New York City“As you can see, our workers are very busy,” Max Blanck explained to Charlie as he showed him around the work floor of his textile company, Triangle Shirtwaist. “We employee over six hundred workers, most of them young women. We prefer recent immigrants, as we want to give them the opportunity to make something of themselves.”Charlie was interested in visiting other textile companies since he would be running one himself someday—or at least he thought he would be. He was looking to do some investing of his own, and Triangle was known around the city for being able to fill large quotas quickly. Charlie wanted to see how it was done.As Mr. Blanck continued to talk up his establishment, Charlie couldn’t help but notice the girls all looked tired and worn out. The factory was stuffy without a lot of ventilation. The area was also very crowded. “How much are their wages?” Charlie asked, cutting off the s

SouthamptonRuth was growing into quite the curious little child, and though Patsy kept her most of the time during the day while Kelly and Daniel worked, Meg insisted on letting her stay from time to time so that she could spend the day playing with the little one.At nearly two, she was in constant motion, always getting into things and running about. Meg liked to take her outside and push her in the pram. Ruth often had a better idea and would climb out and play in the flowers. She seemed to like the lilacs and oleander the best, too, but Meg was always very careful to make sure she never put any of the plants in her mouth. She knew that oleander was extremely poisonous.Ruth had fiery red hair, the same color as her mother’s, which curled up at her neck. Her vocabulary was immense for such a small child, and she kept Meg on her toes answering inquiries and explaining what different items were. She loved to look at picture books, particularly of animals

SouthamptonMeg awoke to the sound of voices coming up through the radiator pipe. She blinked a few times and then looked at the time. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. Who could her mother possibly be speaking to?Slipping on the pink robe her mother had given her for Christmas last year (possibly the only gift her mother had ever given her that she actually liked), she crept over to have a better listen.She could clearly recognize her mother’s voice, but the man’s seemed foreign to her. She tried to piece together the conversation the best she could to determine who he was and what he might be doing there.“There’s no way out, I can assure you,” he was saying. “I’ve spent years trying to come up with something… anything… but it’s legally binding.”“Perhaps there’s another attorney we can speak to,” her mother replied.“I’ve spoken

Meg had never been in a bank before, and she wasn’t quite sure what one was to do. When she walked in, she saw a teller behind a counter talking to another customer and a few other workers scurrying about. She decided the intelligent thing to do would be to get in line behind the other person and wait her turn.It only took a moment for the other gentleman to finish his business before Meg found herself looking into the smiling face of an older fellow who wanted to know how he could help her. “Good day,” she began. “My name is Mary Margaret Westmoreland, and I am of the understanding that my father, Henry Westmoreland, may have opened an account for me before his death. It’s been several years ago….”Before she could finish, the teller was nodding. “Oh, yes. Miss Westmoreland, it’s very nice to meet you. Please wait one moment while I go and retrieve the president, Mr. Rogers.”Meg nodded, and the fell

CharlieIt was half past nine, and Mary Margaret still hadn’t made her appearance. Charlie slipped his pocket watch back inside of his jacket and took another sip of his drink. Surely, she’d be there soon. What could possibly be keeping her?“It’s not like her to be late,” Alise mentioned, sliding up next to him.“She said she’d be here at nine,” Charlie sighed. “You’re certain she’s not here?”“I don’t see her,” the debutante replied.“At least you know what she looks like,” Charlie muttered.“I told you. She’s tall with blonde hair and a witty smile. She’ll light up the room as soon as she walks in, and half a dozen young fellows will trip over themselves scrambling to have their turn to spin her around the dance floor. She dances like a ... a swan.”Charlie couldn’t help but chuckle at the description.