The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  Only they hadn’t come. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or sad.

  Either way, tears accompanied her to sleep.

  Vesta was awakened by knocking on the door.

  “Vesta?” His voice was a sharp whisper.

  Richard? She got up to answer it so as not to awaken Annie and Sean. But too late, for Sean came out of their bedroom, and Annie appeared in the doorway.

  “It’s your father,” Vesta said.

  “Vesta, you open the door this minute!”

  Sean did the honors. “May we help you?”

  Richard looked past him. “I want to see my wife.”

  “It’s after midnight. She doesn’t want to see you.”

  He pointed over Sean’s shoulder. “Don’t be silly. She’s right there.”

  Vesta didn’t want to create a scene or wake the neighbors. “Let him in, Sean.”

  Richard entered like a storm cloud. He wasn’t wearing a tie but wore a coat over trousers that had his nightshirt tucked into the waistband. His hair was tousled instead of smooth. His appearance spoke volumes. And gave her courage.

  “What do you want, Richard?” she asked.

  “You know very well what I want.” He pointed outside. “Baines has the car waiting.”

  She sat upon the sofa. Her bed. “I wish to stay here.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You belong at home. With me.”

  “To do what?”

  His head pulled back. “To be my wife.”

  “To be your prisoner?”

  “You exaggerate.”

  “Did you not lock me in my room and forbid Lola and Baines from letting me out?”

  He scoffed. “Some good that did.”

  Sean intervened. “Her escape is my doing, Father. Do not blame them.”

  Annie added her two cents. “You should not have locked her in, Richard.”

  Suddenly his demeanor changed. His forehead ruffled and he pressed his fingers against it. “I regret that. But you were so agitated I had no recourse.”

  “Did you ever consider I might have been right? That perhaps I should have access to my inheritance? Especially when it could be used to help our son and his wife?”

  He removed his hand from his forehead, and Vesta could see him trying to regain his usual control.

  Quick! Before he fully finds himself! “I want to help them here at the workshop—continue to help them. If not monetarily, by working with them.”

  “But you have nothing to offer. No skills.”

  His words stabbed.

  “That’s rude and untrue, Father,” Sean said. “Mother is an enormous help.”

  “She has a good eye for design,” Annie added.

  “You humor her.”

  “We do not.” Annie sat beside Vesta and put an arm around her shoulders. “She has talent. She’d hoped to design fashion before you two were married. This is her chance to reignite that talent.”

  Richard cocked his head. “I remember no such interest.”

  For him not to remember who she was before they were wed, for him to discount those talents and dreams…“Do you remember me designing dresses for myself, Mother, Grandmother, and my friends? Designs that our dressmaker sewed up?”

  He waved a hand at her, discounting the notion in its entirety. “A female matter. It was of no concern to me.”

  Vesta rose to face him. “No, I suppose it wasn’t. For all you cared about was opening your store.”

  “That store has sustained us for twenty-six years. You were a part of that store.”

  Now it was her turn to scoff. “So you admit I had a hand in it? That I was there? Working with you to achieve your dream?”

  He realized his error. “Don’t goad me, Vesta.”

  “And don’t insult me.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Go home, Richard. Leave me here to attend to this female matter called fashion.”

  He hesitated and looked to Sean for support. But Sean said, “I think it’s best you go, Father. She is fine here.”

  Vesta was surprised when he walked through the door. And not surprised when he turned and offered a final word. “This cannot be sustained, Vesta. You will come home.”

  “Good night, Richard.”

  When she closed the door, she held on to the doorknob for support and leaned her forehead against the wood. Her heart beat in her ears. Her chest felt heavy.

  Sean came to her side. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m not sure.” She stood upright and drew in a fresh breath, let it out, then repeated the process twice more. With each breath she felt strength return. And something more than that…

  Gumption.

  “I am fine,” she told them. “And actually, though I abhor confrontation, I am glad he came so I can stop worrying about his coming.”

  “There is truth to that,” Annie said. “For I expected him long before now.”

  “As did I,” Sean said.

  “Will you go back to him?” Annie asked.

  No. Yes. Maybe. “Probably. But until then, I have a new world to explore.” She glanced at the clock. “A world that expects me to function six hours from now. Off to bed now. All of us.”

  This time when Vesta lay down on the sofa, she did not let tears have their way.

  Instead, she smiled.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Maude draped her shawl over her shoulders, ready to leave for work.

  Edna looked up from her morning cup of coffee. “It’s not yet seven.”

  “I need to talk to Annie before the day begins.”

  Edna eyed her like the mother she’d come to be. “What’s wrong?”

  Maude shook her head, began to open the door, then closed it again. “I couldn’t sleep last night.”

  “What are you worried about? We ended yesterday on a positive note. Vesta has been rescued from harm. We’re opening a store, and it has a name: Unruffled.”

  “We still need money.”

  Edna set her cup down. “Oh.”

  “Oh? That’s all you can say?”

  “We’ve been praying, Maude. I assume God will take care of it.”

  Maude scoffed. “He’s going to make it rain money?”

  “He could.”

  “Your faith is different than mine.” Which faith was the better faith was yet to be determined.

  “Don’t you believe He answers prayer?”

  “I do. I trust Him because I know everything depends on Him, yet I also feel the need to do my part as if everything depends on me. Us.”

  “That’s contradictory.”

  “No, it’s not. We can’t pray for success then sit in the kitchen all day, drinking coffee. We have to do the work while we wait to see how He answers our prayers.”

  “What if we do the wrong work?”

  Maude pulled her shawl tighter. “I guess we have to trust Him to stop us.”

  Edna sipped her coffee. “I like the idea of that.”

  “I count on the idea of that,” Maude said. “I have to go.”

  “To speak to Annie about…?”

  Maude didn’t want to go into it unless she had to. “I’ll let you know.”

  She crossed the street to Annie and Sean’s apartment, saying “Good morning” to the street vendors who were setting up their wares. The smell of freshly baked bread almost caused a detour.

  Almost.

  As she climbed the stairs and stood outside their apartment door, she realized she didn’t know how she wanted Annie to respond to what she was about to say. Her uncertainty added to her uncertainty.

  Sean answered the door, adjusting his suspenders on his shoulders. “Maude? Are we late?”

  “I’m early.” She saw Annie sitting at the table, spreading butter on a roll. Vesta sat beside her. “How was your night, Vesta?”

  “Very good,” she said.

  Maude hesitated. “I’m sorry, but I need to talk to Annie. Alone, if I may?”

  “Of course,” Vesta said. “I’ll head up
to the workshop.”

  “And I’m off to Butterick,” Sean said, drinking the last of his coffee. He kissed Annie, grabbed his jacket, and was gone.

  “Sorry,” Maude said, as she entered the flat. “You and I could have gone to the workshop…”

  “It all worked out,” Annie said. “Have a roll.”

  Maude shook her head. Although she was not one to miss a meal, she knew it would not settle well upon her nervous stomach.

  “My, my,” Annie said. “What’s wrong?”

  “We need money.”

  “This is not a new concern.”

  “I know someone with money.”

  Annie’s face brightened. “Who?”

  You can still stop this. Don’t say it, Maude. Don’t say… “My mother.”

  “Your…?” Annie’s words trailed off, and Maude could tell she was remembering what Maude had told her about her mother. “You’ve talked to her recently?”

  “Not for six years.”

  “Will she talk to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Your father was a British diplomat, correct?”

  “He was. That’s why I think Mother has money. I assume she inherited a goodly amount when he died. I was only twelve then, and she and I moved to America and lived well enough with my maiden-aunt—who absolutely, positively deserved to be a spinster. Beastly woman.”

  “Beastly?”

  “She only cared about herself, about ‘me, myself, and I.’ Since Mother and I held none of those titles…” She shrugged.

  “Didn’t her selfishness bring you two closer?”

  “Could have. Should have. But didn’t.” Maude remembered too many hours spent alone—even if all three females were in the same room.

  “If life was so miserable for both of you, why didn’t you and your mother move to your own place? Could it be she didn’t receive much of an inheritance?”

  “I think she had money, I never had any indication otherwise. And I asked her to move out. Begged her. But she couldn’t bring herself to deal with the decisions involved. It was easier to stay and suffer than take a risk and be happy. I don’t think she wanted to be happy. There was a hint of sick satisfaction in her grief.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  Maude shrugged again. “Truth often is.”

  “You were the one who cut ties with her, yes?”

  Maude remembered the day when she decided to leave and never return. She hadn’t been brave enough to tell her mother in person but had left a note. The memory shamed her.

  “Maude? You cut the ties?”

  “I did. Though my leaving should not have come as a surprise to her. While Auntie focused on her own needs, Mother focused on hers. She mourned my father’s death long and hard, and became a bitter recluse, living among her relics of days gone by. She didn’t want anyone around, much less me.”

  “I’m sure she did the best she could.”

  Had she? Maude ignored the inner question and continued her explanation. “She wasn’t the only reason I left. You know that. I left because of what happened to me. And its consequences.”

  Annie lowered her voice. “The rape.”

  Maude nodded once. It had been hard for Maude to tell Annie and Edna about it, but she was glad someone knew the truth. “I left because of the rape, and the fact I can’t bear children because of it. It was quite the occasion to lose my virginity and all hopes of motherhood in just a few frantic minutes.”

  “You joke but…”

  “Joke or cry. Those are my options.”

  “I still don’t understand why you had to leave home. Maybe your mother could have comforted you. Eventually. Wouldn’t that have been better than to remove yourself from her life so completely?”

  “She and Auntie would have blamed me.”

  “For being assaulted?”

  Maude wasn’t sure if this would have come to pass, but the very threat of it had added to her decision to leave.

  Her throat was dry as she remembered what she’d said in the note she’d left behind. Dear Mother, I am sorry for leaving but I have my reasons. Please do not worry about me. You’ll be better off without me in your life.

  Maude cringed at the memory of the final line. It was a phrase begging to be argued, yet Maude hadn’t given her mother the chance.

  Coward.

  “Have you had any contact? Does she know you’re all right?”

  “I send flowers on her birthday—though I wouldn’t be surprised if Auntie commandeers them for herself. And last year, they were returned.”

  “So she’s moved?”

  “Apparently.” The truth of it caused a bite of stabbing pain.

  “Have you ever had second thoughts?”

  Third, fourth, fifth… “Of course. Repeatedly. But…” She remembered standing on the street corner across from the luxurious flat she had shared with her mother and aunt. She’d stood there until dusk fell and the rooms lit up with light. She imagined her mother sitting in her favorite chair, needlepointing a dining room seat cushion that never seemed to get finished. When a police officer accosted Maude and asked if she needed anything, she had assured him she was fine and moved on.

  Maude felt defensiveness rise in her breast. “I really had no choice. The real reason I pulled away is that I couldn’t live the life she wanted me to live. I couldn’t marry.”

  “You could marry, but you’ve chosen not to.”

  “I dare not fall in love with a man who expects to marry and have children. The pain of telling him what happened to me…I can’t do that to a man. That’s why I pulled away, moved away, stayed away. I couldn’t bear to witness any more of Mother’s pain.”

  “You do realize you caused her pain by leaving.”

  Maude sighed. “I tried to save her from the pain of my pain, and my unusual choice of a future. At the time there seemed no alternative.”

  Annie sat back and studied her, making Maude grip her shawl tighter. “But now you want to ask her for money.”

  “I don’t want to, but I think I need to. What other choice do we have? Sean’s parents have said no. Edna has no money to spare, and your parents are in England.”

  “And don’t have a farthing to their names. Not that they would help me even if they could.”

  “It’s down to me. It’s said that pride goest before a fall. Goes where, I’m not sure. I know I’ve been prideful staying away and have suffered my own bout of bitterness. But I’ll swallow that pride if it will help the business.” Annie reached across the table and touched her arm. “I appreciate your offer.”

  Finally it was settled, though being so made Maude’s stomach unsettled. “Would you come with me to see her?”

  “Of course. But do you know where she lives?”

  Maude nodded. “I think so. I saw her the day we went to Lane Bryant’s. She was walking down the street and went into a brownstone.”

  Annie’s forehead crinkled in thought. “The woman with the blue hat?”

  “That was her.”

  “I noticed your interest, but why didn’t you tell me she was your mother?”

  Maude shrugged. “Seeing her confused me. That’s definitely not where she lived last. And there is the chance she doesn’t live there now. Perhaps she was only visiting a friend.”

  “When would you like to go?”

  “Today. I’ll sleep better if I know we have funding.” And it’s done with.

  Maude looked up at the brownstone. It was a far cry from the houses where she and her parents lived when her father had been a diplomat. The steps were chipped and stained with someone’s wash water—or worse. The front door was in need of painting. She remembered hearing her father ordering the butler to see to it that scuffs on the baseboard were painted over. He’d have a conniption if this door had been his door.

  Suddenly, she realized the full magnitude of her mother living here, especially when she was a woman who did not suffer change easily. Something had happened to alter her
status.

  Maybe she didn’t have money anymore.

  Annie must have sensed a change in Maude’s thinking, for she took hold of her arm, holding her steady on the sidewalk.

  “We’ve come this far,” Annie said.

  Indeed they had. God, be with us.

  They went into the vestibule but had no idea where to go beyond that. The stairs stood before them, with two doors on either side. They had no recourse but to knock on one and make inquiries.

  Maude’s heart beat doubly as she knocked. An elderly man answered, gave them both a good once-over, smiled, then said, “Well, hello ladies.”

  “Sorry to disturb,” Maude said. “But I’m looking for my mother, Mrs. Nascato?”

  He shook his head. “No Nascato here.”

  Maude’s hope drained. “Amelia Nascato? Are you sure?”

  His eyes brightened. “Amelia? Why didn’t you say so? 2B right above me.”

  “Thank you.”

  But as he began to close the door, he said, “It’s not that Nas-name though. It’s Brunner.”

  She looked back at him. “Brunner?”

  “They’re newlyweds,” the man said.

  “Married? Mother has remarried?”

  “If she’s the one you’re looking for. A nice couple, they is.”

  Annie took her arm. “Thank you for your help.”

  He tipped an imaginary hat. “Good day to ya.”

  Somehow Maude made it up the stairs. Her mother was married? In Maude’s absence she had left her grief behind, fallen in love, and started a new life? Maude didn’t know whether to be upset at her or happy for her. And how would she react to seeing Maude? She’d clearly moved on. Would she resent Maude’s sudden return? Her intrusion?

  Annie knocked on the door to 2B.

  Maude’s mother opened the door, took one look at her daughter, and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Maudey! My dear girl!”

  Maude let herself relax in the affection, resting her head against her mother’s, basking in the familiar scent of honeysuckle. Tears threatened, so when her mother pulled back, she had to quickly swipe at her eyes to stop their descent.

  “Oh, dear girl. Don’t cry. Come in.” She looked to Annie. “And you are?”

  “Annie Culver.”

  “My best friend,” Maude added.