Cherise rolled her eyes. “What about going to church and atoning for my sins?”
Olivia kept her tone even. “We’re always happy if our residents choose to attend services with us, but it’s not a requirement. There’s no judgment here, Cherise. Our goal at Bennington Place is to keep you healthy, ensure a safe delivery for your child, and assist you in making decisions for the future. In other words, we’re here to support you in any way we can.”
Cherise frowned. “You are so young. How can you know about such matters?”
Olivia considered her answer, then decided honesty was the best policy. “I may be young, but I was once in your shoes. My family disowned me, and if Ruth hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know where I would be today.” She withheld the part about being incarcerated. Olivia chose to share her experience at the reformatory only with people she trusted absolutely.
One perfectly lined brow rose. “You have a baby?”
Olivia sucked in a breath. The mere mention of Matteo still had the power to shatter her.
Just then Mrs. Neale arrived with the tea. Glad for the distraction, Olivia thanked her and rose to pour the drinks, amazed that her hands remained steady.
Once Cherise had taken a few sips of her tea, Olivia felt ready to continue the conversation. “You asked about my baby,” she said. “I was forced to give my son up for adoption. Something I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” She held Cherise’s gaze. “I believe every mother should have the right to decide whether or not she will keep her child. It’s one of the reasons Ruth and I started Bennington Place.”
“Je comprends. I see.” Cherise set her cup aside. “To be fair, you should know what I do for a living.”
Olivia held up a hand. “We only need to know if you are in any danger. Or if your profession might bring danger here.”
“I do not think so. I worked as long as I could until I could no longer hide my condition. Then my . . . boss threw me out. He will not try to find me.”
“Do you have any family?” Olivia asked gently.
“Non.” Her mouth flattened into a hard red line.
There was a story there, Olivia was certain.
“Very well. Would you like to see our rooms?”
Cherise hesitated. “How many other women are here?”
“We have three so far. You will be the fourth.”
“Will I have to share a room?”
“For now, no. Eventually when we get more residents, you might have to.”
Relief eased the tension in her face. “And you do not require payment?”
“No.” Olivia smiled. “We only ask that you are respectful of everyone else and do your part to keep the house clean.”
“The others, they will not object to someone of my . . . profession being here?”
Olivia wished she could answer with any degree of certainty. But so far, the women had been very accepting of each other without being nosy about one another’s backgrounds.
“Everyone here has a story, Cherise. Some girls are open about their circumstances, some are not. We have a policy that none of our guests are to treat one another disrespectfully. So, unless you wish to tell them, they can only speculate.” She paused to soften her voice. “Though it might not hurt to wash off a little of your makeup.”
The woman’s shoulders stiffened, but she nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Olivia rose. “Let’s get you settled upstairs. Welcome to Bennington Place, Cherise.”
11
Olivia sat at the big oak desk in the office she now shared with Ruth and pored over the figures in front of her. For once she was grateful for her experience in keeping her parents’ books at the store, which allowed her to understand the intricacies of expenses versus income. The trouble was, she also knew when things weren’t going well. Biting her lip, she redid her calculations, then huffed out a loud breath.
In the red again.
Wincing, she recalled her optimistic words to Mr. Reed at the gala about not requiring their venture to make a profit. But they at least needed to break even. Somehow they would have to find a way to obtain more donations, or else drastically reduce their expenses. Maybe tonight she and Ruth could find time to sit down and go over each item, line by line.
The doorbell chimed. Olivia waited to see if one of the girls would answer.
Most of the women were too nervous to answer the door, in case it was someone they didn’t wish to see, like an angry partner or family member. Remaining invisible was a top priority for most of them, which was something Olivia wanted to work toward changing. No matter their circumstances, they were all children of God, deserving of compassion and forgiveness.
A second bell sounded.
It could be another woman in need of shelter. The thought of missing a potential resident spurred Olivia forward as she headed down the hall and opened the door.
Darius Reed stood on the stoop, a grin on his handsome face. “Good afternoon, Miss Rosetti. I’ve come to take you up on your challenge.”
She bit back her annoyance and schooled her features into a cool mask. “What challenge is that?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?” He stepped inside onto the mat. “As I recall, you encouraged me to set aside my preconceived notions and view your enterprise with an open mind.” He doffed his hat. “So here I am.”
Oh no. What had she gotten herself into? Olivia never dreamt he would take her literally. She studied him for a moment, frowning. “You could have telephoned first.”
“And you could have said no.”
She bit her lip. All the residents were upstairs at the moment. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to try and make Mr. Reed understand their goal in starting Bennington Place. Perhaps then he’d stop his campaign to discourage potential investors and to convince Ruth to sell. “Since you’re here, I guess I could show you around the
