‘‘Have you heard many stories about me, Miss Spencer— about my rise to wealth and fame?’’
‘‘Mrs. Jenkins speaks highly of you, Mr. Field. She tells me you are an astute businessman.’’
He smiled and tented his fingers beneath his chin. ‘‘I am also a good judge of character, Miss Spencer. I am a man who believes it is impossible to completely erase one’s personal history. Our past is reflected in how we shape our future.’’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘‘I am the son of a hill farmer, but I was determined to make my mark in this country. Although I have achieved my goal, I remain a farmer’s boy.’’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘‘You, Miss Spencer, are not the daughter of poverty. You bear the mark of wealth and nobility.’’
She stiffened at the remark. ‘‘I live at Priddle House and—’’
He shook his head. ‘‘No need to defend yourself. I do not intend to investigate your past, Miss Spencer. I have observed in you the qualities I need to expand services in my store. Are you interested?’’
‘‘Yes, I believe so.’’ Charlotte couldn’t imagine how many more services Mr. Field could add to the variety already afforded his customers. Why, he had even hired interpreters to assist foreign customers who had come to Chicago to attend the Columbian Exposition. The idea had proved opportune, and word had quickly spread that language was no barrier in Mr. Field’s fine establishment.
‘‘You recall your test from several weeks past?’’
She nodded, uncertain where their conversation might lead. Would this be her assignment to a supervisor’s position? She wasn’t certain she would have the ability to manage salesclerks with the talent and insight of a woman such as Mrs. Jenkins. Conversely, she dared not refuse a position that would garner higher wages.
‘‘After much consideration and several meetings with my managers and a few of my trusted business partners, I have decided to add a new service for my customers. Beginning next week, Marshall Field and Company will offer the expertise of a personal shopper. You, Miss Spencer, will be our first employee to carry this title.’’ He made the announcement with a flourish generally reserved for the entire staff.
She wasn’t certain how to respond. Did he expect a host of questions or an effusive thank-you? Perhaps both would be in order. ‘‘I am grateful you’ve offered me this opportunity, Mr. Field, and I will do my utmost to provide the type of service your customers have come to expect.’’ She met his steady gaze. ‘‘Have you created a narrative of what the position will entail?’’
Mr. Field tapped a sheet of paper lying atop his pristine desk. ‘‘Indeed I have, Miss Spencer. In much the same way you assisted Mr. Flynn, you will provide services for customers who feel unqualified to select an item either for themselves or for a gift. Some of my customers are occasionally unable to visit the store due to time constraints or for other reasons. You would make selections for them, as well.’’ He picked up the piece of paper and handed it to her. ‘‘I don’t believe you will find any of these duties beyond your abilities. I have noted your new salary at the bottom of the page. If you have questions, you may schedule an appointment with my clerk.’’
His brief nod indicated that she had been dismissed. Before she could turn the doorknob of the carved mahogany door, Mr. Field stopped her. ‘‘Mr. Sturgeon will escort you to your office on the second floor. Please advise him of any specific items you may need to perform your duties.’’
Office? She would have an office? ‘‘Yes, I’ll do that. Thank you, Mr. Field.’’ That she was to have a personal office came as a complete surprise. Was she supposed to work at the accessories counter when she wasn’t busy shopping for wealthy customers, or was she to sit in her office? If that was so, her days would pass at a snail’s pace. She hoped Mr. Field’s list of instructions would address that issue, for she doubted there would be many customers seeking her assistance. Women enjoyed shopping!
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Once Mr. Sturgeon departed Charlotte’s second-floor office, she sat down at the mahogany desk and grazed her palm across the hand-tooled, tobacco brown leather tabletop. How had this happened? One minute she had been a salesclerk working behind the glove and evening bag counter, and a short time later she occupied a personal office on the second floor. Though her first thought had been to hurry downstairs to the accessories department and speak with Mrs. Jenkins, Charlotte held back, worried Mr. Field might unexpectedly appear at her door. What would he think if he discovered the office vacant? She unfolded the description of her new duties and carefully read the list.
Tracing her finger down the page, Charlotte stopped at number six. You will meet with department supervisors as you deem appropriate. Each supervisor will be notified of your new position and will lend complete cooperation in the performance of your duties. She wondered if the supervisors had already been notified. Had one of Mr. Field’s infamous memoranda been delivered while she was in his office? She read through the list several times, arranged the items on her desk, and then stared at the closed door. Now what? She couldn’t sit here for the remainder of the day.
After jotting down her whereabouts, Charlotte placed the piece of paper atop the desk and crossed the room. She momentarily admired the elegant Aubusson covering most of the wooden floor and wondered who had made the choice. Though all of the stylish furniture and appointments were to her liking, she considered the office unnecessary, and should Mr. Field inquire, she would tell him so, but such a statement would likely be considered untoward on her first day.
Charlotte pulled her heavy office door closed behind her and returned to the familiar aisles of the first floor. Mrs. Jenkins spotted her rounding the corner and hurried forward. She grasped Charlotte’s hands between her own. ‘‘I am so very proud of you, my dear.’’
‘‘Then you’ve received Mr. Field’s notification?’’
Mrs. Jenkins released Charlotte’s hands and led her back toward the accessories department. Though congratulations were in order, Mrs. Jenkins couldn’t be away from her assigned post. ‘‘Yes. The message was delivered shortly after you departed for Mr. Field’s office. I couldn’t have been more pleased. And you have an office of your own! You are the first woman to achieve such an honor.’’ She tipped her head closer to Charlotte’s ear. ‘‘Until now, only managers have been afforded the privilege of having an office. Perhaps this bodes well for other women in Mr. Field’s employ.’’
For the sake of the female employees, Charlotte hoped so, although she had her misgivings. Only a handful of women supervisors could be counted among Mr. Field’s three thousand employees. Motivated young men were Mr. Field’s employees of choice, the ones whom he preferred to mold and groom as future managers and partners. He expected them to rise quickly to the top. For that reason, he paid them higher salaries than the rest. Still, he expected loyalty from all who labored within the walls of his wholesale and retail emporiums. Though he paid the remainder of his employees much lower wages, he sought to win their allegiance with amenities rather than money. A cost-effective method he’d cultivated long ago.
‘‘I truly don’t know how I’m to keep busy all day. I had hoped I could return to work in accessories and fulfill these newly acquired duties when the need arose, but it doesn’t appear that will be the case. I shall truly miss working behind one of your counters, Mrs. Jenkins.’’
The older woman beamed. ‘‘You’ve made me very proud, and it’s not as if we won’t see each other. And now that I’m no longer your supervisor, we can even enjoy an occasional lunch together.’’
‘‘I would be honored.’’
Mrs. Jenkins rearranged several pairs of gloves while Charlotte continued to express her concerns over a lack of customers needing her assistance. The older woman laughed and tucked a graying strand of hair behind one ear. ‘‘If Mr. Field has given you an office and assigned you to the position, rest assured he has already made certain there is a need. If I know him as well as I think I do, he’s most likely already contact
ed possible customers and has a list of clients awaiting you. I would guess he’s merely giving you a brief time to adjust before you are flooded with work. Now, you had best introduce yourself to all of the supervisors and managers. I’m certain there are many who don’t know you.’’
Charlotte heeded the older woman’s advice. When she had finally completed her rounds, she stopped to enjoy a cup of tea in the music room. At least she’d managed to fill several hours with the obligatory stops in each department. She enjoyed a sip of the hot brew. This had been a most eventful day. Her thoughts returned to her earlier meeting with Mr. Field when he had summoned her into his office to deliver a message. She slipped her hand into her pocket and withdrew the forgotten missive she’d received earlier in the afternoon.
Though she’d at first considered Mrs. Pullman the likely author, on second glance the handwriting appeared more masculine. Mr. Flynn, perhaps? Not likely. Mr. Flynn wouldn’t spend his hard-earned money on such expensive stationery. Her interest piqued, Charlotte carefully opened the thick envelope and withdrew the letter. She immediately detected the money inserted within the folds of the page. Without counting the amount, she looked for the signature. Randolph Morgan!
She returned to the beginning of the letter, her gaze flitting down the page of script.
Dear Miss Spencer,
I wish to thank you for the kind assistance you offered my family during our recent visit to the accessories department of Mr. Field’s fine establishment. You exceeded all expectations with your readiness to aid both my daughter and my wife. Your willingness to serve them in a most delicate manner was greatly appreciated.
Though I do not know your circumstances and I do not wish to offend you in any manner, I am enclosing a small sum as a very poor substitute for my immense gratitude.
Sincerely,
Randolph Morgan
He’d been most cautious. Although he was obviously thankful she’d not embarrassed him or made a scene in front of his wife and children, he’d carefully avoided incriminating himself in the note. While chords of Mozart wafted through the music room, Charlotte counted the money. Not a small sum, yet she doubted any amount of money would erase Randolph’s personal guilt or her own pain. The best thing would be to slip the letter and money back into the envelope and send it back by return mail. Or would it?
Charlotte shoved the envelope and its contents into her pocket, and after a brief stop in her office to see if anyone had left her a message, she went to the fourth floor. Mr. Henretti greeted her with the eagerness of an abandoned puppy. ‘‘Back so soon? How may I assist you?’’
‘‘I’m interested in the prices of pianos. I’d like to inspect your least-expensive model.’’
He grimaced. ‘‘I doubt a customer who is using your services as a personal shopper would be interested in our cheapest offering, Miss Spencer.’’
‘‘Trust me, sir. I know what I am looking for.’’
Mr. Henretti begrudgingly led her to the rear of the showroom and pointed to two models. ‘‘These would be our least expensive, but you’ll find the tone won’t compare with that of the others. At least let me show you some of our finer instruments.’’
Olivia shook her head. ‘‘No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you for your assistance.’’
The befuddled supervisor followed her across the room while pointing over his shoulder. ‘‘Did you wish to make a purchase? Although I don’t recommend either of the two less-expensive pianos, I’ll bow to your wishes.’’
Mr. Henretti followed close on her heels, and when she came to an abrupt halt, he crashed into her backside. His apologies were both profuse and long-winded. He finally scurried away when she mentioned he’d left his workstation unattended. She exhaled with relief when she reached the quiet of her office. Though she was pleased to be away from Mr. Henretti, she remained disappointed that she was unable to afford any of the pianos on the fourth floor. Even the least-expensive instrument cost more than she’d received from Randolph Morgan.
She sat down and contemplated the matter. A visit to the Boston Store might produce better results. Surely it would have a piano she could afford with her recently acquired funds. She would go after work this evening.
A short time later the door to her office opened, and Mr. Field stood in the entrance. ‘‘There you are. I stopped down an hour ago but found you missing.’’
In answer, Charlotte picked up the note she’d left on her desk, but he waved his hand.
‘‘I saw your note. Visiting with the department heads was an excellent idea.’’ He sat down on one of the chairs opposite her desk and removed a folded piece of paper from his inside pocket. ‘‘I have customers interested in your services. They’ll forward information to you personally, by mail or through one of their employees.’’
Charlotte scanned the rather lengthy list. Mrs. Jenkins had been correct: Mr. Field had assured himself there were customers prepared to avail themselves of her services. ‘‘I look forward to assisting them.’’
‘‘I liked the idea of your leaving a note on your desk when you leave, since you have no secretary or clerk taking your appointments. You should continue the practice so that the supervisors will have some idea where to locate you in the store. Beginning tomorrow the newspapers will carry information regarding our new service. I hope we’ll soon be keeping you much busier than even I imagined.’’ He pulled the chair forward and rested his arms on her desk. ‘‘Mr. Henretti tells me you were in his department shopping for a piano.’’ He tugged on his white mustache. ‘‘His most inexpensive model, I believe.’’
Word traveled fast. Mr. Field’s managers didn’t lose any opportunity to keep him apprised of every movement. ‘‘Yes. Funds are quite limited for that particular purchase, and I don’t believe we can accommodate the customer.’’
‘‘You know my motto, Miss Spencer.’’
‘‘Indeed. Give the lady what she wants. But in this case, the lady doesn’t possess adequate funds. I believe a purchase at the Boston Store would prove more appropriate.’’
‘‘And the customer would be someone with whom I am acquainted?’’
Charlotte hesitated. ‘‘Not exactly. Well, yes and no.’’
His brow furrowed. ‘‘Well, which is it, Miss Spencer?’’
‘‘The piano is for a young girl named Fiona who lives at Priddle House. I was planning the purchase as a gift. Piano lessons have been most difficult for Fiona.’’
‘‘How so?’’
His interest surprised her. Likely because he knew Mrs. Priddle, she decided as she quickly explained the paper keyboard she had made and Fiona’s weekly lesson at the church. ‘‘The girl appears to have talent, and she’s exceedingly motivated to learn. When she isn’t finishing her school lessons or completing her chores, she’s practicing on her paper keyboard.’’
‘‘The girl certainly deserves better than a piece of paper to learn on. How much are you willing to contribute toward the piano, Miss Spencer?’’
‘‘One hundred dollars.’’
Mr. Field nodded. ‘‘I believe with your employee discount you can afford one of our pianos, Miss Spencer. I’ll see to the matter. Tell your young protégé she may expect delivery tomorrow. You may pay Mr. Henretti your one-hundred-dollar contribution toward the girl’s gift.’’
‘‘Thank you, Mr. Field. I do appreciate your kindness.’’
He stopped and turned when he reached the office door. ‘‘If you truly appreciate my help, then you will keep this matter to yourself, Miss Spencer. Should word circulate among the employees, they would all expect drastic reductions on items they wish to purchase. I would soon find myself in financial ruin.’’
‘‘I’ll not say a word.’’ Charlotte wondered how Mr. Field would explain the purchase to Mr. Henretti, especially given the fact that she was expected to pay one hundred dollars toward the item. On second thought, she decided Mr. Field would likely not explain anything, nor would he expect to be questioned by
an employee. She hoped Mr. Henretti would grant her the same courtesy.
————
Though Mrs. Priddle had been exceedingly pleased to hear of Charlotte’s promotion and increase in pay, she pulled her aside after supper. ‘‘You are now making enough money that you won’t need to remain at Priddle House any longer.’’ Her weathered face creased with worry.
The woman didn’t need to say what she was thinking. Charlotte had already considered the matter. With her increased salary, she could well afford to move to a boardinghouse or even rent a small house for herself. But the residents of Priddle House would suffer without her income. Only one additional resident had moved into the house since Charlotte’s arrival. And that young woman was expecting a child before the year’s end. Locating employment for her would be impossible. Although one wouldn’t know it from the hordes of shoppers and the visitors attending the Columbian Exposition, the depressed economic condition throughout the country had caused a substantial decrease in philanthropic gifts and not merely to Priddle House. Charitable organizations throughout the country were suffering.
‘‘If it isn’t against the rules of Priddle House, I would prefer to remain here. I’ll continue to contribute all of my wages except the weekly allowance you’ve assigned for my expenses.’’
Tears clouded Mrs. Priddle’s bright blue eyes, and she turned away until she had regained her composure. ‘‘I suppose we could permit you to stay with us if that’s your choice. Needless to say, your income is of great assistance. I do believe that given the amount of your financial contribution, your weekly allowance should be increased. With this new position, you may need a few new clothes and some money to eat your lunch with the other managers from time to time.’’
‘‘Thank you for your thoughtfulness. I’ll agree to accept whatever allowance you deem best.’’ Charlotte’s acceptance of the advice seemed to please Mrs. Priddle, for she situated herself next to Charlotte on the worn divan later in the evening. The older woman opened her Bible and began to read the fourteenth chapter of Matthew, the story of Jesus multiplying the loaves and fishes. The older woman patted Charlotte’s arm. ‘‘Jesus is using Charlotte to help provide for us, just as He used the loaves and fishes to feed the multitude back in Bible times. Her increased wages are going to help us feed even more needy folks.’’ Charlotte was embarrassed, but Mrs. Priddle appeared not to notice. She beamed her smile around the room and continued to pat Charlotte’s arm.
Whispers Along the Rails Page 22