She was on her way home when a sign over a door on Höllgasse Lane caught her eye, suspended perpendicular to the facade. “Coiffeur,” it read, and there was an illustration of a pair of scissors and wild swirls that might have represented curly hair. Was the shop new? Or had she simply not noticed it before?
Curious, Clara peered in through the front window, which was arched at the top and flanked by two light-green shutters. A young woman was cleaning brushes in soapy water. She had red-blond hair pinned close to her scalp, but Clara could see no customers. She hesitated a moment longer, then stepped inside.
“Good morning, I—”
“You’d like a wash? And a fresh trim, perhaps a nice hairdo?” said the hairdresser eagerly before Clara could say another word. “I can even dry your hair with this. It’s the latest thing, look!” Hastily, she hoisted a metallic, dangerous-looking piece of equipment into the air.
Clara laughed and nodded.
“You couldn’t have seen my shop before, because I’ve only been open a week,” the young woman, who had introduced herself as Therese Himmelsreich, explained. “But I have been to the pharmacy where you work, several times. I get my soap from Mr. Weingarten, but it does have rather a strong smell, unfortunately. But I’ve never seen you in there, either.”
“I work in the laboratory,” said Clara. “I don’t have any contact with the customers at all.”
“That’s a pity,” said the hairdresser. “As pretty and charming as you are, I think the customers would love to see you behind the counter.”
Clara blushed. Pretty and charming?
“I don’t have anything to do with making the soap, either,” Clara said. “If I did, the soaps would have a delicate perfume of lavender or roses, as they used to at my father’s pharmacy. I have been making some creams—the sort I also learned from my father.”
Once Therese had washed Clara’s hair in a large porcelain basin, she set to work with her scissors. “Not long ago, I was a chambermaid for a Flemish countess. She and her husband always spent their summers here at the lake, and that’s how I first came here.” She took a step back and scrutinized her work through narrowed eyes. She seemed satisfied, then went back to snipping and chatting. “The villa my employers rented in Friedrichshafen was a dream. But then the count started looking at me, and that was less dreamy. And, idiot that I am, I didn’t say no, though I knew full well it would only cause trouble.” The hairdresser underlined her words with a particularly furious bout of snipping at the back of Clara’s head.
Clara, worried, looked in the mirror, but her hair was still below her shoulders.
“What had to happen . . . happened. I got pregnant. And suddenly, the fine count wanted nothing to do with me anymore.” The hairdresser shook her head indignantly.
Clara was speechless. She had never in her life heard a woman speak so openly about such things. But everything about Therese Himmelsreich was unique. Every word she uttered, every gesture she made showed an appetite for life and highlighted her untroubled, easy spirit. In the winter light falling through the window, Clara saw that Therese’s red-blond hair was as fine as the fluff of a newborn chick. With hair like that, it would have been impossible to create an elaborate hairdo or fancy braids, but Therese had done the best she could with it. Clara smiled. What was the old saw? The cobbler always wears the worst shoes . . .
“And then?”
“He threw me out. Before his darling wife found out anything about his ‘lapse,’” said Therese in a sober voice. “At least he was decent enough to pay me a good severance. It held me over while I figured out a new way to make a living. It took a little while, but now I’ve opened this shop with the rest of his money. There, finished,” she said, and laid down her scissors with a flourish.
“But your child? Where is . . . I mean . . .” Clara bit her lip. “Excuse me, it’s none of my business.” Just because Therese was so open about herself did not give Clara any right to go asking questions like that.
“I lost the baby after just a few weeks,” said Therese, and she shrugged indifferently. “That was not good. Very sad, really, and I did cry a little, of course. But I had to move ahead.”
After that, they stopped talking because Clara’s head was engulfed in the hot air that swirled from the howling hair dryer. Five minutes later, when the torture was over, Clara was more than relieved.
“Abominable machine,” said Therese as she put the heavy device down. “But very helpful.” With quick movements, she began to arrange Clara’s hair. She paused now and then to explain what she was doing. “If you twist your hair like this and then pin it, you can do this chignon yourself. If you ask me, it’s far more elegant than the old-fashioned bun you walked in here with. See for yourself!” She held a mirror behind Clara’s head so that she could admire herself from all sides.
Her hair had taken on a beautiful luster, and having her hair pulled up gently at the sides showed off her fine cheeks to advantage.
“You have magic in your hands,” said Clara admiringly.
“Tell that to all the women you meet, please. Then my little shop here will be booming,” laughed Therese.
While the hairdresser swept up the hair, Clara remained in the chair a moment longer, thinking. She had worn a chignon like that once before, when she had visited Isabelle in Champagne. It had not been a very happy time . . .
“What’s the matter, Mrs. Berg?” Therese asked, and her water-green eyes widened with concern. “Don’t you like your hair like this?”
Clara stood and rested one hand soothingly on Therese’s arm. “Don’t worry. I was just thinking of something, and it made me sad.”
“Well, if you’re looking for something to cure sadness, come to me,” Therese said, looking Clara in the eye. “I know from experience that it does not pay to spend long brooding on things. Life is far too beautiful for that. Maybe you should think about opening a place of your own. You could make and sell your lovely soaps and creams. Then you’ll have no time left to think about sad things.” She looked at Clara critically. “You don’t need to be someone’s helper any more than I do.”
“Me? Self-employed?” Clara let out a shrill laugh as she surveyed the inside of Therese’s parlor. Looking at it more closely, she could see that the place was scantily equipped. One hairdresser’s chair, a basin on the wall, the monstrous hair dryer, and a shelf on which stood various shampoos and dyes. Was that really all one needed to be a hairdresser? That and magical hands, thought Clara, wondering if she had her own kind of magic. In a brittle voice, she asked, “How has business been?”
“Up to now, pretty slow. At the moment, I’m paying out more than I’m making,” Therese admitted openly. “Either the women of Meersburg have their hands full getting ready for Christmas, or they’re not vain enough to think about getting their hair done. My job is to convince them that prettifying themselves is worth it!”
Clara laughed.
“Come next spring, when the tourists arrive, I’ll have my hands more than full,” Therese went on. “I know that the king of Württemberg and his royal retinue spend summers at the castle in Friedrichshafen, but many noblemen rent villas in the surrounding towns. Here in Meersburg, too.”
“My friend Lilo owns the Hotel Residenz, and she told me that there are several high-society guests who stay there,” Clara said. “If you like, I could promote your shop a little at the hotel.”
“That would be wonderful!” Therese grasped Clara’s hands. Clara was thrilled at the mutual pleasure of their meeting.
With her hand on the door handle, Clara let her eyes roam the room one more time before she walked out. Seen from the door, Therese’s hairdressing counter and equipment mostly occupied the left side of the shop, but to the right, the place was essentially empty, and the two large show windows in front were undecorated. In fact, the space was far too big for what Therese was doing with it . . .
Chapter Thirteen
“You want to what?” Lilo, sitting acros
s her desk from Clara, looked at her with surprise.
Clara had burst into Lilo’s office as soon as she had returned to the hotel. There was no one she would rather share her idea with than Lilo!
“Open a shop for my creams. A . . . shop of beauty,” Clara said, not sure what else to call it. She felt the heat in her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her excitement or from the icy west wind she’d walked against. “I could officially sell my creams. The hotel lobby has been lucrative, but I know it can’t work as a salesroom in the long term.” She could not stop smiling. “I’ll offer soaps, as well—delicately perfumed soaps. I learned how to make them when I was a girl. And face lotion. A small selection to start with.” Clara was so excited that she had to take a deep breath before she could go on. “Therese thinks that the women in Meersburg aren’t very particular about beauty care, and that one can’t expect to make a fortune, but that business will pick up nicely when the tourists come back in spring. That’s what I’ll be counting on, at least.”
Just moments earlier, on her way to Lilo’s office, she had been approached yet again about her creams. The young pianist that Lilo hired for the holidays wanted to take a jar home to his mother in the new year.
“Who is this Therese, again?” Lilo asked. “And exactly where is this business of hers?”
Clara told her all about Therese Himmelsreich’s hairdressing shop and how it had more than enough room to house a second business. “An amazing coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Therese seems to know her trade, at least. Your hair looks fantastic,” said Lilo, then she stared off into nothingness for a moment.
Is she thinking about it, or angry at me? Clara wondered. “I haven’t talked with Therese about it, yet. Nothing’s been decided . . .”
“Not yet,” said Lilo. “But now I’m looking forward to paying a visit to the new hairdresser’s, where your wonderful creams will also be on sale.” She broke into a broad grin.
Clara felt a weight lift from her heart. “So you’re not mad at me? Not mad that I have to turn down your manager offer?”
Lilo stood up, strode around her desk, and threw her arms around Clara. “Nonsense, I’m happy for you! This is a huge opportunity, take it from me. Haven’t I always told you that the lake opens your mind to new ideas? I just didn’t think it would happen to you quite so fast. Congratulations!”
“I can hardly believe I’m thinking so fearlessly,” said Clara a bit later as they sat in the restaurant, celebrating Clara’s plans with a glass of champagne. “I’ll talk to Therese tomorrow. I just know she’ll be happy to have me move in and share the costs of the place with her.”
“You’re starting to sound just like a businesswoman. Who would have thought?”
Clara soaked up Lilo’s admiration. “There’s something else,” she said slowly. “If I really start the business, I don’t think I’ll be able to work for you anymore, not even on an hourly basis. But can I keep on living here? I’ll pay, of course! And it would only be until I find a small apartment of my own.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. The wing you’re in has to be renovated before I can rent the rooms. And I won’t start with that until the middle of January, at least.”
Another load off Clara’s mind. “How much would the rent be?”
Lilo waved one hand dismissively. “If you let me have one of your creams now and then, we’ll call it good. I know the place on Höllgasse Lane, by the way. The building itself belongs to Alfred Schrott, one of the town councilors. He’s one of Meersburg’s honorable citizens, but I find him extremely disagreeable.” She shivered.
Clara looked at her inquiringly, but instead of explaining her remark any more, Lilo said, “It’s a nice place, and well situated, if not exactly a prime location. There used to be a fabric store there. It belonged to Alfred’s wife, Lydia. She had wonderful fabrics. Look, I bought this velvet from her.” Lilo held out one arm to Clara, who felt the sleeve of the night-blue dress between her fingers. “But it was no fun to visit her shop. Mrs. Schrott is grumpy and miserable all the time, and she seems to think she has to take it out on somebody. It was enough to put off even her most patient customers. She had to close up shop completely a year ago because the Meersburg women preferred to go to Friedrichshafen than put up with so much unfriendliness.”
“I plan to be friendliness personified. It’s all about giving good advice, if you ask me. So I’ll be telling my customers precisely how to use the products and—” Clara stopped when she realized it was far too soon to think about such details.
“You can hardly wait, can you?”
Clara shook her head. “I really can’t. The only thing that really worries me is telling Frieder Weingarten.”
“Then why don’t you keep the job in the pharmacy a little longer? Now that winter’s here, it’s very quiet by the lake. As you’ve said, it might be slow until spring.”
“Maybe you’re right,” said Clara thoughtfully. “But I feel like I’ve already wasted so much time in my life that I have to focus on the shop now, and there is so much I need to do to get ready to open. Don’t ask me where this sudden impulse comes from. I don’t know. But . . .” She faltered, searching for the right words. “It feels like the right thing to do. Do you know what I mean?” She would still offer to help Mr. Weingarten in an emergency.
Lilo smiled. “I know exactly what you mean,” she said softly. “Here’s to your shop of beauty!” she said then, more loudly, and lifted her glass of champagne.
“To the shop of beauty,” Clara repeated. The clink of crystal was the most exquisite music to her ears.
The next morning, Therese was just opening up when Clara went hurrying up the hill. She had been so excited the night before that she had hardly slept. Now, out of breath and with a tremor in her voice, she laid out her plan to the hairdresser.
“That is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time. If one of us has to run out for a minute, the other can keep an eye on the store. That’s good for both of us,” Therese said, and she hugged Clara gleefully. “When did you want to start, Mrs. Berg?”
Clara felt dizzy with relief. “Tomorrow?” Therese nodded, and Clara stepped back and held out her hand. “And please, call me Clara.”
The weeks that followed were exhilarating and exhausting. Frieder Weingarten accepted both her departure and her promise to help if needed with good grace. And even without the work in the pharmacy, Clara was on her feet from early morning to late evening, every day, setting up her half of the shop. The first thing she did was hire a carpenter, Mr. Bastian, who constructed a kind of wooden screen at the back of Clara’s section. She would set up a work area behind the screen where she could mix her creams and tinctures without being disturbed. Clara also had him build a partition in the center of the room. Therese’s hairdressing studio was on the left side of the partition and Clara’s realm was on the right, so each woman could attend to her customers privately.
When the carpenter had finished his work, Clara painted the walls on her side in a pale lavender that Meersburg’s only professional painter mixed especially for her. She was exhausted from the physical labor, but when she stood back to inspect her handiwork, the room looked so airy and feminine that she imagined she already had the scent of lavender in her nose.
That evening, Clara and Lilo had a moment to enjoy a glass of wine together, and Clara was eager to describe the carpentry and the new paint. “I am so pleased with how it’s turning out. Now I just need some sales counters and a few shelves to show off my products. And I was thinking that a small table and two chairs would be ideal for a customer who prefers to sit during her consultation.”
“My storeroom is filled to the brim with furniture that we don’t need in the hotel anymore,” Lilo said. “Maybe you can find a shelf or something else for your shop? Most of it is a little worn, I’m afraid, but with a bit of pepping up . . .”
Clara didn’t hesitate. Later that evening, she found Fritz just as he finished
repairing a small leak and asked him to unlock the large storeroom for her. There she found the furniture stacked to the ceiling. Ignoring the dust and the sharp stench of mothballs, Clara rummaged through the narrow aisles, and Fritz helped move things around, pointing out a cupboard here, a shelf there. Two large shelves with peeling gray paint, a sideboard with broken panes of frosted glass, a pair of small tattered armchairs, and a round table with a turned base—Clara was pleased with her loot. No doubt the painter could tell her how to strip the old paint from the shelves. Then she would repaint them in a muted lavender. And she would reupholster the armchairs . . .
“Fritz, do you know what that is?” She pointed to something green on top of a high cupboard.
Fritz frowned. “No idea. Let’s take a look.” He climbed onto a chair and began to tug at the green object that had been wedged between the cupboard and the ceiling. The next moment, layers of green fabric came tumbling down on top of them.
“Whoops!” Clara laughed, then kneeled to examine the rolls of fabric more closely. It was a ribbed material, a light shade of lime green, and creased and crumpled from being poorly stored. Clara’s eyes gleamed as she smoothed it with her hand. “Do you think Lilo would let me have this, too? I’d even pay her for it.” If she reupholstered the dainty armchairs with this fabric, the lime green would complement the lavender walls perfectly. And maybe she could line the interior of the sideboard with it also.
“I’m sure the boss has no use for that old stuff. Besides, she said you could pick out whatever you wanted. Why don’t you just take all the rolls with you? If you like, I’ll bring everything up to Höllgasse Lane in a cart.”
“You’d do that for me?” Clara gave Fritz a grateful smile. “What would it cost?”
“A jar of your cream for my fiancée would be plenty!”
With her right hand wrapped protectively in an old rag, Clara smashed the damaged panes of glass out of the old sideboard. Then she carefully put the shards of glass in the trash. She was pleased with her handiwork: the sideboard was far more appealing without the frosted glass. Next, she held up the material she had used to reupholster the armchairs. The green background would show off her white glass jars to their fullest advantage, so she set to work measuring and cutting the fabric she would need. She had always been good with a needle and thread, and she had an eye for color, cut, and form—in her old home, she had made all her own clothes and her children’s. Considering how tight Gerhard had been with the household money, she had had no choice. She never would have guessed that the skills she honed as a housewife would come in handy for something like this.
The Queen of Beauty (The Century Trilogy Book 3) Page 10