Chapter Four

Spring 1953…

Margaret Rand glanced at her watch. She was going to be late for her appointment with Headmistress Sister Benita. It was after four by the time she parked her car in the Holy Angels Orphanage parking lot. She’d been delayed at the laundry and then she’d had to go home to change before coming to the orphanage. Fraught with excitement, she tried to steady her racing nerves - one didn’t adopt a child every day of the week. As she made her way across the parking lot, she vaguely realized the orphanage building and grounds reminded her of days gone by at St. Catherine’s.

The orphanage stood on several groomed acres. Intersecting crushed stone walkways ran beneath stately old stands of oak, elm, and hemlock. The main building was an imposing four-story rectangular structure clad in weather-stained red brick. Several tall brick chimneys rose like towers from the Mansard roof. Small outbuildings and a brick coach house surrounded the main building. A tall iron fence covered in thick vine ran around the perimeter of the property and blocked the view from the road. The term faded elegance came to mind.

She had carefully chosen her outfit for this first interview. Not too formal, but not casual either. She’d purchased new heels and a pretty silk print for the meeting. A white straw pillbox with netting that covered her face was pinned on her head. She had not worn a bra in years and was not wearing one today. Even though her ample breasts were jiggling like mad, she thought her waist-deep bosom projected a more maternal image. Her eyes had to adjust quickly from the bright sunshine to the dimly lit orphanage interior. Dark paneling covered the reception foyer walls. The floor was a mosaic of black and white tiles. Margaret loved sunshine and fresh air. Why didn’t the staff throw open the windows and air out this musty old place?

An older woman in a long-sleeved blouse was seated at the receptionist’s desk. Her hair was swept up in a turn-of-the-century pompadour. When she rose from her desk, Margaret had to admire her uniform, a long dark skirt and tailored blouse that reminded Margaret of the shirtwaists so popular at the turn of the century. How composed and grandmotherly she looked. The woman smiled at Margaret as she approached and extended her hand. “You must be Mrs. Rand. I am Miss Lillian. How nice to meet you. Please have a seat while I let Headmistress know you’re here.”

Margaret was too nervous to sit. As her eyes swept the foyer, she spotted a polished brass plaque behind the receptionist’s desk. Moving closer, she read the inscription.

“Frequent paddlings turn bad boys into good boys.”

Mother Miriam - Founder Holy Angels Orphanage - 1881.

No wonder the place smelled musty. She thought it was a wonderful saying and