{"id":991,"date":"2019-02-08T12:14:38","date_gmt":"2019-02-08T17:14:38","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=991"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:06:52","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:06:52","slug":"a-fair-to-remember","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/a-fair-to-remember\/","title":{"rendered":"A Fair to Remember"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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A Fair to Remember<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Suzie Johnson<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Buffalo, New York, Pan-American Exposition<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara Lambert thought being a Kodak girl at the World\u2019s Fair would an adventure\u2013but she never expected to end up photographing the attempted assassination of President McKinley.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

James Brinton, a disgraced police officer now working as a security officer for the Expo, hopes to redeem his good name. And perhaps, if luck is on his side, gain a job with the president\u2019s security agency.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Clara is accused of being involved in the assassination attempt, James is already falling in love with her. Now he must work to prove her innocence. But when she\u2019s arrested, he has to do the one thing he promised her he\u2019d never do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

James and Clara must each learn about forgiveness<\/a> before they can find their way back to each other.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Forrest Gump was known for saying that life was like a box of chocolates. You never knew what you were going to get.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Pan-American Exposition<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Buffalo, New York<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

September 6, 1901<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Joy\nsprang through Clara Lambert\u2019s veins like an exuberant child, out-rivaling even\nthe most excited of voices shouting to be heard just outside the doors of the Temple\nof Music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Like\nevery other building and structure at the Pan-American Exposition, the Temple\nof Music was a carefully designed architectural work of art, teeming with color\nand light. Not the least of which rose overhead in a magnificent dome of\nstained glass. Backlit by the remainder of the day\u2019s sunshine, the shades of\nblue and yellow sparkled brilliantly. Clara marveled that mere men were capable\nof creating such beauty. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\ncamera she clutched under her arm would certainly never replicate what the\nnaked eye could behold, and it definitely couldn\u2019t capture the color. But it\nwould be a lovely reminder. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With\nboth hands, she positioned the rectangular wooden box toward the dome. Angled\nsuch as it was, she was unable to look through the viewfinder. She\u2019d just have\nto trust the photograph would record the image in a way that would do justice\nto the beauty overhead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When\nshe pressed the button, the now familiar whir and click of the camera indicated\nit had indeed performed its job with all of the ease her boss, Mr. Eastman,\npromised. Once processed, the film inside the camera would produce a permanent\nreminder of this most special of days.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The day she would\nmeet President William McKinley. <\/em>Not only was she, Clara Lambert, standing\nright next to the platform where President McKinley would officially greet the\nmen and women waiting to fill the giant auditorium, she would be one of the\nfirst to shake his hand. The opportunity to meet him before taking photographs\nas he shook hands with the public had been pre-arranged by Mr. Eastman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nneeded to be careful not to waste her film. Each spool held six exposures, and\nshe only had one other unused spool in her bag. The others must have spilled\nout of her bag when she replaced the film in the camera after her visit to\nNiagara Falls. This was either the second or third photograph she\u2019d taken on\nthis spool. That left only a few for the president before she had to change the\nfilm\u2014if she had the opportunity to sit down and do so. Not that she could do\nanything about it now. She glanced around the huge room. Once the auditorium\nfilled up, there may not be a spot for her to reload the camera. The police\nofficer who\u2019d escorted her inside told her there were hundreds of people\nwaiting in the heat so they could shake hands with the president. She\u2019d been\never so fortunate not to be one of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why\nhad she been foolish enough to snap photos before she met the president? In\ncase she couldn\u2019t change the film, she\u2019d have to take extra care when she\nphotographed him to ensure the pictures wouldn\u2019t be blurry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once\nagain, like earlier today, Clara could scarcely believe her good fortune. This\nwas most definitely a day to remember. Though she didn\u2019t get the opportunity\nthen to meet him as she would this evening, Clara did get to photograph President\nMcKinley and his wife earlier today as they took in the sights at Niagara\nFalls. Like many Buffalo residents who\u2019d wanted to be at the Falls at the same\ntime as the president, Clara had taken the train in hopes of seeing the president\nand Ida McKinley. They hadn\u2019t posed, and likely didn\u2019t even know she\u2019d taken\ntheir photo. She\u2019d definitely been blessed to have the opportunity to take more\nthan one photograph of the couple who were so obviously devoted to each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of\nthe four photographers led inside the great room by one of Buffalo\u2019s police\nofficers, Clara was the only female. She stood where instructed, just to the\nleft of center stage, which wasn\u2019t actually the stage in this enormous\nbuilding. The elaborate stage was really in back of her. The entire middle\nsection of seating had been removed, effectively creating a large center aisle,\nand at the back of the room was a slightly elevated platform draped with\npatriotic bunting. This struck her as odd since the music room\u2019s fancified\nstage was one of the most intricate she\u2019d ever seen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nsmall group of crisply-suited officers filed in. They wore uniforms that were specially\ndesigned for the Pan\u2014the shortened nickname local people gave the Pan-American\nExposition. Though their features were schooled to appear stern and official,\nshe could tell by a faint lift to most of their mouths that they were proud to\nwear the uniform and to be here in this room while the public greeted the\npresident. Clara wished she could spare the film to snap their photographs.\nEach man took a spot along the floor at the bottom of the platform and\nestablished themselves in pairs\u2014six on each side.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the men, the\none closest to her, glanced her way and her pulse sped up. From beneath the gold\ntrimmed bill of his snug fitting black cap, the dark, inky depths of his eyes\ndrew her gaze, and she couldn\u2019t look away. It had to be the excitement of the\nafternoon. Nothing more. Still Clara offered him a smile, shy at best, meant only\nto assure herself that the increase of her heartbeat was simply in response to\nthe knowledge that the president was about to walk in. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When\nthe officer didn\u2019t return Clara\u2019s smile, her heart pounded harder, its sound flooding\nher ears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well,\nthen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Drawing\nin a quick breath, she hoped the other photographers hadn\u2019t noticed. He might\nnot put forth the friendliest demeanor, but the men protecting the president\nhad to remain focused. True, the president wasn\u2019t in the room yet, but diligence\nwas a must. She grew up hearing about President Lincoln and how devastated the\ncountry was by his assassination. Something like that could never be allowed to\nhappen again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Footsteps\nsounded behind her, and Clara turned. Three men were making their way toward\nthe platform. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

President\nMcKinley.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\npresident wasn\u2019t a tall man. But the way he carried himself, the way he squared\nhis broad shoulders as he walked forward, gave off an air of confidence\u2014not in\nan imposing manner, though. At least not when he was greeting the public. Even\nnow as he continued down the aisle with the organist playing \u201cThe Star Spangled\nBanner,\u201dPresident McKinley smiled\nwith genuine warmth as he nodded to those inside the auditorium who stood at\nattention. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\ntwo men flanking the president stopped as they neared the platform. The\npresident stepped up, then turned and stepped back down. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll\njust stand here. It\u2019s friendlier.\u201d He was closer now, and beneath his bushy\neyebrows Clara could see joy radiating from his blue eyes. He truly enjoyed\nmeeting people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As\nhis men stepped off to one side, they effectively edged aside the closest\npolice officers. This seemed to cause upset among the officers as they looked\nat one another and whispered among themselves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally,\nthe president spoke up. \u201cGentlemen, don\u2019t be so concerned. There\u2019s no one here\nwho wants to hurt me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After\na few more whispers, they finally stood silent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nofficer with the dark brown eyes had his lips pressed together. Annoyed?\nConcerned? Clara couldn\u2019t tell. But while she was watching him, he met her gaze\nonce again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nflushed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Noise\nabruptly filled the auditorium then, as people began to stream from the four\nentrances of the Temple of Music. Thankfully that attracted the officer\u2019s\nattention, and he glanced at the president, then out toward the crowd. Fanning\nfrom either side of the platform, they were all corralled into a line that\neventually wended its way down the center aisle, their backs to the beautiful\nstage, facing the president. The line stopped about twelve feet from where he\nstood. He merely stood there, seemingly unconcerned, hands clasped in front of\nhim, smiling out at the people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara\nrather liked that about him. From all she\u2019d read about him, he had a true\nservant\u2019s heart. She considered it an honor to represent Mr. Eastman as she\nshook the president\u2019s hand and took an official photograph.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\npresident looked to the officer closest to him, the man with the brown eyes,\nand nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nofficer stepped toward Clara, never taking his eyes off her. Her pulse\nquickened as he stopped in front of her and held out his arm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLadies\nfirst.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now\nwould be a good time for one of those souvenir fans she used to sell when she\nworked in one of the Pan\u2019s many gift stores. She fluttered her hand in front of\nher face, wishing it were possible to wave calmness into one\u2019s essence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre\nyou all right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJust\na little nervous,\u201d she whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nofficer bent close. \u201cThere\u2019s no need. I had the opportunity to meet him\nearlier. He really is the kindest of men.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One\nhand gripping the officer\u2019s elbow, the other clasping her camera close to her\nside, Clara stepped forward. When they stopped in front of President McKinley and\nthe officer stepped away, her knees wobbled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Should\nshe curtsey? She hadn\u2019t given it much thought before now. How did one greet the\npresident of the United States?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood\nafternoon, young lady.\u201d The president held out his hand to shake hers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead\nof a quick handshake, as she\u2019d expected, Mr. McKinley clasped her hand in both\nof his and covered it in warmth. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMr.\nPresident. It is such an honor to meet you.\u201d Nerves made her voice crack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank\nyou, my dear. It is my own privilege and honor to be here.\u201d He tilted his head\ntoward her camera. \u201cAnd you\u2019re here to take my photo as well? A lady\nphotographer. I simply love it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In\nspite of her nerves, she managed to tell him the reason she was photographing\nhim. \u201cYes, sir. I\u2019m a Kodak Girl. We take snapshots at different fairs and\nevents for Mr. Eastman. He wanted me to be certain to take one of you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nwould be delighted.\u201d The president stepped back and posed for her. At first his\nexpression was stern, but then he raised the corners of his lips into a barely\nperceptible smile that softened his features. It was perfect.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Steadying\nher hands, Clara held the box at her waist and looked down at the viewfinder.\nShe adjusted the height of the camera until she could clearly see Mr. McKinley.\nThen she pressed the button, comforted by the sound of the gears as they turned\ninside the camera box.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank\nyou, sir.\u201d She smiled at him and stepped back toward her designated spot so she\ncould snap a couple more photos as he shook hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

By\nnow, people packed the enormous room. The line was long, winding all the way\nout the main doors, but no one made use of the seats. She would undoubtedly be\nable to sit down to change the film. She chided herself for her earlier worry.\nHer mother had always told her things had a way of working out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After\ntaking a couple more photographs, the counter on the top of the camera turned\nred. She sat down in one of the nearby aisle seats and slid the thin wooden\nplate off the back of the camera, revealing the inner workings. She carefully\nlifted out the wooden spool of wound film and placed it inside her bag. Then\nshe threaded the sharp end of the smooth and shiny new film through the\nmechanism before replacing the cover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nstood and brushed out the folds of her skirt. After straightening her hat, she\nadjusted the camera at her waist and stepped forward.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

President\nMcKinley was greeting a young gentleman with brown hair whose left hand was\nwrapped in some sort of bandage. As he reached out to shake the man\u2019s hand, the\nman shoved his injured hand toward the president.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nloud crack sounded in the air and the president\u2019s smile faded. He glanced\naround at the people nearby, seemingly bewildered. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another\ncrack filled the air, and this time the president staggered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Officers\nfrom all directions sprang into motion, running toward the president at the\nsame moment the man turned toward the crowd. Weak-kneed with horror, Clara\nrealized his hand wasn\u2019t injured after all. He was using the bandage to hide a\ngun.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Several\nmen from the crowd rushed forward and knocked the gunman to the ground. They\njumped on top of him, shouting and pummeling their fists in an effort to\nactually strike the man. Women screamed as people rushed toward the exit doors\nonly to find them blocked by armed officers and soldiers who had taken\nimmediate action to secure the building. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not\nfar from where she stood, officers had helped the president to the ground. He\nlay with a folded jacket under his head, cushioning him from the hard floor.\nSeveral men were bent over him, and in one horrible moment, Clara knew at least\none of the gunman\u2019s bullets had found its mark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t\nhurt him.\u201d The president\u2019s tone was weak, but Clara stood close enough to hear\nhis voice as it drifted near. Was he actually begging mercy for the man who\u2019d\njust shot him? Instead of worrying about himself? This was the kind of caring\nattitude that separated good men from great men. President McKinley was one of\nthe great ones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease,\nGod, please let him be all right.\u201d Unable to look away as the men tended to\nhim, she whispered the prayer over and over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally\na group of men rushed toward the president. Between them, they carried a white\nlitter. Before long, they had President McKinley bundled on to it. With a swift\ngentleness, they lifted him from the floor. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nlooked over at one of the men and reached out for his hand. \u201cBe careful how you\ntell my wife.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tears\nfilled Clara\u2019s eyes. She quickly dashed them away with the back of her hand,\nher heart aching for Ida McKinley and the news she was about to receive. But he\nwas alive, and talking, and filled with concern for his wife. That had to be a\ngood sign. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With\nexpert care and practiced efficiency, the men hurried past dozens of armed men\nand through the doors as if they carried precious cargo. Once the president was\non his way to a hospital, the soldiers, in uniforms of various styles and\ncolors, no doubt representing different services, continued to block the exits.\nStepping back toward the outer aisle of seats, she was struck with an\noverwhelming desire to collapse into a chair and process what she\u2019d just\nwitnessed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead\nshe did what Mr. Eastman hired her to do. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\ntook pictures.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease,\neveryone. Stay calm.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara\nhad her camera aimed at the men piled haphazardly on top of the man who\u2019d shot\nPresident McKinley. She was in the process of framing their image in the viewfinder\nfor what would be her final photograph. Instead, she turned toward the\nplatform, and to the man calling for attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\nwas him. The officer with the brown eyes. And he was slipping his arms into the\nsleeves of his jacket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So\nhe\u2019d been the one to place his jacket on the floor for the president. In spite\nof the situation, her heart warmed as she watched him smooth his hands over the\nfront of his jacket before fastening each shiny brass button. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGentlemen.\u201d\nThe handsome officer\u2019s glance focused on Clara. \u201cAnd ladies.\u201d His tone brought\na sudden heat to her cheeks. \u201cMy name is James Brinton. I\u2019m an officer with the\nBuffalo Police Department. We need you to be calm. The president is alive and,\nas you\u2019ve just seen, has been taken to the hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While\nhe spoke he tugged on a pair of white gloves, taking great care to make sure\nthe cuffs were tucked under the sleeves of his jacket. \u201cWe need your prayers\nfor his recovery. But we also need to ask each of you some questions. So for\nnow, no one can leave.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Much\nof the crowd groaned, but he ignored them, his gaze staying with Clara. \u201cWe\njust need to know what you saw and when you saw it, as well as if you are\nfamiliar with the man who shot the president. Do you know him? Do you recognize\nhim?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara\nlooked over at the angry mob of men still piled on top of one another, their\nfists still hammering at whatever they met\u2014usually each other since the man\nwith the gun was underneath them all. More than one of them would come out of\nthis with blackened eyes. Several policemen, all dressed in the same\nresplendent uniform as Officer Brinton, were in the process of pulling men out\nof the way in order to get to the man who shot the president.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease,\ngentlemen. Let us do our job. There\u2019s no need for more than one man to end up\nin jail tonight.\u201d Some of the men backed off, and Officer Brinton tipped his cap\ntoward them in thanks. He started to step off the platform but stopped and\nturned back, his gaze sweeping over Clara once again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll\ntry to be as fast and orderly as possible. After we\u2019ve talked with you, you\u2019ll\nbe free to go. Until then, please remain here in the auditorium. There are\nplenty of seats for the ladies among you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He\nmotioned to the rows of seats filling each aisle to the side of the platform.\nAnd as he did, dozens of women made their way in that direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank\nyou.\u201d Officer Brinton turned and left the podium. He headed toward one of\nseveral small groups of officers clustered about the room. Unlike the crowd,\nthese men were calm as they spoke to one another, likely coming up with their\nplan to question the unruly men and women who shouted and tried to force their\nway past the military soldiers who lined the walls and barred the exits with\ntheir rifles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So\nmany men to watch over one president, and still someone managed to shoot him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clara\u2019s\nheart sank and once again she whispered a prayer for President McKinley and his\nwife. Yesterday, after they\u2019d toured the fair and the president had given a\nspeech to thousands of the men and women eager to hear him, the first lady had\nbeen overcome with the heat. And again this morning, after their excursion to\nNiagara Falls, she\u2019d been overcome and was unable to be here for the reception.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nblessing in disguise, perhaps?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\nwould be devastating for the frail woman to receive such news about her husband,\nbut probably worse had she actually been witness to it. Thankfully he was alive\nand speaking, and Mrs. McKinley would be able to sit by his bedside as he\nrecovered\u2014instead of burying him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nseats around her rapidly filled with women, many of them appearing faint.\nEither from the heat or the shock of what they\u2019d just witnessed. Clara stepped\nback to be seated herself. She had yet to make eye contact with any other\nofficer, so she sincerely hoped Officer Brinton would be the one to ask her\nquestions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because\nthe seats faced the elaborate stage at the front of the auditorium, Clara found\nherself turned sideways in her seat so she could watch the proceedings as the\nofficers wrestled the shooter to his feet and hauled him toward the door. She\nstood, once again, and aimed her camera. As officers escorted him through the\nexit angry men struck out from all sides, pummeling him about the head and\nshoulders. They kicked at his legs, hitting more than one policeman in the\nprocess. When they were finally able to get the man through a wall of armed\nguards and out of the building, his ears burned a bright shade of red. Really,\nhe would be lucky if that was the least that happened to him as a result of his\ndespicable actions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Satisfied\nthat she\u2019d captured the event for her final photograph, Clara sat back down. Around\nher, the women\u2019s conversations were filled with idle gossip and chit-chat. It\nseemed so out of place under these circumstances. She thought again of the\nfirst lady and the message she was about to receive. It should be delivered\ngently. Was it even possible to tell such news in a gentle manner?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Who\nwas this man who\u2019d shot the president? He looked young, about her age. What kind\nof anger would prompt him to perform such an evil act? It was hard to fathom.\nPresident McKinley was wildly popular, as evidenced by the number of people in\nthis auditorium. One of the things that made people love him so much was his\nmanner with the public. It was the way he would greet them, and go out of his\nway to shake hands and listen to what people had to say. He cared. He truly\ncared. And above it all, the gregarious, ever smiling man always tended\nlovingly to his wife. And after he was shot, his first concern was for his wife\nand how she would receive this news. Clara prayed Ida McKinley would not be\nstricken ill when she heard of the attack on her husband.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Vaguely,\nshe became aware of someone standing in front of her. She blinked and shifted\nher focus to Officer Brinton. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d Clara looked up at him. Seated as she\nwas, he towered over her. But his expression was gentle. \u201cDid you say\nsomething?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\nasked if you were all right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Biting\ndown on her lower lip, Clara nodded. \u201cThank you. Yes. I\u2019m just\u2014\u201d She broke off\nand shook her head. \u201cIt\u2019s so sad. I don\u2019t understand why someone would do\nthis.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Officer\nBrinton tipped his head, as if he agreed. As he did so, the cap he wore hid his\nbrown eyes. \u201cMay I get you anything?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo.\nThank you. But do you know how long it will be before I can leave?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe\u2019re\nconducting interviews as quickly as possible. In the meantime please let one of\nus know if you need anything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before\nClara could thank him, he walked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Too\nlate, she knew there was indeed something she needed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExcuse\nme, Officer Brinton?\u201d She called out to him, but he continued to walk away,\nobviously having not heard her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nsat for another minute, trying to appear calm on the outside. But the inside\nwas a different matter altogether. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why\nhad she stopped by the refreshment stand on the Midway? Why had she been\ntempted by the icy cold bottle of Coca-Cola? After walking around in the hot\nsun, it had seemed like the perfect idea.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now,\nthough, it was becoming a problem.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Finally,\nClara stood and headed toward the exit of the auditorium, where both soldiers\nand policemen attempted to control a crowd of traumatized people who\u2019d come to\nsee the president. Instead they\u2019d witnessed the unthinkable. Now they just\nwanted to leave. Beyond them, just outside of the auditorium, on the wall in\nthe lobby of the Temple of Music, she saw what she was looking for.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\ncrush of people managed to force their way through the exit door on her right.\nAnd while the officers were duly distracted, Clara headed into the lobby and\ntoward the sign depicting an arrow with three very simple, but relieving words:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ladies\u2019 Comfort\nStations.<\/em>
<\/p>\n\n\n