The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  “Antonio!”

  “Good evening, Maude.”

  Maude looked to her mother, needing an explanation. As soon as they were seated she received one.

  “Hans ran into Antonio the other day, and he said you had chosen a property to rent for your store.”

  “Yes, but—”

  Antonio smiled. “I am so pleased you found someone to help with the rent discrepancy. When Mr. Sampson came to my office yesterday to pay…I would have liked to have seen you.”

  His smile was so infectious, Maude had to look away.

  “I am glad everything turned out as it did,” he said.

  “So are we.” Although there was so much more she could say, Maude didn’t say it. There was only one reason her mother invited Antonio tonight. Had she not heard anything Maude told when she’d last visited? That she didn’t wish to marry, could not marry?

  Silence settled over the room like a heavy cloud.

  Maude’s mother tried to lift it. “How long have you been in the business of real estate, Antonio?”

  “Ten years.”

  “It makes you a good living?”

  “Mother!”

  “It was just a question, dear. Nothing behind it.”

  Everything behind it.

  Antonio ignored the exchange and smiled in Maude’s direction. “I was involved in the deal when Butterick purchased the land where they built their current building.”

  “You know I worked at Butterick?” Maude cast a glare at her mother, who had obviously shared personal details with him.

  “I may have mentioned it,” her mother said.

  “It’s not a secret,” Hans said. “Is it?”

  “No, of course not,” Maude said. “I just don’t like my business discussed behind my back.”

  Her mother frowned and lowered her voice. “I assure you, Maudey, I did no such thing.”

  So she didn’t tell Antonio about the rape and its repercussions, yet by having him here she completely ignored the rape and its repercussions.

  Her mother moved on without her. “Are you married, Antonio?”

  You try to push us together yet you don’t know whether or not he’s married?

  “I am widowed.”

  “Oh my,” Mother said. “If I may ask, how did she—?”

  “You may not ask!” Maude sprang to her feet. “This has gone too far already.” She turned toward Antonio. “My mother is trying to be a matchmaker, but I need to nip this in the bud right now. I am never going to marry, Antonio. Mr. Ricci. Not that you had any such intentions toward me, but I need to stop this before Mother embarrasses all of us any more than she already has.”

  “I did not mean to embarrass—”

  Maude swung toward her. “But you did. You know very well I will never marry and have children. Yet you ignore my wishes and bring us together at this dinner, push us together.”

  “I didn’t intend—”

  Maude plucked her hat and coat from the rack near the door. “You did mean, and you did intend.” She turned to Antonio one last time. “Please forgive her blatant intentions, and please forgive this outburst, but I find I cannot sit here and let Mother try to maneuver you toward something that will never happen.”

  He rose from his chair, his cheeks ruddy, his jaw set, all charm gone. “I am sorry that any possibility of a friendship with me is so appalling. You will not have to worry about any acquaintance between us again, Miss Nascato. Take comfort in that.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. What have I done?

  Unfortunately, she had gone too far to undo her actions. All hopes of a nice dinner were irretrievable, all possibility of normal conversation crushed.

  There was only one thing she could say, one thing she could do.

  “I’m sorry” was immediately followed by her departure.

  She rushed down the steps and out to the sidewalk, the dark clouds that had hung over their meeting turning into a storm with foul winds that blew her out and away.

  “Maude!”

  She turned around to see her mother hurrying down the steps after her.

  Maude wanted to flee and suffered an image of herself as a child doing just that to avoid a scolding. With difficulty, she stopped walking and waited for her mother to catch up.

  She was out of breath. “What was all that about? Why were you so rude?”

  Maude saw Antonio exit the building. He spotted her but did not tip his hat or acknowledge her. He walked away in the opposite direction.

  Maude eyed the pedestrians strolling by. She led her mother to the top of a stoop to attain a modicum of privacy. “It was rude to bring him here. I told you I’m never going to marry.”

  “Well, now you’re never going to marry him, that’s for sure.”

  “So you were setting us up?”

  “Of course I was. Hans said Antonio sang your praises—though I don’t know why. He’ll never want to even speak to you now.”

  Good.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Maudey. We raised you to be polite and kind. I don’t recognize this offensive person who so purposefully inflicts pain.”

  I don’t either.

  Once again Maude felt like she was ten years old, getting scolded. She’d learned then what she applied now: nothing good came from trying to explain herself. It was best to apologize and move on. “I’m sorry, Mother. I don’t know what else to say.”

  Her mother’s face softened. “Say you’ll not be so stringent in the ‘will nevers’ of your life. You’re young. You shouldn’t close off the possibility of great joy, of great love.” She glanced back toward her apartment. “After your father died, I never thought I would love again. I was resigned to my role as the widow of a diplomat. But Hans changed all that. It’s like a light was turned on and I could look forward to a bright future. I have never been happier—I say that without taking anything from your father.”

  “I’m happy for you, Mother. I truly am. Hans seems like a very agreeable man.”

  “He is a God-sent man. I didn’t think I would ever marry, but I didn’t cut off the idea like you have. I prayed that God would do whatever He wanted to do with the rest of my life. And then He sent me Hans.” Her smile was completely genuine and made her look ten years younger.

  Suddenly Maude realized why she had been hesitant to fully rekindle their relationship. Her mother was content living a new life. Her mother had endured pain by losing her husband and her social station, yet had been able to move on and find happiness.

  Maude could pretend she had moved on from her pain. But in truth, she hadn’t. She’d lost her father and then had violently lost her virginity and her chance to be a mother. She’d been unable to move past the pain and find happiness. In fact, her decision to never marry kept happiness hidden away in its own room, with the door locked.

  “Saying no to marriage is your decision, Maudey.”

  It was unnerving to hear her mother’s words at the same moment of her revelation. “I know. But I think it’s a good—”

  “It’s your decision, not God’s.”

  And there it was. The full truth of it. She had shut happiness away and locked the door.

  And she was in possession of the key.

  Though her logical mind accepted this truth, Maude still couldn’t take that key and…She fought tears, turning her back to the street. “Where was God when I was raped?”

  “Right by your side. As He is now.”

  “But He let me get raped!”

  A man walking by looked up and gave her a horrified look. She lowered her voice. “I’m dealing with the hand He dealt me.”

  “I am sorry for your pain,” Mother said. “I don’t know why God allowed it, but I do know He will take that darkness and turn it into light.”

  Her mother was gullible and naive. This wasn’t faith, it was fantasy. Maude mentally stepped away from the room that held the possibility of a happy life. “I’m glad Hans is your light. But I don’t have a light like that in my
future.”

  “How do you know?”

  Argh! Maude took a breath to calm herself. “No children are possible, so I am being kind and thoughtful by accepting my fate and not becoming a burden to a man—no matter how handsome and charming he is.”

  Mother drew Maude into an embrace and whispered in her ear. “Open the door, Maudey. That’s all I ask.”

  Maude closed her eyes and lingered in her mother’s care a bit longer.

  Even though she was totally wrong.

  “You’re back early,” Edna said when Maude came home.

  “I’m not feeling well.” It was not a lie.

  “Is that it?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I know you weren’t thrilled about going to your mother’s for dinner. I don’t understand why, but—”

  “Let’s just say it lived up to my expectations.”

  “You weren’t gone long enough to have eaten.”

  “Yes. Well.” She hung up her coat and hat. “I’m going to lie down for a while.”

  “I have dinner ready. Since you weren’t here I didn’t make much, but—”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Maude…talk to me. What happened?”

  Although she knew that Edna would probably have great wisdom to share, she also knew it would be God-wisdom, and right now she didn’t want to hear any more about God or open doors or trusting Him. She just wanted to pout and wallow.

  “Maybe tomorrow. Leave me be, Edna. All right?”

  Edna’s faced revealed a growing concern. “You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

  “I know that.”

  Maude went into her bedroom and fell upon the bed. Through the door she could hear Edna praying for her. She took a breath to call out, “Stop that!” but let the words die.

  Let her pray. It wouldn’t help, but it wouldn’t hurt.

  Vesta sat at her dressing table in her bedroom and brushed her hair. She wore her favorite nightgown and wrapper—or rather, Richard’s favorite. She remembered what he’d said the first time she’d worn it: “The pink color brings out the blush in your cheeks, Vessie.”

  She embraced the compliment but also the memory of his nickname for her. When they’d first been married he’d always been Richie to her and she Vessie to him. When had they transitioned into the more formal Richard and Vesta? It had not been a conscious choice but had sprung from a newborn emotional formality. She’d recognized it during its evolution but had not known how to stop its steady progression and, honestly, had told herself that the change in their relationship was natural. Fifty-something couples did not pepper their conversations with sweet talk. Did they?

  Vesta’s decision to test this premise came on the ride home from Sean and Annie’s. She had already tested the status quo by standing up to Richard and moving out. Tonight she planned on testing it in another way, a more affirmative way.

  She smiled at her reflection, took up her favorite perfume bottle, removed the stopper, took a deep whiff, smiled all the more, and then dabbed it on her wrists, behind her ears, and at her breastbone. With a final encouraging look, she whispered, “Ready or not, Richie, here I come.”

  She opened her bedroom door with great care, not wanting to announce her movements to the household—though Baines and Lola were surely downstairs for the night. She knew her desire for discretion was silly, for it was natural that a wife and husband would occasionally seek each other out.

  The husband is supposed to seek the wife, not the other way around. At least that was how it had always played out before.

  The act of bucking convention ignited Vesta’s nerves, and only with conscious will did she tiptoe down the hall to her husband’s bedroom.

  Then she hesitated. Should she knock? Or just slip in? She imagined the knock and him saying, “Come in,” her entering, and the possibility of him telling her to stop this nonsense and go back to her room. Rejection would devastate her.

  So she chose surprise.

  She put an ear to the door and heard no movement. She hoped he was already in bed. To slide in behind him seemed the best way to avoid rejection.

  Vesta took in a quiet breath and let it out. Please God. Let it all work out.

  Then she turned the knob and opened the door.

  There was a light on.

  “Vesta?”

  He sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace, reading. She had no choice but to alter her plan.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  It seemed best not to say a word. Instead she walked to his side, took the book from his hands, then removed his glasses, setting both on a nearby table.

  “What are you—?”

  She crawled up on his lap, curling herself against his body, leaning her head against his shoulder. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her.

  “I love you, Richie.”

  There was a choking sound in his voice as he said, “I love you too, Vessie.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Annie was at work early, but this time it had nothing to do with sewing. Not directly.

  Spread on the worktable were bills. All were due or past due. Her neglect in paying them had nothing to do with having the money. Her delay was due to her ignorance in knowing exactly how to go about it.

  Her previous experience with money was minimal and involved earning a wage and buying necessities. When the Sampsons had initially deposited two hundred dollars in a bank account for them, Annie had sent Sean for the withdrawals, and he had paid Gert and Ginny cash, and some suppliers too. Henrietta had also given her cash that Sean had dispersed.

  But Sean had a full-time job. Annie wanted to deal with the money like a true businesswoman. She wanted to understand the process.

  Yesterday Mr. Sampson had given her an envelope full of dollars. To have so much cash on hand made Annie nervous. Surely there was a better way. A more professional way.

  Now that Unruffled had some payment history, the suppliers delivered the goods and handed her a bill. Should she bring around cash? Or send a check? But from where? The account the Sampsons had set up for them was long closed. Unruffled didn’t have an account of its own. At least not yet.

  And shouldn’t she be writing all this down in some sort of organized listing? She’d considered asking Sean about it, but lately she’d been too needy. She wanted him to think she was capable.

  When she heard footsteps on the stairs, her first instinct was to gather up the bills until tomorrow. But she didn’t have the energy to be discreet.

  Vesta entered. “Good morning, Annie. A fine morning, isn’t it?”

  Her mother-in-law’s cheeks were glowing. “My, my, you seem chipper.”

  “I am. Very much so.”

  Annie wondered but could not ask directly…. “How was your homecoming?”

  “Very good, thank you.” She gave Annie a mischievous grin. “Very good.”

  Annie chuckled. “I am glad to hear it.”

  “I’m thinking you are also glad to have your parlor back.”

  She was. And yet, “You are always welcome.”

  Vesta removed her hat and stuck the pins in its brim. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be.”

  Annie hugged her. “I’m so happy for both of you.”

  Henrietta came in. “Hugging is not allowed first thing in the morning.”

  “Sometimes it can’t be helped,” Vesta said.

  Henrietta studied her. “All is well?”

  “Very well.”

  She hugged Vesta. “I guess hugging is very necessary some mornings.”

  Their celebration complete, the ladies noticed the bills on the table. “Bookkeeping?” Henrietta asked.

  “It should be but isn’t.” Annie pointed at the different piles on the table. “I have the bills, and the Sampsons gave us money, but I have little idea how a business should deal with or make note of it all.”

&nb
sp; “I do.”

  “You do?”

  Henrietta scanned the papers. “I believe I can make a good go of it. You know my family has run the Summerfield mercantile for three generations. I often helped.” She looked at a few bills. “These need to be paid soon.”

  “I know,” Annie said. “And we have cash. But how…?”

  “Businesses like ours shouldn’t deal with cash. Do you have a business account at the bank?”

  “No.”

  “These bills should be paid out of an Unruffled account.”

  I thought so. “How do I get that?”

  “I’ll do it,” Henrietta said. “I recently opened my own account, so I can go back to the same banker and open one for the business.”

  Relief took over. “That would be marvelous.”

  “You also need a ledger,” Henrietta said.

  So that’s what it’s called. “Where do I get one of those?”

  “I’ll find out and purchase one.”

  “Do you know what to write in it?” Vesta asked.

  “Money in, money out. It’s quite simple really.”

  Annie laughed. “Then I simply declare that you are the official bookkeeper of Unruffled.”

  “I accept.”

  Annie remembered another money matter on her mind. “You two deserve to be paid wages.”

  “I am glad to volunteer,” Vesta said.

  Annie shook her head. “That’s kind of you but unacceptable. You are both working women. Working for us.”

  “I’ve never received wages,” Henrietta said.

  “Then I’m happy to be the first to pay you.” She felt compelled to add, “Edna, Maude, and I are partners in Unruffled, so we will be sharing the profits, but you two are also a large part of the venture, so I insist on compensating you. As generously as I can.”

  “That’s very kind.” Vesta’s eyes sparkled. “Goodness sakes. I’ll have my own spending money.”

  “And I’ll be able to pay the rent without dipping into my last reserves.”

  “Then it’s agreed. You’ll have to wait a wee bit longer until the shop opens and there’s money coming in, but I promise you will get paid.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Boss-lady,” Vesta said.

  Boss? Add another label to her mantle.