Sew in Love

by Debby Lee

  “I don’t think I’m as good at observing as Jeni, but I did notice that the words that have a th in them sounded more like a d or a t, and the long i vowel—like when she said ‘Irish’—sounded more like an ‘oy’ sound but a bit different.”

  “Very good. Now, Jeni, I want you to say the word Irish again.”

  “Irish.” She lifted her brows.

  “Now, Philip, say Irish the way you would pronounce it, and then say it like you heard Jeni say it.”

  Jeni looked over to her new lesson partner.

  He furrowed his brow. “I-rish. Oi-rish.”

  “Jeni, now it’s your turn. Pronounce it the way you normally say it, and then try to say it the same way you heard from Philip.”

  As she did what the professor asked, she felt the difference in her mouth—and the sound to her ears was … odd.

  “Good, good.” The professor gave them a wide smile. “I believe this is going to work splendidly.”

  A rush of warmth filled her middle, and her stomach did a little flip. As Jeni looked at Philip, she agreed with the professor. Already she felt like she understood a bit more, so perhaps her practicing would make more sense now.

  It also didn’t hurt that her new learning partner was a handsome, blond-haired, blue-eyed baseball player. The extra hour for lessons would be well worth it. Especially if she got to spend time with this interesting man every day.

  Chapter 4

  Friday, March 3, 1911

  The sounds of bats making contact against baseballs echoed across the field. Philip turned toward the pitcher and set his stance so he could get some hitting practice in too.

  The windup. Then the pitch.

  Crack! The ball flew over the fence.

  A few moments later, another pitch … crack!

  “Hoo-ie, March! Look at ‘em fly. Another home run.” Coach Joe walked over and slapped him on the shoulder. “Think you can do three in a row?”

  “Why not?” Philip smiled as he got back into position.

  The ball whooshed toward him and he swung. Crack!

  “World Series, here we come if you keep this up, kid.” Coach Joe whistled at him and then walked over to the next player. “All right, boys, March has set the bar high. Let’s show everyone who the New York Giants really are!” The coach’s voice resounded around the batters, and they cheered and hollered back.

  After a few more solid hits to the outfield, Philip swung the bat around with one hand and then the other. He stretched out his neck and shoulders and went back to the batter’s box. Twelve more pitches.

  Twelve more over the fence.

  He felt unstoppable.

  A smile crept up his face as he thought about why. Yeah, he’d been the home run king this past year, but he’d never had a practice quite like this one. The only thing that had changed in his life was one Miss Jeni O’Brien. And she provided lots of inspiration. The past two days had been better than any he’d ever had. All because of four hours with a stuffy linguist professor as he and Jeni conversed.

  Professor Montgomery’s idea was for them to talk naturally. Normal conversations, but where each sentence the professor stopped them and corrected their sounds. And then they would repeat what they said, trying to make it sound right. Which made a fascinating way to really learn about Miss O’Brien.

  So far, he’d learned that her favorite color was blue, she was twenty-three years old, and she lived with her aunt Bridget because her parents were both gone. It had only been a few years since she’d come to the States, but she loved it here. She loved the city. Loved the people. And had a hankering for a taste of high society like her clients.

  She was obviously a master at designing hats, because she worked for the top milliner in the city. But of course the man kept her in the back of the shop and took credit because she was Irish.

  Just the thought of it made Philip’s blood boil. If he ever met the man, he’d be tempted to give him a piece of his mind. Not that it would do any good. And she had admitted that he paid her triple the amount of any of the other girls because he knew he’d lose all his business if he didn’t have her designing for him. Which was better, but still Philip wanted to see her with her own shop, delighting the wealthy women of New York City with her talent.

  After he and Jeni had their first session together, he must have earned her trust, because today’s session was even better. She seemed completely at ease and ready to learn. The way she tilted her head when she was thinking about a pronunciation was one of his favorite things he’d noticed about her. And they’d shared plenty of laughter as they worked on vowel sounds with Montgomery after their first hour of “conversation correcting,” as the professor put it.

  The coach blew a whistle, which brought him out of his thoughts. He tossed his bat to little Scotty, who kept track of all the wooden bats, and the batters switched places with the guys in the outfield. It was time to work on his fielding. As he grabbed his glove and jogged out to center field, Jeni’s smile came to mind. In most situations it wasn’t proper to study a woman’s lips, but in linguistics, they spent a good deal of time staring at each other’s mouths and trying to mimic the professor’s sounds. It seemed so intimate to be studying her that way, but he couldn’t deny that he liked it.

  Balls flew at him from the different batters on the field. This was one of his favorite exercises—fielding for more than one batter. It kept him on his toes and kept him moving. Something that was good for his mind as well. But as much as he chased baseballs around the field, his mind wanted to chase something else entirely.

  Jeni O’Brien.

  The more he thought about her, the more he actually considered the fact that he wanted to settle down some day.

  To have a family.

  Something he’d never had growing up. The other newsboys had been his only family. At least the only family he could remember. And they’d stuck together a long time. Played stickball in the street every day. That’s how he’d gotten discovered.

  Seeing real families at games and at church always made him a bit sentimental. Until just lately, it’d been easy enough to push those thoughts aside and focus on baseball. But then he met Jeni.

  A classy lady. Smart, feisty, and determined.

  Someone who made him want to settle down. Sooner rather than later.

  Two years ago, on his twenty-fourth birthday, he’d told God that he would play baseball for as long as He allowed. And he’d be grateful for the chance he had, because it was a miraculous thing. Especially for a kid with no name from Brooklyn.

  He jumped for a ball that went over his head. The smack of it in his glove made him smile. Yeah, he wanted to play ball as long as the good Lord let him. This game was in his blood. But every time he saw one of the other guys with a pretty gal hanging off his arm, he wondered if his chance would come.

  After today, he’d begun to believe that it had.

  “What’s got you grinning like that, Wedge?” Tony—another kid rescued from the streets to play ball—had been his closest friend for the past few years.

  The reminder of his childhood nickname made Philip laugh. “Oh, just somethin’ good.”

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it had to do with a lady friend. But you don’t have any of those.”

  Philip wasn’t ready to reveal all his secrets, so he simply shrugged.

  “Ah, so it is a girl.” Tony spit on the ground and put his hands on his hips. “I shoulda known. You gonna tell me about her or not?”

  “Or not.” Philip caught another ball and sent it rocketing to first base.

  Tony’s laughter followed him all the way to the dugout.

  Chapter 5

  Peeking through the curtain that separated the storefront from the back area, Jeni watched Mr. Crawford show one of her hats to Mrs. Carrie Astor Wilson—a woman Jeni desperately wanted to meet.

  A great-granddaughter of America’s first millionaire, John Jacob Astor, she was a daughter of the Mrs. Astor who had be
en the leader of the Four Hundred until her death just a few years ago.

  Mrs. Astor Wilson was the woman to impress. Apparently, Jeni had done it. Although Crawford’s shop would take the credit.

  This was the seventh hat that the wealthy socialite had bought in the last two weeks. And Jeni had designed them all. What she wouldn’t give to be introduced to the woman whose tastes she knew so well. Every time the wealthy socialite asked for something, Mr. Crawford said he would need time to think it through and design it. Then he’d give the project to Jeni and she would create it. The woman had been thrilled with each one and raved about them to her friends. Which drove even more customers into the store. Crawford had made more than double Jeni’s monthly salary off of only five of the hats he’d sold to Mrs. Astor Wilson. She’d kept track. And he hadn’t done a bit of the work. Granted, he supplied Jeni with everything she needed to create them, but she’d also made more than forty other hats that he’d sold this month alone. This was the time to make her move again and demand a raise. With the spring season ahead of them, all the women of the city would be looking for new hats. They’d only grown larger the past year, which meant they were more expensive. And Jeni could supply what they wanted, she’d proven that.

  For a moment, she let herself imagine her very own shop. And with Mrs. Astor Wilson as a client, she’d certainly do well for herself.

  Not that she wanted to see Mr. Crawford fail—even though he kept her and the other Irish girls sequestered in the back—but she knew what skills the good Lord above had given her. She didn’t necessarily want to steal Mr. Crawford’s customers either … but, then again, they weren’t really his customers, were they? If she could run her own shop, perhaps she’d even be able to employ some of the other girls as well, and not make them work in the dingy and dark rooms in the basement of the store. At least Jeni was allowed to work in a room with a window and light just behind the storefront.

  Crawford finished the sale, and Mrs. Astor Wilson was describing what she wanted next. This would be the perfect opportunity. Jeni slipped back into her workroom and sat on her stool finishing the details on a cream-and-peach hat that was over two feet wide while she waited for her boss to come to her.

  The hooks of the curtain scraped on the rod. Then footsteps.

  Jeni took a deep breath and then shoved a few pins between her lips. She kept sewing on the beautiful roses she’d made for the hat.

  “Miss O’Brien.”

  “Mm-hmm?” With her lips pursed around the pins, she pretended to be preoccupied.

  “I’ve got another order from Mrs. Astor Wilson.” The emphasis he put on Astor was a typical ploy. He always dropped the names of the influential clientele he served.

  But Jeni wasn’t going to let it sway her—she knew very well that the only reason he had Mrs. Astor Wilson as a client was because of her. “Wonderful. What would she like?” She spoke around the pins.

  Mr. Crawford placed a piece of paper in front of her. “I believe everything you need is listed here. Let me know if you need any specific supplies.”

  Jeni held up her hand. Removing the pins from her mouth with her other hand, she shot him a smile. “Mr. Crawford. As you know, I can provide you with exactly what Mrs. Astor Wilson wants. She’s purchased seven of my creations in the last two weeks, and it sounds like she is telling all of her friends about your shop.”

  “Yes, and I appreciate all you do.”

  “If I wasn’t able to produce what these women wanted, you wouldn’t have their business.”

  “That’s taking it a bit far, don’t you think, Miss O’Brien? I do provide the very best here in my shop.”

  “Yes, sir. That you do. But if I were, say, to take one of the other offers that have come my way, and I were to leave your shop … do you think that would continue?” Trying to sound as confident and yet as meek as she could, she raised an eyebrow at him. And hoped that he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart.

  He lifted both of his hands as if to surrender. “Miss O’Brien, I give in. I know my competitors would like nothing more than to steal you away. What if I were to offer you a dollar more per week?”

  She allowed herself a small smile. “That would be wonderful, Mr. Crawford. Thank you.”

  “And you’ll agree to stay?”

  “For at least another three months, yes, sir. As long as you put it in writing.” She stuck out her hand.

  He always liked to shake on it. “I’ll have a new contract drawn up today.” He reached up and straightened his tie. “You do drive a hard bargain, Miss O’Brien.”

  “I know how much you make off of my designs, Mr. Crawford, so I believe it’s you who deserves that praise.” The comment was cheeky, especially for someone in her position.

  But thankfully, Crawford laughed. “As long as you keep my shop known as the best in town, I’ll allow you to say such things in private. Just remember your place, girl.” The bite at the end of his tone told Jeni that she’d better tread carefully.

  At least she’d gotten what she wanted. Another raise. If she put all of it back, plus the money she was saving on her linguistics lessons and with everything else she’d already saved, she might be able to start her own shop perhaps in a year or so? The thought gave her a little thrill. Then maybe … just maybe, she’d find a dashing gentleman who would whisk her off her feet. Philip’s face flashed before her. It was a bit too soon to really know anything about the man, but lots of girls had crushes on baseball players. So she let her imagination soar. One day she’d have a family. And they’d have a better future than what her poor parents had. Which was exactly the reason why she and Aunt Bridget had come to America in the first place.

  The walk home that evening had her smiling the whole way. Just wait until Auntie Brig heard the good news about another raise. Perhaps that would get the sour look off her aunt’s face for a little bit and they could celebrate together.

  A new future awaited them, and it was closer than she had hoped!

  But when she opened the door to their small apartment, Aunt Bridget stood there with her arms crossed over her chest and Jeni’s bubble burst. “Why did you leave this mornin’ afore I was even up? What are you up to, lass?” She pointed a wooden spoon at Jeni. “And don’t give me no lies. I raised ye to be a proper woman, not one to go gallivantin’ around in the wee hours.”

  Jeni huffed but promised herself to practice her language skills. “I was not gallivanting around, Auntie.” She took a moment to breathe and took off her gloves. “My linguistics professor has increased my lesson time.”

  “Whatever for?” And the spoon waved around. “It best not be anything improper—”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, you should know me better than that.” Jeni hung up her coat and purse. “It will help me progress faster by working with a partner, on top of the fact that he’s offered me the lessons for half, which means I’ll be able to put more of me money back for a shop.” She smoothed her skirt and walked past her aunt.

  But Auntie Bridget’s arm was quick to grab the back of Jeni’s dress. “What is this about a partner?” The older woman’s voice raised in volume and pitch.

  “There’s another student taking speech lessons from the professor. We’ve been paired together to help each other improve as the professor teaches us.”

  Her aunt stomped her foot and mumbled several things under her breath. “Ridiculous notion of you taking these lessons in the first place. There’s nothing wrong with the way we talk. Who is this partner? It better not be some woman of the night or some other such personage that’ll ruin yer reputation. Who is this professor anyway?”

  Jeni tried—she really did—not to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help it. “It doesn’t matter what any of my answers are to your questions, because you’re not listening to me anyway.”

  “I listen to ya—”

  “No. No, ya don’t.” Defeat rushed through her. Why did she ever think her aunt would be proud of her? All her life she’d tried,
but Auntie Brig had just gotten harder and harder on her. “When are ya gonna learn that I’m an adult and can take care of meself?” All her good practice flew out the window as words flew out of her mouth. “Ya don’t get to boss me around or scold me anymore, Auntie Brig. I have a good head on my shoulders and have been makin’ hats for the wealthiest of New York’s society. If I want to make it as a reputable milliner, I need to educate myself in the ways of America. That’s why we came here. To be free. To escape the debt and poverty and ache of all our loss. I have the right to own my own business now. I think I know what I’m doin’.”

  “Don’t you take that tone with me, missy. Your parents left ye in my care.”

  “And I will be forever thankful for all you did after Da died, Aunt Brig. But that was years ago. Now I’m the one takin’ care of you. Takin’ care of us both. And I’ve done pretty well, ye’ll have to admit.”

  “Ungrateful girl. Such disrespect to your elder shows you’re headed down a dangerous path.” Her aunt pointed a finger in her face. “An’ I’ll not stand for it.” She marched off and slammed the door to her bedroom.

  Jeni looked to the ceiling and lifted her hands in frustration. “So much for celebratin’.” Her words tumbled out in a soft murmur. “I didn’t even get to tell her about my raise….”

  Chapter 6

  Bridget paced in her bedroom. The lass had gone daft, that’s what, and there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. Other than make plans.

  But she’d have to do it all behind Jeni’s back. There was no reasoning with her right now. Maybe the only thing she could do was make peace with her niece but give her a bit of the cold shoulder. It always worked with the girl when she was younger. Over time, Jeni would come around. She always wanted the approval of her only living relative. Bridget could use that to her advantage.

  A few months of being patient couldn’t hurt. By that time, enough money would be saved for them to travel to Wisconsin and start fresh there. Bridget needed to be strategic, but it sounded like Mr. Crawford would keep Jeni busy enough. For now. Then Bridget would demand they move to Wisconsin.