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way, drape our blankets across the space, and we’ll have a private dressing room!”
    Thump. Isabelle used her heel to hit something beneath the bed. “Are you forgetting our baggage is under here?”
    “I’ll stack it to the side whenever you need me to, lamb.”
    Millicent gave her brother-in-law a look of gratitude. He understood her sister’s penchant for fretting. He and Millie had an unspoken agreement: Between his patience and her creativity, they managed to help Isabelle control her worries. A week on this ship was going to take every shred of their collective strength.
    Isabelle straightened her shoulders. “Once we reach America, I’ll forget all about this.”
    Frank sat at Isabelle’s side, his knees hitting the neighboring bunk. “I’ve been thinking of what we’ll do in America.”
    “You’ve thought of little else since you decided we ought to go.” Affection coated Isabelle’s words.
    Frank leaned forward. “Emporiums and catalogues sell ready-to-wear clothing. We need to cater to the more discriminating clientele. The wealthy won’t blink at purchasing pricey items. It wouldn’t take but a few customers, and word of mouth would take care of the rest. New York will be teeming. I was considering Baltimore or Boston. What do you think, Isabelle?”
    Isabelle shivered. Millicent opened her shawl and shared its warmth. “Someplace sunny.”
    Teatime came and went without a single morsel of food or a drop of something to drink. Millicent ignored her rumbling stomach. Judging from the dismal accommodations, they’d be fortunate if dinner was edible. Millicent stood. “Why don’t we go out on deck?”
    Frank winced. “It’s crowded out there.”
    “Some fresh air does sound good.” Isabelle’s gaze swept the compartment, and she murmured, “Is it safe to leave our things untended?”
    “Sooner or later, we’ll have to.” Millicent shoved the bracelet beneath her cuff. “But it’s wise to keep anything with us that’s small and tempting.”
    Isabelle’s hand went up to her throat. Beneath the high neck of her blouse lay Mama’s locket. She never took it off. “I suppose my worry was for naught. We didn’t have anything of much value to bring.”
    Millicent turned and eased into the aisle. Proud of herself for making it through without bumping her bustle or banging her head, she beamed. As soon as she saw the stingy four-by-ten-foot area where the steerage passengers could catch a breath of air, Millicent decided complaining wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she squeezed ahead and tugged Isabelle along. “The salty air smells like the broth we made—remember?”
    “Oh, I’d forgotten about that.” Isabelle giggled. She couldn’t turn, so she craned her neck and looked up at Frank. “One Christmas, since most of the other girls went home to be with their families, the cook let Millie and me spend time in the kitchen with her. We each thought she told us to add salt, so it got a double measure. In order to remedy the mistake, Cook kept having us add other things to the pot.”
    “It was the best soup I ever had.” Millie turned her face into the little tunnel of fresh air that angled between two men.
“Isabelle, do you—”
    “Attention! I’ll have your attention!” A crew member called down from the deck above. “We’ve a passenger who requires a nanny.”
    “Millie.” Isabelle prodded her.
    Pain washed over Millicent. She’d poured her love into Audrey and Fiona, only to have them ripped from her care. Never again. I can’t do that again.
    “I can mind a child!” A rawboned woman waved her arm in the air. A few more volunteered, as well.
    “You—” The sailor pointed at the first woman. “Go to the starboard stairway.”
    “Millie, you should have spoken up. Don’t you think so, Frank?”
    While Frank nodded, Millicent shook her head. “No. I couldn’t. We’re going to stay together.”
    “That’s not the real reason, is it?” Isabelle’s eyes