The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  Mrs. Sampson made herself at home on a stool. “Did you come all the way to New York to lure her back into your employ? For I don’t think that is ever going to happen. We won’t let it happen.”

  “I came to America to celebrate Annie’s new life, and be a part of it.”

  Annie knew Henrietta’s wounds of humiliation were still raw, so she wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We are partners.”

  Eleanor blinked. “Partners?”

  Annie immediately regretted using that term, but there was no delicate way to back out of it. Instead she changed the conversation to Eleanor’s favorite subject—herself. “How is Eleanor’s Couture doing?”

  “What?”

  “Your design house?”

  Eleanor brushed the words away with a hand. “I’ve moved on. Women’s rights is my new passion.”

  “But you adore fashion. You were the one who inspired me…us…”

  “I still adore fashion but will leave the designing to those who have the talent for it. Harold helped me see that my efforts could be more beneficial to women in regard to rights rather than ruffles. Or no ruffles.”

  Edna spoke up. “We are opening a shop called Unruffled.”

  “Really.”

  She nodded and added the tagline, “Fashion for the Unruffled, Unveiled, Unstoppable Woman.”

  Eleanor clapped, her gloves creating muted sounds of affirmation. “Very nice, ladies. I approve.”

  Annie was surprised at the compliment and the fact she felt relief at hearing it. She’d thought she was past needing such a thing. She and Mrs. Sampson had parted ways, and none too amicably.

  Eleanor fingered a remnant of narrow corded trim. “Not as fancy as I brought you.”

  Was that why she’d come back? Annie rushed into the second bedroom and returned with a box of fancy trims. “You may have them back,” Annie said. “I should have returned them to you immediately. I apologize.”

  Eleanor picked up a hank of fringe. “These were purchased on a lark. I see now that they do not suit your aesthetic.”

  My aesthetic. So she was truly letting go of her own design ideas?

  Eleanor shoved the box an inch away and sighed. “Where is Sean?”

  “At work.”

  “I would like to see him. Perhaps another time.”

  There would be another time?

  “When does the store open?”

  The partners exchanged glances. “We’d hoped to open in a month, to take advantage of the Christmas season.”

  “You seem uncertain.”

  An idea shot into Annie’s thoughts. Really, Father? This is Your doing? Her heartbeat quickened. “We have a lovely space to rent but ran out of funding. We are delayed until that is remedied.” Come now, Eleanor…reveal your generous nature.

  “Funding, you say?” She examined a spot on her glove. “Why didn’t you come to us? You know we would be happy to help.”

  Annie nearly laughed at her friends’ communal expulsion of air.

  “You’d do that?” Edna asked.

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Annie clapped a hand over her mouth. She was torn as to whether or not she should point out that it was Eleanor who had withdrawn their monetary support after the fashion show or ignore that salient fact because she seemed to be ignoring it.

  As if reading her mind, Eleanor said, “Yes, it is true that I revoked our interest in your venture, Annie—when you ignored my suggestions.” She shoved the box of trim another inch. “When my friends didn’t place any orders, my pride was sorely wounded.” She looked Annie directly in the eye. “I took it out on you, my dear. Wrongly on you.”

  The burden that had sat heavily on Annie’s shoulders slipped off, leaving her able to breathe.

  “Do you forgive me?” Eleanor asked.

  The timeline since Eleanor’s withdrawal sped through Annie’s mind: the initial panic, seeking money with Sean’s father, Maude’s mother, and finally Henrietta’s sudden appearance outside the workshop window. That Henrietta’s funds had proved not enough just a few days ago…that they had prayed for God’s providence and provision just last evening…

  Annie’s legs gave out, and Vesta helped her onto a stool. “Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”

  She assured them she was fine. “I’m just overwhelmed by your offer. It comes at a time when it is sorely needed.”

  Maude was more clear. “We need funds today to secure the shop space.”

  Eleanor nodded, as though unsurprised. But then she shook her head. “I will not proceed until you answer my question. Do you forgive me?”

  “Of course I do.” Annie rose and the two women embraced, the tension of their past parting evaporating.

  Eleanor pulled back first and touched Annie’s cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too. If not for your belief in me, I would still be at Butterick.”

  She returned the compliment with a nod. Then, in usual Eleanor fashion she said, “How much do you need?”

  Maude stood before the telephone in the hall. Should I or shouldn’t I?

  After hearing the good news from Mrs. Sampson, Maude struggled with wanting to race to Antonio’s office to tell him in person versus calling him on the telephone. Both would be satisfying, but the former would be more pleasant.

  And yet not so, because whenever she was with him she found herself in a battle against herself, wanting to fully indulge in the nearness of him while trying to heed warnings to retreat lest their hearts be broken when their parting proved inevitable. For he did act as though he wished to see her beyond business.

  Maude didn’t have that much experience with good men—and one horrible experience with a very bad one—so she didn’t know if he was simply being charming or showing true interest. Or was he just being Italian? Being of Italian descent herself, she knew that men of that upbringing were taught to make women feel more pretty, more delightful, and more desirable than they actually were. Some used this skill for foul ends, but most were pleasant to be around. For who didn’t like to feel better about themselves?

  Her father had used this aptitude to earn himself a position on the diplomatic corps where he made those in power feel more able, strong, and yes, even more desirable than they were. When he and Maude’s mother would have soirees in their foreign homes, Maude would be banished upstairs with the nanny, but through her own ability to charm, would be allowed to watch the festivities from the upstairs hallway, peeking through the railings. If Mother saw her, she would send a stern glare her way, and with a subtle flick of her hand, Nanny would be instructed to take Maude back to her bedroom. But if Father saw her…he would smile or twirl his mustache or wink at her—or all three, which let them enjoy the shared moment. And occasionally he would invite her down to meet the guests, and rarer still, ask her to sing for them.

  Although the pain of losing him had eased, occasionally she suffered an ache that threatened to eat her from the inside out. When she’d been assaulted she’d been glad he wasn’t there to witness her humiliation and shame. She knew the assault hadn’t been her fault, she knew she shouldn’t feel those emotions, but they were real, and it had taken a long time to bury them. She was doubly glad he hadn’t been around to witness the doctor’s prognosis that she could never have children. For her father had often spoken of the joy he would feel pampering her children, as he had pampered her. Perhaps God had taken him before his time to save him from the anger, pain, and consequences of her experience.

  “What do I do, Papa?”

  She felt a sudden need to simplify, to avoid anything that would complicate her already complicated life.

  She picked up the phone.

  Annie adjusted the fork next to the plate, just so. Then she moved the vase of flowers an inch to the right. Dinner was ready to be served as soon as Sean got—

  She heard him at the door before he opened it. She did the honors herself, startling him. The hug and the kiss added to the su
rprise.

  “My, my, Annie-girl. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were about to tell me you were expecting.”

  She drew him into the room and showed him the kitchen table. “I made chicken, potatoes, and green beans, and bought some bread and boysenberry preserves.”

  “Now I am doubly curious. What are we celebrating?”

  She’d thought about how to tell him. One word seemed to sum it up best. “Freedom.”

  “From…?”

  “Financial worries.”

  His eyes widened. “Henrietta got her jewelry back?”

  “No, I mean, I don’t think so.”

  “Did you rob a bank?”

  She scoffed. “Stop it. Let me talk!”

  He sat on a kitchen chair and pulled her onto his lap. “There,” he said, kissing her again. “Now I’m ready to hear your news.”

  Finally! “We had a visitor in the workshop today.”

  “If you’re waiting for me to guess, you need to give me some clues.”

  “It was a she.”

  He considered this a moment. “Most of the ‘shes’ I know already work there.”

  “She lives across from a cathedral.”

  “Mrs. Sampson?”

  “In the flesh.”

  She could see by the flash in his eyes that he was putting it together, but she wanted the moment to linger a bit. “She’s a suffragette now.”

  “One of those marching ladies with the signs?”

  “She didn’t have a sign with her, but she was wearing a sash that said, ‘Votes for Women.’”

  “With the election tomorrow, she’s probably very busy.”

  The subject of voting caused Annie to allow a detour to the conversation. “What do you think about that? About women voting?”

  “I’d be excited if you could vote.”

  “But I know nothing about the candidates other than what I’ve heard the ladies say.”

  He nuzzled her cheek. “But if you had the right to vote, you would learn. I know you, Annie; you would not vote just to vote.”

  “I wouldn’t. I would take the right seriously.”

  “As you should.”

  “Who are you going to vote for?”

  “Wilson.”

  “Why?”

  “Taft is too timid. A good-enough president is not good enough anymore. Times are changing, and I fear he will not change with them.”

  “Roosevelt seems strong. He was shot yet still gave a speech.”

  “A definite show of strength—physical strength.”

  “And determination.”

  “Agreed. But that doesn’t necessarily translate into making good, presidential decisions.”

  “But—”

  He nodded toward the neatly set table. “You did not make this delicious—what I hope is a delicious—dinner to talk of politics. You said Mrs. Sampson stopped by?”

  Annie stood, needing to fully see his reaction when she told him the good news. “She will fund our shop!”

  He blinked, clearly surprised. “What happened to Eleanor’s Couture?”

  “She bodged it.”

  “Without you to help.”

  Annie shook her head vehemently. “We never sang the same song.”

  “And now you’re singing a duet?”

  Annie shrugged, unable to say yes with full honesty. “She has forgiven and forgotten. As have I.”

  “And she’s found a new passion in the vote.”

  “That too.”

  “So how much is she going to give us?”

  Annie grinned. “Whatever we need.”

  “Oof, Annie-girl. I am impressed. That is a good reason to celebrate.”

  Annie needed to get even more serious. “We prayed about it, Sean. Just last night. And today God sent her back to us.”

  “With a full purse.”

  “With a full and willing purse.” She sat on his lap again. “Why would He do that for us?”

  “Because He is very generous.”

  “But I’m sure other people prayed for help, prayed for bills to be paid, prayed for His intervention, and He told them no. Why are we receiving His blessings? Why have we received His blessings, time after time?”

  “That is the question of the ages. God’s ways cannot be fully explained, for He sees the big picture while we only see a small slice.”

  “But some people suffer so badly. Why does He let them suffer when He could release them from pain in the blink of an eye?”

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I don’t know.”

  “Who does?”

  He laughed gently. “No one. But even in the dark times, He is there. And in the good times we need to be good stewards of the blessings.”

  “I’ve tried not to be extravagant with the expenses and—”

  “Being good stewards goes beyond money. You’ve given people employment, a sense of purpose, a goal, and a sense of family. You should be proud of yourself.”

  She was proud. But she also felt very humbled. “Thank you.”

  He flicked the tip of her nose. “We need to thank Him for what He’s done for us and trust Him for the rest. We need to have faith that His way is the best way.”

  “Because…?”

  “He is God and we are not.” He gently pushed her to her feet. “Now let’s eat. Your good news has made me famished.”

  Vesta had invited herself over to Edna and Maude’s for dinner, wanting to give Annie and Sean some time alone. As the ladies ate and chatted—Edna and Maude chatted—Vesta felt oddly removed. As though she were there, but not.

  It was noticed.

  “Vesta?” Edna waved a hand in front of her face. “Are you in there?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Surely we aren’t boring you.” Maude shook her head vigorously. “No, that’s not possible. Maude Nascato is never boring.”

  “No, you’re not. Neither of you.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  After feeling melancholy most of the afternoon, Vesta had determined the cause of her mood. “Everyone has someone to share with. We had great news today with the Sampsons funding us again. And I have no one to share it with.”

  “When was the last time you called Richard?” Edna asked.

  “A better question is, when was the last time he took my call?”

  “And?”

  “Two weeks ago. He had a question about whether he should order ornamental hair combs for the store anymore—were they still in style? I said he should. Until women cut their hair—which they never will do—women will like the pretty combs.”

  “At least he asked your opinion,” Maude said.

  “He didn’t need my opinion. He buys what he wants to buy.”

  “Then he used it as an excuse to talk with you.”

  She shrugged and moved a potato from left to right on her plate. “He didn’t ask anything about me, about how I was.”

  “Did you ask how he was?”

  She hesitated. “Well, no.”

  Maude took Vesta’s fork and laid it down on the table. “You need to speak to one another. Absence does not always make the heart grow fonder.” She cocked her head. “Or does it?”

  “I do miss him. Our marriage was far from perfect, but it was ours.”

  “Then go home to him,” Edna said. “A marriage is nothing to be dallied with. You made your point; you took your stand. Surely he’s accepted that you’re involved in our business by now.”

  “There is no surely about anything regarding Richard. He is not easily swayed.”

  Edna reached across the table and took her hand. “You are a great help to this company, Vesta, but no business should cause the loss of a marriage.”

  “Why don’t you call him again?” Maude suggested. “Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

  “I’m not sure I’m up to being rejected again. One time, two times, twelve times…each time the pain begins anew.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Edna said.
“I don’t know what else to say.”

  There was nothing more anyone could say.

  After sharing an evening walk, Henrietta and Steven reached her building. “Would you like to come up for a bit?” she asked.

  “You don’t have to ask. Besides, I have something to show you.”

  Inside the vestibule, Henrietta checked her mail. “I never get anything, but I can always hope.” Yet there was a letter inside. “It’s from my mother!”

  She began to open it right there, but Steven suggested they go upstairs.

  “You’ve received a letter from them before now, haven’t you?”

  “I haven’t. I’ve sent them more than one, but they’ve never responded.”

  Once they were settled inside she hesitated opening it. “What if they’re angry? What if they want nothing more to do with me?”

  Steven did not give her the easy answer. “Then you concentrate on the family you have here.”

  It was large compensation, but was it enough?

  He touched her arm. “Open it. No matter what they say, I am here.”

  Henrietta nodded and said a silent prayer, wishing God could change their angry words to words of understanding. She stood, needing privacy. “Excuse me a moment.”

  She opened the letter and read silently.

  Dear Etta,

  We are glad to hear you are well, but we are angry that you put us through so much worry. We try to understand your reasons for going. You say that ending your relationship with Hank was not the cause of your departure, and after speaking with your grandmother, I can see the truth that he was not for you. But that does not mean there isn’t some other fine man in your future.

  She paused to look across the room at the man sitting patiently before her. He was definitely a fine man. But not a man of her family’s social standing. What would her parents think of Steven Holmquist, a schoolteacher? Would they accuse him of showing interest because of her family’s money or title? What would they think of her dilapidated flat? What would they think knowing she had used up most of her money to survive and had wanted to give more of it to Annie—who used to be their housemaid?

  “Are you all right?” Steven asked quietly, as he put something in his pocket.

  She nodded and continued to read.