by Nancy Moser
Vesta glanced left and right, checking for the proximity of neighborhood ears. She motioned him closer. He stood beneath her window. “Your father has locked me in my room.”
“What?”
“Locked. He has forbidden me from leaving.”
“He can’t do that.”
“He did that. But he’s at work. Come in and insist that Baines or Lola let you in to talk to me.”
He strode toward the door, a man on a mission. His knock was strong and insistent. She heard Baines greet him. “Let me see my mother. Immediately.”
The door closed, and the sound moved from the exterior to inside the house. Vesta ran to the bedroom door, her ear against it, listening.
There was some argument but then she heard Sean’s feet on the stairs. The door unlocked, and she fell into his arms, clinging to him. “I’m so glad you came! You’ve saved me!”
Sean glanced toward the stairwell then put a finger to his lips, quieting her. He came into the room and closed the door behind. He took both her hands in his and whispered, “Tell me what’s going on.”
She told him the entire story that spanned the time he and Annie left the day before, to her own revelation of their unappreciative faith, to her argument with Richard and her captivity.
“He’s gone wonkers,” Sean said.
“I pushed him.”
“He needed to be pushed.” He paced back and forth near the door. “I knew he was obstinate and set in his ways, but I never thought he was cruel.”
There are many forms of cruelty. “I need to get out of here,” she said. “Completely. Out of the house.”
Sean let out a breath. “That’s serious business.”
Vesta had second thoughts. “Is it too much?”
“We need to think this through.” He led her to a settee where they both sat in silence, collecting their thoughts. “If I lock you back in here, what happens when he comes home after work this evening? Will he let you out?”
“I would hope so. Yet…I have never seen him so angry. The frenzy of his expression frightened me. And he has never manhandled me as he did, dragging me up the stairs like that.” She rubbed her sore arm. She’d noticed bruises but didn’t dare tell Sean about it.
“What happens if he finds you gone?”
Vesta’s first thought brought pleasure, but she quickly brushed it away. “You smiled.”
He’d caught her. “It would give me some satisfaction to know that I had escaped his prison.”
“He’ll be even angrier.”
“But I won’t be here to see it.” The thought gave her strength. Yet…“One enormous question looms: where will I go?”
“You will come live with us.”
She’d hoped he would say that. “There is no extra room in your apartment.”
“We will make room for you. And then you will be free to help us with our work. We all missed you. That is why I am here. To fetch you back again.”
“What about Baines and Lola? I don’t want them to lose their jobs over this.”
Sean hesitated. “I will send them on errands. When they return, we will be gone.”
“Gone,” she repeated.
“Where is a carpetbag?”
She pulled it out from under the bed. “It’s packed and ready to go.”
He put his hand on the door. “Are you sure about this?”
Her stomach grabbed, but she said, “I am.”
“I’ll be back. Be ready to go.”
Ready to go. Her heart beat in her throat but did not incapacitate her. Instead she felt a wave of courage. She sat on the bed beside the carpetbag and willed her racing heart to calm. “Peace, Father. Give me courage and peace.”
Not ten minutes later, Sean returned. “Come!” he whispered.
He took the bag and closed the door behind them. Then they scurried down the stairs, gathered her coat and a hat, and ran out the front door to a waiting cab. Only when they were on their way did Vesta risk speaking.
“How did you get rid of Baines and Lola?”
“I told Baines that you had requested a special tonic and some headache medicine from the apothecary. I sent Lola along because she knows which ones you prefer.”
“They were not suspicious?”
“I believe they were. But they also seemed glad to have a reason to be gone, an excuse they might tell Father when he returns.”
“So they know you’re letting me out?”
“Baines thanked me for being a good son.”
She linked her arm in his and kissed his cheek. “You are the best son. And I thank God for you.”
Annie looked at the clock on the wall. Surely Sean and Vesta should be back by now. Surely Richard wouldn’t give them any trouble about it.
Surely he might.
Suddenly, the door to the workshop opened and Sean stepped in. “Surprise!”
Vesta came in after him.
The ladies swarmed around her, asking questions.
“Let her talk,” Sean said.
They backed away, and Annie could see that her mother-in-law’s eyes were puffy, her face haggard, even when she managed to smile.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Annie said.
“I’m so glad to be here.” Vesta took Sean’s hand. “Thank you, son, for saving me.”
“Saving you?” Edna asked.
“Did Richard hurt you?” Maude asked. “Because if he did…”
Vesta began to shake her head then nodded. “He locked me in my room.”
“He can’t do that! You’re his wife. You’re a grown woman,” Maude said.
“He did it anyway,” Sean said. “The servants had been ordered not to let her out while Father was at work. But I managed to sneak her away.” He nodded toward the hall. “We packed a bag for her. She will live with us.”
Annie was taken aback but recovered quickly. She would do anything for Vesta.
“Just temporarily,” Vesta said, looking at her. “I can sleep on your sofa.”
“Or I can,” Sean said.
Vesta shook her head vehemently. “I will not come between a husband and wife. I will sleep on the sofa.”
“What’s Richard going to do when he comes home and finds you gone?” Maude asked.
“Come after me,” Vesta said with a shiver. “Or perhaps not. I’ve made it clear where my loyalties lie.” She touched Sean’s cheek then looked at the ladies. “Working with all of you has awakened a new life within me.”
Edna and Maude took turns giving Vesta a hug.
Annie was last and held on to her longer than necessary. She whispered in her ear, “I’m so glad you got away.”
“Me too,” Vesta whispered.
“Well then,” Maude said. “You’ve come at just the right time. In your short absence we’ve made some heady decisions, and there is much work to do. More work to do.”
“Tell us,” Vesta said, turning to the cutting table. “Then put me on it.”
Maude and Annie described their plan of offering sized, ready-made dresses in a shop.
“A storefront. On the street,” Sean said, with doubt in his voice.
“Exactly.”
“And how will we pay—?”
There was a knock on the door. Annie opened it to see the elder Mr. Tuttle—Gramps—from the bakery. Her thoughts raced to Iris.
“Has she had the baby?”
“Just did. I’ve been sent to fetch you.”
Annie grabbed her hat then remembered the all-important question. “Boy or girl?”
“Girl.”
“What’s her name?”
“I’ll let Iris tell you.”
“Are mother and baby doing well?” Sean asked.
“Well enough. Come now, Annie. They’re waiting.”
At the last minute, Annie remembered the layette she’d made for the baby. And then Edna remembered the dresses that Mrs. Tuttle and Jane had worn at the soiree—and had purchased.
Annie left with full arms and a
fuller heart.
Thomas answered the door to their flat, which was across from the Tuttle bakery. “Annie.”
She drew him into an embrace. “Congratulations, new papa.”
“Thank you. But it’s Iris who did the work of it. Go on in. She’s eager to see you.”
Annie removed her hat and set the dresses aside. She entered the bedroom and saw Iris sleeping with a swaddled baby in her arms. She began to tiptoe out when Iris stopped her.
“Annie! Come in. I’m just dozing.” She looked down at her child and touched her cheek. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
Annie sat on the side of the bed and cupped the baby’s head in her palm. “She’s absolutely lovely. What’s her name?”
“Danielle Ann Tuttle.”
Annie’s chest grew tight, and she was barely able to speak. “After Danny.”
“And you.” Iris took her hand. “I would not be here—we would not be here—if not for you. I’d probably still be working at the Friesens’, scrubbing floors and cleaning the grates.”
But Danny would be here—be alive—if not for me urging all of us to leave service.
Annie swiped a tear from her eye. “May I hold her?”
“Of course.”
The baby was so light, like holding a bundle of air. The child immediately adjusted to Annie’s arms.
“Soon you’ll be holding your own babe.”
Danielle squeaked, so Annie bobbed her up and down, quieting her. A question surfaced. “Was it…hard?”
“Giving birth?” Iris laughed. “I’ve never felt such pain in my entire life.”
Annie sat again. “That’s what I fear. The pain.”
“I did too. And I won’t sugarcoat it, pretending it was easy in any way. It was hard. It was labor.”
It was funny how Annie had never thought of the full meaning of that word. The implications.
“If I can do it, you can.” She nodded toward her daughter. “The pain was bad, but it was worth it.”
“Of course,” Annie said, running a finger along the baby’s cheek.
“She’s God’s blessing, and I’d go through it again in a minute for her sake.”
Annie laughed. “Wait a few years.”
“Aye. That might be a good idea.” She took the baby back. “Ain’t it odd, Annie? We’re becoming mothers now, when just last year we were runaways from service.”
“Until Thomas wooed you and won your heart.”
“The Tuttles won my heart. But…Thomas liked you better. At first.”
Annie shook her head. “He never liked me. I was simply more his age.”
“I’m glad you got the job at Macy’s.”
Annie didn’t see the connection. “Why?”
“Because it took you away during the day, leaving me at the Tuttles with Thomas.”
Annie laughed. “I’m glad it worked out for you.”
“For both of us, eh?”
“For both of us.”
Jane and Mrs. Tuttle held their dresses against themselves. Jane spun around. “Oh, Annie. It’s so beautiful. Thank you.”
“Ahem.”
Jane looked at her father, who said, “Who paid for them?”
“You did.” She ran to him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Papa.”
“Wife?” He tapped his other cheek.
Mrs. Tuttle kissed it—and gave it a pinch. “Thank you, m’love.”
He pinched her bottom.
“We are going to be the toast of the neighborhood. Everyone’s going to want one of your dresses, Annie.”
Jane cocked her head. “Those ladies at the fancy party…did they want them too?”
“Did you get many orders from them?” Mrs. Tuttle asked.
Annie was tired of detailing their failure. “We’ve changed direction. We’re not selling to those types anymore.”
“Who you selling to then?”
“To you. To ladies like you. We’re going to have a shop. You’ll be able to come in, see the dresses already made up in your size, try them on, buy them, and wear them that same day.” She pointed to the new dresses. “Special dresses that are functional yet make a woman feel pretty. Easy-to-wear dresses. Fashion for the unruffled, unveiled, unstoppable woman.”
Mrs. Tuttle laughed. “Sounds like a description of you, Annie. And a store. How about calling it Unruffled?”
The word hung in the air between them, as though waiting for her approval. “It’s unusual, but I quite fancy it. Very much.”
“You open your shop and we’ll be loyal customers, and bring others with us,” Jane said.
Annie rushed back to the workshop, driven by her desire to share the name of their store.
Edna looked up from pinning a seam. “How’s the baby?”
“She’s beautiful.”
Maude stood on a chair, installing pegs in the walls to hold spools of thread. “What’s her name?”
“Danielle Ann Tuttle.”
She stepped off the chair and hugged her. “After you and Danny.”
“That’s sweet of them,” Edna said.
“You and Sean need to be thinking of names too,” Vesta said.
“For your baby and for the store,” Maude said.
“I don’t have a baby name yet, but…” Annie said, “…I do have a name for the store.”
“You do?”
“When did this happen?”
“What is it?”
The name was so unusual that Annie hedged. “First, let me tell you a description of our designs and of the shop: fashion for the unruffled, unveiled, unstoppable woman.”
Maude clapped. “Un-believable,” she said. “It’s perfect!”
“It is!” Edna said. “Who wouldn’t want to shop in such a store?”
“We’re offering our customers more than just a dress,” Annie said. “We’re offering them the chance to embrace their choice to be a modern woman.”
Vesta touched her arm. “I just got shivers.”
Maude raised her hand. “But what of the name? I still like Annie’s Dresses.”
Annie shook her head. To name it after herself when all her friends were involved seemed the epitome of being prideful. “I thought—”
“Most of the other stores are someone’s name,” Edna said. “Macy’s, Tiffany’s, Lord & Taylor, even Lane Bryant. That’s what most stores do.”
“Bergdorf Goodman,” Vesta added. “Gimbels.”
“All men’s names,” Maude said. “Except for Lane Bryant.”
Did they forget she’d told them she had a name in mind?
Edna must have read her thoughts for she pressed her hands in the air, quieting the discussion. “Annie? What is the name of the store?”
“We’re not like most stores. We want to be different,” she said.
“Annie!” Maude said. “Tell us.”
She fueled herself with a fresh breath. “Unruffled.”
No one responded at first, as though they needed a moment to let it settle.
Or, they hated it and weren’t sure how to tell her.
Edna repeated the tag line. “Unruffled: Fashion for the Unruffled, Unveiled, Unstoppable Woman.”
Maude raised her hand. “I vote yes to Unruffled, for we four are the epitome of the unruffled woman.”
“I vote yes too,” Edna said.
“Me three,” Vesta said.
“Us four and five,” came from their two sewers, Ginny and Gert, who stood in the doorway of the sewing room.
“Not that you asked us,” Ginny said.
“But we should have asked you,” Annie said. “For you are our customer.”
The girls raised their chins higher. “I like the idea of being unruffled—in fashion and in just being who we are,” Gert said. “We’d buy in a shop like that. So would our friends, eh, Ginny?”
“They would. I knows it.”
Annie’s throat grew tight. It was all coming together, like so many roads converging. “This is it,” she whispered. “This i
s what we are supposed to do.”
There were hugs all around. And praise to God who had supplied the answers.
“I will not allow you to sleep on the sofa, Sean,” his mother said. “Now give me that sheet and help me tuck it in.”
Sean reluctantly handed it over, and together they created a bed for Vesta on the sofa in their small parlor. Annie brought a pillow and blanket.
“There,” Vesta said when they were finished. “I’ll be snug as a bug in a rug.” I’ll have to be, as the sofa is short.
Annie closed the window just a tad. “Let me know if it’s too warm or cool.”
“The October air is quite refreshing. And I am quite capable of adjusting the window, my dear.”
“Of course you are,” Sean said. “We just want you to be comfortable.”
“And happy,” Annie added.
They both studied her, and Vesta knew she had to say something about her extraordinary day. “I did the right thing, leaving.”
“I’m surprised Father hasn’t shown up here. Surely he knows where you went.”
Which proves how little he cares. She put on a brave face. “I rebelled against him. I either expected him to come here and order me home, or…”
“Or?” Annie prodded.
“Or he’d be glad that I’m gone and proceed with his dinner and his after-dinner cognac and cigar with little notice of my absence.”
“He has to be worried,” Annie said.
“I’m sure he’s pried at least part of the truth from Baines and Lola,” Vesta said. “If they told him you came…” She fluffed the pillow and returned it to its place. “I just hope he doesn’t take his anger out on them.” Or any of us.
They bid each other good night, and Vesta settled onto the sofa—which wasn’t that uncomfortable if she lay on her side. The moonlight cast a swath across the room. The evening breeze was too warm and she cast off the covers.
As Richard has cast me off?
Why hadn’t he come? All day she’d looked toward the door of the workshop at any sound upon the stairs, expecting him to burst through the door and demand she come home where she belonged. But mostly she’d wallowed in the busyness of the work, letting it—and the voices of her friends—weave a cocoon of safety around her, or at least diverting her thoughts from the repercussions that would surely come.