Mrs. Wilkie the Philanthropist

November in New York was already quite cold. Nell wrapped her red wool scarf around her neck, riding her slow little Indian scooter through the streets and alleys of the city.

Fiorello was about to make his move in the coming days, but the calm before the storm was still holding. At the moment, New York looked just as peaceful as ever.

Mrs. Wilkie had already begun her charitable efforts in several working-class neighborhoods. According to the plan she and Wilkie had devised, she didn't need to be hands-on with everything — appearances were all that mattered. Distributing porridge, handing out cookies and blankets — all these tasks were handled by welfare volunteers they had recruited.

She just needed to show up in person at each location across the city, ensuring she was seen by reporters. This helped reinforce her image as a rising advocate for women and children's rights, while also enhancing her public reputation.

Many other society ladies had been convinced by Mrs. Wilkie to join the cause, donning their most modest clothing, removing their glamorous pearls and diamond jewelry, tying on aprons normally worn by their maids, and heading out to "do charity."

Their husbands, of course, supported these activities. With status comes a hunger for prestige. Journalists either wooed or invited by Wilkie were already snapping photos of these tireless ladies and their good deeds.

"Get more shots of the ladies interacting with the children," Nell suggested to Wilkie, standing at a street corner not far from a distribution site.

"Got it," Wilkie nodded.

Children are the hope of America. As a naturally vulnerable group, caring for them can easily elicit public sympathy. Whether out of a real need for aid or as part of a publicity strategy, a little manipulation in how the message was delivered didn't hurt.

"Moses, go buy some candy," Nell said, noticing a dozen kids waiting in line with their mothers near a steaming pot of porridge.

"On it," the assistant Moses looked around and ran off toward a nearby store.

"I think we should ease off the media coverage for a day or two," Wilkie remarked. "If we're in the paper every day, it'll look too deliberate." She had read the morning papers before heading out and felt the exposure was getting a bit intense.

"Agreed," Nell nodded quickly. "We can shift the spotlight to some of the other ladies too." Clearly, Wilkie had thought of something they hadn't.

"Sir," Moses returned with a large bag of milk candies and handed them to Nell.

"Just give them straight to Mrs. Wilkie," Nell instructed.

From their vantage point on the corner, they watched as Moses handed the bag to Mrs. Wilkie and whispered something quickly. She immediately caught on, stopped handing out porridge, and began distributing the candies instead.

To children, candy was obviously far more enticing than porridge. Soon a crowd of kids had gathered around her. Some had runny noses, others chewed their fingers, and many had dirt-smudged faces — but Mrs. Wilkie put on her best affectionate smile, letting the kids press close and clamor for sweets.

The angle was perfect. A photographer arranged by Wilkie captured the beaming Mrs. Wilkie surrounded by joyful, candy-eating children — click — a shot that could grace the front page of any newspaper.

Just that photo alone was enough to dominate the headlines: a loving lady, and a group of children who adored her. It was a beautiful, heartwarming scene.

"Do you have any contacts at the Herald Tribune?" Nell asked Wilkie. At that time, The New York Times didn't dominate the media landscape. Papers like the Herald Tribune and the Sun were still major players.

"Yes, I've got a business card from one of the deputy editors. I'll look for it when we get home," Wilkie replied, understanding the hint.

Treat the editor to dinner, slip them some cash — there was no need to be stingy. Money wasn't the issue. As long as it helped polish Mrs. Wilkie's public image, it was well worth it.

"All right, that's enough for this site. Let's move on to the next one," Nell said after checking the time.

"Moses, take the lady to the next location," Wilkie instructed.

Despite the children's reluctance to part, Mrs. Wilkie left the current site. As soon as she got in the car, she let out a long sigh and began complaining about how hard it was to be a public figure. It wasn't that she had to do any real labor, but just keeping up that caring smile was exhausting enough.

Seeing his wife a little frustrated, Wilkie immediately made promises: "That pearl necklace you liked before? I'll buy it for you tomorrow." Then he layered on the sweet talk — that everything she was doing now was paving the way for her to become the future First Lady of the United States.

She would be the shining star of her social circle, with every woman admiring her, flattering her, and placing her on a pedestal.

Wilkie truly had a silver tongue — he could persuade anyone, even his own wife. The allure of the pearl necklace and the title of "First Lady" wiped away her annoyance. Cheerful again, she happily set off with Moses to the next charity site.

Clap clap clap clap… Whether in his heart or with his hands, Nell couldn't help but applaud Wilkie.

He hoped Wilkie would keep up this charm offensive, winning over every matron, auntie, and housewife — bringing all the women's votes into their camp.

"Let's go, let's go…" Wilkie, seeing the young Nell clapping beside him, didn't blush at all. He put on his leather helmet and hopped on the back of Nell's scooter.

The two of them headed back to the office. The wholesale market was about to launch, and there was still plenty of work to be done.

Back at the firm, everyone greeted the pair. By now, it was no secret that Nell was Wilkie's trusted confidant. There were even rumors claiming Nell was Wilkie's illegitimate child from a mistake twenty years ago. But with their different hair colors and looks, few actually believed it.

Staring at the documents sent by suppliers from all over, Nell and Wilkie went through them one by one, selecting high-quality, well-reputed products. For each category, only two or three items were kept. They responded to the manufacturers, requesting large-pack, high-capacity versions.

As expected, aside from a few that asked for small deposits, most suppliers and manufacturers agreed to a post-sale payment model. The wholesale market could delay payments for up to two months after sales began.

Desperate to keep their factories afloat, these bosses were trying everything. One even came in person the other day to promote his homemade soap. Unfortunately, Wilkie was too busy to meet him.

Nell did take the meeting, had the sample left behind, and planned to compare it with other brands before making a final decision.