The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  They went inside the apartment. It was smaller than Edna and Maude’s, with the parlor, eating table, ice box, and stove seen in a single glance. It had an odd look to it, being furnished with too many exquisite pieces of furniture that had graced their diplomat-mansion combined with far simpler pieces. A familiar painting of the Seine held the place of honor above a fireplace, its intricate gilt frame standing out like a woman dressed for a ball visiting a fish market.

  “You remember that painting, don’t you, Maudey? Do you remember when we bought it from the artist, who painted it right there, on the riverbank in Paris?”

  She did remember the moment vaguely, but remembered with more clarity the glistening strawberry tart Father had bought for her from a patisserie nearby. She could have eaten a dozen.

  A man stepped out of the bedroom and smiled. “Did I hear correctly? This is your Maude?”

  Her mother went to him, linking her arm through his. “Hans, this is my daughter, Maude. Maude, this is my husband, Hans Brunner.”

  They greeted each other, and Maude was immediately taken with his kind eyes and ready smile. He had tawny hair, streaked with gray. He looked like someone who would see the bright side of life rather than the dark.

  “Do sit,” he said. “Let me get some coffee. It’s still hot.”

  “No,” Maude said. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Thank you,” Annie added.

  “Don’t you need to be getting to work?” Maude’s mother asked her husband.

  “I can be late. This is too important to miss.” He flicked the tip of his wife’s nose and leaned close. “I’m so happy for you, liebchen. Your prayers have been answered.”

  Maude felt convicted. She had never prayed to be reconciled with her mother. To know that her mother had prayed to find her? To be shown as a coward and selfish?

  “Well then,” Mother said.

  Maude and Annie sat on the one settee, while Mother sat in a familiar chair, the chair she always used when she worked on her needlework. Hans stood behind his wife.

  Maude spotted a satchel with yarn peeking out. “Are you still working on your seat covers?”

  Mother laughed—in itself a jarring experience because Maude had heard laughter far too seldom. “I finally finished two,” she said, pointing to the kitchen table. “We have no need for more. I’m working on a pillow now.”

  Maude remembered their vast dining room with eighteen chairs and dinner parties manned by footmen in full livery serving bejeweled guests—many who spoke in languages unknown. Maude would often be permitted to make an entrance before dinner, and the guests would ooh and ahh over how pretty she was and how her mother and father must be so proud. Maude always thought it odd to receive gushing praise for an attribute she’d had no control over and liked it better when she was given the chance to sing “Barbara Allen”—all eight verses. Women would cry and grown men would clear their throats and huff about needing a drink. Being able to make people feel was something to be proud of.

  “Now then,” Annie said.

  With Maude’s memories properly visited, it was time to get down to business.

  Mother must have felt it too, for she asked. “I am pleased you are here, Maudey, but why now? Tell us what’s been going on in your life to bring you back to me on this happy day.”

  To ask for money without preamble seemed wrong. Her mother’s graciousness deserved something more. “I’m very sorry I left home like I did.”

  For the first time, her mother’s face grew serious. “I didn’t understand. I still don’t.”

  “I…” Maude looked to Annie, who encouraged her with a nod. “My leaving had little to do with you.”

  Mother put a hand to her chest and let out a breath. “I’m glad to hear that. I worried that I had caused it. I know how it was to live with Auntie. And I too was being difficult and wasn’t the mother I should have been, but—”

  “I was raped.”

  Her unexpected words had the expected effect. Shock and silence. And then…

  “You were what?” Mother asked. She put her hand to her right shoulder, and Hans took it, offering comfort.

  Maude felt stronger for saying the words. The barrier had been broken. She could finish the story. She would finish it.

  “It was six years ago. I’d taken a walk after dark.” She didn’t mention that it was due to an argument between them. “A man jumped out of an alley, pulled me in, and—and assaulted me.”

  Her mother’s forehead furrowed. “I knew nothing of it. Why didn’t I know anything about it?”

  “I was ashamed.”

  Hans interjected. “You are not the one to be ashamed. Did they catch the man?”

  She shrugged. “I never reported it. I went home and—and I just wanted to forget it ever happened.”

  Mother rose from her chair and drew Maude to standing so she could give her a proper hug. “I’m so, so sorry that happened to you. And appalled that I didn’t know. Didn’t even suspect.”

  Maude wanted to wallow in her comfort but needed to finish the story. “There’s more,” she said.

  Her mother returned to her chair and found her husband’s hand once again.

  Maude hesitated saying the rest with a man present—a man she did not know—but found she could not stop with anything less than a full confession. “I began to have…female problems. I went to Dr. Coskins.”

  “He never said anything to me.”

  “I asked him not to.”

  Hans patted her shoulder. “Let her finish, liebchen.”

  Maude took solace in fingering the carving on the arm of the settee. “The doctor said I was damaged and that I would never have children.” She risked a glance to her mother’s face and found it, as she expected, pulled and distraught with sorrow.

  And then anger. “He ruined your life! I wish they’d caught him and made him suffer for—”

  “He didn’t ruin my life, Mother. But he did change it. For because I cannot have children, I have chosen not to marry. It wouldn’t be fair to let a man fall in love with me, only to have him discover his dreams of a family are impossible.”

  Mother took a breath then let it out slowly.

  Maude needed to finish it. “I left because I knew you wanted me to marry. My entire growing up was focused on becoming a wife. You’d already lost Father. I didn’t want to confront you with the loss of your dreams for me, and for grandchildren. I know it was the cowardly thing to do, but…” She shrugged. “At the time, it seemed the only thing I could do.”

  Her mother relinquished her husband’s hand and clasped her own in her lap. “My dear girl. I don’t blame you. Though I could have comforted you.” But then she hesitated. “At least I hope I could have comforted you. I was different then.”

  Maude was moved by her honesty. “We both were.” This time it was Maude who went to her mother, drawing her to her feet and into her arms. Together they rocked gently. Each to-and-fro seemed to remove a year that had separated them, until they were finally together, in the moment, in each other’s company.

  Annie stood, allowing mother and daughter to sit side-by-side on the settee.

  “I’m so glad you came today. I’m so glad you—” Her mother stopped the sentence. “Did you come with the purpose of finally telling me all this? Somehow I think you didn’t.”

  “There is more,” Maude said. “But I…” She looked to Annie. Somehow, talking about money was like discussing sickness at a celebration.

  Annie shook her head. Maude agreed. There would be no talk of money. It was obvious her mother had lost what wealth she had. There would be none to spare for their risky venture.

  But Maude could tell her happy news. “Annie and I are starting our own fashion company. Opening a shop.”

  “How marvelous,” Mother said. “Do you sew the dresses? You always loved to sew.”

  “We do. And we have hired others to help. Annie is a talented designer.”

  “What’s the name of yo
ur shop? Where is it, for I will surely go there.”

  “The name is Unruffled.”

  Her mother cocked her head. “How unusual.”

  “It’s fashion that is comfortable, functional, and accessible for the working woman.”

  Hans nodded. “Unruffled…I like the connotation. Well done.”

  “Thank you,” Annie said. “You asked about the location. We aren’t that far in the planning yet, though that is the next step. We do need to find a storefront to rent. One that rents at a reasonable cost.”

  Hans raised a finger. “I may be able to help you. I am a bookkeeper and work in a building where there is a real estate office. The man who works there is a friend, a good man named Antonio Ricci. Surely he can show you some spaces to rent.”

  He wrote down the address and the man’s name. Ricci. A fellow Italian.

  It was time to leave. Maude gave her mother a parting embrace and a promise. “I will not disappear again.”

  “No, you will not. God has brought us back together and neither of us will do anything to disgrace that blessing. You will come to dinner next Sunday?”

  It was too soon. “Another time.” Someday.

  Once on the street Annie linked her arm with Maude’s. “Are you all right?”

  Maude drew in a breath, let it out, then repeated the process. “I believe I am just fine—which surprises me.”

  “Your mother is much changed?”

  “Very much.”

  “Her husband seems quite amiable.”

  “Which makes me happy for her.”

  Annie’s grip tightened. “Are you glad for telling her…everything?”

  Maude let a pause fall between them, wanting to answer with full honesty. “Glad implies levity. Let’s say I am relieved.” She patted Annie’s hand. “And yet I believe I am ten pounds lighter for the telling.”

  Annie chuckled. “Only ten pounds?”

  “Make it twenty.” Maude noticed they were near Lane Bryant’s. “Let’s stop in and see Lena. It will be a good transition between the injurious past and the vexatious present.”

  “And the glorious future.”

  “That’s my Annie. Always the optimist.”

  Hardly that. Unfortunately.

  Lena welcomed them with open arms. “My fellow designers! How nice to see you. Come and tell me how you are. How did your fashion event go?”

  As before, they were led to the back of the store. Though offered tea, they declined.

  “Tell me everything,” Lena said once they were settled. She sat forward in anticipation.

  Annie wasn’t sure how much to share.

  At her reluctance, Lena sat back. “Oh.”

  Annie had to clarify. “Actually, the event went smoothly, and all in all, the ladies in attendance enjoyed it.”

  “But…?”

  “But they did not place any orders. They appreciated the designs but thought them too simple for their own use.”

  Maude interjected. “Those froufrou ladies were not—are not—our customer.”

  Lena nodded, knowingly. “As I found my customer, so you must find yours. And she is…?”

  “A working woman, a mother, the women you see everywhere,” Maude said.

  “We provide fashion for the unruffled, unveiled, unstoppable woman.”

  Lena clapped. “Bravo! What an inspiring slogan.”

  “We are opening a shop called Unruffled. With sized, ready-to-wear clothing.”

  Lena spread her arms. “A shop like this one.”

  “A much smaller shop,” Annie said.

  “At first, perhaps,” Lena said. “But it will grow. I know it.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” Annie said.

  Lena nodded. “Actually, I have to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “One of the ladies at your soiree came in the store needing maternity wear. A Mrs. Campbell?”

  Annie remembered the woman. “I never knew her name, but did she have copper-colored hair?”

  “That’s her. She spent a lot of money here with the promise of sending her friends.” Lena held up a finger to make a point. “Word of mouth is priceless. The key is to get people talking—in a positive way.”

  “We will do our best,” Annie said. “Once we have something for them to talk about.”

  “First, we need to find a storefront,” Maude said.

  Actually, first we need the money to pay for a storefront. Annie thought about asking Lena the name of her banker but decided against it. She was wary of banks, mostly because she’d never been in one nor had need of their services.

  She remembered an old saying: Neither a borrower nor a lender be. She didn’t want to borrow money from a bank who would lend it. She wanted an investor.

  Suddenly a thought came to mind, but it was so audacious, so pushy, so…

  “Annie?” Lena asked. “You look like a thunderbolt struck you, and you’re not sure about the experience.”

  You won’t know until you ask.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she voiced the question. “We need an investor.”

  “I thought the Sampsons were your patrons.”

  “They were. Until we deviated from her ‘Eleanor’s Couture’ vision.”

  “Eleanor’s Couture?”

  “She wanted our clothes to be suitable for her society friends.”

  “Who already have favorite dressmakers and designers.”

  “So we found out.”

  Lena sat forward again. “It sounds as though Mrs. Sampson became a little too…”

  “Vain,” Maude said. “Sorry, but that’s the truth of it.”

  Annie had a disturbing thought. “So are we vain for wanting to create our own line of clothes? Are we no better than Mrs. Sampson in that regard?”

  Lena put a hand on her knee. “We are artists of the cloth. As with any artist, we create because we must but also with hope of affirmation.”

  “And profit,” Maude added.

  Lena smiled. “A necessity. There is no sin in profit if it is the result of hard work.”

  “Hard work is not an issue,” Annie said.

  Lena sat back again. “Money is.”

  She was glad Lena had been the one to bring it up. “Money is. Would you…perhaps…would you be willing…?”

  “Willing yes,” Lena said. “But not able, I’m afraid. We have recently expanded to this store and must put all our profit back into the business.”

  Annie felt herself redden. “I’m sorry to bring it up, I never should have said anything.”

  “It was not the reason we stopped by to see you,” Maude added.

  “Not at all,” Annie said.

  Lena waved their concerns away. “I do not question your motives and am happy with the visit. Please come again.” She stood. “Let me know when Unruffled opens. I would love to see it.”

  They exited the store before Annie felt the full weight of what she had done. “I should never have asked her for money! I cannot believe I did that!”

  “She did not take offense.”

  “Because she is a gracious woman. But I overstepped our acquaintance.”

  When Maude didn’t answer, Annie stopped on the sidewalk and faced her. “I did, didn’t I?”

  “She was very kind.”

  “She was, but—” Annie pressed a hand to her forehead. “What are we going to do?”

  Maude put her arm around Annie’s shoulder. “I’ll say something Sean or Edna would say.”

  “We don’t know, but God does?”

  Maude laughed. “Exactly.”

  “I wish He’d show us.”

  “Exactly.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The patterns were created. Fabric was cut. Being Saturday, even Sean was there to help, cutting out two dresses with great concentration.

  Ginny and Gert pedaled so fast that the sounds of the sewing machines whirring and the shuttlecock clicking mixed with the sound of the busy street
below, often making conversation difficult.

  Annie oversaw the work, in awe of it. She was also in awe of the optimistic attitude of her friends and colleagues. After meeting with Maude’s mother and Lena, Annie had once again been forced to gather them close and tell them the bad news about their continual lack of funds—which they took with amazing grace.

  And faith.

  “God will provide.”

  “He’ll send us the money we need.”

  “Keep praying.”

  Even Gert had chimed in. “My mama always said when things look the bleakest, that’s when God sends a ray of sunshine—if we believe He will.”

  Did Annie believe He would? Such hopes sounded naive and simplistic.

  The facts were this: they had enough money left from the two hundred dollars the Sampsons had given them to buy supplies to sew the dresses. But that left a meager bit to pay the workers. Gert and Ginny must be paid first. But the rest of them needed a salary too. They all had to pay rent and buy food—Sean and Annie even more so with Vesta living with them.

  Just this morning, Sean had asked Annie where their favorite scones were—the ones they liked to buy from the bakery down the street. Annie had told him they would have to forgo the special scones for a while. They needed to economize.

  “But surely a scone or two will not break us,” he’d said.

  “Not today, but we have to look ahead. What if we don’t get an investor before the money runs out? Maybe your father was right. Perhaps God is telling us no.”

  Sean and Vesta had responded with all the right words, and they’d prayed together, asking for God’s help and favor.

  For a few hours, Annie anticipated a miracle. Every time the door of the workshop opened she looked up, hoping someone with deep pockets was coming to their rescue.

  But as one hour moved into the next—with no savior coming to their aid—Annie had to fight back despair. The fact that the rest of them seemed cheery and worked as if worry were a stranger, shamed her. Why couldn’t she share their faith?

  The disparity between their confidence that everything would work out fine and Annie’s doubt that it would, became too much for her. So much so, that she sent everyone home an hour early. She put on a smile and told them how proud she was of the work they had accomplished, giving them encouragement she didn’t feel.