“Morning,” he said and limped to his chair. “I thought you’d be out and about by now.”
Really? Is that why you didn’t bother to fake your limp on the stairs?
“Eggs?” Maggie held one up. One for a liar, one for an informant?
“Two please if you don’t mind.” JM sat with his hands folded on the table top. He appeared to be deep in thought.
“Not at all.” She hummed under her breath avoiding further conversation. What she could say to him, she hadn’t decided. Should she confront him? Or just keep an eye on his coming and going? Repaying the favor he gave to the bootleggers. Eggs and bacon went into the frypan and she propped bread on the stove-top rack for toast. She took plates out of the cabinet and cutlery out of the drawer. “Coffee or tea?”
“Tea please.” He unfolded his hands and looked at her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Tell me what the heck you are up to? “No thanks, it’s almost ready.” She flipped the eggs, buttered the toast and slid it all onto the plates. “Here you go.” She set his breakfast in front of him and sat at the opposite end of the table.
JM salted his eggs before eating. “You washed bedding yesterday. There’s nothing like a pillowcase with the fresh ocean scent in it.”
“Ah-hum,” she said. “How did you spend the day? Where did you go this time?” What did you find out?
“Great day,” he replied. “I went fishing.” He looked up and grinned at her. “I’m not much of a fisherman with a rod and line. I snagged one trout and one bass but they got away. I came home empty-handed.”
Maggie offered a nonverbal response. Fishing accounts for his day. But you don’t fish at night. What kept him out until late?
“I lazed about a lot of the time. Fishing helps me think.”
Maggie set her cutlery by the empty plate and picked up her tea. She sat back and eyed him over the mug before speaking again. “Do you have plans for today?”
JM finished his breakfast and matched her move. “I have to go up to Halifax,” he said. “And maybe down home for a day. I’ll say I’ll be gone for three days total.” He set his mug on the plate and fiddled with it. “Thanks for finding my sketchbook,” he said. “I hadn’t realized I’d dropped it until I went to sketch the fishing hole.”
“It had fallen between the bedside table and bed, caught in the sheets. It came free when I pulled.” Maggie hid her face behind her mug. “Do you sketch a lot?”
“Every chance I get,” he said. “I also encourage students to sketch. It’s good for organizing the mind.”
“I’d love to see them sometime.” Maggie watched JM under lowered eyelids.
He turned in his chair. “I can do that. One day when I come back.” He carried his dishes to the sink. “But this morning, I’d better get on the road.”
She followed him to the sink and reached for the hot water kettle. “Have a safe journey.” And I’ll bet the sketches you show me won’t have circles and arrows on them.
He made a move as if to kiss her on the cheek but she reached under the sink for a rag and he left. The car edged down the lane and onto the road and disappeared out of hearing distance.
Alone again. She tidied up and sorted the books from the island. Some she shelved in the dining area outside her room and others went into the parlor. The navigation books she put on the step to go up to Ivan’s room. Finished the book sorting, she took a full tour of the house.
“It’s done,” she said to Daisy who had balked at going up the stairs. “We can relax.” And find someone to talk to. This chatting with a dog is getting old. “Maybe I’ll find Eloise later today. We haven’t had a walk and a talk for a week now.” Daisy cocked her head and whined.
Maggie settled on the settee in the parlor to read. She immersed herself in paging through the anatomy book. Finally, she turned the book over on the settee and planted her feet on the floor. Will my future days look like this? Years of days with no one in them? An exaggeration she knew, she could keep her days busy. But evenings? Alone? With Daisy or her offspring for companionship? Any thought of JM staying in her life had shattered with her discovery.
A knock jolted her from her thoughts. Maggie sprang to her feet. Someone to talk to. Daisy opened one eye and watched her go to the door. She opened it to a woman she didn’t know. In a sweeping glance, she took in the chic clothing, the modern hair bob, and the expensive-looking shoes. The lady wasn’t local. “Hello, how can I help?” she asked.
The woman pulled off her gloves and held them in one hand. “Maggie Benson? I hear you’re a seamstress and well up on modern styles. I’m Nettie Eisenhorn and I’d like a new dress.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” Maggie said, crossing her fingers behind her back. “I make patterns for individuals based on their choice of style from catalogs or magazines.” Well, she did make them for herself, Eloise, and Aunt Maude. “Would like to see some of my work?”
At an affirmative answer, Maggie turned and gestured for the woman to enter the parlor.
Miss Eisenhorn checked fabric display and stopped by the dress and jacket. “These are the latest styles.” She looked at Maggie. “You saw this in a magazine and just made it?”
Maggie nodded. “I have patterns I alter so it didn’t take long. Is that the type of dress you’re looking for?” She mentally held her breath. Did she have a real, live customer in her shop? “I can do the same for you by taking your measurements and using a picture you choose.”
Miss Eisenhorn turned to the jacket and examined the seams before picking up one of the hats. “You make these as well?” Maggie nodded. The woman put on the hat and peered into the mirror. “Is this one for sale?”
“Certainly,” Maggie said, although she hadn’t yet set a price. The prices in the catalogs ranged from $1.95 to $2.95. “The price is one dollar and fifty cents.”
“My goodness, that’s affordable. You really could charge more.” Miss Eisenhorn said and replaced the hat on the shelf. “I may take it, but first let’s talk about the outfit I want.”
Picking up one of the magazines, she sat on the settee and started leafing through the pictures. “I have to go to a commencement at the university where I’m an associate and there’s a dinner party after. I’d like to have a dress that is stylish but comfortable. These events can go on forever. Come, sit down and we’ll see what we can find.”
The conversation moved from the dress to choosing the fabric and to the price of the work. By then they were on a first name basis. Nettie turned out to be more casual than Miss Eisenhorn had first appeared. “You can finish it in two weeks?” she asked. She balanced the magazine on her knees. “That’s when I leave for Philadelphia.”
Maggie nodded. She could finish sooner. She took the magazine and examined the picture. She might need more dressy material from the store, but most of the materials she had in stock.
The details settled, Maggie took measurements. “If you don’t mind slipping off your jacket, the measurements will be more accurate.” She noted all possible measurements. “I’ll draw up the pattern immediately, and if you can come back tomorrow afternoon, we’ll pin it on you and make sure it’s correct. And the dress should be ready in a week.”
Miss Eisenhorn went to the settee to get her gloves. “Oh goodness,” she said, picking up Martin’s Anatomy for Nurses. “I haven’t seen this version in years. Did you study nursing?”
“I served with the VAD in Halifax during the war,” Maggie said, “for over three years.”
“It’s a small world. I nursed there as well. I’d finished a degree at Dalhousie and did my practical nursing at the Infirmary.”
She’d had far more education than Maggie had. Curious, Maggie asked, “You’re not nursing now though?”
“No, I’m a social worker. After the war, I went and taught in Manitoba and from there went to the University of Toronto and finally down to the States where I got my Ph.D.”
“That sounds adventurous and fascinat
ing.” Maggie sighed. “More engaging than making dresses.” Or cleaning houses.
“It’s been satisfying, hard at times, but my family always stood behind me. Without Father’s financial backing, I wouldn’t have been able to go as far as I have.” She put back the book and pulled on the gloves. “And I never married.” She grinned. “My mother despaired of my status, but finally accepted it.” She looked pensive. “Early on, I had to decide between a family and a job, and I chose the career. An odd choice at the time, let me tell you.” She picked up her purse and headed for the door. “Do you miss nursing?”
Maggie nodded. “I’m on my own again and I’ve started thinking about going back and training properly.” She hadn’t realized she’d reached the decision until the words came out of her mouth. “I’m not sure they’ll have me.”
“Are you single?”
“Widowed. He died in the war.”
“And no children? They might just take you in. No harm in asking.” Nettie shook Maggie’s hand, and at the last moment hugged her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the pattern fitting.” She headed out and Maggie watched her step into a sporty car and drive off.
Maggie closed the door and humming under her breath headed into the parlor-turned-seamstress-shop. She had her first customer. And she’d met a woman who actually hadn’t married but developed a career instead, a very successful career by the looks of things. She ran a hand over the anatomy book and set it back on the shelf. I will write and ask about the nursing program. She retrieved her writing supplies and before she could chicken out, wrote the letter, sealed the envelope and walked it up to the post office. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
* * *
By Sunday, Maggie had two dresses finished. One for Nettie and one for herself. Nettie’s did need a bit more hand sewing, but not much. For her own dress, she used the mauve, silk crepe-de-chine. The collar and sleeves were of contrasting georgette, and the skirt was trimmed with pleated ribbon rouchings. The fabric was expensive, but a similar dress in the catalog sold for $8.95. She checked the fit of her dress in the sewing room mirror and buttoned the cuffs that finished off the pin-tucked sleeves. Satisfied that the buckle she’d added to the pin-tucked bodice looked right, she scooped up her hat. Now I’m ready for church.
“Come on, Ivan. Time to go.” A mild breeze ruffled her skirt as she walked. They crossed the parking lot at the church. A few cars, including Uncle Henry’s sedan, were parked there. Inside, families filled entire pews. Couples whispered together while they waited for the service to start. A few women from the quilting party sat with husbands and children, or elderly siblings or parents. She glanced at Ivan beside her. How long would he be in her daily life? Would the day come when she, as the maiden aunt, anchored the end of a pew occupied by Ivan and his family?
The call to service interrupted her musings and the proceedings flowed through scripture and hymns to the sermon and a special choir number. A tall, sandy-haired man with a smooth, melodic tone provided the solo. How had she not noticed that Garth Hollinger had such a beautiful tenor voice?
As usual on the first Sunday of the month, folk gathered in the church basement for a social hour. Amid the chatter of busy voices, Ivan sidled into the corner with Boris and Eugene while Aunt Maude hustled over to Maggie and fingered her dress.
As sharp as usual she launched into what she considered important. “Where did you get that? Aren’t you short of money?” Her strident tones reached other ears and people turned to look.
Embarrassed, Maggie held a silent conversation to stay calm. Thank you, Auntie, for admiring my dress. She smiled. Why, Aunt Maude. How rude of you to remark so loudly on my financial well-being.
“Most of the fabric came from Dad’s store,” she said. “And I made the pattern from a picture in a magazine I got from Violet MacDonald.”
Aunt Maude walked around Maggie examining the dress. “As I’ve always said, you are lucky to have that fabric.” Her smile showed teeth. “But your fabric will be used up eventually. Whatever will you do then?” She actually picked up the hem and examined it. “I suppose you wouldn’t make and give one to a relative?”
Maggie had an urge to rip off her aunt’s hat, which she had made for her, and stomp on it. “Why Auntie, if you want a new dress, I’d be happy to make one for you. The sewing would be free but you’d have to reimburse me for what we paid for the fabric.”
Aunt Maude’s face ringed with smiles. “Why, Maggie, how kind of you.”
“And of course,” Maggie continued, “you’ll be happy to tell folks I made it so they can come and buy one themselves. If you send me enough work, I might be able to waive the fee for the fabric. That way we could both win.”
Aunt Maude opened her mouth but no words came out. She snapped her mouth closed and marched off to talk to one of her cronies.
Maggie chuckled to herself and picked a cookie off the table. Aunt Maude preferred to wear a one-of-a-kind outfit.
“I saw that,” said a deep voice behind her. “Good for you. And the dress does look some pretty on you. You’re a talented seamstress.”
She turned and found herself face-to-face with Garth Hollinger. “Thank you,” she answered. “I enjoyed your solo. You have a lovely voice.”
Garth ducked his head. “Thanks.”
A little girl came hurtling across the room and launched herself at Garth. “Daddy, Daddy. You did the singing.” Settled in her father’s arms, she clapped her hands against his cheeks. “Grammy says the voice comes from inside.” She pushed on his cheeks, and he opened his mouth. She peered in and frowned. “I don’t see it.”
Garth laughed. “You can’t see a voice.”
An older woman joined them carrying a baby and leading a toddler.
“My mother,” Garth said and introduced her to Maggie. “And this is Annie,” he said, jouncing the girl he held, “and that’s Derek and Baby Susie.”
Mrs. Hollinger exchanged words with Maggie and admired the dress. “Garth,” she said. “Annie needs a few new dresses. She’s outgrown the ones from last winter. I saw Mrs. Benson’s notice at the store. She’s setting up as a seamstress. One of us needs to take Annie for fitting and order some outfits.”
Garth frowned and tipped his head to check Annie’s dress. Her wrists stuck out at the cuff and the bodice fit tightly. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Typical man.” Mrs. Hollinger rolled her eyes. “When is the best time to bring Annie for a fitting?”
“Most mornings,” Maggie said. “I’m available from eight on.”
Mrs. Hollinger nodded and shushed a fussing Susie. “We should go, Garth.”
“Yes, Mother.” He shook Maggie’s hand. “I’ll bring Annie on Wednesday if that works?”
She smiled and nodded and watched him put Annie down before taking the hands of the two older children. Maggie’s neck prickled. She turned her head and saw her aunt across the room, staring at her and smiling widely.
Oh my, I’m in for another dinner. “Goodbye Mrs. Hollinger. Nice to meet you.” Maggie nodded at Garth, raised a hand to get Ivan’s attention and made a beeline for the stairs. Will I end up forever the extra one in a crowd?
Chapter Thirteen
Life is like a river
With many dangers crossed
Each step up or down
Is a rapid gained or lost.
Sunday after church Ivan took off with his friends and Maggie sat alone in her parlor. I can keep myself busy but I can see myself at fifty-something and alone. Maybe I should have taken the job in Halifax. But that wouldn’t have guaranteed she’d avoid life alone at fifty. Working and saving money would mean she’d be financially sound. But is it the money or the being alone that is really bothering me?
Would there be long nights knitting socks to sell to other people’s husbands and sons? Or for Ivan and his sons should he marry and have children? Long days sewing dresses to pretty-up other people’s lives? Or is it being the extra person at the end of another family’s pe
w? A black cloud settled over her. No matter what work she did, she’d come home to an empty house. Oh, she’d go to the quilting parties and the hooking gatherings. She’d attend the church teas and socials—probably end up running the kitchen since she had no one special to sit with.
Busy isn’t the problem. Money isn’t the issue. Is it the lack of security connected with jobs I’d be qualified for? Both housekeeping and teaching have that risk.
Maggie gripped her head with both hands. I’m making myself crazy. If I opt to marry as a security move, I’d want a man with a sense of humor and common interests. And if he turned out to be bossy, she’d be worse off even though she may have gained security.
So what am I looking for? To be useful and needed? To have a purpose?
If I owned a specialty shop of my own, I’d be safer. But how needed?
Well, at least no one could fire me.
She paced to the window. I’m chasing my tail here and talking to myself. I need fresh air.
Maggie changed into an everyday dress and headed out without a decided destination. Her feet carried her along the riverbank, past the end of the bridge and to a sandy area tucked into a small cove. Sun beat down, warming the world and soothing her, piercing her gloom with shafts of light. Even the disappointment connected to JM’s lies faded.
The water rolled past, gurgling around rocks and swishing against the shore. She scooped up a handful of small stones and skipped a few flat ones over the water. The final one skimmed seven hits before sinking.
Excellent. Satisfaction at the minor accomplishment shifted her perspective. Enjoying the fresh air, she threw overhand and lobbed some egg-sized stones as far as she could. Those that hit in fast-running water disappeared without sound or reaction. One or two, hitting closer to shore sent a plop into the air and ripples in circles around their entry point.
The Left Behind Bride Page 13