The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  “Nonsense,” Steven said. “Would you like to see some elephants?”

  “What?”

  “The zoo. Would you like to go?”

  She laughed. “Elephants in New York. What will they think of next?”

  As soon as Steven saw Henrietta home, she rushed out on her mission. She knew she should go directly to the workshop but decided it was more important to procure rent money.

  She walked to Cohen & Cohen, the jewelry store she’d seen that morning, and paused at the door to compose herself. But then a man came to the front and turned over the OPEN sign to say CLOSED.

  “No!” She knocked on the glass door and called out. “Please, sir. I need to speak with you immediately.”

  He peered through the glass. “We’re closed.”

  “But I need…I have business.” She decided to lure him into staying open. “I would like to sell you my family heirlooms. Jewels.”

  His eyebrows rose and he opened the door. He shut it behind her, keeping the CLOSED sign intact. “So we won’t be disturbed,” he said. “Come show me what you have to offer.”

  They moved to a display case that was mostly empty. Apparently, it was closing time and they’d already put their wares in a safe for the night. She would make this quick.

  The man took a place on the back side of the case. “Show me.”

  She noticed he was dressed oddly for the proprietor of such a lovely store. She’d expected a dark suit and fine tailoring. Instead he wore a brown wool jacket that had frayed edges at the cuffs.

  He must have seen the direction of her gaze. “Forgive my casual attire. I am closing early to do a good cleaning of the place.” He extended his arms. “This was my first suit that I bought after I was hired to my first job. I keep it for sentimental reasons.”

  She looked around the fine store. “You have come far. You should be proud.”

  “I have. And thank you, I am proud.” He pulled a swath of blue velvet close. “Now then, what do you have for me?”

  She removed the emerald bracelet and matching drop earrings. “They are emeralds and were my great-grandmother’s.” She thought about telling him exactly who her grandmother was, but wasn’t sure she wanted him to know so much.

  He took up the bracelet and then the earrings, studying the settings.

  Henrietta wanted to ask if he found them to be fine pieces, but by doing so she might cast doubt on their value. “I believe they are from the 1820s.”

  “I concur,” he said. “The filigree work dates them so.” He set the pieces on the velvet. “May I ask why you wish to sell them?”

  Her resolve began to crumble. “I don’t really wish to sell them. My great-grandmother gave the set to me as a gift when I became engaged. She told me to wear them on the Continent on our honeymoon.”

  “But you are not on the Continent. And I see no wedding ring upon your finger.”

  Out of nowhere tears flowed and she used the handkerchief she’d wrapped around the jewelry.

  “Sit down, my dear,” the man said as he led her to a chair behind the counter. He sat beside her, a hand upon her shoulder. “I’m sorry you are so distraught.”

  She felt an utter fool. “I’m sorry to have put you in the position of comforting me. I should be stronger. They are just things.”

  “Things that have meaning to you and your family.” He waved a hand across the store. “All of these baubles are just things. They become precious in the giving and receiving, in the memories they make.”

  She nodded and tried to blow her nose discreetly, though the latter was difficult. “Even if I sell them, I will still retain the memory.”

  “Here is what I will do. I will give you five hundred dollars.”

  It was a considerable sum that would pay the rent for nearly a year. Surely by then, Unruffled would be making its own money. “I agree to the amount. Thank you, Mr….”

  “Cohen. Abel Cohen. And your name?”

  “Henrietta Kidd.” His name was Jewish but his accent otherwise. Irish perhaps? Yet she suspected that accents changed when in America. She stood and held out her hand. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Cohen.”

  He shook her hand then walked toward the cash register. “Drat. I have already emptied the register for the day and my partner has the combination and key to the safe. Could you come back Monday?”

  The lack of cash made sense, considering the nearly empty display cases. But Monday was difficult, for Mr. Ricci needed the payment Monday morning. “Would there be any way I could come by tomorrow? I know it’s the Sabbath, and you’re not officially open, but—”

  He hesitated then said, “We could do that. Actually, Saturday is our Sabbath.”

  She’d never heard that. “Tomorrow afternoon then?”

  “Agreed.”

  She extended her hand for the jewelry. “I will bring these back.”

  He did not relinquish them. “My brother is coming in later to help me clean. I would like to show these to him and get his much-more-expert opinion regarding their value. May I keep them overnight? I wouldn’t want to give you five hundred when they are worth much more.”

  More? “Of course. I would appreciate the extra opinion.”

  “Perfect,” he said, showing her the door. “After he sees them, we will lock them away in the safe. Have a pleasant evening, Miss Kidd. We shall see you tomorrow. Noon?”

  “That would be perfect.”

  He closed the door behind her, and she paused to smile and give him a wave.

  Now, she was ready to go to work.

  Edna pulled Annie aside. “A word?”

  Annie didn’t want to interrupt the work. They were accomplishing much on this Saturday. But knowing tomorrow was Sunday—a day off—and they wouldn’t be back to it until Monday…“I suppose.” She nodded to the hallway, which had become everyone’s standard place for private conversations.

  “What is it, Edna?” She heard the annoyance in her voice, but it could not be helped.

  “Oh dear. Perhaps this is not the time or place…”

  “You’ve got my attention. Talk.”

  “But it has nothing to do with the business.”

  Annie felt her annoyance spike. “Talk, so we can get back to business.” Edna looked uneasy, yet Annie knew they would never get done with this until she was cajoled into speaking. “Please. I’m sorry to snap at you. What is on your mind?”

  Edna’s face softened with relief. “Steven and Henrietta are courting, or if not courting on the verge of it.”

  “I knew there was interest but didn’t know it had gone that far until she didn’t come in today.”

  “I do not know her heart, but I know my son’s. He is smitten.”

  “I am glad for both of them.” Henrietta could use a good man in her life.

  “The trouble resides in the fact that we are not familiar with the protocol of a romance between the daughter of a viscount and an American. A normal, everyday American. A teacher.”

  Annie hadn’t thought much about that. Had she been in America so long that the propriety of Lord and Lady, and the correctness of British society faded from her thoughts?

  “I didn’t know it was that serious.”

  “I believe it could be.” Edna turned her back to the closed door as if wanting even more privacy. “Steven requested that I ask you about this. He doesn’t want to completely fall in love if marriage isn’t a possibility.”

  Annie put her hands on her hips, hoping her thoughts would settle into a logical answer. “I know—if they had their choice—the Kidd family would choose a gentrified man for their only daughter.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yet Henrietta is nearly thirty years old. And I know her mother’s cousin married the town carpenter back in Summerfield, and she was the niece of the earl.”

  “An earl is of higher rank than a viscount?”

  “It is.”

  “The family allowed that marriage.”

  “With reluctance,
I believe. But Lady Clarissa had always been a rebel, even having a foray on the stage in London. And Henrietta’s uncle is the earl and he married an American heiress…” Annie sighed. “It gets complicated.”

  “Apparently,” Edna said. “So you don’t know whether it would be allowed?”

  “I don’t. But Henrietta coming all the way to America by herself and breaking off with a man who suited her parents’ wishes does indicate she is a strong woman who is capable of living out her own choices.”

  Edna released a breath. “I hope so. I do not want my son to suffer a broken heart.”

  “So you’d like Henrietta as a daughter-in-law?”

  “Of course. I like her very much.”

  “Perhaps we should just let things play out as they will then?” And not push too hard?

  Edna nodded. “If God wants them together, then they will be together.”

  “That is a good way to think of it.” Let God figure it out. Annie had enough on her mind.

  They heard footfalls on the stairs below and paused their conversation. Henrietta appeared on the lower landing.

  “Hello, ladies,” she called up, out of breath. “Thank you for giving me the freedom to be late.”

  “Did you have a fine time with my Steven?” Edna asked.

  “We did. We walked in Central Park.”

  “How lovely.” Edna gave Annie a pointed look.

  Henrietta joined them on the upper landing. “Did I interrupt something?”

  “Not a thing,” Annie said. “Come in. I’d like ask your opinion about a skirt length.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Henrietta and her friends exited church, shaking the hand of the pastor. Henrietta had enjoyed the service, needing the special time to thank God for providing the five hundred dollars—or more—from the sale of her jewelry.

  Upon reaching the sidewalk, Steven asked, “Would you enjoy another walk in Central Park this fine afternoon? I’m afraid winter will come upon us sooner rather than later.”

  “I’m afraid I have a few tasks at home.” Upon seeing his disappointment, she squeezed his hand. “I will see you at your mother’s this evening for dinner.”

  “I look forward to it. The least I can do is walk you home.”

  She would have objected—for going home first would make her trek to the Cohen store a lengthier one—but she longed for his company. Her plan was to present the five hundred dollars to Annie and the others at dinner. Their gratitude would make up for the loss of the jewelry. The knowledge that her sacrifice would enable them to open Unruffled was butter upon bread.

  Steven accompanied her to the steps of her building and she bid him goodbye until dinner. She walked into the vestibule, waited a reasonable time for him to be gone, then came out again. She hurried to Cohen & Cohen.

  But as she neared the store, she saw something was wrong. The area was abuzz with police. A crowd of onlookers created a second ring of interest.

  “What’s going on?” she asked an elderly man.

  “The store’s been robbed.”

  “Which store?”

  “Cohen & Cohen.” The man pointed with his cane.

  “What?” Henrietta nearly shouted the word.

  “Calm it down, missy. It’s just a bunch of high-falutin’ jewelry gone. I don’t think anyone was hurt.”

  The man on Henrietta’s other side begged to differ. “I heard tell the Cohens were tied up in the back all night. They took old Abel away on a stretcher. Both brothers are in their late seventies, you know.”

  “They’re not that old,” Henrietta said. “Or at least Abel isn’t. I spoke to him last evening. He was not even fifty.”

  “Then you didn’t talk to Abel,” the man said.

  “Then who did…?” Henrietta gasped and rushed forward to one of the bobbies. “Officer, officer!”

  “You need to stand back, miss. Let us do our job.”

  “But I was here last evening just as they were closing. I gave some family jewelry to Mr. Cohen, but apparently it wasn’t Mr. Cohen at all, and—”

  She’d gained his attention. “You were here? You saw the thief?”

  “I had a long conversation with him.” He comforted me when I cried.

  The officer motioned another bobby over. “This woman was here last night. Talked to the thief.”

  The new officer took out a pad and a pencil. “Tell me about him. His looks, what he said…everything.”

  Henrietta did her best. Yet her story was full of red flags that should have warned her things were not right.

  “When you noticed the empty cases and him wearing a worn coat, didn’t you sense that things weren’t on the up and up?”

  “What?” She’d never heard that term.

  “They weren’t…” He smiled. “Kosher?”

  “He was a nice man.”

  “He was a con man.”

  Again, she looked to him to explain.

  “A confidence man. He gained your confidence in order to steal from you.”

  Her insides grabbed. “He certainly did that,” she said. “My grandmother’s jewelry…did you find an emerald bracelet and earrings inside?”

  He gave her the look she deserved. “You expected him to take pity and not steal from you?”

  “I hoped.” A ridiculous hope.

  “They are gone, miss, as is everything else of value.”

  The first officer added. “You’re lucky he didn’t take you in the back room and tie you up with the Cohens.”

  Henrietta shuddered. “Will they be all right?”

  “They’ve gone through a lot, but they will be fine. We wouldn’t even have found them this soon if not for the fact that some friends went to check on them this morning. Neither brother ever married, and they live together. Apparently they didn’t show up at synagogue last night, but people got busy with their own Sabbath matters and forgot about it until today.”

  She said a quick prayer for them. She had lost a little. They had lost a lot and had physically endured more.

  The officers asked for her name and address and said they would contact her if they needed more information.

  On the walk home, all Henrietta could think about was what might have happened. And her utter and total failure to provide for Unruffled as she’d promised.

  Gert knocked on the bedroom door. “Miss Henrietta? Are you all right?”

  Henrietta sat up on the bed and wiped her eyes. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying that loudly. She cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “When you came in you were all upset. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I’m fine now. Really. It was just a silly thing.”

  There was a pause. “All right then. I trust what you say is true. As I’d told you, I’m going to visit Frankie this afternoon.”

  Henrietta remembered. “Are you sure about going?”

  “’Tis just a visit. He’ll be on his best.”

  “So you’re not going back to him?”

  “We’ll see. At any rate, I probably won’t be to home till after dinner.”

  “Have a good visit. And be careful.”

  Henrietta heard the door of the flat open and close. But Gert’s words lingered: “I trust what you say is true.”

  “I’m a liar. You can’t trust me. Not a bit.”

  Maude needed to pay Mr. Ricci the rent money tomorrow.

  There was no money.

  Her grandmother’s jewelry was gone.

  She thought of the only other items of value she possessed. The pearls and the lapis piece. Both were family heirlooms. Both were taken from Crompton Hall without her parents’ knowledge. If she sold them she would be breaking a family trust.

  “I need to bring them back where they belong.”

  The idea of going home took root. That was the answer. Go home to Summerfield. Endure their reprimands and disappointment, and be accepted back into their loving, forgiving arms.

  Sh
e’d sent her family a few letters, telling them she was well. They were not fearful for her safety. Yet she’d kept other details of her American life secret.

  She looked around the shabby flat. They would cringe at the sight of it with its thin walls that shared sounds she would rather never hear, water-stained ceilings, and a communal bathroom. The furniture came with the rent and the other accoutrements of living were borrowed from Edna. Henrietta had nothing of her own but what she’d brought with her from England.

  Would her parents be proud of the fact she knew how to pay rent, heat a pot of tea, buy food for herself, and work at a real job?

  The clothes she’d brought from home hung on nails around the room. Clothes she couldn’t remove or put on without Gert’s help with the buttons up the back. Undergarments, washed in the sink down the hall, hung over a rope they’d found discarded in an alley. A thick layer of dust had settled on the top of the dresser, and dirt from her shoes—which needed a good shining—littered the floor.

  “I don’t even own a broom.”

  It was a silly statement, a minimal “don’t have” compared to more striking needs, and yet it filled the room, demanding attention.

  She was used to having others do things for her, take care of her, watch over her. Although she had survived in New York, she had not thrived.

  Except where people were concerned.

  She moved to the main room and sat on the window seat, peering out at the bustling street below. On her outing with Steven yesterday she’d mentioned being a country girl, needing to see trees and open spaces. He’d complied. Their stroll through Central Park was an afternoon she would never forget.

  He is a man I will never forget.

  Her own word choice suggested a separation, a parting. Distance. All would be true if she left New York and returned to Summerfield. She would never see Steven again.

  She paused a moment, letting her feelings catch up with this possibility. Tears formed. “I will never see him again. Whatever we have will be cut short. Losing him is my punishment for lying.”

  The idea of hurting him propelled her to standing. “I can’t stay. I can’t face any of them with my lie and my failure to do as I promised. I have to leave!”