In truth, the idea was appealing to Grace as well. It seemed so glamorous to work in a department store, something fine and grand like Woolworths with floors of items that extended the length of an entire block.

Mrs. Weatherford gave a secretive smile. “It just so happens I’m well acquainted with quite a few shop owners in London. I’m sure I can do something to help. And Colin works at Harrods. He can put in a good word as well.”

Viv’s eyes lit up as she mouthed the store name to Grace with barely restrained excitement.

Mrs. Weatherford took one of the yellow towels and lifted a plate from the rack, rubbing away the few remaining drops. “I must say, the two of you don’t sound at all like you’re from Drayton.”

Viv tilted her chin a notch higher. “Thank you. We’ve certainly tried. We’re hoping it will help with our employment.”

“How delightful.” Mrs. Weatherford opened a cabinet and replaced the plate within. “I trust you’ve procured letters of recommendation already?”

Viv had spent the day before their departure to London with a borrowed typewriter, carefully typing a letter of recommendation for herself. She’d offered to do one for Grace as well, but Grace had refused.

Mrs. Weatherford turned back to the drying dishes once more. Viv lifted her eyebrows at Grace, indicating she ought to have agreed.

“We do have letters of recommendation.” Viv spoke confidently for both of them, no doubt already scheming how she might produce a second one for Grace.

“Viv does,” Grace amended. “Unfortunately, I do not. My uncle refused to write a letter of recommendation for the time I spent at his shop.”

It had been his final offense, a retaliation for her “abandoning the store” where she’d worked for most of her life. He didn’t seem to care that his wife had insisted Grace find another place to live, only that Grace would no longer be at his beck and call.

The kettle gave a shrill cry and emitted a cloud of steam from its nozzle. Mrs. Weatherford pulled it from the stove, immediately cutting short its scream, and set it on a trivet.

She tsked as she scooped a spoonful of leaves into the tea ball before adding the boiled water to the teapot. “That’s a shame, a terrible shame.” She muttered something under her breath about Horace and settled the teapot on a silver tray with three teacups and a sugar and creamer set. She offered Grace a resigned frown. “They won’t take you at a department store without one.”

Grace’s stomach dropped to her toes. Perhaps she ought to have allowed Viv to forge her a letter after all.