Suitor by Design

by Christine Johnson

  “It can’t be. You said Vince had a lot of people who wanted a luggage compartment in their cars. We could even do it for people in Pearlman.”

  He shook his head.

  She couldn’t give up. “Don’t you see? It’s a new business, something lots of people will want. We could even advertise. People would come from Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids and Holland.”

  “Maybe.”

  His reluctance infuriated her. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you giving up so easily? That’s not the Peter I know. The Peter I know would fight until he got what he wanted. What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. You just don’t know the whole story.”

  “It’s that telegram, isn’t it?”

  He flushed. “I gotta get to work now. Mr. Evans needs his car by the end of the day.”

  Minnie felt everything slipping away. “Aren’t you going to let me start on the first board? I can bring the material and supplies if you’ll set up the table. There’s a spot behind the Maxwell that’ll be out of your way and meet Ruthie’s stipulations.”

  “Go help your sister at the shop. You can work on the boards tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? But I thought we had to finish this by Friday.”

  Instead of answering, Peter got into Mr. Evans’s car and started it. The roar of the engine drowned out all further attempts at conversation.

  * * *

  Peter couldn’t very well tell Minnie that Vince’s wire had asked him to pick up a package tonight at the rear door of the drugstore. The place had only one back door, and it led to the speakeasy. That was no place for nice girls. No place for Minnie. If she knew he was going there, she’d have an even lower opinion of him than she already did.

  He did not want to set foot in the place. Years ago, he’d gone in the back doors of New York clubs to deliver messages. Tobacco smoke hung thick as fog in the dark rooms humming with violence and vice. Gambling, money, things he didn’t want to know about. Sometimes people disappeared from those places. More often they lost their souls. Peter wanted nothing to do with clubs.

  On the other hand, this was Pearlman. Mrs. Lawrence ran a good, clean drugstore up front. The speakeasy out back was probably more respectable than the clubs he’d seen, but it was still against the law. Why Sheriff Ilsley didn’t do anything about it puzzled him. The lawman occasionally raided the place, but he never shut its doors.

  Why would Vince ask him to pick up a package there? Shouldn’t it be at the post office? The telegram made no sense. It also didn’t say what would be in the package, just that Peter needed to pick it up and bring it with him Friday night. Put in hidden compartment, the wire had stated. That sure didn’t sound like anything legitimate.

  Peter considered going to the sheriff with this, but the man’s permissiveness toward the speakeasy bothered him. He also couldn’t tell Fallston, since the prohibition agent had returned to Grand Rapids until Friday, when he planned to tail Peter to the drop-off spot. That left Peter on his own. The only thing he knew for sure was that he had to keep Minnie out of this.

  Peter would deliver Mr. Evans’s car early and stop by the drugstore on the way back. If the package turned out to be liquor or anything illegal, he’d refuse to take it. Vince could find someone else to deliver his dirty merchandise. Either way, going there early meant Minnie would be hard at work at the dress shop and never know that he’d gone into a speakeasy.

  * * *

  Minnie returned to the dress shop, perplexed by Peter’s behavior. She was sure it all had to do with that telegram. If the news came from New York, then Mariah probably got a wire, too. She still kept in close contact with the former director of the closed orphanage there. As the day went on Minnie grew more and more convinced that Mariah would know what was troubling Peter. To help him, Minnie had to know the problem.

  After assisting Ruth until four o’clock, she headed for Constance House. On a day like today, the children would be playing in the large backyard after school. Mariah would be able to talk, and Peter wouldn’t be back from work yet.

  Motorcars and people clogged Main Street. With the fine weather, everyone seemed to be out. So many people stopped her to say hello that she feared Mariah would have taken the children to the park by the time she got there.

  Fortunately, the orphanage director answered the door on the second knock.

  “Minnie! What a pleasure.” Mariah always welcomed people as if she’d been longing to see them for ages. “Have a seat in the parlor, and I’ll put together a tea service.”

  Minnie glanced at the formal parlor, kept tidy for visitors and potential parents to meet with a child. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather talk in the kitchen.”

  Mariah laughed. “You’re a woman after my heart. I’ll be able to keep watch on the children from there.”

  “Is Anna helping?” Peter’s foster sister occasionally assisted at the orphanage.

  Mariah swept through the house with calm authority. “She’s at the bookstore today but will be here tomorrow. Did you want to see her?”

  “No, I was hoping to talk to you.”

  “Excellent. I always enjoy a visit.”

  Once they reached the kitchen, Minnie sat at the table while Mariah heated the teakettle on the oil stove and pulled a couple of teacups and saucers from the cupboard. “Cookies?”

  “No, thank you.” Minnie couldn’t take sweets from the children. “Mother doesn’t like us to eat between meals.”

  Mariah settled into the chair beside her while the teakettle heated. “How are your mother and father? I heard they had to go to the hospital in Grand Rapids.”

  “No word yet.”

  Mariah squeezed her hand. “We’ll take that as good news. The whole church is praying for your father.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mariah looked deeply into Minnie’s eyes. “Now, what brought you here today?” She was always direct but managed to be so without offending.

  Minnie considered how to say this. After all, Peter was the foster brother of Mariah’s husband and lived with them at Constance House. “I wondered if there was bad news from New York.”

  “From New York?” Mariah blinked. “Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, good.” Minnie breathed out a sigh. “What a relief. I saw Peter reading a telegram, and he looked so distressed by it that I figured something awful had happened.”

  “Not that I know of,” Mariah said slowly.

  “Oh, dear, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe it was personal.”

  “Perhaps.” But Mariah still looked concerned. “I don’t know who would wire Peter. He has no relations or connections in New York. Are you certain it came from there?”

  Minnie vaguely recalled Peter saying he had an uncle, but maybe the man didn’t live in New York. “I figured it had to be from New York. Where else could it come from?”

  “Hmm. I don’t know. Are you certain it was a telegram?”

  “It was the same color of paper they use for telegrams.” The way Mariah was looking at her made Minnie feel uncomfortable, as if she’d been eavesdropping, which she hadn’t. “You’re probably right. I’m sure it’s nothing. I let my imagination run wild.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Minnie felt sick. She should never have pried. “I’m just so used to bad news lately. I jumped to conclusions.”

  “That’s all right.”

  Despite Mariah’s gracious understanding, the knot in the pit of Minnie’s stomach didn’t loosen. What if Mariah told Peter that Minnie had asked about the telegram? He’d be furious with her. He’d think she was interfering where she shouldn’t.

  Minnie stood abruptly, scraping her chair against the wood floor. “I should go. Ruthie will want help closing the shop.”

  “Of course.” Mariah started
to stand.

  “No need to get up. I can show myself out.” Minnie pushed her chair in and backed away. “Promise you won’t tell Peter I asked about this? I’d be so embarrassed if he knew.”

  “Perhaps you should talk to him about your concerns. I’m sure he wouldn’t be offended.”

  Minnie knew better. If he’d wanted her to know what was in the wire, he would have told her when she asked. She said her farewells and hurried from the orphanage, thoroughly embarrassed. Why had she stuck her nose in where it wasn’t wanted?

  She stepped onto Elm Street and waited to cross. A car was traveling down the hill at a rapid rate of speed, a cloud of dust behind it. That was Blake’s Cadillac. She blinked to make sure. She couldn’t see if Beattie was in the passenger seat. If she was, her sister would have a conniption over such reckless driving.

  Minnie waited for him to turn onto Main Street and head for the mercantile. Instead, he drove past and turned into the alley, tires churning up gravel. Why on earth would he drive down the alley? Main Street would get him to the mercantile more quickly, unless he wasn’t going to work. What if something was wrong? The children! Oh, dear. What if he was headed to Doc Stevens’s office with one of the children?

  She changed course for the alley. By the time she reached it, the Cadillac sat parked behind the drugstore two blocks ahead. Minnie’s heart thudded in her chest. Illness or injury would have been terrible enough, but racing to get to the speakeasy? Poor Beattie. Minnie’s oldest sister had enough to handle with two children and demanding in-laws without her husband visiting the saloon.

  Minnie took a deep breath. Maybe she was wrong. After all, she’d been wrong about Peter’s telegram. Maybe it wasn’t Blake’s car. Pearlman had a Cadillac dealer. Someone else could have bought the same model of automobile. She might be jumping to the wrong conclusion again.

  She hurried down the alley, but as she crossed Fifth Street, she knew she hadn’t been wrong. That was Blake’s car all right.

  Oh, dear. What should she do? Tell Beatrice? Her sister would be crushed. Yet this wasn’t something Minnie could keep to herself. What if authorities raided the saloon? What if Blake went to jail? What would Beatrice do then?

  Minnie felt shaky, and she leaned against the back corner of the bookstore to steady herself. Empty crates were stacked high there, shielding her from view. She drew in a deep breath and collected her thoughts.

  Barging into the speakeasy was out of the question. Once inside, she wouldn’t know what to do. If Blake was there, he’d deny it in front of Beattie, forcing her to choose between husband and family. Minnie’s head hurt.

  Whatever Blake was doing there, she could not go near the place. She’d go back to Fifth Street and head up to Main. With shaky legs, she ventured back to the cross street. One final glance, just to be sure, before she left.

  What she saw shocked her even more. Peter Simmons was leaving the speakeasy.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Minnie couldn’t very well ask Peter what he was doing at the speakeasy. Plenty of townspeople visited it, but she had never imagined him going there. It was wrong. Forbidden. Illegal. Peter always seemed so honest.

  It didn’t make sense.

  Neither did his silence while she worked on the boards the following days. Every day she expected him to explain. He didn’t.

  Oh, he set up the table like she’d asked, but other than asking after her father, who had rallied somewhat since arriving at the hospital, he practically ignored her. By Thursday, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Tomorrow night this stream of income would dry up if she didn’t convince Peter to fight for more jobs. Surely Vince would understand the business possibilities. He could promote it to everyone he knew in Chicago. She could bring the idea to Grand Rapids when she visited Daddy next week. It made perfect sense. Everyone would win, if she could just convince Peter. If that didn’t work, she’d have to go straight to the source.

  Changing a situation meant taking a risk.

  When Minnie finished the last board Thursday afternoon, she called Peter over to help her carry it back to the wood-shop workbench.

  “I’ll help you put the compartment together,” she offered. “We can do it right now or after you close the garage.”

  “Don’t need help,” he muttered, again not looking at her.

  “Maybe I want to help.”

  “Maybe I don’t want any help.”

  “It’ll go faster. We’ll have it put together by dusk.”

  Peter took the board from her and set it on the workbench. “I’m busy.”

  “After work? I thought we had to have the car ready by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll put it together in the morning.” He tried to skirt around her, but she blocked the way. He wasn’t going to brush her off this time.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting strange all week. We have a job to do. Let’s do it.”

  He shrugged, his gaze downcast. “I got an appointment.”

  “That makes no sense. No one takes appointments after five o’clock. You’re just trying to get rid of me.”

  That brought his gaze up. A look of consternation flitted across his face before he closed down again. “I would never try to get rid of you.” His voice broke, and he had to clear his throat before going on. “I do have to see someone tonight. Please believe me.”

  That was the Peter she remembered. His hazel eyes looked black in the shadow of his cap, but his pleading spoke of deep anguish. Did he regret his trip to the speakeasy? Should she tell him she’d seen him leave there?

  He gripped her shoulders. “You have to believe I would never willingly hurt you.”

  His touch recalled the warmth of his embrace when she’d lost control and wept. How tenderly he’d held her then. How soft his words promising to always take care of her.

  She looked up and saw so much compassion in his eyes that she trembled.

  “It’s all right.” He gathered her into his arms and whispered, “I promise it will all turn out all right.”

  Though her emotions swirled into a tempest, no tears came. In his arms, she felt both secure and strong enough to accomplish anything.

  He broke the embrace. “I talked to Mrs. Kensington. She’ll still let you sing in the revue.”

  Her jaw dropped. He talked to the director? He arranged this for her? She didn’t know whether to be angry or pleased. “Oh, Peter, you shouldn’t have.”

  “Yes, I should. You deserve this. You deserve the world.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But the work.”

  “If there’s more, we’ll work around rehearsals.”

  What a wonderful man! Never mind that she barely thought about the musical revue any longer. He thought she did. He’d even faced down the imperious Mrs. Kensington to win back her spot in the show. That was love. Her heart swelled so much she thought it would burst. “Oh, Peter.”

  He looked confused. “You don’t like it?”

  “I love that you’d do that for me.” Impulsively, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

  His eyes widened, and he wrapped his arms around her. His face drew gradually closer, as if ratcheted ever so slowly together. She couldn’t look away, couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t stop the spinning in her stomach. Then, ever so softly, his lips brushed hers. The shiver started deep inside her and sped out with lightning force. Never had anything felt so right. She and Peter. He’d been there all along. While she chased after men who’d never given her a second look, he waited.

  She stood a little taller on her toes and kissed him back.

  He swept her into the embrace, and she gave in with abandon. This was what it meant to fall in love. Not the constant fear of rejection but the absolute assurance of devotion. Peter loved her through and through. Desp
ite her harsh words. Despite her demands. Despite her tears. When other men laughed and walked away, he stayed. She reached her arms around his neck and hugged him close.

  Then, for no reason at all, he stiffened and pushed her away. “This is wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” His reaction left her chilled.

  He glanced toward the street. “You’re supposed to be out there in public view, not back here. Your father and mother would never approve.”

  “But—” Words failed her. What could she say to that? Her family insisted on impossible restrictions that no one else had to follow. “Other girls go on picnics with a guy. Some even go on a drive together.”

  He stepped even farther away. “Don’t measure yourself by other girls. You’re better than them.”

  “If you think that, then why push me away?”

  “Because I care about you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I want to be with you.”

  Never had anyone’s words sounded both so wonderful and so perplexing. “I don’t understand.”

  “We have to do this right. Proper courtship. Your father’s permission. All of it.”

  She understood. A little. “But what if he never comes home from the hospital?”

  He gulped. “We won’t think about that. The whole town’s praying for him. That has to count for something.”

  Minnie wasn’t so sure. She’d experienced plenty of unanswered prayers. “I think he’d give you permission. Mother says he likes you.”

  “He does?”

  She nodded. “So why not court? Guys and gals make that decision for themselves these days. Knowing Daddy already approves of you should be good enough.”

  “I suppose.” Hope flickered in his eyes. “Maybe I could place a long-distance telephone call and ask him.”

  “Then all of Pearlman would know we’re courting, since Cora Williams listens in on every telephone call,” she teased.

  He grinned and even blushed, which warmed her so much that she dared broach the risky subject. “Take me with you tomorrow night.”