 |
| Welcome to my Blog! Wander through worlds real and fictional, meet interesting people, visit exciting places and find good books to enjoy along the way! |
 |
| About the Book |
 |
| an excerpt |
Chapter 8: Elena - September 1933
The rain had been misting all morning. It clung to Elena’s skin, her hair, the wool of her coat and the silk of her stockings. By the time she and William reached the fairgrounds, her shoes were damp and her skirt stuck to her calves. It was “Florida Day” at the fair, designed to celebrate warmth and sunshine, but she felt cold and miserable as the wind cut straight through her coat.
Inside the Federal Building, everyone was jammed shoulder to shoulder. Heat rose up to steam overhead as a brass band in the back blared.
Though William seemed energized by the noise, Elena was overwhelmed. She fanned herself with a pamphlet and tried to keep from snapping. At seven months pregnant, the last thing she wanted was to stand in an overcrowded room breathing other people’s air.
A politician on stage droned on and on about Florida. The citrus groves and strawberry fields, sugarcane and cheap land, hope and opportunity. William nodded along, looking more enthusiastic with each passing minute.
But Elena barely listened. The room smelled of wet wool and floor polish, and her stomach didn’t appreciate the combination. She concentrated on breathing. Slowly, carefully. The nurse’s paper had said to avoid stress. To rest. To be calm. And she was trying her best to follow those instructions.
When the speeches finally ended, the crowd spilled into the Hall of States. There, the Florida exhibit looked absurd against the gray, cloudy skies. It was the only place in Chicago that seemed to be pretending it was July. Tropical flowers. Spanish tiled pathways. Rows of coffee and palm trees. Sugarcane and pineapple plants. Orange trees as far as the eye could see, as if they’d been lifted straight out of a postcard.
A young woman in a gray dress much too plain for the occasion and a thin coat that could not possibly be keeping her warm was speaking to a cluster of people gathered around one of the orange trees. Her damp hair was flattened to her forehead. She appeared no older than a teenager, not someone who had the authority to speak about anything at all. Yet those around her seemed to be listening to every word.
“In Florida,” she said, “orange trees can live sixty years if they’re well cared for. One tree alone can yield a hundred pounds of fruit.”
William’s head turned. He drifted toward the group. Elena had no choice but to follow.
The woman continued. “Can you imagine what you could get from ten acres? Or a hundred?”
A man in the crowd scoffed. “What does a woman know about any of this?” He walked off.
The woman paused for a moment, then she kept speaking. She described pruning, explained citrus mold and disease control. William squeezed his way toward the front of the crowd, but Elena hung behind.
“How do you know so much?” William asked the woman, once the others began to disperse.
“My husband arranged this entire display.” She beamed. “I’ve helped him—”
“He must be extremely capable.” William smiled in that way he did when he decided someone would be of use to him. He handed her his business card. It had his name, William Wagner, in black script. The woman tucked it into her purse. In his notebook, William wrote down her telephone number.
Then, the woman plucked a green orange from a tree. She dug her fingernail into the rind and held it up to her nose.
As she spoke and gestured, William took notes.
Elena rolled her eyes. This was taking too long. The rest of the World’s Fair was waiting. She stepped forward and shook her husband’s arm. “This girl doesn’t have the slightest clue what you’re doing, darling. A random stranger coming up to her in the middle of the World’s Fair. It must be so intimidating.”
Elena looked at the young woman and smiled. “Isn’t that right?” But the woman didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything Elena was saying. She was staring directly at Elena’s stomach. Her face had gone pale.
Elena angled herself closer. “Did you hear me?”
“I’m sorry.” The girl’s voice came out strained. “I have to go.” She bowed her head, handed the orange to William, and slipped away into the crowd.
Elena watched her go, a bit stunned by how quickly she vanished. “What was that all about?”
William placed the orange at the base of the tree. “You didn’t have to do that.” He put his notebook back into his coat pocket. “I was making a connection. If I can find someone who really understands what’s going on down in Florida—”
“Then what?” Elena snapped.
He shrugged. “It sounds like it could be a really good opportunity.”
Her stomach rolled, but this time she couldn’t blame it on the baby. “You’re thinking of moving to Florida?”
“Maybe.” He meandered around the exhibit, pausing at the palm trees, the sugarcane, the tomato plants. “The Midwest has been in a drought for years,” he said, more to himself than to her. “Their farms are dying and Florida is…” His sentence trailed off, like the answer was obvious.
Elena took William’s arm and steered him toward the exit. “That girl was a mess.” Didn’t he notice her stringy hair? Her wrinkled dress? Her coat that couldn’t have cost more than a dollar? “I doubt that much of what she said was true.”
“But what if it was?” he asked.
Elena hesitated, not sure how to respond.
“Exactly,” he said. “Everyone here is looking for opportunity, but not everyone knows how to find it like I do.”
“In Florida?”
He just smiled.
 |
| https://mybook.to/COURAGE-Anthology |
You might also like books written by Helen Hollick
nautical supernatural adventure
ghosts : non-fiction
 |
| 2025 annual award winner |
THANK YOU!
