of New York and Newport: 10 Final
finds more than he ever expected. I cannot thank you all enough for
sticking with this series. Your comments, emails and general support has
been inspiring. I hope you enjoy this chapter, the series finale.
Author's Note: If you do enjoy this chapter, please consider leaving me a review? I truly do appreciate them. ~Clara
This version of On Becoming Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport: 10 Final has been updated with many corrections towards spelling and grammar.~Sephrena.
Image Credit: Image created through the use of ai at https://perchance.org/beautiful-people .~Sephrena.
Chapter 10
From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport'
"It was truly amazing how quickly we were able to gather donations for 'Harper House,' as my enterprise came to be called. We started by acquiring and adapting a large, old place on the East Side which would eventually house approximately one hundred mothers and children. We then turned our attention to establishing a reliable means of feeding and clothing the residents once they arrived.
By the second week following our return to Manhattan, Father demanded that my 'offices' be removed from our townhouse as quickly as possible. With that in mind, Langdon found us a suite of offices two blocks from our home with a large 'partners desk' for Miranda and me to share and several smaller areas for the staff that we would need, eventually.
With the support of Mr Samuel Clemens and his friends, as well as the friends of both my mother and sister, we were nearly ready to open the doors of our first Harper House. Every day, our offices were abuzz with excited and generous women who were coming and going with checks from their husband's accounts and suggestions of how we could feed and clothe our soon to be tenants.
With the help of the wife of the owner of Delmonico's Restaurant, we found a farmer on Long Island who was willing to help us out with a discount on beef, chicken and vegetables. With the help of Mrs Astor, we found a charitable organization that already clothed the poor through donations. They were very happy to work with us as well.
The biggest problem was milk. Milk in the city was of a notoriously poor quality. Swill milk, milk from cows fed from the swill of breweries, was the most common and was a very poor excuse for a nourishing supplement. It was also not uncommon for the purveyors of swill milk to 'enhance' the quality of this beverage with everything from plaster dust to cow puss.
It was a cool Thursday morning in October, when I hired a carriage to take me to a farm in Harlem that had an excellent reputation for producing a high quality, wholesome product. It was my first unaccompanied trip and I was more than a bit nervous about being alone, but bound and determined to present myself as a mature and selfpossessed woman.
The owner, a Mister Sturdevant, was a very well spoken fellow who was justly proud of his farm and the food it produced. Once he became aware of our undertaking, he was eager to help. He offered us a small discount to start, but promised that he would reconsider his prices in a year if our partnership proved beneficial.
I was feeling very mature and powerful as my carriage pulled up in front of the building that housed our offices on 7th Avenue. I paid and tipped my driver and walked up the stairs, eager to tell Miranda of my victory, but even before I entered our offices, I could hear that something was happening inside. A man's voice was growling menacingly and Miranda's voice was harsh and scolding in response to each masculine growl.
When I opened the door, I was shocked to find the man had piled all of our files into boxes and our furniture into the center of the room. He was instructing two other, very large men, to remove everything.
The man turned and looked at me, disdainfully and barked, "Who are you?"
"These are my offices," I said with pretend bravado. "My name is Louisa Harper. MISS Louisa Harper Who are you?"
"I own this building," he shouted at me, "and I am not going to lease space in my building to a female - and a child at that. Find somewhere else to wile away your free time, young lady. This is a place of business - where MEN do business - and I will not allow a parade of silly females to interfere with the comings and going's of men with serious work to do."
My hackles were already raised as I stepped forward and grabbed a folder of paperwork from his hands. "'Silly women?'" I shouted. "'Serious work?' I am trying to help those less fortunate with the work we do in this office, sir, and I would appreciate it if you and your oxen leave this minute."
His smirk was more off putting than his frown had been. "Do you think that you have the right to speak to me that way, child? I guess that Mr Harper spared the rod with you, eh? Well let me be very clear, young Miss Harper, I have no compunction against putting you across my knee right this very minute and teaching you how to speak to your elders and your betters."
The blood in my face was boiling and I was about to spit directly in the face of this pig when we all heard a voice shout, "What on earth is going on here, Marguliese?"
When I turned, I was both relieved and a bit angered to see Langdon entering. Relieved that there was someone arriving who could speak rationally to the building owner, but angered that I was going to have to defer to a man to speak for me. Even if that man was Langdon, it was still demeaning.
Suddenly, the man's attitude changed. "Ahh, Mr Beech-Thorndyke. Very nice to see you, sir, but I do believe that we have a rather big problem."
Langdon shut the door behind him and strutted into the office. He put his hands in the pockets of his breeches, pushing his coat back. With his vest exposed, he looked much tougher than I'd ever seen. "And what is the nature of this problem, Marguliese?"
"Well, sir, you see, I do not rent to women, Mr Beech-Thorndyke, and you never informed me that this office would be used as a hen house for women to congregate in. So, I need to vacate this office immediately so that I may rent it to a man, sir." The man's growl had softened considerably.
"In fact, Marguliese, you do rent this space to a man - me. My name is on the lease and I am subletting to Miss Louisa Harper, one of two women designated to inherit the Harper Financial empire. There are no laws prohibiting me from doing so. You can go to City Hall and check, if you'd like. While you are there, perhaps you could stop into Mayor Grant's office and explain to him that you want to evict his protégé, Miss Louisa Harper, for no reason other than her unwillingness to be a man."
"Yes, Mr Beech-Thorndyke, but the issue is not just Miss Harper, sir. The problem is that this office is occupied by dozens women throughout the day, sir. Unchaperoned, unsupervised women, sir. It's just not right, sir, and some of the other tenants are complaining, you see."
"I see," Langdon smirked, then looked at me and winked. "May I speak to you in the main office, Marguliese? Out of the ear shot of the women. Man to man, as it were."
The building owner nodded. "Yes, of course, sir." Then he looked at the two burly men he'd brought with him and told them to wait. Then, he and Langdon retreated to the office - MY office - and closed the door.
For the next ten minutes or so, the two men chatted while Miranda and I waited impatiently in the reception area with the two overly muscled workers.
"Begging your pardon, Misses," one of the men said to us. "I just want to say that, well, I think that the work you're trying to do here is worthwhile. I'm sorry that we have to do this. It's our job, you see. Nothing personal."
I looked at Miranda, who forced a smile and said, "Well, thank you. That means a lot to us."
There was a silence until the men began talking to each other.
"It feels pretty personal," I muttered to my sister.
"Hush, Louisa," was her quiet response.
When, at last, Langdon and Marguliese emerged from the main office, the building owner tipped his hat to us saying, "Ladies," and headed to the door, motioning for his assistants to follow him.
When the door had closed, I looked at Lanny and shrugged. "So?"
He smiled a very self satisfied smile and said, "So - the office is yours."
Miranda and I exchanged confused looks. "And he will never interfere with our business again?"
His smiled broadened. "No, he will not. He has no reason to, Louisa, because YOU now own the building?"
"I..." I was flummoxed by his statement. "How can I possibly own this building?"
"I just bought it for you, my darling. Happy birthday."
Barely able to comprehend what he'd just said, I stuttered, "My birthday isn't until March."
"Well, then, Merry Christmas. Or just... Happy Thursday. The point is, the building is now yours to do with as you please."
Miranda shook her head. "Lanny, you are unbelievable. Louisa is only FIFTEEN. Even if she were a boy, she still could not legally own a building."
"Then I shall hold it in trust for her until she comes of age."
"Yes, Lanny, but she will still be a woman..."
Langdon wrapped his arms around me from behind and smiled at Miranda. "Then we must use the time we have between now and then to find a good lawyer to make it possible for a woman to own a property like this one. Honestly, Miranda, you have a terrible knack of over complicating things."
My sister scoffed at that, but her attitude was becoming more playful. "So, this is it, then? You and Louisa are going to change the world all by yourselves."
He winked and kissed my temple, a very brazen gesture for an unmarried couple. "That's the plan, Miranda, but not alone. We need your help, too."
"Hey, John, can I see you for a minute before you leave?"
"Yeah, sure, Chief," John nodded as he turned from the exit and headed into the office of The Chief of Police of Portsmouth, Rhode Island - a much more auspicious sounding title than the job deserved. Yes, the Chief had put in his time and learned the job from the ground up, but he only oversaw three full time police officers and five part timers. John, of course, was a part timer, but he had more hours during his summer hiatus from school than he normally had the rest of the year.
"What's up?" He asked as he entered the office. He'd just finished a ten hour, overnight shift and, although he wasn't all that sleepy, he was anxious to get back to the Collins' house to see Annie.
"Shut the door," the Chief didn't look up.
That caught John by surprise. "Sounds serious," he half-joked as he closed the door and waited to find out if he'd screwed up in some way.
The Chief sighed and nodded. "I'm assuming that you haven't been listening to the local news for the last few hours."
He shook his head. "No. Why?"
The Chief examined the tiles in the old drop-ceiling for a good few seconds before saying, "There's a big hubbub going on over in Newport. At Golden Bluffs."
John's skin tingled. "What's going on?"
"Well, it seems that someone let it leak to some far right wing website that Quinn Collins, the person representing America's first feminist, is a boy and that story made national news last night. Now, there's a slew of whacko zealots protesting on the lawn. So far, there's only been a few interactions, but you know what these people are like, John. It could get ugly down there."
"Shit," John uttered, not even thinking that he was speaking to his commanding officer. "Is Quinn ok?"
"As far as I know." The Chief sat back in his seat. "Look, John, we may not be very good at showing it, but when that accident wiped out that family... Quinn became very important to some of us and we have a vested interest in seeing that he is ok, but I have no authority in Newport and I can't send you down there as a cop. I know you, though, and I know that your first instinct is going to be to run down there and be Quinn's savior. I have to advise you not to do that. There is no scenario in which that would be a smart move. If you have any interaction with those people, even if you're out of uniform, the press will see it as an officer over stepping his authority. And the truth is, John, they'd be right."
"So... what do I do?"
The Chief raised his eyebrows and spoke sympathetically. "I know that you're seeing Quinn's sister, John. Go sit with her. There's not much else you can do right now."
Ricky's phone was ringing. He'd worked a late shift at the Verizon Store and then stayed up way too late to watch 'Key Largo' with Grandpa Bill. So he'd planned to sleep-in that morning. He opened one eye and looked at the caller ID. 'Joe.' Then he glanced at the clock. 9:03am. Ugh. He'd hoped to stay asleep till at least eleven.
He pressed the accept button. "Joe, it's too early. Call back in a few hours."
"Dude, this is really serious. Something's happening at Golden Bluffs and I think Quinn's in trouble. Big trouble. Dude, they're saying she's a guy." Joe's voice was excited and the fact that he'd called Ricky 'dude' twice indicated he was very agitated.
Ricky sat up quickly. "What? What are they saying!? What's going on!?"
Just then, Ricky's bedroom door flew open. "Ricky, you'd better come down stairs right now! Quinn's in trouble. Big trouble!" Fiona's voice was just as excited as Joe's and she looked very upset.
Ricky was already pulling the sheet off of himself and headed to the door in his tee shirt and boxers. "Joe, I'll call you later."
"Ricky, wait!" Joe shouted into the phone.
"What?" Ricky was already hustling down the stairs behind Fiona.
"Is Quinn really a guy?"
Ricky grunted. "Joe, she's my girlfriend, ok? That's all you need to know."
"Yeah... got it. Sorry, dude. Let me know if I can help."
Ricky entered the front room of the first floor where all eight sisters, their mother and Grandpa Bill were watching a corespondent reporting on Good Morning America that a well known, far-right sect of a conservative religious group was mounting a protest on the grounds of one of the most historic properties in America because it had come to their attention that one of America's greatest women was being represented by a boy. In fact, 'boy' was the nicest noun he heard them use. In interviews with the protestors, he heard the girl he loved referred to as 'a fag,' 'a female impersonator,' 'a fairy,' and 'a drag queen.'
It was all so hurtful and upsetting that Ricky couldn't even process what was happening.
Then he heard Cathy's voice behind him, speaking into her phone. "Hi. Look, I need to call out today. Yeah, I know and I'm sorry, but one of my sisters is in trouble and she needs my help. Yeah. Sorry. Bye."
Ricky was about to thank his sister when he heard Alice's voice. "Hi, this is Alice Briggs. I won't be in today. We have a family crisis. One of my sisters needs our help. Thanks."
Then it was Beatrice's voice. Then Grace's. Then Ellen's. Then Isabella's. Then Hannah's. And all of them said 'my sister needs my help.'
In his haze of wonderment, Fiona's arm was suddenly around his torso and her head was against his shoulder. "She needs all of us, now, Ricky."
Ricky put his arm around Fiona and looked around the room, his eyes watering. "Thanks, guys." He said very quietly. "Now... what do we do?"
Grandpa Bill's arm came around Ricky from the other side. "Well, we don't do anything confrontational, pal. That's what those people want us to do. I think the first thing we should do is call Annie and make sure that she's ok. Then, maybe we can coordinate efforts with her. Ok?"
"Ok, grandpa."
From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport'
~ "Langdon's rash decision to purchase the building soon turned into a problem as nearly all of the tenants began to move their businesses elsewhere. This left Langdon, well, Langdon and me, with a big mortgage and no income from the building. He didn't say so, but I could tell that he was very concerned that he may have been too rash in his actions and was afraid that he would soon be bankrupt because of it.
"What on earth can you do about it?" Miranda asked after I'd shared my concerns and my intentions to help my fiancé with her.
"Find tenants," I explained, matter of factly. "It shouldn't be too hard. People need offices and we have office space available."
"SOME people need offices, Louisa, but most business people HAVE offices. You and Lanny have five empty floors. Honestly, I think that you'd better talk to him about selling the building. Father and Mother will get used to us working from home."
I was determined, though. I began by sending wires to every businessman I knew in Manhattan, explaining that we had space available in a modern building at a good price. Within a few days, I received back three inquires and twenty nine notices of regret.
It was a start, though, so I persisted.
I set about sending wires to the wives of all the men I'd contacted before. This time, three responded that they had sons who needed offices, two inquired for relatives and several inquired on their own behalf. It seemed that there were other women with interests outside of a household.
Very soon, the two store fronts were rented. One to a woman who made women's hats and the other to a woman who designed and manufactured clothing for woman who could not afford the more high end shops that my family frequented.
Miranda and I occupied the second floor and soon there was a group of young lawyers setting up a practice on the third - all were the sons of women to whom I'd written.
It took nearly a month more to rent the fourth floor to a partnership of men who imported fruits from South America.
Then, just before December, I received another telegram from Mr Samuel Clemens.
TO: MISS LOUISA HARPER, NEW YORK CITY
FR: SAMUEL CLEMENS, AIX LES BAINS, FRANCE
MISS HARPER
MY TOUR OF EUROPE CONTINUES (STOP)
HOWEVER I AM IN NEED OF OFFICE SPACE IN MANHATTAN (STOP)
UNDERSTAND THAT YOU MAY BE ABLE TO ACCOMMODATE (STOP)
TOP FLOOR PREFERRED (STOP)
PLEASE CONTACT MY REPRESENTATIVES IN HARTFORD TO CONFIRM ARRANGEMENTS (STOP)
IN FRIENDSHIP, S CLEMENS
I framed that telegram and hung it in my office.
"John, I can't just leave him there! Those people will eat him alive! He must be petrified!" Ann was wringing her hands as she fretted. All these years of taking care of Quinn - all these years of crying when he couldn't hear her - all these years of protecting him as if he was her own child and now - and now - and now she couldn't help him when he needed her the most.
"Look, honey," John took her hand as they sat on the couch with the television muted, "you just spoke to Quinn and you spoke to Barbara. They are safe inside. Those people out in front, they're professional protestors. They know what they can and can't do, and they know they can't enter the building. She's as safe there as she would be here."
Suddenly, Ann leaned forward and put her head in her hands and started sobbing.
"Annie..." John put his arm around her shoulder. "Annie... it's going to be ok..."
"No, it's not, John!" She said loudly, not intending to sound defensive, but sounding that way, nonetheless. "It's already NOT ok!"
She tried to control herself, but her adrenaline level was high and she had reached her breaking point.
"Look," she tried to explain, "I know that, to you, Quinn is this tough, courageous trans-woman who is pursuing her true self and all that, but to me he's still my Quinn. The little boy I babysat. My baby brother who's diapers I changed to help my mom. The sad, broken little boy that my mom and dad left me to take care of. John... Quinn is as much my child as he'd be if I'd adopted him. I gave up my dreams to take care of him. Oh, God... that sounds awful and it's not what I mean, but... John... as much as I may have complained and whined about how unfair it was that I was stuck here as his nurse... I never really meant it. Quinn is MY child, John. My little boy. My little girl - whatever - he's MINE and these... these... these... ASSHOLES... have already hurt him just by doing what they've already done. The damage has already been done, John, and I don't know what to do about it. I've already helped to put him back together once, John... I don't think I can do it again."
John had no response. The things that Annie had just said... they were horrifying. They were heart wrenching and they showed John something he'd been wholly unaware of until that point. The accident had done more than broken Quinn... it had broken Annie as well. Of course, he knew that it had been terrible for her, but... this was bigger than just mourning. Annie was just as broken as Quinn and she needed just as much help putting herself back together as she had given to Quinn. For some reason, that made him love her all the more.
"Annie..." he didn't know what else to say, and he didn't have to say anything because Ann's phone rang where it sat on the coffee table. John looked at the called ID. "It's Ricky."
Ann sighed and shook her head. "He must be frantic, too."
"I'll answer it," John pressed the 'accept' button.
Barbara was trying desperately to get her head around how this had all happened and how it had become such a monumental issue for everyone involved. "Well, someone must have told them!" She shouted a little too loudly.
Quinn had disappeared into the clothes racks and Monica had gone with him, leaving just Carolyn and Barbara talking by Barbara's desk.
"What about your new girlfriend, April?" Carolyn asked, angrily. "Did you tell her?"
Barbara shook her head. "No. Besides, she would have understood how devastating something like this could be for the estate. She never would have said anything, even if she had know ."
"Did Quinn tell anyone?"
Barbara froze. Quinn had told her on the way to work that he'd confessed to all eight of Ricky's sisters. Holy Moses. One of them could have said something. Instead of telling her mother that, though, she just said, "No. I don't think so."
"Well, figure this out, Barbara and get those people the hell off of our front lawn as soon as possible. This isn't some clubhouse for the sexually depraved population of Aquidneck Island." She turned and stormed off.
Barbara was about to respond to her mother's last attack when she heard someone shouting from the exterior door way. "Don't you fucking touch me, you asshole!" The voice was angry and female, and Barbara understood why someone would be upset, but if that remark had been recorded for a newscast, it wouldn't help their cause at all.
Barbara hurried to see who had shouted. "Roxie?" She said, surprised.
The young woman who had played Louisa's sister, Miranda, at the weddings shook her body, as if shaking off the rain.
"What are you doing here?" Barbara asked, confused. "You're serving today, right? You're getting changed with the other servers."
"Where's Quinn?" Roxanne asked, not paying much heed to Barbara.
Barbara looked around, a bit confused. "I'm not sure... Quinn!?"
He emerged from the racks wearing his favorite Louisa outfit, a silvery-blue day dress, his hair and makeup done, ready to go into the greeting areas.
"What are you doing?" Barbara asked. "We're not opening the doors to those lunatics!"
"Oh, Quinn!" Roxanne hurried over to him and threw her arms around him.
Barbara looked at Monica who was also dressed to receive guests. "She's insisting on greeting the real guests," Monica explained.
Barbara was about to lay down the law and forbid that, but Roxanne spoke first. "So, you ARE the Quinn who went to my school. The one I thought was dead. Oh, Quinn, I'm so sorry that I said what I said and that all of this is happening. You don't deserve this, honey. You've been through so much already..."
Monica interrupted Roxanne's stream of words and said, "Roxie, go put on one of Miranda's dresses. You and I will stay with Quinn all day. They won't pull anything if we're all together."
"Now hold on!" Barbara shouted. "No one is going out into the greeting areas today! I don't care how many ACTUAL guests show up today, NO ONE IS COMING THROUGH THE FRONT DOORS OF GOLDEN BLUFFS." She took a breath. "Not until the police get those jackasses out of here."
"I doubt that they plan on going anywhere, Barbie," Monica said, sadly. "They've got all kinds of press coverage and there seems to be enough trans-phobic people around to support them. I don't see a lot of options. Either we can greet the people who are here as legitimate customers or we can keep ignoring everything, hide in our castle, and keep acting as if nothing unusual is happening out there. I don't know what else to do."
"I do," a man's voice came from the hallway. It was Evan, already dressed in his Mr Harper suit. He smiled as he entered the costume shop and looked at the worried faces of the women. "Ahh, it's good to be amongst family at a time like this." He kissed Monica's cheek, "Winnifred, my love." Then he kissed Roxanne's cheek. "Miranda, my dear, so good to see you." Then he kissed Quinn's cheek. "And here is little Louisa. The light of my heart and the bane of my existence. You know, I don't think that the real Louisa gave her father as big a run for his money as you have given me, my dear."
Quinn sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. All of you... I'm sorry."
"Oh, don't be silly, Quinn," Barbara shook her head. "This was all my idea."
"Well," Evan sat and crossed his legs, "regardless of who's idea it was to have a trans-woman portray Louisa, I think that casting Quinn, regardless of her DNA, was brilliant. The kids love her and she knows everything there is to know about the Harpers and Golden Bluffs. Now... let's move on."
"Good idea." Barbara sat on her desk and folded her arms. "So... what's your plan to deal with all of this, then?"
Evan was very sure that he knew what he was doing. "You know Toby Franklin over up in Warwick?"
Barbara blinked at him. "Sure. He runs that big costume supply shop, right?"
"He does," Evan smiled, "and he is sending a truckload of things our way as we speak. Don't worry - I'll help pay for everything."
Barbara, Quinn, Monica and Roxanne all looked at him and to each other, completely baffled.
"Why is he bringing things to us?" Barbara was curious, now. Evan was always a clever guy. He definitely had something up his sleeve.
"Well," he sat a bit straighter and looked at each of them, "you know how some people wear those bracelets that have 'WWJD' on them?"
"Sure," Monica nodded. "What would Jesus do?"
Evan smiled. "In this case, I think we should ask 'WWKDD,' or 'What Would Kirk Douglas Do?'"
No response.
"Well, to be more precise, it should probably be 'WWTCD.' 'What Would Tony Cutis Do?'"
Still no response.
'God, you people are so young. Let's just start rallying the troops, ok? Call everyone you know who might help us out and have them come here. Tell them to park at The Elms and walk along the ocean path, though. That way the protesters won't see them."
"Ok," Quinn nodded, "but for now, I'm going to go meet my guests."
"No!" Barbara insisted.
"Barbie," Monica said quietly. "Let us do this. We need to stay busy and there's plenty of people who can standby as security."
"Argh!" Barbara let out a groan. "Sometimes I feel like Doctor Frankenstein and now my monster is out of control."
Evan stood and said, "An excellent analogy, Barbie. Now, let's get the pitchforks out of the hands of the villagers, shall we?"
"These people... they think that they can just undermine our traditions and pervert history. Well, they can't. We won't let them."
"How is having a trans-woman portray Louisa Harper perverting history?" The NBC Network news reporter asked.
"Don't act so naïve," the protesters scoffed. "Louisa Harper was a straight woman. She had a vagina and two 'X' chromosomes. That's how she should be represented."
"Yes, but," the reporter persisted, "it does seem odd that your organization, which is known for demanding that women remain in traditional roles as homemakers and caregivers, should suddenly be the defenders of a woman known for her progressive views of women's rights. She was not a traditional woman in any way and encouraged women to seek opportunities outside of the home and beyond the restrictions society placed on the women of her day."
"That's not true," the protester scoffed.
"Of course it is," the reporter explained. "Anyone with a basic knowledge of the life and achievements of Louisa Harper knows that she broke social norms rather than live within their confines."
The protester laughed. "You better check your facts. Women of that era didn't challenge the Bible's guidelines for women. They stayed home and supported their husbands the way that God intended."
"So, you have no idea who Louisa Harper was or what she represents?"
"Of course I do. I need to go."
The reporter turned and faced the camera. "Well, there you have it. This is Julio Rivera, live from the Golden Bluffs Estate in Newport, Rhode Island."
"Welcome, everyone, welcome," Quinn, as Louisa, said as he welcomed a group of tourists into the suite where he'd been greeting tourists for several weeks, now. Barbara had tried very hard to keep Quinn, Roxanne and Monica from going out into the estate that day, but Quinn had insisted that the real guests deserved a real show. Finally, Barbara had relented, but insisted that Monica and Roxanne be in the same room with Quinn at all times. This was the fourth group of tourists of the day and things were going well. They all had started to relax a bit. "My name is Louisa, this is my sister Miranda and my mother, Winifred. It is a bit unusual that we are all together to greet you, today, but I'm sure you've noticed that today is an unusual day. We have a lot of unexpected guests with us today and we just want to make sure that everyone feels welcome."
Quinn did his usual spiel about Louisa's life at Golden Bluffs with Monica adding some highlights from Winifred's point of view. Even Roxanne, who was very beautiful in her burgundy dress, added a few tidbits from Miranda's point of view, tidbits that had been provided by Quinn.
"Any questions?" Quinn asked, as always.
"Is a corset uncomfortable?" A very pretty, dark haired girl of maybe twelve years old asked. That was almost always the first question from each group to enter the suite.
All three of the Harper women smiled. Quinn answered, "Yes and no. At first, it is very restrictive, but you get used to it very quickly. After a day or two, you forget that you're even wearing it."
A second little girl raised her hand and Quinn called on her. "Did you own a car?"
"A car? Do you mean an automobile?"
The girl nodded.
"Well," Quinn leaned forward to act as if this were confidential information, "of course, I know what an automobile is. I've read about them in magazines. But, no, in 1901, when I was fifteen, we did not own an automobile. Father has spoken about purchasing one, but I don't think that will happen for at least ten years or so."
A third little girl raised her hands. She was very dressed up for a tourist.
"Yes?" Quinn asked, brightly.
"Are you going to burn in hell?" The child asked.
Quinn was caught off guard by the question. "I beg your pardon? Do you mean because my family is rich? I do think that my good works will be taken into consideration when my time comes." It wasn't a great response, but Quinn wanted to just say anything and move along.
"No," the child's mother said, a smile plastered onto her face. "What she means is are you, Quinn Collins, prepared to spend eternity in hell?"
That threw Quinn, a bit. "I beg your pardon... My name is..."
Another woman interrupted. "Your name is Quinn Collins. You live in Portsmouth, Rhode Island. You are a homosexual and you will burn in hell."
Before Quinn could respond the little girl piped up, again. "On account of you're a fag."
"Security!" Monica called out loudly. "Security!"
"You ARE a fag, aren't you?" The second lady asked. The strangest part of the interaction with these females was the self-satisfied smiles that they maintained during their insulting attack.
"You're just a faggy boy in a dress, aren't you?" The girl persisted.
As several men who worked as 'butlers' in the estate entered to escort the women and child out, Quinn said, "I do hate to be an ungracious hostess, but I must say that you are, perhaps, the rudest people I have ever met. I am afraid that I must ask you to leave."
"This way, ladies, please," one of the butlers said, without touching anyone, but just indicating the direction in which he wanted the group to proceed.
The three females smiled even more broadly and began to chant rhythmically, "Fag. Fag. Fag. Fag. Fag..." and they allowed themselves to be led away.
"I'm sorry," Monica announced, "but I am afraid that Louisa needs to leave, now."
"Oh, don't be silly, Mother," Quinn laughed. "We mustn't let a few rude people ruin our day. I'm sure that there are more questions." He smiled at the guests.
Monica let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, Louisa. A few more questions, but then we'll need to prepare for dinner."
Quinn shook his head and smiled at the guests. "Mother can be very demanding," he said to the children. "I bet your mothers can be demanding, too, can't they?"
"Yeeeessss," the group said in unison, causing the mothers in the room to laugh and murmur to each other.
"So," Quinn's bright demeanor was back, "does anyone else have any questions?"
Almost every girl under fourteen raised her hand with yet another question about the life of Louisa Harper.
"Oh, Lord!" Carolyn grunted as the phone on her desk rang yet again. She picked up the receiver and said, "Hello," then listened for a moment. "No. At this time we have no statement, but we will be addressing the press later today. Thank you." She said and put the receiver back into its cradle.
She looked at her daughter and said, "Have you figured out who told the press?"
Barbara shook her head. "No, mother, I have not, but Evan has a really good idea for dealing with the protesters."
Carolyn rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Until you know who spoke to the press, you'll never be able to handle this situation, Barbara."
"I disagree..."
"Listen. I have been running this estate since you were a child and I have never had a scandal like this to deal with, Barbara. This mess is your fault and you need to put an end to it."
"Mom, you can't allow these people to hold the moral high ground. Yes, having a trans-woman portraying Louisa is definitely a new idea, but it is not something to be ashamed of. We need to present ourselves to the press as the people who are enlightened and accepting of everyone."
"Oh, for crying out loud, Barbara!" Carolyn had reached the end of her rope. Why was everyone else so useless? "We are a historical museum, not a place for a political stance!"
"Why not, mom? Those people aren't even from around here. They're from nearly two thousand miles away. I guarantee that, if we take a stand and support Quinny and every other trans-person, then I really think that our customer base will support us even more."
"Well, that's not going to happen. Quinn is obviously no longer going to be playing Louisa..."
"Of course she is," Barbara shook her head. "She's the best Louisa we've ever had..."
"No HE is not, Barbara. If you can't fire him, then send him in here and I'll do it. Where is he, now?"
"She's at her station greeting guests."
"What!? Are you insane? Get him up here immediately!"
"Mom, Quinny is doing the right thing and we are going to support her..."
"NO!" Carolyn shouted and slammed her open palm against her desk top. "No, Barbara, now, just stop this stupidity."
"Mom!" Barbara tried to rationalize with her mother. "Outside of New England, if you tell someone that you're from Newport, the first thing that they ask isn't about the mansions. The first thing they ask is, 'Is that the place where Bob Dylan first used an electric guitar?' We can change that, mom. We can make that first question, 'Is that where the community stood up for that trans-woman?' This is important, mom." Carolyn dropped her forehead into the palms of her hands in an overly dramatic manner. "God, you just don't get it, do you, Barbara? Just because you've decided that all things gay are cool, you can't push that down other people's throats! Honest to goodness, I do not understand you, any more. When I was eating with Eve yesterday afternoon, I was telling her how you and the rest of the world seems to have gone completely off the rails! You and everyone else your age seem to think that anyone can be anything just by saying so! You have to get a handle on reality before you ruin everything that we've worked for, here."
"Wait!" Barbara sat forward in her seat. "What did you tell Eve?"
Carolyn blinked as she thought. "Well... I told her about you and that April girl and how foolish I thought that was..."
"Did you tell her about Quinny?"
"No, I did not," Carolyn said, emphatically, but then she thought for a moment. "Well... not, specifically, no. I mean... I never mentioned his name. Just that the boy across the street was now a girl and had a boyfriend."
"And that she was playing Louisa, right?" Barbara said, getting a bit pushy.
"Well... maybe... I don't know for sure. I mean... Barbara, you have my head spinning with all of this nonsense. Hes and shes and girls with girlfriends and boys with boyfriends... it's all too much. Maybe I did say something..."
"MAYBE!?" Barbara looked shocked. "Mom, how could you have done this? When I was in high school, Eve was leading a charge to have 'Huckleberry Finn' removed from the school library! She called 'A Catcher in the Rye' pornography! She wanted to have a science teacher fired because he was gay! Mom, you told the only person I know who is self-righteous enough to destroy everything just to have her own way, the one thing that you had no right to tell anyone!"
Carolyn shook her head. "Barbara, you and that boy... you have me so confused. If I DID say anything it was because..."
"It was because YOU told her, mom. It wasn't because of anything I did. It was because you CHOSE to say something to someone who you knew would try to damage either Quinny or me, and I have to tell you, mom, I think that's incredibly petty."
"Oh, of course!" Carolyn wasn't about to quit without a fight. "YOU suddenly turn MY life upside down and now I'm the bad guy because I needed to vent to someone - anyone - who might understand..."
"Enough!" Barbara stood. "You can just sit here and deny the facts, mom, but I'm going to put an end to all of this insanity on the front lawn. You may want to come outside at about two thirty. I think you may find our solution pretty eye opening."
"Ok, we'll be there," Ann said into the phone, then she disconnected the call.
"Should I call Ricky?" John asked.
"No. Quinn already called him and he and his sisters are calling everyone they know.'
"Alright. I'll call some of my friends, too."
Ann nodded. "You know, what? I'm going to send an email to my whole school system. See if anyone will come out."
"Sounds good," John nodded and grabbed his phone. "I'll do the same."
"Just come up along the beach approach, ok?" Ricky said into his phone.
"Yeah, sure, Rick," Joe replied, eager to help. "But... is it true that Quinn's a guy? I only ask because... well... because I'm curious, I guess."
Ricky sighed. "Joe... all you need to know is that Quinn is everything I have ever wanted in a girl and that I love her."
"Everything, dude? Everything? I mean... something is definitely missing, right?"
"Joe, you're my best friend, but if this is going to be a big deal for you, then we're going to have to say goodbye, ok?"
There was quiet for a moment. "Ok, Rick. I get it. If she makes you happy, that's all I need to know."
"Thanks, Joe."
"I'll see you around two."
Ricky put down his phone and shook his head. Why couldn't people just let Quinn be Quinn and Ricky be Ricky? This was a much bigger thing than it should be.
"Ricky?" A voice came from his doorway.
He turned and said, "Hey, mom."
She entered and sat on the other side of the bed with her back to him. "Ricky... this is going to be big, you know. Like... on TV, big. Everyone's going to know that Quinn's a boy. This might be more than you can handle."
Ricky nodded, then stood and walked around the bed so that he stood in front of his mother. "You're right, mom. This is a lot and... I could really use your support today."
She looked out the front window and thought for a moment. "I know that I'm not the best mother in the world, Ricky, but I don't think I'd be doing a good job as a mom if I didn't point out that this is probably not going to go smoothly. Everyone you know and everyone you've ever known is going to see you on TV and they're going to think of you differently after that. Can you deal with that?"
Ricky stared at her for a long few moments. "How about you, mom? Will you see me differently?"
She shrugged. "Does it matter, Ricky?"
He took a deep breath and let it out. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned... no. It doesn't matter. But as far as you're concerned... it matters. I don't want you to turn your back on me, mom. I love you too much to let that happen."
"So... if I asked you not to do this, you wouldn't?"
"No, mom, I'm going to go help Quinn anyway I can. I love her. I just want you to be on board with it so we don't end up with a wedge in between us."
She stood and hugged him. Then she let him go and said, "I don't want that either, Ricky. I'll get ready to go."
"Thanks, mom," he smiled as she left the room.
He was looking at his phone, pondering who else to call when he heard Fiona's voice. "Are you ok?"
Ricky's eyes were filled with un-shed tears as he shook his head. "No, Fi. I'm really not. This shouldn't be this hard."
Fiona entered and hugged him. "I know, Rick, and I know that this might make a few things uncomfortable for you in the next few months, but think about who's had to given up more privacy here - you or Quinn. She's literally being laid bare in the press."
"I know, and that's really killing me. I just want to be in Newport with her right now. I'm so scared that she is going to be hurt by those assholes."
"Hey," Fiona looked him in the eye, "I have never, ever, ever met anyone, male or female, as strong as Quinn Collins. She has been through more than any of us could possibly survive. This will be nothing for her. All she needs is for you to be there."
Ricky smiled. "Just me and her eight sisters, huh?"
Fiona smiled, now. "It's what sisters do."
Bill looked at the phone that was vibrating in his hand and pushed the 'accept' button. "Hi, Chief. What's up?"
The man on the other end of the phone huffed a little. "Hi, Bill. Look... I understand that Quinn Collins' friends are planning some kind of a demonstration down in Newport this afternoon."
"That's the plan, Chief," Bill said, matter of factly.
"Honestly, Bill, I can't recommend that you do that. In situations like this, it's always better to just let the protestors tire themselves out and go home. It'll all be over in a week or so and no one will even remember it in six months."
Bill chuckled at that. "I can't agree with your assessment, Chief. Even if everyone else forgets about it, this attack on Quinn is going to harm her irreparably unless we show up and show her that she's worthy of our love and acceptance."
"You're doing the wrong thing, Bill. Take my advice, just let it blow over."
"You know," Bill wasn't being defensive, just honest, "about seven years ago the Collins family was destroyed and that community that you represent had an opportunity to come to their rescue and help out a poor college kid who had to give up her dreams to take care of her little brother who was facing challenges that no one should ever have to face. And how did your community handle that opportunity, Chief?"
"Come on, Bill. You're over simplifying the situation. The Collins family had only lived here a short time. We barely knew them.'
"That's just an excuse, Chief, and you know it. You and everyone else in Portsmouth had the opportunity to do the right thing and nobody, not you, not anyone else, did a goddamned thing."
"Bill..."
"Hey, don't take it too much to heart, Chief. I didn't do a goddamned thing, either. I saw that accident. I read the stories in the papers and I could have helped, but I was too wound up in my own life to do what I should have. Now, I have a chance to help her, again, Chief, and I'm not going to let that opportunity pass me by. So... as for these people who are attacking one of my kids..."
"Bill, Quinn is NOT one of your kids."
"... I am not going to let them tear either my family or the Collins family apart."
The Portsmouth Chief of Police sighed again. "Is there anything I can say to stop you from doing this?"
"Not a fucking thing, Chief. Not a fucking thing."
The overflow parking lot at The Elms was already nearly full when Ricky pulled into it. Grandpa Bill was right behind him in his BMW with Ricky's mother in the passenger seat, and all of Ricky's sisters were following the BMW in the family van.
When they all had gotten out of their vehicles, they headed towards the beach to follow the walking path that led to Golden Bluffs. They were all surprised to be joining a large group of people already heading in the direction of the Harper estate.
When, at last, they entered the house, they were all ushered into the huge grand entry where Evan was standing at the top of the stairs on the little balcony that overlooked the first floor.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" He shouted. "If we could have some silence, please, I'd like to tell you how this is going to work. We are setting up a public address system outside the main entrance, right behind you, as we speak. First, we'll all line up in single file inside. We will pass among you and give you each your prop. Then, we will start the event with Barbara, here," he indicated Barbara, "saying a few words before she turns the microphone over to me. I will give a very short speech and then each of you will walk up to the microphone and say your line, then follow in the direction that I will walk. Now, we're going to rehearse our line. Please, please, please, only say this line - nothing else - and then follow to where I have gone. Any questions? No? Ok. Repeat after me..."
From 'The Autobiography of Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport"
~ "If I have learned anything at all throughout the first part my brief life, it is that I cannot find success, and I certainly cannot find happiness, without the love and support of my family and friends. At the beginning of the summer of 1891, I felt like a rudderless child who was ignored by her family. As Christmas approached, though, I realized that I was no longer a child, but with the help of my family, friends and, especially, the love of my life, Langdon, I could achieve anything - regardless of my age or sex."
"Son of a bitch," the Chief of Police of Portsmouth muttered and he slammed his desk drawer shut. He stood and walked to his office door and looked around. "Bartlett!" He shouted across the office.
"Yeah, Chief?"
"I'm going to Newport. You're in charge while I'm gone."
He looked at the young woman who was both receptionist and dispatcher for the small department. "Call if you need me."
"Ok, Chief," she nodded.
The Chief grabbed his hat and headed for the door. Just as his hand touched the handle, the receptionist/dispatcher called to him. "Chief! Don't let anything happen to her, ok?"
He shook his head. "That's the plan, Ellen."
Quinn had changed back into the yellow sundress he'd worn that morning and had just entered the very crowded foyer of the estate. He stopped dead in his tracks, shocked by the number of people who'd turned up to support him. "Wow," he muttered, then he smiled. "Hi, everyone. I'm Quinn..." he would have continued, but the applause was too loud and lasted too long for him to say anything.
"Hey," Ricky said, coming to his side and kissing Quinn's cheek. "Are you ok?"
Quinn nodded and smiled. "Yeah. I think I am. I wasn't, but... now, you're here. Look at all of this!"
"Quinn!" Fiona appeared and hugged him tightly. "Are you ok?"
Quinn smiled back at her. "I am, now."
"We're all here for you," Fiona said, excitedly. "Grandpa Bill, mom, all of the girls... everyone. We even called all of our friends and almost all of them are here, too."
This was unbelievable. Everyone was smiling at him, offering him a thumbs up, waving... it was so much more than he could possibly process in the moment.
"Quinn!" He turned and saw Silva, Liam and all of the people from dance class waving at him.
"Oh, my God!" He smiled, touching his hand to his chest. "Thank you guys so much for coming!"
"Are you kidding?" Sylvia laughed. "You're one of us, honey. We're always going to be here for you."
Before Quinn could tear up too much, a woman touched his right arm. "Quinn? Do you remember me?"
It took him a moment but her name came to him. "Mrs Gallagher!" He said, shocked to see his seventh grade history teacher.
"Oh, honey," the woman wrapped her arms around him, "I'm so sorry I didn't stay in touch to see how you were doing all these years. It was just so tragic and none of us knew quite how to deal with it. I just want you to know though, that you have been in my prayers every morning and night since you were hurt. I am so happy to see you looking so beautiful." She hugged him tighter and Quinn could tell that she was crying.
"Thank you, Mrs Gallagher," Quinn said into the woman's ear. "That means the world to me."
Other people spoke to him, too. Other teachers, fellow students, neighbors, colleagues of Annie's, friends of the Briggs sisters, people who'd seen Quinn's presentations as Louisa Harper, people who just wanted the hate group on the front lawn to leave their community... there were, literally, hundreds upon hundreds of people there to support him.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen!" Evan shouted. "We are going to pass out your props. Please just get ready and once you have everything ready, just leave it alone. Thank you."
"You should get to the doorway," Ann said, touching Quinn's shoulder.
Quinn excused himself from the person who'd been speaking to him. He looked around and spotted Ricky, he took his boyfriend's hand and whispered, "I really need you to be near me." Then he spotted Fiona and he took her hand as well. "I need you, too. In fact, I need my whole family. Come on. We need to get to the front."
Annie smiled as the entire Briggs family joined John and her as they moved forward to support her little sister.
The road from Portsmouth to Newport was very crowded and the traffic was moving very slowly.
"What the hell?" The Chief mumbled to himself. He was several miles south of the area in which he had any jurisdiction, but the clock was ticking. John had told him that the plan was to do whatever crazy thing they were planning to do at two thirty and it was already two ten. He knew that it was one hundred percent against protocol, but he needed to be there. If he wasn't and something bad happened, he'd never forgive himself. So, he turned on his siren and pulled into the left lane and headed to Golden Bluffs as quickly as he could.
Why the hell wasn't anyone listening to him, today? John had never once challenged him before and Bill Briggs tended to only call him when he needed some advice. Now, he'd told John to stand down and he'd told Bill to let the situation blow over, but no one had paid a bit of attention to him. Now, whatever nonsense they had planned was more than likely to end up in some kind of confrontation with people from both sides ending up in jail.
What no one seemed to be hearing was that the people who'd shown up to protest knew exactly how to provoke the community members. Chances are, the jail cells would have a lot more locals in them than they would provocateur's.
As he approached Mansion Row, there were Newport police officers directing people away from The Elms, Golden Bluffs and The Breakers. The Chief pulled up to the makeshift barrier they'd assembled and rolled down his window.
"Hey, Chief," the Newport officer said, reading the insignia on the side of the police car as he leaned down to look into the window. "What can I do for you?"
"Hi, officer. Hey, I know this is a little unorthodox, but I need to get to Golden Bluffs."
"Ooh, no can do, Chief," the officer said. "Things are really heating up down there and my Chief says no one else is allowed in. There's probably three or four thousand people down there already."
"Can you call your Chief for me? Tell him that I'm here and I need to get through. That's one of my girls in there and I just want to be there to help if things go sideways."
"Ok," the cop was dubious, but he pressed the button on the microphone that hung on his chest. He spoke for a few moments, then turned back to the Chief. "Alright. Follow the road to Golden Bluffs and park in the Golden Bluffs employee lot. My Chief will meet you, there."
"How could you have done this to me, Eve?" Carolyn nearly screamed into her phone. "I confided in you as a friend! How could you have just turned around and told the press about this?"
"Look, Carolyn," her friend's voice was very self righteous and superior sounding, "you told me about horrible, perverted things going on in my own backyard. Did you really expect me to just sit quietly and let your daughter and her friends undermine the moral integrity of my community? Surely, you know me better than that. You told me those things because you were afraid to do anything about them yourself. Well, I wasn't and I took care of it."
Carolyn groaned in frustration. "You may have destroyed Golden Bluffs. This is a scandal, Eve, an absolute scandal and Golden Bluffs may never recover from this."
"Well, then just do the right thing, Carolyn. Drag that little fairy out in front of the cameras, tell the press that you were duped by your daughter's poor judgement and fire the little faggot. That will be the end of it."
Carolyn felt a contraction in her chest. She'd known Eve for decades, but she had no idea that she could be this cold and heartless. "Eve... Barbara is my daughter and I've known Quinn since he was a child. I can't just throw them under a bus like that."
"Then I don't know what to tell you, Carolyn. You need to make a decision. Do you protect your daughter and her little fairy friend, or do you do what's right and put an end to this whole thing?"
"Goddamnit, Eve, you had no right to share that information! I'm sorry, but our friendship is dissolved as of this moment."
"Oh, please, you can't be serious."
"I am deadly serious, Eve. I've been an idiot up until this point, but no longer. I love my daughter and if she's a lesbian, that's just something I need to accept. And as for Quinn... well... I don't have the right to condemn him, either. Goodbye, Eve."
She heard the woman on the other end of the call start to speak again, but she'd already ended the call.
Immediately, she pushed Barbara's number.
"Mom?"
"Barbie, you haven't started yet, have you?"
Barbie? It had been a good long while since Barbara's mother had called her 'Barbie.' "No. In about five minutes."
"Well, don't start without me. I'm coming down to support both you and Quinn. I'm on my way."
When the phone call ended, Barbara looked at her device and muttered, "What the hell?"
"Chief!" The Chief or police in Newport waved and walked towards him, offering a hand. "A purely social visit, I assume? I don't need to remind you that you have no authority here."
The man from Portsmouth shook his head. "No need at all. I'm just here to... honest to God, Frank, I can't even tell you why I'm here. I guess I just feel like... well, maybe I let down this kid when she got hurt way back when. I'm just here to be supportive, now, I guess."
The Newport Chief looked around. "You and several thousand others, from what I gather. I'm just hoping to keep a lid on things this afternoon. Honestly, I never thought I'd see these whacko's come to Rhode Island. Must be nice to have nothing better to do than to be a professional asshole who just travels the country destroying the well being of decent people."
The Chief from Portsmouth nodded. "Let's just hope that today isn't the day that they win."
"Good afternoon, everyone," Carolyn spoke into the microphone. Pretty much everyone was shocked to see her arrive in the foyer, but Barbara was watching her now, as she addressed everyone outside the estate, in a state of shock. "My name is Carolyn Jenkins and I am the Director of Operations here at the Harper Estate. I'm sure that you've read all of the news reports about our Louisa here at Golden Bluffs. Well, I am here to assure you that not only are those reports completely, utterly and unashamedly true, but I want to emphasize that this year's Louisa, regardless of her gender at birth, is the most knowledgeable, most gracious and most beautiful Louisa we have ever had at Golden Bluffs and I, for one, could not be more proud of the work that she has done here."
There was a smattering of applause from the people who'd just arrived to show support and loud booing from the protestors.
"For those of you who feel that we have somehow violated some unwritten rule by employing this young woman, I can only apologize to you for making you feel that way, BUT I DO WANT TO EMPHASIZE, that it is my policy and the policy of this institution to employ the best possible person to represent one of this country's greatest female thinkers and doers, and no one could possibly be a better Louisa Harper than our current employee - with the notable exception of Louisa Harper herself. Now, having kicked things off, I shall turn the microphone over to my daughter, Barbara."
Barbara stepped up to the makeshift podium, which was actually a sturdy black music stand with a table cloth hastily duct-taped to it.
"Good afternoon," a fairly stunned Barbara said, in a clear voice. "I just want to point out that we are not here to challenge anyone, or confront anyone, or create any problems. We - my mother and I and everyone else who speak in the next crew minutes - are celebrating an amazing and very brave young lady here, today, and we should be ashamed that it took this group of outsiders to make us aware that we have failed to acknowledge the hard work and achievements of Quinn Collins."
This got a very loud series of boos from the protesters.
"Most of you will remember Quinn's name from the newspapers when she was the sole survivor of a horrific car accident that took the lives of her mother, father and older brother. Since then, this young woman has been called a paraplegic, a fighter, and even a superhero. But today, we are here because some people are calling our Quinn Collins, the child who SHOULD, by all rights, have died on the side of Rt 95, the child who should never have walked again, the child who has put all of her pain behind her to bring a bit of joy to the visitors here at Golden Bluffs - that amazing, brave child is being called horrible, childish, hateful epitaphs by people who know NOTHING of her pain and achievements. So, rather than spew hatred and intolerance, we are inviting all of you to join us in celebrating this amazing young woman."
She looked about at the crowd and saw no sense of shame on the out-of-towners.
"At this point, I will turn the microphone over to a man that many of you know from his years as Mr Harper at Golden Bluffs, Mr Evan Coleman."
Evan stepped to the microphone and looked about before speaking very solemnly. "Good afternoon." He breathed deeply and looked at each protester, making eye contact when possible. "I know that you, we, all of us are good people and that our personal relationship with our creator cannot be questioned by another human being. So - I will not question, nor condemn the actions of any of you good folks out here today. I will say, though, that I understand your desire to show the world that we are a morally strong and secure nation, and for that I applaud you. I also understand that the thing you want most of all is to meet and confront this horrible, dangerous person who has been denigrating the name of Louisa Harper. As you have already heard, this heartless, vile creature is named Quinn - Quinn Collins - and she is prepared to meet you and face your wrath."
At this point, Evan bent low and fiddled with something for a moment. When he stood again, he was wearing a dark red wig done up in the fashion of Louisa Harper. He made a dramatic sigh, then said, "Ladies and Gentlemen... I am Quinn Collins," and he walked away from the podium and towards the crowd of protesters.
Almost immediately, Ann appeared from the front doorway wearing the same style of wig and walked to the microphone and said, "I am Quinn Collins," and followed Evan onto the front lawn.
John followed, the wig again in place. "I am Quinn Collins."
Then Quinn, appeared. No wig was necessary, but his hair was up and in character. "I am Quinn Collins."
Then Ricky.
Then each sister.
Ricky's mother.
Grandpa Bill.
Monica.
Roxanne.
The people from dance class.
Joe and the waitresses from The Newport Creamery.
Dozens of teachers from the Portsmouth School Department there to support both Quinn and Ann.
People he barely knew and people he'd never met before. Each with a dark red wig and each walking up to the microphone and proclaiming, "I am Quinn Collins," then walking forward onto the lawn to form a line of love and support in front of the line of pettiness and hatred.
The line just went on and on and on until people were appearing without the wigs because they'd run out of the costume item.
At some point, the people on the lawn who'd shown up just to support the person they'd heard about on the news began to shout, "I am Quinn Collins," as well and, one by one, they too formed a line of love and support, but theirs was behind the line of pettiness and hatred.
Soon, instead of individual voices, the two groups of supporters were shouting in rhythm. "I am Quinn Collins. I am Quinn Collins. I am Quinn Collins. I am Quinn Collins," and they all joined hands in support of Quinn and each other.
It became so loud that the shouts of "Fag," and "Burn in Hell," from the protesters were nearly completely drowned out.
It seemed to go on forever, but it was probably only about twenty minutes before one of the leaders of the protest motioned for a policeman to come to him. He whispered something to the officer who spoke into his microphone and within a few minutes, several school buses proclaiming the name of their church arrived in the parking lot next to the front lawn. Several officers led the protesters, single file, to the vehicles. When they were loaded aboard and the vehicles were pulling out of the lot with a police escort, a huge cheer erupted from everyone who remained on the lawn. There were hugs and kisses all around, but no one was hugged and kissed more than the woman of the moment: Quinn Collins.
As for Quinn, he could barely contain his emotions. His tears were plentiful and meaningful to all assembled. The joy and love that he felt for everyone around him was more than he could process and he was grateful when, at last, he was able to collapse into Ricky's arms and sob like a child.
"Hey, Quinn," Ricky whispered, genuinely concerned by Quinn's shaking. "Are you ok?"
Quinn nodded, but kept his head buried in Ricky's shoulder where he felt safe and most loved.
"Hey, Bill," a tired and surprised voice called as it approached.
"Chief?" Bill smiled as he removed the red wig from his head. "What brings you so far south?"
The Chief extended his hand. "Nicely done, Bill. I'm impressed."
Bill shook his head. "Nothing to do with me, Chief. I just helped out my kids."
The Chief smiled and nodded. "I guess, but... this was pretty impressive. Congratulations, Bill. Let's get together soon, ok? Maybe some deep sea fishing? What do you say?"
Bill laughed and nodded. "Sounds great, Chief. Give me a call, ok?"
"Ok, Bill." He turned and walked away, but stopped and said, "Oh, and by the way, Bill... when we do go fishing together, I'd appreciate it if you'd wear that wig. It really makes you look younger."
Bill looked at the wig in his hand, then held it up to look more closely. "You know, I've been thinking about changing my hair color. Do you think red works for my skin tone?"
The Chief winked. "Very cute."
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Evan's voice sounded through the public address system. "If I may!"
The crowd quieted, but was far from silent. They were all just too happy to be truly quiet.
"First, on behalf of all of us at Golden Bluffs, thank you for coming here today and showing this wonderful young woman so much support. I don't think any of us expected this kind of turnout, but I guess that the great people of the nation's smallest state have spoken!"
Huge cheers went up for that remark.
"Second, and lastly, I just want to thank Quinn for being the strong, intelligent, beautiful woman that she is and, believe me, honey, every person on this lawn today is going to be watching you for the rest of your life to see what kind of woman you become. We are here for you today, tomorrow and forever, baby! Remember that."
More cheering erupted.
He continued. "I feel as if we have all learned something today, Quinn, and that you have taught us a great and enduring lesson. Not a lesson about social reform, or equal rights, but a lesson about ourselves and how much we all need each other. We need each other's support and love to see us through the hardships that sometimes arrive unexpectedly on our doorsteps. The strength that you have quietly displayed for years is not all that different from the strength that our great inspiration, The Queen of Aquidneck Island, displayed throughout her life, too. Quinn, you have taught us a lesson about the strength of womanhood. Just putting on those wigs today put us all in a new frame of mind. Entering your world for a few moments taught us the power of dignity and, in our own way, the importance of becoming Miss Louisa Harper of New York and Newport. Let's hear one more big round of applause for Quinn Collins!"
