The Dressmaker's Daughters

He should turn around and let Vince head off into bad weather. With the sun peeking over the horizon, he’d have a tough time convincing the man that a storm was on its way anyhow. Minnie would think he was plumb crazy if he started talkin’ about snowstorms. He couldn’t let her go to the boardinghouse alone, though. It wasn’t proper. So he trudged along, trying to think of something else to ask Vince.

They reached the porch. He’d better come up with another plan and quick.

Minnie climbed the steps ahead of him and stopped at the front door. “Are you coming? I thought you wanted to talk to your friend.”

He dragged himself up the steps like an old man.

Minnie rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “I’m waiting.”

When he finally got to the door, she stood aside. No door had ever looked so imposing. Peter licked his lips.

“Well, aren’t you going to knock?” Minnie said.

He glanced at her. That was a mistake. His stomach lurched, and the last glimmer of thought exited his brain.

“Guess I’ll have to do it,” she huffed, reaching around him to rap the brass knocker three times.

The sound of the knocker against the wooden door gave Peter an idea. He could ask Vince if he wanted the lower compartment to hinge or lock. Better yet, he could then ask Minnie about doing the upholstery.

The door opened, and Terchie greeted them, her plump cheeks rosy and her portly figure topped with a flour-dusted apron.

“I’m looking for Vince,” Peter said. At the woman’s blank stare, he added, “Mr. Galbini.”

“Oh, the Italian fellow. Most folks are eating breakfast,” the cheerful proprietress responded. “Come on in. I’ll see if he’s in the dining room.”

Only after Peter stepped into the warmth of the parlor did he realize how cold he’d gotten. While he waited, he held his hands over the steam radiator and noticed Minnie looking longingly at it.

He stepped to the side. “There’s room for two.”

She hurried over and tugged off her thin going-to-church gloves. No wonder her hands were cold. Those dainty things couldn’t warm a mouse. Moreover, she’d worn shoes instead of boots. Her feet must be frozen.

When she thrust her hands over the radiator, her arm brushed his. Even through his thick coat, he shivered at her touch.

“Thank you,” she murmured, eyes fixed firmly on her hands.

Had she felt it, too? Peter took a breath. Now was the perfect time to ask her to the church supper. “I was wondering—” he began.

“Peter!” Vince interrupted. “What you doin’ here, old sport?” He clapped Peter’s back so hard that he coughed. “See you brought a gal with ya. Howdy, miss.”

Minnie blushed and ducked her head.

Peter felt sick. His suspicions were correct. She was sweet on Vince.

“You gonna make introductions, sport?” Vince gripped his shoulder so hard that Peter winced.

Peter supposed he didn’t have a choice. “Miss Fox, this is an old, old friend of mine, Mr. Vincent Galbini. Mr. Galbini, this is Miss Fox.”

“Buongiorno.” Vince threw his arms wide and kissed Minnie on each cheek. “You have a first name, darlin’?”

“Minnie.” Her blush deepened to red, and she patted her hair. Little beads of melted snow gleamed like diamonds in the electrical lighting.

“You can call me Vince.”

Peter flexed his hands. He wanted to pound sense into Vincent Galbini. Minnie wasn’t some floozy who frequented speakeasies and smoked cigarettes. She was a good Christian gal worth more than a hundred of that type of woman.

“You Peter’s gal?” Vince asked.

“No!” The rapidity of her reply plunged an icy knife into Peter’s gut, but then she darted a shy glance at him and twisted a lock of wavy hair around her index finger, and his pain eased. “We’re friends. Good friends.”

Good friends might have satisfied Peter a year ago, but now he wanted more. He wanted her to respect him, to want to be with him, maybe even to love him. He sure didn’t want her to get tangled up with Vince. Visions of her leaving town in the Pierce-Arrow sucked the air from his lungs. He had to do something to keep her here, close enough to him that she’d forget all about Galbini.

“Minnie’s a seamstress,” he blurted out.

Galbini’s brow lifted. “That so?” He clearly didn’t understand what Peter was getting at.

“She can do the upholstery.” There, he’d said it.

Vince grinned. “Good. I’m glad to have your gal on board.”

His gal. Peter liked the sound of that. He dared to glance at Minnie.

Her brow was drawn in pure fury. Peter stared, speechless. She was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to like him even more. He was giving her work. Why would that make her angry?

“I can do what?” she demanded, even though she’d heard every word.

“S-s-sew upholstery,” Peter stammered, the confidence ebbing out quicker than oil into a drip pan. “For pay.”

“You? Pay me? With what?” Her lips thinned as she crossed her arms.

Now he’d gone and done it. In that state, she’d never agree to go to the church supper with him. “Uh...” he croaked.

Vince roared with laughter. “Don’t worry, darlin’. The boss is paying.”

“The boss?” Minnie looked from Vince to Peter. “Whose boss?”

Vince answered, “Mine, darlin’.”

Something like excitement lit her eyes. “Do you work for a motion-picture company?”

“Naw, but I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Capone to give that a shot, too.”

Capone. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place it. What he did know was that the bad feeling that’d been hounding him since Vince’s arrival got a whole lot worse.

Chapter Four

Peter Simmons had some nerve. Minnie would give him a piece of her mind the moment they were out of Vincent Galbini’s earshot. How dare he volunteer her to sew upholstery for some furniture he was making for Vince?

What was he thinking?

She had no idea how to upholster anything, least of all something for the man she was trying to impress. Her family ran a dress shop. They worked with voile and crepe de chine and georgette, not the thick fabrics used by upholsterers. She wasn’t even sure their sewing machine could handle the heavier fabric, but she couldn’t say that in front of Vince. She had to bite her tongue until she and Peter left the boardinghouse.

He closed the door behind her and followed her down the steps. The moment they reached the walkway, she punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He rubbed his biceps. “What’s that for?”

“For saying I would do something I don’t know how to do.”

He stared at her blankly.

She glared back. “Sewing.”

“You don’t know how to sew?”

“I don’t know how to upholster furniture.”

“Furniture? Who said anything about furniture?”

“You did.” Minnie hugged her arms around her midsection to ward against the bitter cold. “Don’t tell me you forgot already that you volunteered me to do some upholstery for your friend.”

“No, uh—” his neck flushed red “—maybe I should have asked you first.”

“Maybe?” She flung her hands into the air and headed back home. “I give up.”

He ran to catch up. “Then you won’t do it?”

She didn’t stop. “Didn’t you hear me? I can’t upholster furniture.”

“But it’s not furniture. It’s a car seat.”

She halted. “A car? How is that any better?”

“You’d just have to fix what’s already there. How hard can it be?”

“Much harder. Automobile seats are covered in mohair. It’s thick. I don’t know how to work with it. I don’t think our machines would handle it.”

“Uh, actually, they’re leather.”

“Even worse. Impossible.”

“Oh.” He cast his gaze down. “I thought maybe you could use the extra money for your pa.”

She bit her lip. Her father ought to return to the Battle Creek Sanitarium for treatment, but they couldn’t afford it. The family had banked on a ready-made clothing manufacturer buying Ruth’s designs. Yesterday’s failure set them back. “What car?”

Peter looked up hopefully. “The Pierce-Arrow.”

“But Vin—” She caught herself. She oughtn’t use his Christian name in public. “Mr. Galbini’s car looks new. What would need fixing?”

“Actually, the Pierce-Arrow belongs to Vince’s boss.”

“Oh.” Then Vince wasn’t as well-off as he appeared.

“And I’d only need your help if I rip a seam or have to take the upholstery apart in order to make the luggage compartment he wants.”

“Oh.” This was getting less and less impressive, but if she just had to restitch something, it shouldn’t be that difficult. She’d just have to use the existing holes and do it by hand. “That doesn’t sound like much of a job. What does it pay?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d depend on what needs to be done. Ten dollars?”

“Ten whole dollars for stitching up some leather?”

“It would have to look good,” he added.

That was the problem. “I’m only an apprentice seamstress. You should hire Ruth.” She tossed her head, feeling the swing of her short hair, and started back toward home.

Again he hurried after her. “I could ask your sister, but she’s so busy with her designs and all that I figured you might have more time.”

“Is that the only reason you asked me?” She tried hard to shove away the disappointment.

“No, uh...uh, that’s not it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed above his coat collar. “I think you’d do the best job.”

That was about the sweetest thing he’d ever said to her. “I wouldn’t, you know. Ruthie is gifted and experienced. I muddle through.”

His hazel eyes blazed with surprising intensity. “Don’t cut yourself short, Minnie. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Her stomach did a crazy little flip-flop. “I suppose I could try.” Then she remembered Ruth’s tears last night. “But my sister would do a better job, and she’s not too busy.” She hesitated, unsure if Ruth would want her defeat known to anyone outside the family, and then decided that Peter was practically family in a convoluted way. His foster brother had married Pastor Gabe’s sister. Minnie’s oldest sister had married the brother of Pastor Gabe’s wife.

She took a deep breath. “Ruth got bad news from New York last night. The company isn’t going to buy her designs.”

If anything, Peter looked more crestfallen. “Sorry.”

Her fingers were getting numb again. “I’ll ask Ruthie if she wants to do it.”

“I suppose.” But his shoulders drooped.

She wasn’t waiting around to ask why. “’Bye, then.”

After he echoed the farewell, she headed for home while he trudged toward the garage. For some reason, having her work on the car mattered to him. If not for Ruth’s tears, Minnie might have snatched at the opportunity, but to keep Vince coming back, the work had to be done right, and Minnie was an amateur next to her sister. Besides, she could always come along whenever Vince was in town. Ruth might need her help. Minnie could carry something for her or hold the leather in place or something.

The kitchen was steamy hot when Minnie stepped inside. She wiped off the face powder and lipstick with a handkerchief and then tugged off her good gloves and shoved them into her coat pocket before her mother saw them.

Mother sat at the table mixing flour into milk and yeast to make bread dough. “You were out early this morning.”

“I had something to do.” Minnie held her numb fingers near the coal stove’s firebox. “Do you want help?”

“I thought you were working in the shop this morning.”

Minnie glanced at the clock. “It’s not nine o’clock yet.”

“You know your sister wants you there before the shop opens.”

Minnie sighed. Go here. Do this. Take care of that. The duties never seemed to end. Already the excitement of Vince’s arrival had worn off. Though he’d greeted her in the romantic European fashion and called her darling, she didn’t feel the flutter of excitement that she’d expected. It was more like...well, like greeting an uncle or older brother. How disappointing. Worse, the flutter had shown up when she least expected it. Why should Peter’s statement that she could do anything send her stomach flip-flopping? Why then? Why Peter? He was just a friend, wasn’t he?

“Go now.” Mother motioned toward the door with flour-covered hands.

Minnie dragged her feet across the room.

“And put on boots,” Mother chided. “Your good shoes are for Sunday only.” She sighed. “Ask Ruth to trim up that dreadful mop of hair when you get there. It should at least look neat.”

Minnie picked up her boots, stiff and dry from sitting near the stove overnight, and sat in the nearest chair. This day was going from bad to worse in a hurry.

She hadn’t finished lacing the boots when Ruth pushed open the door, letting in a blast of icy-cold air. Ruth’s face glowed pink from the cold, and she stomped the snow off her boots.

“I’m coming,” Minnie said, tying off one lace, “as soon as I get my boots on.”

Ruth didn’t seem to hear her. “We’ve come to a decision, Mother.” Her eyes shone bright.

Mother stopped working the dough. “A decision about what?”

“I promised Sam I’d tell you and Daddy at the same time, but I’ll burst if I can’t tell someone right away.”

Mother rose on shaky legs, her face drawn in concern. “The baby?”

Ruth touched her abdomen. “Fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong, Mother. In fact, everything’s right. We’re going to New York!” She let out a squeak, which was about as excited as Ruth ever got.

Mother sank back into her chair. “New York City?”

“Yes. Sam thinks we have a better chance of selling my designs in person. He wants to show them to the clothing-line representatives. You know how persuasive he can be.” She paced around the kitchen, more animated than Minnie had ever seen her. “Mariah’s parents offered to let us stay with them. The train fare isn’t too terribly much, and you and Minnie can run the shop while we’re gone.”

“Me?” It was Minnie’s turn to squeak.

“You know how to do everything,” Ruth said, “and Mother will help. Daddy is handling the orders and bookkeeping. It’ll be a breeze.” She turned back to Mother. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Mother frowned. “I understand Sam going. His business sense and contacts are essential, but are you sure you should travel, what with the baby and all?”

“Mother, I’m only three months along.” Ruth sat down, still coiled with eager excitement. “Where Sam goes, so will I.”

Mother pulled a hand away and tugged a handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Like Naomi and Ruth, going to a strange land.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruth said. “We’ll be back long before the baby is born. Why, we’ll probably return before the end of winter.”

Mother managed a feeble smile. “I’ll miss you, dear.”

“Me, too.” Ruth hugged their mother. “There is one thing I need to ask.”

Mother pulled away. “What is that?”

Ruth ducked her head. “The fare. We don’t quite have enough saved. I wondered if you might loan us the rest.”

“You’ll have to ask your father.”

Ruth hurried off to do just that, but Minnie knew what the answer would be. Daddy would never deny his most talented daughter a chance at her dream. That left Minnie at home and in charge of the shop. The responsibility was enormous.

Mother must have realized that, too, because she gave her a very stern look. “Are you ready to take charge, Miss Wilhelmina?”

Minnie cringed at her full name. Mother only used it when angry or extremely serious. “I guess so.”

“Humph,” Mother grunted, returning to the bread dough. “We’ll see what your father says. This will be an added burden on him.” She looked up. “And you’ll have to quit your cleaning jobs in order to manage the shop.”

Minnie hadn’t thought of that. Though she’d longed to stop cleaning houses, quitting those jobs meant less money coming in. They would have to get even more frugal. No more cherry sodas or magazines. No frivolous purchases at all, unless she took the job that Peter had offered. Ruth couldn’t do it. Ten dollars would buy a lot of food. She would have to accept the offer—and pray that Vince found her so enchanting that he overlooked the poor workmanship.

* * *

Peter stepped away from Mr. Kensington’s Packard and scratched his head. His plan had gone wrong somehow. Now he was stuck working with Ruth instead of Minnie. Worse, Minnie had tittered and giggled at everything Vince said. It was disgusting. What could she see in Vince? He must be ten years older than her. Then again, she’d been fascinated by Reggie Landers, and he was years older than her, too. After that crush ended, he thought she would come to her senses. Apparently not. It seemed that anyone with a fancy suit caught her eye, but not a hardworking man.

He tossed the wrench into his toolbox and wiped his forehead with a rag. Kensington wanted his car by the end of the day, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. The morning’s efforts had amounted to removing two valves and picking up the wrong-size wrenches time after time. At this rate, he’d never finish the job on time.

Concentrate. By fixing his attention on the tools, he managed to pick out the proper wrench this time. It slipped from his damp, greasy fingers and clattered to the floor. He wiped his hands on the rag and picked up the wrench.

Just thinking about Minnie made him sweat. She’d twisted things around so much this morning that he’d plumb forgot he wanted to ask her to the church supper tonight. Now he’d have to sit alone with the rest of the family. Hendrick had Mariah. Anna had Brandon. Even Ma Simmons had memories of her beloved late husband. He could only dream of having a gal to love, but he wanted just one. Minnie. He’d fallen for her the moment he set eyes on her, but she’d never given him the time of day. One chance. That was all he wanted. Just one chance.

“Peter?”

The most precious voice in the whole world yanked him out of misery and into a firestorm of hope. “Minnie. What are you doing here?”

She stood in the doorway between the office and the shop, looking so pretty he couldn’t rip his gaze from her. From the red plaid skirt to the matching hat, she could warm up the coldest heart. The snow dusting her shoulders and hat made her even more beautiful. He wiped his brow again.

“You busy?” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her boots dripping with melting snow.

“Not at all.”

She looked up hopefully. “I was wondering if you might reconsider.”

Peter quickly thought through what she might mean and came up empty. “Reconsider?”

“Hiring me.” She shrugged and tilted her head in that way of hers that drove him crazy. “Instead of Ruth. She’s going to New York, you see, and can’t do the upholstering that you wanted. But, if you’d give me a chance, I’d like to try.”

Peter’s heart nearly stopped. She wanted to work with him. His plan wasn’t dead at all.

She dropped her gaze. “I understand. You want someone experienced to help out your friend. Here I went and said I didn’t know how to do it and would do a horrible job and all—”

“All right.” He had to cut her off before she dug a bigger hole.

Her wide-eyed wonder shot an arrow straight into his heart. “You mean it? I can help?”

“Yeah.” Then a thought occurred to him. If she was willing to work with him, maybe she would agree to a little more. “Maybe you can come to the church supper with me.”

She blinked. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. We can, you know, talk things over.”

“Oh. We can’t do that now?”

Peter examined the wrench in his hands. “I suppose, but I’m pretty busy.”

“Oh. But it’s Ruth’s last night home, and we all want to be together. Daddy can’t go out, especially not in this heavy snow.”

Peter could have kicked himself. “I forgot.”

“You couldn’t know.” Her quick smile dazzled him. “I’ll stop by later, then. Your friend is bringing the car on Saturday?”

He nodded, unable to think of a word to say.

“Saturday, then.” She gave him a little wave before waltzing through the office and out of the building.

Peter watched her go, unable to move a muscle and not entirely sure what had just happened except that she wanted to work with him.

He finally had a chance.

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