She yanked on the heavy glass door emblazoned with DENNEHY’s in graceful gold script and instantly felt a sense of peace. Whether it was from the cozy feel of one of Boston’s most stylish department stores or the prayer was anybody’s guess. Dominating half the block, Dennehy’s had expanded from a quaint single storefront that Mitch had bought for Charity after they were married, to a charming emporium that rivaled the bigger stores in popularity. Not as large or as sophisticated as Filene’s, which occupied an entire city block on Washington and Summer, Dennehy’s catered to a simpler clientele. Here, those who appreciated the warmth and courtesy of a specialty store in a small-scale department store could browse everything from fashion and toiletries to home goods and more. Lily of the valley teased her senses, and Katie glanced at a young woman testing perfumes on her wrist at a glass counter that showcased the latest in Paris scents.
Across the way an intricately carved wood display featured a charming array of ladies’ hats – from large-brimmed garden-party varieties to lavish veiled “celebrity hats” à la Joan Crawford and Clara Bow, several bedecked with sequins for evening wear. Still in vogue, there were plenty of beloved cloche hats that fitted tightly to the head and rested just above the eyes, tempting shoppers with an endless variety of styles, be it skull cap or turban. A bored-looking manikin modeled the latest eared cloche with tucks and swirls that swooped over her ears and up in front and the back. A pretty silk flower bloomed from the side of the hat, coordinating nicely with a tall vase of silk flowers in the center of the table.
Viewing the simple elegance of the displays, Katie once again marveled at the miracle that was Emma Malloy. Charity’s best friend from Dublin ten years hence, Emma had co-managed the store with Charity that first year until her sister had gotten pregnant and Mitch insisted she quit. Since then, Emma had single-handedly transformed “Dennehy’s Emporium” from a quaint mom-and-pop storefront into a thriving mercantile. She’d even talked Mitch and Charity into changing the name to Dennehy’s Department Store to capitalize on the recent trend of larger, more sophisticated stores. A natural-born merchant, Emma had been given free rein by Charity and Mitch, an investment that had paid off handsomely for Katie’s sister and brother-in-law, as evidenced by the people milling throughout the store. No, in Katie’s mind, there was no doubt – strong, quiet Emma Malloy was just the person to take little Alli under her wing.
“Katie! What are you doing here today?”
She glanced up to see the woman in her thoughts bounding toward her with a stack of papers fluttering in her hands, the pretty tilt of the left corner of her lips contrasting with the mottled scar on the right. “Looking for a new dress for a date with Jack?”
Katie studied Charity’s friend with sudden curiosity. Without question, Emma Malloy had been as beautiful as Charity at one time, before a philandering sot of husband had reshaped her features with a pan of hot grease. Her heartshaped face lent itself to a delicate and graceful air with soft, grey eyes that evoked the gentleness of a fawn. A nose that could only be described as “classic” was strong and straight with the barest upturn at the tip. Rich, chestnut hair, shimmering from the crystal chandelier overhead, was styled in the latest Joan Crawford look, parted on the side and sleek from the crown until it curled below her ears. Wisps of bangs feathered her forehead, accentuating a perfectly manicured brow while the other arched over a scar long since faded with time.
As Charity’s best friend, Emma seemed the perfect balance for Katie’s mischievous sister – shy and demure rather than sassy and bold, totally content for Charity to shine while she herself faded into the shadows. And yet, despite quietly stepping to the background, Emma possessed a strength of character that was hard to miss, radiating joyous calm as surely as the sun radiated warmth. Without question, she was a stabilizing factor – not only for Charity, but for anyone Emma came in contact with. Even now, just a hint of a smile in those gentle eyes had the same calming effect as a cleansing sigh, relaxing the tightness in Katie’s neck and stomach.
She sucked in a deep swallow of air and released it, returning Emma’s smile with a bright one of her own. “Not really. I’m afraid I have more important things on my mind than Jack.”
A twinkle lit Emma’s eyes as she hugged the papers to her chest. “More important than Jack? Well, now you’ve piqued my interest.”
“Good,” Katie said with a tug of Emma’s arm. “Do you have a moment to talk in your office, or is this a bad time?” “No, now is perfect – I was just going to have lunch.” Emma led her through the store and up to her office on the second floor while Katie studied her out of the corner of her eye. Although only inches taller than Katie’s five foot two, Emma seemed almost willowy with her slow and graceful stride, as if she floated on air rather than always rushing as Katie was prone to do. Katie released another breath and matched her pace to Emma’s, grateful for the calming effect of this woman.
Nodding at several employees on the way, Emma finally opened a bubbled glass door at the rear of the store and invited Katie in. She smiled at a big-bone, olive-skinned woman who seemed better suited as a warden in a women’s prison than a secretary for one of Boston’s most popular stores. Decidedly too large for the small, wooden desk at which she sat, the woman looked up with a scowl that rivaled Patrick O’Connor’s on his worst disciplinary day.
“You know those three dozen Panama straws we ordered from DelMonico’s?” The woman’s scarlet lips flattened as she waved a paper in the air. Her mouth slanted into a caustic smile. “They forgot to send the pitchfork and tractor.”
A heavy sigh drifted from Emma’s lips, the closest thing to a complaint Katie had ever heard out of her. “Oh, Bert, no . . . They sent the farmer’s straw instead of the boaters?”
“Yep. ’Course, I’m thinking we can always hurl a few hay bales and a couple cow patties in the window and stage a hoedown.” Bert slapped the sheet of paper on the desk with a slam that jolted Katie.
Emma seemed undaunted, either by the situation or Bert’s crusty manner. “Well, we’ll just have to send them back with a note explaining it’s the straw boaters or nothing, which is a real shame. The salesman for DelMonico’s has been so nice.” She gave Bert’s shoulder a comforting squeeze as she moved past the desk toward her office door, then paused to shoot a smile over her shoulder. “Oh, Bert, this is Charity’s sister, Katie O’Connor.”
“Hi, Bert,” Katie said with trepidation. She stuck out a tentative hand, somewhat nervous that the woman just might crush it.
The warden grunted and offered a handshake that seemed more of a threat than a greeting.
“The Schiaparelli collection hasn’t come in by chance, has it?” Emma asked. “Patrice tells me she’s already had several requests.”
Dark thunderous eyebrows dipped low over slitted hazel eyes. “Yep – bathing suits, skiwear, linen dresses, you name it. But dollars to doughnuts Filene’s had their order first.”
“Go to lunch, Bert,” Emma said softly. “I’ll cover till Cora gets back, okay?”
The woman lumbered up from the chair with a low rumble of words, and the slow rise of her wide girth reminded Katie of a volcano about to spew. “Heaven knows when that’ll be,” she mumbled under her breath. “Spends more time filing her nails than that stack of purchase orders on her desk. When she isn’t making personal phone calls, that is.”
Emma chuckled. “You know Cora has a lot to do in the next few weeks before the wedding. Besides, you’re just hungry, and you know it. Go on – scoot. Tell Mario to give you that free lunch he promised us last week.”
“Promised you, you mean,” Bert emphasized with a lift of her formidable chin. Waves of black hair tinged with silver hugged her head in the slicked-down style of the day, doing nothing to soften her intimidating air. “I’m not takin’ your lunch.”
“Take it,” Emma ordered with more force than Katie was used to. “I brought two hard-boiled eggs and an apple, so tell Mario to give the lunch to you, you hear? No a
rguments.”
“Humph. That won’t make him none too happy – it’s you he’ll be looking for.” Bert turned at the door and aimed a menacing finger toward the stack of purchase orders on Cora’s desk. “Don’t let me catch you filing her orders, Miss Emma.”
Emma grinned. “Go – eat your lunch and tell Mario I said hi. And come back in a better mood or I’ll make Horace help you with inventory.”
A reluctant smile flickered across Bert’s wide mouth, and for the first time, without the nasty face, Katie could see that she was actually rather pretty for a middle-aged woman whose height and weight commanded respect. “You sic that old man on me, Miss Emma, and I guarantee you’ll be looking for a new employee.”
“You would never leave me, Bert, and we both know it,” Emma said with a smile.
Bert’s eyes narrowed. “I was talking about Horace. ’Cause if that man comes near me during inventory one more time, he’ll be strung up in a hospital with both legs in a cast.” She opened the door and shuddered. “Eat your egg.”
The door slammed behind her, and Katie blinked. “My, what an . . . interesting woman.”
A grin lit Emma’s face. “That she is. Bert’s been with me for almost ten years now, and she’s nothing more than a pussycat with porcupine quills. But it’s all a front, you know. She has a heart as big as she is gruff – wouldn’t hurt a fly. I honestly couldn’t run the store without her.”
“Bert? Short for . . . ?”
“Bertolina, but she absolutely hates that name, so don’t tell her I told you.”
Katie glanced at the door with a lift of her brows. “Not on your life. I’d rather stay on her good side . . . if she has one.”
Emma chuckled and sat in her chair behind a battered desk neatly piled with invoices and a mockup of a newspaper ad for the store. A warm breeze from an arched window behind her fluttered the back of her hair as she pulled a paper bag out of a drawer and released a weighty sigh. “So, Katie, what brings you to Dennehy’s?” She glanced at her watch. “I assume you’re on lunch hour at the BCAS? Have you eaten? I have two hard-boiled eggs I can share.”
“No, no, I’ve eaten, but thank you.” Katie slipped into the chair by the side of Emma’s desk and locked gazes with Charity’s friend. “But I do have something I need . . .”
With an inquisitive smile, Emma unwrapped a piece of parchment that contained a small pile of salt. She tapped the egg on the edge of her desk and began to peel, assessing Katie through curious eyes. “Really? What?”
“A favor actually, for a friend. One who needs a job pretty badly.”
A wrinkle puckered Emma’s brow indicating she was thinking as she finished peeling the shell. She tapped the white of the egg in the salt and took a bite. “What kind of job? Sales?”
“I’m not sure she could handle sales . . .” Katie fidgeted with her fingers, hesitating as she worked her lip. “You see, when she gets nervous or meets someone for the first time, she has a terrible stutter, and she’s very slow of speech.”
“Oh.” Emma continued chewing, eyes squinted as she gave it more thought. “Well, then, what about janitorial?”
“No, that wouldn’t work either, I’m afraid.” Katie’s gaze flicked up. “She had polio as a child and wears cumbersome leg braces. It’d be hard for her to get around the store, I’m sure.”
The egg froze midair, halfway to Emma’s mouth. Compassion softened the gray of her eyes as her voice lowered to a whisper. “Oh, God love her . . .”
Katie sucked in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, determination steeling her words. “Well, that’s just it, Emma. Alli – that’s her name, Alli Moser – believes with all of her heart that God does love her and fully expects him to find her a job. But she turns eighteen in several months, you see, and the BSCG has to either place her in an apprenticeship with a family, find her a job where she can support herself, or . . .” The air seemed trapped in Katie’s lungs before she released it in one arduous exhale. “Be turned out on the streets to fend for herself.”
The hitch of Emma’s breath was as harsh as the burn in Katie’s throat at the thought of Alli on the streets, and when she saw tears glimmer in Emma’s eyes, she had no power over those in her own. She placed a tentative hand on Emma’s arm. “She has no family, Emma, and the worst part is she’s epileptic. When people hear that, well, understandably . . . they’re afraid.”
Emma nodded slowly, then swallowed hard and placed the half-eaten egg on the parchment. “How is she with numbers, then? Things like filing, typing, general office work?”
A slow grin eased across Katie’s face. “She’s a champ. She may seem slow because of her speech, but I swear her mind is sharper than yours or mine. And she’s a whiz at numbers.” The edges of Emma’s mouth curled into a beautiful smile. “Is she, now?”
Both looked up at the sound of a timid knock. “Miss Emma?”
“Yes, Horace?” Emma smiled at a slight, balding man hovering in the door.
“Just received a box of what looks like dark eyeglasses from something called the Foster Grant company and, uh, well . . . I’m not real sure what to do with ’em.”
“Oh, finally! Give those to Patrice, will you, Horace? They’re sunglasses to add to the swimsuit display she set up last month. Apparently Sam Foster’s new invention is selling like hotcakes on the beaches of Atlantic City, and we’re lucky to get them. And, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am, will do.” Horace disappeared as quickly as he had come.
Katie cocked a brow. “Sunglasses?”
“They’re all the rage, apparently, and Sam Foster stands to make a killing, according to Mitch. But thanks to his connections at the Herald, we’ve been able to get our hands on a few even before Filene’s.” Emma dabbed the last of her egg into the salt and popped it in her mouth. She smiled and finished chewing. “So, Katie Rose . . . when can your Alli Moser start?”
Katie’s heart stopped for the briefest of moments before she launched up with a squeal to give Emma a hug. “Oh, I knew it! The moment I heard about Alli’s plight, I thought of you, Emma. With all the hardship you’ve been through in your life, I just knew you would understand. I can bring Alli by anytime – just give me the word.”
Emma’s smile edged into a frown. “The braces on her legs – is walking difficult for her? How will she get here?”
“It certainly seems cumbersome to you and me, I know, but Alli appears to take it all in stride. She moves slowly, but it doesn’t hinder her mobility. As far as getting to the store, she lives at the BSCG until she turns eighteen, and that’s just a trolley ride away.”
“What happens when Alli turns eighteen – where will she go?” Emma asked, eyes sloped with concern.
Katie released a weighty sigh and sat down, her euphoria ebbing away. “We don’t know yet. Miss Lillian – the director of the BSCG – is looking for a home for Alli right now, but she hasn’t had much luck.” Katie idly grated teeth to lip and looked up, desperate to win Emma’s favor, and in the process, a home for Alli. Her breath stilled in her lungs. “Any ideas?”
Emma stared at Katie and for the first time saw a resemblance to Charity. Not so much in the physical sense, although both were beautiful women who turned their fair share of heads, but more so from the glint of steel in their striking blue eyes whenever they were on a mission.
Like now.
Emma knew that over the years Katie had challenged her parents and family with a headstrong nature and a drive to achieve whatever she set her mind to, much like Charity. Both were tough, stubborn women who seldom revealed their softer side. And yet one of the things that Emma loved most about Charity was her tender, vulnerable heart, once calloused and hidden well beneath layers of hurt. Studying Charity’s sister now, Emma suspected it was much the same with Katie, but she wasn’t sure why. Where Charity’s demons had stemmed from a childhood trauma when she was small, Katie had always lived a charmed life, it seemed – Marcy’s “baby” who was always catered to becaus
e of her demanding nature. Emma fought the quirk of a smile as she reached for her apple.
“Ideas?” she repeated quietly, apple poised at her lips.
Katie straightened in the chair and leaned forward, the intensity in her eyes as compelling as the strong jut of her chin. “Yes – ideas – any ideas. Perhaps a young woman at the store with whom she might share a flat . . . or a kind customer who’d consider renting out a room. Or even a landlord you know who would be fair and kind.” Katie gripped the edge of the desk with fingers pinched pale, her gaze piercing Emma to the core. “Anyone, Emma, who possesses a heart as big as Alli’s . . . who can help her, care for her, and love her like she deserves.”
Emma stared, fully understanding the spell Katie O’Connor wielded, not only over Jack Worthington, one of the most eligible young men in Boston’s social scene, but the group of friends that always flocked to her side. Although her stature was petite, there was nothing small about the confidence she exuded through every pore of her porcelain skin, from the sculptured lift of her manicured brow to the tight press of those full and determined lips. That same spell now brought a smile to Emma as she bit into the apple, a flood of flavor bursting onto her tongue. She chewed slowly, savoring both the sweet fruit in her mouth and the sweet fruit she saw in Charity’s little sister. A little sister who had always seemed somewhat removed from the rest of her family because of her aloof nature, sassy tongue, and biting wit. And, Emma thought with silent gratitude, a sister who’d obviously taken great pains to guard a tender heart.
“Well . . . ,” Emma said softly, “I suppose your Alli could move in with me for a while until we find her a room of her own. My flat is tiny and cramped, mind you, but it’s only a few blocks away from the store, and the trolley covers the route – ”
“Oh, Emma!” Katie shot up and, as tiny as she was, hoisted Emma from the chair in a jubilant hug. “I just knew it. I have to admit, I wanted this so badly, that I actually resorted to prayer, if you can believe that. And I swear that right off, something whispered your name in my ear – ‘go see Emma’ – and it was right!”
A Hope Undaunted Page 27