooses, and stubborn to a fault.”
Although the description was accurate, she had to ask. “Was that intended as a compliment or an insult?”
“It’s simply a fact,” he replied. “Those traits can be flaws or strengths depending on the situation.”
Warren glared at Jack. “Are you saying you want her to become a firefighter?”
“No, that’s not what I—”
“Pardon me, young man, but did you just say”—a white-haired gentleman sporting a balding pate and muttonchops stared at Warren from across the table—“the woman next to you wants to be a firefighter?”
Mattie straightened in her seat. “I do. I’m currently in training.”
“What rubbish,” the old fogy proclaimed.
“Rubbish?” Mattie echoed, albeit not as loudly.
“A woman has no place at a fire. If anything, she’d be a hindrance to the men risking their lives for the greater good,” the elderly man insisted.
Mattie gasped in outrage.
“How would you know what is required of a firefighter?” Warren asked the man. “Have you ever been one yourself?”
“I don’t have to be a firefighter to know a woman lacks the capacity to be one,” the muttonchopped beast spouted.
“You’d best leave the business of selecting firefighters to those who have experience,” Jack suggested. He darted a glance at Mattie. “This woman might surprise you.”
Mattie held back a smile. Indeed. She planned to continue to surprise Jack.
She refocused her attention on the man across from them, and her jaw clenched. Men like him were a detriment to women’s advancements. “It’s probably safe to assume you oppose women’s suffrage as well?”
He granted her a look of disdain, then grunted. “So you want to vote too.”
“I do. There’s no reason why a woman shouldn’t be given the right to help choose who represents her in government.”
Her sister’s shaking head and censuring stare caught Mattie’s eye. Guilt warred with her indignation. She’d never been one to surrender in an argument, especially when she felt so strongly about the subject, but Laura didn’t need to have an outspoken sister added to her sins in the eyes of her husband’s parents.
“So we have a suffragist in our midst,” their host declared from the end of the table, his piercing eyes pinning Mattie in place. “A suffragist who aspires to become a fireman no less.”
Her breath caught in her throat. Perhaps she’d gone too far. She should have taken her mother’s advice and kept her mouth shut.
A gentleman to the right of their hostess held up his glass of wine. “I sincerely hope her convictions don’t also lean toward supporting the temperance movement.” His comment brought on a round of laughter.
Mattie’s face burned, and she dared a peek at her sister. Laura gave her husband a beseeching look and received a reassuring smile in return. Likely that smile would do little to soothe her sister’s ire. No doubt she would get an earful on the ride home.
“I believe the conversation has become rather unseemly for the dinner table,” their hostess warned. The woman’s pointed stare swept over the muttonchopped elderly man and locked onto Mattie. “Perhaps we should change the subject.” With that, she quietly conversed with those seated close by, her gaze darting to Mattie a time or two.
Warren looked in the direction of their hostess. “What do their opinions matter to people like us?”
“People like us?” Mattie asked.
“Do you think those rich folk will ever accept you as one of them?” Warren shook his head. “They look down on us. We’re only valued for the labor we provide, nothing more.”
“If you have such a low opinion of these people, why are you here?”
He raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “Clark asked me to attend,” Warren answered then glanced down at his clothes. “He even lent me this suit for the occasion.”
“You must be close friends then.”
“Fairly close.”
“But he’s the son of our host and hostess, one of the elite you dislike so much.”
“Clark is different,” Warren said as the next course was served. “He’s a firefighter. One of us.”
“Then isn’t it possible the same could be said of me?” She leaned back as an entrée of pheasant was place in front of her. “You see me only as a woman, but when I become a firefighter, will you admit I’m not the weakling you believed me to be? Will you see me as a valued member of the team?”
Jack leaned closer. “Weak or strong, I don’t oppose you becoming a firefighter because you’re a woman. Rich, poor, man, woman—whichever a firefighter may be, there’s no disputing that the work is dangerous. Sam is proof of that. I don’t want you to suffer the same fate as he did, Mattie. I couldn’t bear it if you did.”
Sam. Her heart beat dully in her chest. Two years had gone by since his death. She could still picture him clearly—his kind eyes, his sweet face, and that messy, curly mass of blond hair. He’d been her best friend, always there for her, supporting her in whatever new cause she’d taken up. She’d dragged him from one crusade to another, yet he’d never complained.
She peered over at Jack, who’d lost his only brother and tortured himself with that fact every day. “Sam’s death was an unfortunate accident. Still, what happened to Sam isn’t an indicator that all firefighters will perish in a fire.” She held up a hand, stopping him from launching into an argument. “I know firefighting is dangerous work, but it’s my decision whether I want to take on that risk, not yours.”
Firefighting was a noble endeavor. Saving lives would be well worth the risks she’d take.
Both Jack and Warren became quiet as they ate their meal. She sincerely doubted she’d won the argument. Yet, they’d given up the fight, at least for now. The expression on their faces was pensive and gloomy. Was hers the same? The mention of Sam’s death … Sam had always looked up to his big brother. He’d become a firefighter himself because of Jack. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been one for long before the accident had taken him. Oh Sam. I wish you were still here.
Jack no doubt felt the same. He frowned and picked at his food. She could almost hear his mournful thoughts. “I miss Sam too,” she finally said.
His eyes met hers, and the misery in their depths made her chest ache.
“Sam’s death wasn’t your fault,” she told him for the hundredth time. If only she could make him believe that.
He nodded wearily and toyed with his food once more.
The meal went on for far too long before their hostess finally called for everyone to adjourn to the drawing room. Mattie donned her gloves, then stood and followed her fellow guests away from the table, her hand on Jack’s arm.