The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  “How marvelous,” Vesta said, getting under the covers. “We should all be able to sleep well knowing the Almighty has it covered.”

  She was right. That night, for the first time in a long time, Annie enjoyed the sleep of the faithful.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Henrietta stood in front of the mirror in her suite at the Hotel Astor. A maid—provided by the hotel—buttoned her dress in the back. It was a simpler dress than she had worn the day before, for today she was going to work.

  Imagine that.

  She studied the end results of the maid’s attempt to fix her hair. The girl had misshaped the hair rat, with the result that the upsweep tipped a bit on the left side. Once again she regretted not bringing a maid from home on the trip, yet to do so would have shown her hand too soon. Her family knew nothing of her scheme to board the ship in Southampton. They knew now, only because of the note she had left. As far as the money she’d offered to fund Unruffled? There was enough of it, for she had secretly stashed away her allowance for months. When that ran out? She’d worry about that later.

  On the ship over, she’d accepted the offer of sharing the maid of a new shipboard friend, for to change clothes multiple times a day for the First Class events was undoable on her own. Yet the fact she had found someone to help each time gave her some semblance of satisfaction. God provided. Again and again.

  “There now, miss,” the maid said with a pat to Henrietta’s buttoned back. “Would you like me to get your hat?”

  Anything to cover my hair. “The smaller one I think. The workshop is not in a posh neighborhood. I don’t wish to stand out.”

  The maid retrieved a straw hat with a small brim. And no ostrich feather. It was placed, just so, and secured by a hatpin.

  “Your gloves, miss.”

  There was a knock on the door. The maid answered it.

  “Your car is ready, Miss Kidd,” said a bellhop.

  She was off and away to her first day of work.

  Henrietta was early. No one was at the workshop. The door was locked.

  “Overeager, are we?” she said to herself. Only then did she check the time on her watch pin. It was ten minutes before seven.

  She weighed her alternatives. She could sit on the stairs and wait—yet the dustiness of the top step was uninviting. As was the thought of not being able to get up gracefully once she’d sat down.

  Alternative two: since she didn’t know what time people would arrive, the idea of standing in the hall to wait made her feet hurt just thinking about it.

  The only recourse was to go to Annie and Sean’s flat. Annie used to be an early riser. When she was a maid.

  Henrietta sighed. She would have to risk it.

  She went down one flight and softly rapped on their door. To her surprise Vesta answered. “Why…good morning.”

  “Good morning to you, Vesta. I seem to have misgauged the hour. I’m quite early.”

  “Come in. We are just making coffee.”

  Henrietta stepped inside. The flat was smaller than Edna’s. There appeared to only be one bedroom instead of two. A stack of blankets and a pillow were on the end of the sofa. Was Vesta sleeping there?

  Vesta must have noticed the direction of her gaze. “I am a houseguest for a time.”

  “I guess I knew that from yesterday’s gathering at Edna’s. But…” I thought you had your own bedroom. Suddenly, she got an idea. “Vesta, I have a lovely room at the Astor. Would you like to come stay with me?”

  Annie stepped out of the bedroom, with Sean right behind her. “The Astor. How glamorous.”

  Vesta cocked her head, clearly thinking about it. Finally, she said, “Thank you for the offer, but I am glad to be here with Sean and Annie. I’m close to the workshop, and…”

  Annie finished the sentence for her. “Are you worried what Richard might think if you move there?”

  Vesta nodded. “Our situation is fragile. To look as if I am enjoying my independence to such a lavish degree seems wrong.” She looked to Henrietta. “But I greatly appreciate the kind offer.”

  Henrietta was glad she’d made it but was a bit disappointed Vesta had said no. It would have been nice to have the company. Although New York City was full of people—too many people compared to what she was used to in tiny Summerfield—Henrietta felt quite alone.

  “Do sit down,” Sean said, pouring four cups of coffee. “We’ve fresh morning rolls and blackberry preserves.”

  Don’t mind if I do.

  Work.

  As Henrietta took lessons from Gert, Edna, and Ginny about sewing construction, the knowledge threatened to overwhelm her. Although she possessed basic sewing skills, the act of sewing for others—with the intent of selling to others—created an added pressure to make it perfect.

  The needle on her machine broke, startling her. “Drat! That’s the second one today.” She turned to Gert. “What am I doing wrong?”

  Gert got up from her machine, and Henrietta vacated her seat so the girl could have full access. Gert pulled out the upper half of the needle and examined it. “You’re putting it in backward. Flat side goes to the back.”

  “Uh. Now I remember you said that. Sorry. I’ll pay for the wasted needles.”

  Gert smiled up at her. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re doing fine, miss.”

  Henrietta took a deep breath, appreciating the encouragement, but still felt overwhelmed.

  Edna must have been watching because she appeared in the doorway. “You’ve done well for your first day.”

  “I have much to learn.”

  “You show wisdom by admitting that.”

  Henrietta chuckled. “I have no trouble admitting what I lack, for the list is long.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “That’s what Gert said.”

  “Twice heard makes it gospel,” Edna said. “But take heart. It’s near quitting time.” She led Henrietta out of the sewing room and added. “My son is coming for dinner, so I’ve invited Sean, Annie, and Vesta to join us. And now you.”

  “You are too kind.”

  “We have to eat, don’t we? We might as well do it together for the good company of it.” Then she seemed to have another thought. “Unless you’d rather eat at the Astor. I’m sure their meals are far more tasty than mine.”

  “Rubbish,” Henrietta said. “I do not need fine ambiance and finicky presentation. The food is secondary to the company.”

  “Company you shall have. Why don’t you help straighten things up? I’m leaving now to get the food started.”

  Edna left, and Henrietta helped by picking up scraps, sorting them into toss-away and keep piles. She took up a broom and got the strays hiding under the cutting table.

  Annie held the dustpan for her. “I can honestly say I never once expected to see you with a broom in hand.”

  “Nor did I.” She would add it to her résumé of “firsts.”

  “And this is my son, Steven. Steven, Miss Henrietta Kidd.”

  He smiled but quickly looked away as though he was shy. “Very nice to meet you, Miss Kidd.”

  “Henrietta. Please,” she said. “And it’s nice to meet you…” she was going to say, Mr. Holmquist but added, “Steven.” She liked the American way of using first names more quickly than they did in England.

  He looked Scandinavian—as befit his surname—with dark blond hair that was neatly parted on the left side. He was clean shaven, which was a style Henrietta preferred on younger men. Leave the mustaches and beards to those of middle age.

  “Steven used to teach English in Pittsburgh,” Edna said as she linked her arm through his. “But he has recently moved here and has taken a new position teaching upper grades. I am proud of him and am glad to have him close enough to visit me often.”

  “I enjoy reading,” Henrietta said. “What is your favorite novel to share with your students?”

  “Robinson Crusoe,” he said without reservation. “Young people enjoy survival sto
ries.”

  “As do adults. I was fascinated with the situation of a lone man having to fend for himself, finding God in nature and by reading his only book, a Bible.”

  This new smile changed Steven’s countenance from reserved to alive, as though a light had been switched on inside. “Well said.”

  “Well then,” Vesta said.

  Henrietta felt herself blush. In truth she had forgotten others were present.

  “You are staying at the Hotel Astor?” Steven asked.

  Suddenly Henrietta felt foolish. What had seemed natural to her upbringing now seemed ostentatious to the point of embarrassment. The feeling was so disconcerting that she found herself saying, “I would like to get a small flat near here. Near all of you.”

  “That would be quite a change,” Annie said. “Are you sure?”

  No, she wasn’t. But then she realized an important point in favor of the move. She had funds, and yet…

  “I’m sure it would be far less expensive,” Edna said, as if reading her mind.

  Sean chuckled. “Far less. Though I’m sure that’s not an issue.”

  Could be. Eventually will be.

  “And you wouldn’t need to hire a car to get you here and back,” Maude said. “Though I could help you find the right streetcar from the hotel.”

  Streetcar. Traveling alone in public made her remember the train ride from Summerfield to Southampton and then the voyage on the ship. She was proud of how she had accomplished these two adventures on her own, but if there was a way to simplify her life and bring her closer to her new friends, she was willing to do it.

  “How do I go about finding a flat to let?” She looked to Steven, but he offered no ideas. In fact, since their camaraderie over Robinson Crusoe he had grown quiet, saying little during the dinner of roast beef and potatoes. He answered his mother’s questions but avoided Henrietta’s gaze. Had she said something to offend him?

  “I believe I saw a FOR RENT sign in the next block south,” Maude said. She stood from the table. “Would you like to see it?”

  “Now?” Edna said. “It’s evening.”

  “Landlords are eager to fill their buildings. They don’t care what time of day their rent is assured. And often they have a building super whose job it is to help with such things.”

  “Steven, go with them,” Edna said.

  “I’m sorry, Mother, but I can’t. I have essays to grade.”

  “I’ll go,” Sean said.

  “As will I,” Annie said.

  “I’ll help with dishes,” Vesta said.

  Everyone thanked Edna for the fine meal and were shooed away on their mission to find Henrietta a place to live.

  Outside the building, Steven donned his hat and looked at her for the first time since dinner. “It was fine meeting you, Henrietta. Best of luck finding an apartment.”

  He walked in the opposite direction as the group.

  “Steven recently rented a place. Why didn’t he offer to help?” Annie asked.

  “I don’t think he likes me,” Henrietta said.

  “You had the novel in common,” Sean said.

  “But only that. Is he…is he usually so silent?”

  “I have met him more than the rest of you,” Maude said. “When he comes to visit his mother, he keeps conversation going well enough. I’m not sure what was bothering him this evening.”

  Me. I am the new fish in the pot. Henrietta remembered how all but Steven had faded from her interest. Apparently he had felt none of it.

  The flat was the same size as Sean and Annie’s, but it faced the alley in back—an alley that was dark due to another building being built so close. As they stood in the parlor area they could look into the bedroom of another flat in that building. A woman was changing her baby’s diaper on a bed. She looked up and waved.

  How disconcerting.

  “We could sew you some curtains beyond these sheer ones,” Annie said.

  Back in the parlor, the building superintendent said, “There’s the fireplace for heating and cooking.” He pulled a metal arm that swung out and then back over a fire. A black pot hung from it. There was no sink. No ice box. No kitchen area at all but for a wall shelf and a small square table set with two chairs.

  “Shades of the last century,” Maude said with a grimace. “Though you’re not going to be doing much fancy cooking, are you?”

  “I don’t know how to cook at all.”

  “As I said.”

  “It’s good enough to make a stew or soup,” Annie said. “And you can eat meals with us.”

  “Or us,” Maude said.

  “So, miss. You interested? I got others looking.”

  “Excuse us, please?”

  With a shrug, the man stepped into the hall.

  “Is this a good place?” she asked her friends.

  “Good, no,” Maude said. “Adequate, maybe.”

  “It’s not posh like you’re used to,” Annie said. “But we’ve seen no other options close by.”

  The “posh” comment was an understatement. There were only two rooms and six pieces of furniture in the entire place: a bed, a dresser, a short sofa with a hole in the seat, a table and two chairs. There were gas wall sconces, meaning there was no electricity. The bathtub and loo were shared—down the hall. She was used to sharing such facilities—with family. Not strangers.

  “We could help make it nice,” Sean said.

  “The location is good. It’s fairly clean,” Annie said.

  “And the rent is reasonable,” Sean said. “Four dollars a week.”

  “I’m glad you negotiated it down,” Annie said. “It is not worth the six dollars the super asked for.”

  When Henrietta had heard the price—be it six or four dollars—she’d made a decision to take the place. She was currently paying more than that amount each night at the Astor. Plus paying a driver and paying exorbitantly for meals. Despite what she’d implied to Annie, her funds were not limitless. This was the prudent thing to do.

  She opened the door to find the superintendent. “I’ll have a go of it.”

  Henrietta adjusted the four pillows that were on her bed at the Hotel Astor. Then she smoothed the covers over herself and sank into the soft luxury.

  As of tomorrow there would be no more luxury. The bed in her flat was far smaller than this one. And the linens provided…they would be other people’s linens.

  She shuddered at the thought. She was used to fresh linens every Monday, washed and ironed, smelling of starch. Who knew what the sheets at her flat would smell like. Or when they’d last been washed.

  In spite of her reservations, she marveled at one large fact: it would be her flat. She’d never lived alone. She found the thought heady and frightening.

  So until then…she wallowed in comfort one last time.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Henrietta hired two men from the hotel to bring her luggage to her new flat. They set her trunks in the bedroom, which made getting from the doorway to the bed a bit like walking through a maze. “You want us to push them up against the wall, miss?”

  She shook her head. “I need space behind to open them properly. Thank you.”

  They stood before her, caps in hand. “Will there be anything else, miss?”

  She reached into her reticule and pulled out two quarters. “No. Thank you for your help.”

  She wasn’t sure about the amount of the gratuity but they seemed pleased enough.

  She let them out and closed the door. That simple sound—heard thousands of times—sounded different this time. For today it represented a distinct demarcation between the rest of the world and a world that was hers. A world she had chosen and was paying for with her own hard-saved money. She leaned against the door and peered at her flat. She could see the bulk of it in a single glance: fireplace, table and chairs, the sofa with a hole, trunks in front of her bed, and the hint of a dresser along a bedroom wall. There was no direct sunlight but light enough to spot a littering of m
ouse droppings on the ragged rug.

  “Easily taken care of,” she said to herself.

  If she had a broom. If she had some towels. The missing items caused her to take an inventory of other needs: a cup, bowl, plate, spoon, fork, knife, bowl to stir in, sharper knife to cut with, soap, bathing towel, necessary paper for the water closet in case it was without…

  She had no paper or pencil to write with—and added those two items to her mental list. The ladies would know where she could obtain these things. She would take a short time away from work today to procure them.

  Work!

  Henrietta saw the time on her pendant watch. She was already late.

  She exited her flat, closed the door, and once again reveled in the sound of the satisfying click. It was a sound she would never take for granted again.

  The workshop was aflutter when Henrietta came in, and at first she feared it was because of her tardiness.

  But then Annie showed her a newspaper. “Theodore Roosevelt was shot last night while campaigning. He’s all right, but it was quite a scare.” Henrietta had heard of him. “He’s the president, yes?”

  “He was,” Edna said. “Though only because McKinley, the previous president, was shot and killed eleven years ago.”

  Maude explained. “Roosevelt was the vice president and took over, but then he ran on his own account in ’04 and won. But during the ’08 election, he supported his friend Taft as a candidate. Taft is our president now.”

  Henrietta was confused. “You say he’s running again?”

  “He is, through a third party. He now thinks Taft is too conservative, so he formed the Progressive party.”

  “They call it the Bull Moose party,” Maude said.

  What a silly name. She’d never paid much attention to elections back home. Summerfield was so small, there wasn’t even a mayor. And of course, royalty like King George V dealt with succession, not election. But she did know the Prime Minister was H. H. Asquith, mostly because her family complained about his liberal ways. “Will all of you vote for Roosevelt?” she asked.