Back in her hometown, Jenny had fantasized about one day enjoying New York life just like she was now.
Under the guidance of Denise and Leni, two sophisticated city women, Jenny went deep into purchasing more equipment for her work image.
Working at Dawling, she needed appropriate evening wear for formal occasions.
Also for the season's office attire, Jenny selected from the store's abundant merchandise a beige women's blouse, a light pink knitted cardigan, and a beige tea-length skirt.
Others included low-heeled leather flats, a stack of handkerchiefs, a two-ounce bottle of cologne, and a tin of eyebrow charcoal powder. Finally, she went to a bookstore and picked up a few old books at ten cents each.
Besides her newly issued salary, she also used part of her cousin White's angel sponsorship, spending over twenty dollars in total and returning fully loaded, with more than forty dollars left in savings.
Besides her, the other three also had their pockets drained, each buying an evening gown, making a huge contribution to Manhattan's economy.
The four had dinner at a street-side shop beneath their dormitory building.
The night was thick and the wind chilly. They laughed and squeezed into a small German-run restaurant, each ordering a sausage platter and sauerkraut, and Leni also had a beer.
She was the most miserable of the four, having to go back to the company early tomorrow morning for a half-day of overtime, drowning her sorrows in drink.
Jenny sat by the window, flipping through the restaurant's old menu, and asked curiously, "What do you do during overtime?"
She couldn't imagine what urgent situation the textbook department could have.
After all, textbooks weren't like serials; textbooks in New York State were under the Committee's authorization system—you had to produce the product first before selling it.
Leni raised her glass and downed most of the beer.
"Everything was fine half a year ago, until the Committee released this year's list of authorized textbooks.
Our series of textbooks had been authorized for five consecutive years, but somehow they didn't make the list this time, and tens of thousands of dollars in revenue just vanished."
"That was a huge mistake, directly causing Mr. Remiel Dawling, the partner in charge of our department, to lose the qualification to manage the Literature Department."
"Mr. Remiel's anger is now solely directed at us. Spring hasn't even arrived, yet he's already planned over a dozen books to produce and bought European textbooks for translated versions."
Just thinking about tomorrow's work gave Leni a headache.
Jenny expressed her deep sympathy, but mentioning these partners reminded her of the family secrets she knew. She just lowered her head and took a sip of lemonade.
"I remember someone mentioned that Remiel Dawling and Zweit Dawling are not full brothers. Um, Remiel's mother was Mr. Dawling's first wife," Monique brought up a piece of gossip about Remiel.
She hadn't known about those things in the textbook department before, but now it all clicked.
"Yes, Mr. Remiel's mother was the daughter of the company's initial printing press supplier. Later, she died of illness, and Mr. Dawling married the daughter of Mr. Shorch, a major shareholder of the Mercken Bank, and she gave birth to Mr. Zweit Dawling."
Denise whispered, "But this second Mrs. Dawling has already divorced Mr. Dawling, reportedly because of Mr. Dawling's adultery. If not for that reason, she wouldn't have been able to divorce."
When this topic came up, the whole table perked up, chattering about the rumors of that divorce lawsuit from back then.
It was late at night when they finished dinner. Jenny returned to the dormitory and tidied up for a while, putting everything into the cabinet. Only then did her roommate Polly come back from somewhere.
Polly came empty-handed, listlessly changed clothes, and lay down on the bed.
Seeing that Jenny seemed to have been out too, but only a few old books were visible in the room, Polly assumed Jenny had also only gotten the base salary this week and immediately lost any inclination to ask.
Polly thought that maybe Jenny, like her, had to send a large portion of her salary home as soon as she got it.
Jenny saw her eyes darting around, thinking that it was a good thing she had hidden her purchases quickly. After all, when out and about, it's better not to show off your wealth.
Tomorrow was the weekend, a legal holiday, and most people would choose to go to church for worship.
Jenny also planned to go to a church near City Hall in the morning, then visit the nearby dock market. She boiled water for a bath and went to bed early.
The next morning, New York was still drizzling, and the snow had completely melted.
Jenny dressed plainly, wrapped in a thick scarf, carrying an umbrella as she crossed the quiet dormitory yard and entered the bustling streets. After finishing her coffee on South Street, she walked alone to the church.
Before awakening with memories of her previous life, Jenny hadn't really believed in God.
But now, she had a bit more reverence for such things.
The nearest small church was near City Hall. As Jenny walked over, the hem of her skirt got wet.
She stepped under the white portico of the church, closed her umbrella, and turned to find that the chapel was already quite crowded. She found an empty seat in a corner to sit down.
After the service, Jenny sat quietly in the church corridor for a while.
She noticed someone next to her holding a morning newspaper published by Dawling, and wanted to buy one to read too, so she followed the distant figure of the newspaper boy.
Currently in New York, only Dawling's City Morning News was the most mainstream, comparable to London's Times and Paris's Le Petit Journal.
Newspaper business was the core of the company's operations, managed by the chief partner, Mr. Dawling himself, even though his health was not very good now.
Jenny only had a superficial understanding of the company's bosses, mostly from gossip passed down by colleagues.
She had already walked out of the corridor, but the newspaper boy she wanted to call out to was trotting away.
Jenny followed all the way to the side door of the church.
She suddenly saw a familiar person sitting in a carriage by the road near the side door, buying a newspaper from the boy.
This time it was none other than her actual boss, the magazine partner Claude Dawling.
No wonder—today was Sunday, and almost all the devout residents living nearby would come to church. Besides, Dawling Building was right in the vicinity, so it was normal to see Dawlings everywhere.
At the last departmental dinner, Jenny had memorized her boss's face from a distance. Now she recognized him immediately. She stood far away, watching with admiration, envying his lucky birth.
Claude was the fifth among his cousins, about twenty-six years old. He had graduated from university only a few years ago but was already a partner and a member of the company's Publishing Committee.