Groom by Design

by Christine Johnson

  “Ahhh.” Miss Harris’s eyebrows lifted. “Like you and the little dressmaker?”

  The jealous remark grated on Sam’s nerves. “Ruth is a talented designer. She made that gown from scraps. I’ve never known anyone who could create such a beautiful gown with so few resources.”

  Miss Harris’s expression tightened. “I didn’t realize you were in love with her.”

  In love? Sam liked her, sure, but love? “Even if it was any of your business, which it’s not, I’m not in the market for a wife.”

  “Oh.” Miss Harris frowned as she finished the female mannequin. “I see. Will you fetch a male mannequin?”

  Though the awkward moment had passed, Miss Harris’s words echoed in Sam’s mind. Was he in love with Ruth? Was that why he thought of her day and night? Was that why her anger this morning hurt so much? Was that why he’d offered to spend half his savings on her?

  The thoughts so preoccupied him that he stepped blindly from the window display and nearly ran into the man standing there.

  “Son.” Samuel J. Rothenburg Sr. glared at him, a stump of a cigar in the corner of his mouth. “I see I haven’t arrived a moment too soon.” His permanent scowl terrified employees and competitors alike.

  Sam stiffened. “Father. I expected you on the afternoon train.”

  “Exactly.”

  Sam gritted his teeth. Father suspected Sam had botched the job and intended to catch him unaware. This time Sam wouldn’t back down.

  “Hello, Sam.” Harry stepped from behind Father with a smug grin. “I see you’ve been keeping yourself busy around town.”

  The sarcastic comment made Sam swallow hard. How much of his conversation with Miss Harris had his father and brother overheard?

  “A dressmaker?” Father sneered. “Now your incompetence makes sense. Good thing I brought along Harry to straighten out this mess.”

  * * *

  “How are you, Ruthie?” Daddy’s eyes crinkled at the corners, though the spark was gone from their pale hazel depths.

  Ruth swallowed a lump and embraced the thin, graying man leaning on a cane. “Daddy.” She could feel his bones beneath the jacket. “We didn’t expect you.”

  “I know, dearest,” Mother said, “but your father wanted to see the shop and home.”

  She didn’t add “one last time,” but Ruth felt it nonetheless. Her father looked frailer than she remembered. A strong wind would knock him over. The bluish tinge to his lips couldn’t be a good sign, and the worry creasing Mother’s brow confirmed it. When Daddy leaned to touch the blouse Ruth had begun yesterday, Mother reached out to catch him.

  Jen and Minnie didn’t seem to notice. They chattered about everything that had happened since Daddy left, from new students at the airfield to Minnie’s disappointment with Reggie Landers.

  “You were right,” Minnie admitted.

  Daddy sighed. “I might have been wrong, child. Never judge a man’s motives.” He tweaked her nose. “Though you’re wise to look elsewhere. He doesn’t sound ready to settle down.”

  Minnie soaked in each word. “I will, Daddy.”

  “That’s my girl.” He looked around the shop. “How I missed this place. And all of you.” He managed a faint smile. “You’ve done well, Ruthie.”

  Not well enough. But there was no need to tell him about the property and financial woes now that they had a little extra time.

  “You need to rest.” Ruth moved to her father’s side. “Save your strength.”

  “For what, child?” For a brief moment, his eyes twinkled like old. “Time rushes along heedless of our wishes and desires.”

  Ruth blinked back a tear. “Then what would you like to do?”

  He patted her hand. “Hear about your new beau.”

  Ruth’s jaw dropped before she clapped it shut and cast a glare at her sisters. “Who told you I had a beau?”

  Both Jen and Minnie disavowed any part of spreading this knowledge, though they didn’t hesitate to add details.

  “He’s the most handsome man ever,” Minnie said, “for someone his age. But he’s perfect for Ruth. You should have seen them together at the dance.”

  Mother’s eyebrows lifted. “Ruth danced?”

  Minnie looked stricken. “Well, she would have if that clumsy Linton Metz hadn’t tripped her up.”

  It was Ruth’s turn to stare. Linton Metz hadn’t tripped her. Was that what people thought?

  “But Mr. Roth saved the day,” Jen added. “He scooped Ruth up before she fell. Every girl in the room wished she’d lost her balance.”

  Ruth couldn’t believe the tales her sisters were weaving.

  “Beattie said everyone considers him the most eligible man in Pearlman,” Jen added.

  Beattie. Of course. Beatrice was the one who’d written Mother. Of all the sisters, she was the only one who practiced regular letter writing. The next time Ruth saw her sister, she’d caution her not to get her parents’ hopes up over nothing.

  “Jen and Minnie are exaggerating,” Ruth said. “Mr. Roth—” the name stuck in her throat “—and I are just acquaintances. Nothing more. He requested one dance, and I obliged. That doesn’t constitute a beau.”

  “You also picnicked together,” Minnie pointed out.

  “Along with both of you,” Ruth said.

  “And he sits with us in church,” Jen added.

  “Which is simply neighborly.” Ruth would not let this supposed romance get out of hand.

  Daddy chuckled. “That’s my Ruth, ever wary of happiness.”

  His words hit hard. Was that the way she was? Afraid to be happy?

  “Th-that’s not it.” Still, she felt the heat in her cheeks. “I just wouldn’t call him a beau. It’s not that he’s formally courting me.” She glanced at her father, and a terrible thought popped into her head. “He didn’t write you asking for permission, did he?”

  Part of her wanted Daddy to say that Sam had indeed written to him, but the other part knew that even if he had, she could never accept his courtship. The man had misled her about terribly important matters.

  Daddy shook his head and coughed. His shoulders shuddered beneath his thin jacket, and Ruth rushed to his side. Daddy needed rest, not additional stress. There was no reason to tell him about Sam’s betrayal. Within the week, Sam Rothenburg would walk out of her life forever. Then she need never think of him again. Everything would return to normal.

  Ruth took her father’s arm. “Shall we look around? I want to tell you about my new idea.” If Minnie hadn’t given her dress to Sam, she could show him. Instead, she had to settle for describing the plan, laying out her sketches and showing him the list of orders she’d garnered at the Women’s Club meeting. “We have Beattie to thank. If she hadn’t invited me to the meeting, I would never have gotten these orders.”

  “Oh, Ruthie,” he sighed, his shoulders sagging. “You shouldn’t have.”

  That was the last thing she’d expected him to say. “It was no trouble. None at all.” Ruth glanced at her mother, whose face was drawn and pale. “We can use the extra business. It’ll help the shop.”

  Her father bowed his head. “You should have talked to me first.”

  “I know, but—” Ruth felt her future slipping away. What did Daddy plan to do? Why had he come home? She cleared the lump from her throat. “Don’t worry. We can handle every order. I’ll work into the evening, and Minnie is becoming a good seamstress. You won’t have to do a thing.”

  She appealed to Mother, who looked out the window rather than lend her support.

  What was going on? Panic squeezed the air from her lungs. “I thought you’d be pleased. I want to make you proud.”

  “We are always proud of you.” Daddy’s voice trembled, and he reached for a stool. “I’m simply tired from the
travel. Perhaps I ought to take that nap your mother has been insisting on.”

  Mother snapped to attention, taking his free arm. “Yes, you should. You’ve already overtaxed yourself.”

  With that, they closed the shop for lunch and went home.

  * * *

  Sam lost his desk to his father. As president of the company, Father could sit in any chair he chose. He now presided over this meeting from Sam’s chair, leaving Sam and Harry to fight over the other chair in the room.

  Sam stood, arms crossed, ready to do battle. Let Harry sit. His younger brother pulled the chair to the side so he could see both Sam and their father. Supremely confident, Harry crossed one leg over the other and leaned back to enjoy the fight.

  “The store is ready to open.” Sam started ticking off the completed tasks.

  If Father had heard him, he didn’t reply. Instead, he perused the paperwork Sam had given him. After long, silent minutes, he closed the folder with a grunt. “I sent for six experienced saleswomen from Chicago for the opening. Send the Detroit crew back. I suggest you fire Harris.” He glowered at Sam. “But that’s your call. For the rest of the positions, you’ll need to hire locally.”

  Sam picked up on the most shocking directive. “Fire Miss Harris?”

  “Too involved. Best get rid of her.”

  “She’s a good secretary.”

  “Who has her eye on your inheritance—if you manage to keep it.”

  Sam gritted his teeth. “Then we’ll transfer her.”

  Father leaned forward. “Or you.”

  That was what Sam had expected from the start, but he’d come to like Pearlman and the people in it—one in particular. “Maybe I’ll stay.”

  Father’s gaze narrowed. “Let me remind you that I decide where you’re needed.”

  Harry grinned. Sam paced across the room to the window. The room had shrunk to the size of a prison cell. Sam needed air. From here he could look down at Main Street with its quaint shops and bank. The bank. Ruth. She must know by now that her dress shop had gotten a brief reprieve.

  “Did you get advertising copy into the local newspaper?” Father asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And the advertisement that you’re hiring sales staff?”

  “Interviews begin Monday.” But Sam’s attention was drawn to the sidewalk below, where an unfamiliar older couple stepped out of the dress shop. Pearlman didn’t have many newcomers. He pressed against the window, trying to make out their features. Just before walking away, the man looked up. The resemblance to Ruth was unmistakable. Sam hoped the man was an uncle, but he feared it was her father. The fact that Ruth and her sisters soon followed sealed his identity. The man should be in the hospital. Only one thing could force Mr. Fox home. Despite his best effort, Father had somehow managed to push the property purchase through.

  “How many do you plan to hire?” Father demanded.

  Sam pulled his attention away from the window and the Foxes in order to settle it upon the man who ruined everything good in Sam’s life. Hadn’t Father promoted Lillian as the perfect bride? Sam had swallowed Father’s recommendation, intrigued by Lillian’s beauty and popularity. When he discovered his wife’s infidelity two years later, Father had laughed it off as common practice. Not for Sam. He wanted a true and faithful wife. Someone like Ruth.

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Father said. “I asked how many saleswomen you intended to hire. Harry would have lined up staff days ago.”

  “Two per department,” Sam said through clenched teeth. That jab about Harry made him want to punch something. Father insisted that no locals be hired until after the opening, yet now he claimed Sam should already have the sales staff lined up.

  “Not enough,” Father barked. “You’ll need a dozen saleswomen—more if you can get them cheap. You can pay bottom dollar around here. And bring in a top-notch seamstress to run your alterations department. I suggest transferring Miss Tinderhook from Cleveland.”

  But Sam didn’t hear past the word seamstress. The head of alterations made a decent wage, enough to provide for an ill father. Sam would hire Ruth in an instant, but she would have to give up the dress shop. The head of alterations worked long hours. Ruth couldn’t do both.

  “Now, let’s talk about mixing business with pleasure.” Father leaned forward, his bushy brows drawn into black displeasure.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Exactly. You don’t think.” Father banged his fist on the desktop. “Keep your dalliances on the side and away from the store.”

  “There is nothing between Miss Harris and myself,” Sam reiterated.

  Father waved a hand. “I didn’t say there was. I’m talking about that dressmaker. In a town this small, that gold digger is likely to think you’re serious. Cut off the relationship now.”

  Sam fisted his hands. One more word against Ruth, and he’d break the commandment to honor his father. “What I do on personal time is none of your business.”

  “It is when it affects my business. Imagine my surprise when Harry called last night to get the closing figure on the property purchase and discovered the sale is off. Apparently someone made a counteroffer.”

  Sam looked out the window until he gathered his composure. Father must not suspect him. “I already told you that the property isn’t worth the effort.”

  Father did not blink. His cold stare drove weaker men into stuttering fools. Not Sam. Not this time. He would fight for Ruth.

  “Fortunately, I was able to step in before the deal was closed,” Father said. “After a little sweetening of my offer, the owner was more than happy to accept.”

  No! Sam fisted his hands. How could Father do this?

  “Money’s the answer, boy,” Father cackled. “Never forget it.”

  Sam felt sick. Money meant nothing. People mattered. Lives depended on the income from that little shop. No wonder Ruth’s father had come home and she’d been so upset. Sam could not let his father win. He hadn’t been able to buy Ruth’s dress shop a reprieve, but he could still give her family hope by offering her the head-of-alterations position. If he acted quickly.

  “You don’t need me, then.” Sam donned his jacket and hat.

  “Where are you going?” Father demanded as Sam walked out of the office. “We have work to do. Decisions have to be made.”

  Father’s shouts could be heard all the way along the mezzanine, down the steps and onto the main floor. But once Sam stepped outside, the joyful chatter of Pearlman wiped away Father’s threats. The knot in his gut eased, replaced by the certainty that he was doing the right thing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You should sleep, Daddy.” Ruth tucked the quilt around his legs.

  He promptly shoved it away. “It’s a warm day, Ruthie. I don’t need a blanket, and I don’t need to sleep. A little rest and a bite of lunch will do wonders.”

  “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

  “No, Ruth.” He caught her hand. “Your mother will do that. I want to talk to you. That’s why your mother kept your sisters in the kitchen.”

  Ruth stared at his hand. Blue veins showed through the translucent skin. She didn’t want to hear what Daddy had to say. She’d done her best to keep the shop going, but he’d been disappointed by her efforts. Rather than hear why, she changed the subject. “How long will you be visiting?”

  “A while.” He patted the chair next to his. “Have a seat. I want to hear about everything that happened while I was gone.”

  Ruth perched on the edge of the chair and knit her fingers together. “We’re doing fine.”

  “I can see that.” He smiled faintly. “You are such a responsible young lady. Jen is as feisty as ever. But Minnie seems too melancholy over what happened with her young man. Is something else bothering her?”
>
  Ruth certainly didn’t want to mention Jen’s marriage scheme or that Minnie had lost her best-paying job. “She’s just disappointed. I’m sure she’ll be fine in a week or two.”

  “I’ll take your word on that.” He leaned his head back. “I can always count on you to tell me the whole story.”

  Unlike Sam. Ruth choked down the bile.

  He lifted his head. “Now, let’s talk about the dress shop.”

  Ruth examined her closely trimmed fingernails. “I told you about my new idea and the orders. I think we can turn the business around and make a profit.”

  “No, child. It’s over.”

  “What do you mean?” Ruth gripped the arms of the chair. “We’ll make it.”

  He shook his head. “Mr. Vanderloo owns the property, and he’s selling it.”

  “But I talked to Mr. Shea this morning, and he told me that someone else made a better offer and wants to keep us as tenants.”

  “You talked with the bank?” Her father’s gaze narrowed.

  “I—I didn’t want to trouble you.”

  “Child, this is not your problem.” He shook his head. “In any case, it’s too late. We needed to bring the payments current by the end of the day or ownership reverts to Mr. Vanderloo. He can then do as he wishes.”

  “But the other offer—”

  “Makes no difference. The result is the same. We can’t afford to bring the payments current, and we can’t afford to pay rent. It’s over.”

  Ruth clutched her stomach. The whole world was coming unraveled. “We’ll open the shop somewhere that doesn’t cost as much.” She must do something. This was her future, all she’d worked for over the years.

  “No, child. There’s no money to start again.”

  Ruth trembled. “We could work from here, from the house. The sewing machine would fit in the parlor.”

  “I’m sorry, child.” His voice trailed off, softer with each word. “It’s no use. A Hutton’s Department Store is opening next door.”