Suitor by Design

Suitor by Design Christine Johnson From Friends to SweetheartsMinnie Fox's goal is to find a beau who can help support her ailing father and his struggling dress shop. As a working man, her friend Peter Simmons simply doesn't fit the bill. Instead, Minnie's got eyes for Peter's childhood pal–a wealthy Chicagoan. So why can't she stop thinking about Peter?Peter wishes Minnie would see him as more than a friend. As a hardworking mechanic, Peter knows he'll never be able to dazzle Minnie with fancy suits and expensive cars. But maybe he can prove to her that what's in a man's heart is worth more than what's in his wallet.The Dressmaker's Daughters: Pursuing their dreams a stitch at a time From Friends to Sweethearts Minnie Fox’s goal is to find a beau who can help support her ailing father and his struggling dress shop. As a working man, her friend Peter Simmons simply doesn’t fit the bill. Instead, Minnie’s got eyes for Peter’s childhood pal—a wealthy Chicagoan. So why can’t she stop thinking about Peter? Peter wishes Minnie would see him as more than a friend. As a hardworking mechanic, Peter knows he’ll never be able to dazzle Minnie with fancy suits and expensive cars. But maybe he can prove to her that what’s in a man’s heart is worth more than what’s in his wallet. The Dressmaker’s Daughters: Pursuing their dreams a stitch at a time Minnie swallowed. The back of her throat was dry. Peter was looking at her, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Those hazel eyes would steal every thought from her head. So she looked at her hands, her boots, the pew, anything but him. “Did you find an envelope at the garage?” His brow pinched. “What kind of envelope?” “A regular one. Full of papers and such.” She didn’t exactly want to admit that she’d lost actual money, not when some of their customers were standing within hearing distance. “No.” Her hopes died. “Oh. I’d hoped…” Her voice trembled so she stopped. His expression softened. “I didn’t look around, though. Wanna go check?” “Can we?” In her excitement, she made the costly mistake of looking into his eyes. They twinkled. “Sure.” He held out an arm. “Let’s go now.” Warmth came back to her fingers and toes. She told herself it must be due to her renewed hope that they’d find the money, but deep down she knew it was something else. Or rather someone, who just so happened to have twinkling hazel eyes. CHRISTINE JOHNSON A small-town girl, Christine Johnson has lived in every corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. She loves to visit historic locations and imagine the people who once lived there. A double-finalist for RWA’s Golden Heart award, she enjoys creating stories that bring history to life while exploring the characters’ spiritual journey—and putting them in peril! Though Michigan is still her home base, she and her seafaring husband also spend time exploring the Florida Keys and other fascinating locations. Christine loves to hear from readers. Contact her through her website at christineelizabethjohnson.com (http://christineelizabethjohnson.com). Suitor by Design Christine Johnson www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) That they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified. — Isaiah 61:3 I must thank my father, who answered many, many mechanical questions. Any mistakes are mine alone. No expression of gratitude would be complete without acknowledging my husband, who endured all my strange questions and pleas for solitude with patience, if not full understanding. Most of all, every iota of glory belongs to my heavenly Father, the Author of everything, without whom there would be no stories. Contents Cover (#u4268869c-caf8-5cb8-8311-fb7663c77af4) Back Cover Text (#uda186ad8-1b52-5368-bed1-f011de2fb88f) Introduction (#ua8fa0c9c-f6f3-55d8-9670-b2962a4a99bf) About the Author (#uf9ee4935-35bc-565c-b693-5262fd460e8e) Title Page (#u17df340c-da58-58a2-8a10-5471f3ccba67) Bible Verse (#u8acf81b0-f85b-53eb-b951-8c0715d6a686) Dedication (#u05a5a185-96c2-51a1-9249-07bc099e8bf6) Chapter One (#u0fd3665d-03db-5219-8546-a27175388f0a) Chapter Two (#uf6686545-1060-5097-adcd-4c100bbe6308) Chapter Three (#uf81655ca-f74a-55c9-8d2b-33e6234c62f3) Chapter Four (#uf4d5cf91-88f4-5725-b4e2-976fae805f28) Chapter Five (#u84979fa3-6a4c-5742-9833-2cd4985954d3) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo) Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo) Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo) Extract (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One (#ulink_fc93e73e-e1a8-5cd2-b5ef-337fd1e1c914) Pearlman, Michigan February 1924 “It’s hopeless.” Minnie Fox stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the drugstore soda fountain, her cherry soda temporarily forgotten. Only three weeks shy of her nineteenth birthday, she should at least have a beau. Most of the girls her age were either engaged or married. Minnie had no one. It must be her looks. She bore no resemblance to the motion-picture actresses on the covers of Photoplay. They sported glamorous bobs. How would she look with that hairstyle? Minnie pursed her lips, stained red from the soda, and rolled her long, wavy hair up to her jawline. The fat rolls of hair on either side of her face looked like loaves of bread sitting atop her threadbare brown wool coat. She let her hair drop. “It is hopeless.” “What’s hopeless?” Minnie’s next older sister, Jen, plopped onto the stool next to her. “Nothing.” Minnie twirled the straw in her soda, took a sip and lingered while the bubbles fizzed against her lips. “I don’t know why I care. There isn’t a sheik within fifty miles.” “Sheik?” Jen’s lip curled in distaste. “Stop talking like them.” She poked a thumb toward Kate Vanderloo and her college girlfriends a couple stools away. Born to wealth and privilege, Kate was pretty enough to grace the cover of Photoplay. So were her girlfriends. All were here on midsemester break and to attend the Valentine’s Day Ball. “Shh! They’ll hear you.” Minnie scrunched a little lower. “For your information, that’s what everyone calls guys who try to look like Rudolph Valentino.” She flipped through the magazine until she found what she’d read earlier. “It says here that the college campuses are full of sheiks. It’s quite the rage.” Jen rolled her eyes. “What do we care? None of us will ever go to college. I can’t even save enough money for flight lessons. Besides, other things are more important, like getting Daddy well.” Minnie flinched at the reproach. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” Daddy’s heart had been weak from childhood, but last summer he’d suffered a seizure that left him even weaker. He’d recovered enough to walk her older sister, Ruth, down the aisle in October but soon after retreated to his bedroom. “I want that, too.” Minnie outlined the glamorous actress on the Photoplay cover with her finger. “That’s why I’m hoping for a rich and famous husband.” “Sure,” Jen snorted. “Where are you going to find that in Pearlman?” “There are a few well-off bachelors.” “One or two, and they’re much older than you.” “I suppose.” Minnie couldn’t give up her dream that easily. “Maybe he’ll be new to town. Like Sam. He came to town to open the department store and ended up marrying Ruthie. It could happen again.” “That happens only once in a lifetime. Besides, Sam had to give up his inheritance to marry Ruth. They’re just as poor as we are.” “Unless she sells her dress designs. Sam says that’ll make them rich.” “Sam’s a dreamer. How many manufacturers have they tried? Every one has turned down her designs.” “Maybe this time they’ll get good news.” “Maybe.” But Jen didn’t sound hopeful. “They’re supposed to get word today.” Rather than dwell on something she couldn’t control, Minnie watched Kate flirt with the soda-fountain clerk. Kate Vanderloo always seemed to have a new beau. Even in high school, she’d been able to capture every guy’s attention. Minnie, on the other hand, could only imagine what it would feel like to have every man’s gaze follow her across a room. She glanced again at the magazine cover. Maybe if she looked more like a movie star. “Should I get my hair cut?” “Why?” Minnie pointed to the cover. “So I look like a star.” “You can’t even act.” “I can sing. I was second soprano in the school choir.” Jen shrugged, as if that accomplishment meant nothing. “Are you almost done with that soda? We need to close the shop. Ruth wants to go with Sam to the telegraph office. The call’s supposed to come in around five o’clock.” The telegraph office was also the telephone exchange. Since neither the dress shop nor their house had a telephone, they had to place and receive long-distance calls there. “Ready?” “I suppose.” Minnie sucked more of the fizzy liquid into her mouth, but she couldn’t gulp down a soda, and she wouldn’t waste it. At five cents apiece, they were a rare treat. Down the counter, the soda clerk leaned close to Kate and gave her a dazzling smile. “I’d take you to the ball.” Kate giggled and fluttered her eyelids. “If I didn’t already have an escort, I might consider the offer.” Now, that was ridiculous! Kate Vanderloo would rather get run over by a train than go to the Valentine’s Day Ball with a soda clerk. Jen gave Minnie a look of disgust. “Let’s go.” She spun around to leave. Minnie slurped up a mouthful of soda and swallowed. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she sneezed. That drew Kate’s attention. “Oh, Minnie. I didn’t see you there. Sally tells me you are serving punch again at the ball. I hope you don’t spill it this time.” Minnie wanted to disappear. It was bad enough that she had to dress in a maid’s uniform and wait on Pearlman’s elite, but she couldn’t bear doing it in front of her former classmates. She stared at the Photoplay cover. If only... The bell above the drugstore door signaled a new arrival and drew the attention away from her. Tall Peter Simmons entered. He cast a quick look at the counter and swiped off his cap before stomping the snow from his old work boots. “Oh, it’s just Peter.” Minnie turned back to her soda. “Just Peter? What do you mean?” Jen sat back down. “I thought you were friends.” “A little, but he’s been acting strange lately.” “How? He seems perfectly normal to me.” “I don’t know.” Minnie had run into him more than once in the alley that ran behind her house. He could take that route from work to home, but he seemed to always time it for when she was coming back from work. Then he wouldn’t say anything intelligent, just mutter something about the weather or ask how work had gone. “He just acts different.” “Ahhh.” Minnie knew exactly what her sister was thinking. “Don’t get any ideas.” “Did I say a thing?” “You don’t have to,” she muttered low enough so no one could hear. “Between you and Ruth, you practically have us married. Stop it.” “All right, all right. The subject’s closed.” Jen stood. “Are you ready yet?” As Minnie drank the last of her soda, Kate snickered and whispered something to her group of friends. The giggling girls were all watching Peter, who had asked for a bottle of Lydia Pinkham’s tonic from the druggist. At their laughter, embarrassment bled up his face clear to the roots of his tousled brown hair. Minnie felt sorry for him. Peter was a decent guy. It wasn’t his fault he’d lost his parents and got sent to Pearlman by that New York orphan society. He’d gotten a good home with Mrs. Simmons, but then she lost her house and had to move in with her daughter. That meant Peter had to stay with his foster brother’s family at Constance House, the local orphanage. That must have reminded him every day that he was an orphan, too. Poor guy! He could act like an idiot sometimes, but he didn’t deserve Kate’s ridicule. “It’s for Mariah,” Peter explained while he waited for the druggist to fetch the tonic. “She’s not feeling well.” Peter’s sister-in-law had her hands full running the orphanage. Peter helped out when he wasn’t working at the family’s motor garage. He was good with his hands. He’d built the shelving and counter at the bookstore, helped out in Sunday school, and was the first guy to set up tables and chairs for any church function. He deserved Kate’s respect. Instead, the girl laughed at him. With every passing second, Minnie got angrier until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Mariah’s lucky to have a brother like Peter helping her out.” If anything, his face got redder, but it did draw Kate’s attention away from him. The girl’s mouth curved into a smirk. “Minnie’s sweet on Peter.” Her girlfriends seconded the proclamation. Minnie felt her cheeks heat. “Am not!” The girls giggled harder. “Then why are you blushing?” Kate asked. “Am not!” But that wasn’t true. Her face burned and was probably as red as Peter’s. Her gaze dropped to the magazine cover. If only she looked like Clara Bow, she could command respect. The fashionable guys would notice her. All it would take was a new hairstyle. She jutted out her chin. “For your information, I’m going to marry a sheik.” Kate snorted. “A sheik? You? What a laugh. No sheik would look twice at someone like you. If you want my advice, you had better settle for a local guy.” She inclined her head toward Peter, making her point perfectly clear. “Come along, girls. We wouldn’t want to interfere with Minnie’s romance.” The girls headed for the door, singing, “Peter and Minnie, sweet as can be...” Minnie wanted to throw her soda at them, but the Bible said to turn the other cheek. It didn’t mention how hard that was to do. She slurped up the melted ice that tasted faintly of cherry soda. It was hopeless. She had only a hint of flavor, while girls like Kate sparkled. “Forget them,” Jen said. “They only care about themselves.” “I know.” And deep down she did know that, but would it really be such a terrible thing to be attractive and important for once? Just one day, Lord. One little day. “They should get their mouths washed out with soap,” Jen added. “Let’s go.” Minnie dug around in her pocket for the nickel to pay for her soda but came up with nothing. She frowned and hunted in her other pocket before a sudden thought distracted her. She could look like Clara Bow. Oh, she couldn’t afford a real hairstylist, but Jen had cut her own hair. It didn’t look that great, but then it had to be easier to cut someone else’s hair than your own. “Will you cut my hair?” “Me?” Jen’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Mother always cuts your hair.” “She won’t give me a bob. I want my hair to look like this.” She pointed to the Photoplay cover. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. Easier than cutting your own hair, and you did a pretty good job on that.” “After Ruth straightened out all my mistakes. Why don’t you ask her?” “Because she’d take Mother’s side. Will you do it? Please?” “All right, then, but no promises you’ll look like that cover.” “Good!” Minnie clapped her hands together. “And you have to take the blame when Mother sees it.” Minnie had no choice but to agree. Mother would throw a conniption fit. She loved Minnie’s long hair. Well, times were changing, and Minnie intended to change along with them. She was going to become a modern woman, and modern women wore both their hair and their skirts short. Modern women had guys, not beaus. They dated instead of being courted. She sneaked a glimpse at the register. Peter had finished and was headed their way, tonic safely hidden in a paper sack. “That’ll be five cents, miss.” The soda clerk tapped the counter. Minnie dug around in her other coat pocket. Where had she put that nickel? “Just a minute.” She tried her skirt pocket. Nothing there, either. “I had a nickel in my coat pocket.” She reached in again and found a hole. “Oh, no! It must have fallen out. Jen?” Her sister shook her head. “I don’t have any money with me.” Minnie bit her lower lip. At least Kate wasn’t here to witness this embarrassing moment. She turned to the soda clerk. “May I pay you later?” “You don’t have five cents?” He looked shocked. “Here.” Peter stepped up and placed a dime on the counter. “Keep the change.” The soda clerk snatched it up and went to the cash register. Peter Simmons paid her bill? If Kate ever found out, she’d hound Minnie to death. “I’ll pay you back.” He shuffled his feet, halfway looking down and half of the time peeking up at her. “Don’t need to.” “Yes, I do.” She took a deep breath and remembered her manners. “Thank you.” She even managed a smile. “I found a hole in my pocket. It must have fallen out on the way here.” “That happens.” Still, he stood there. “I guess we should be going,” she suggested. “Yeah, I suppose.” He stuffed the tonic into his coat pocket. “Look, Minnie, I was wondering—” He stopped abruptly, and his face got red. She panicked. He was going to ask her to go with him to something. Not now. Not when she had discovered the means to interest a real man—one who could both help her family get out of debt and fulfill her dreams. “I need to get going.” She backed away. “Ruth is waiting for us.” “Yeah. I should go, too. Mariah needs the medicine.” “See you later, then. And thanks again.” She edged behind her grinning sister. “Anytime.” He glanced at Jen before striding to the door. He yanked it open and let it slam shut before hurrying off toward the orphanage. Only then could Minnie take a breath. Jen was still grinning. “He is sweet on you.” “No, he’s not.” Minnie felt the unwelcome flush of heat coupled with an odd slushy feeling inside. “He was just helping me out, like a brother would help a sister.” Jen laughed. “Think that if you want, but I’m telling you that he is definitely interested.” “Well, I’m not.” That should put an end to this. “I don’t feel anything romantic for him. Besides, he can hardly talk around me.” “Ahhh.” “And he’s not my type. I’m looking for more out of life than settling down with a local guy. I want to go places and see things. New York City. Maybe even Hollywood. I’m looking for a real hero.” Jen dug in her coat pockets and pulled out some gloves. “You don’t want much, do you?” “I just won’t settle. Kate Vanderloo can say what she wants, but I’m never going to marry someone local.” “All right, then.” Yet Jen still had that impish grin on her face. “Let’s go.” Minnie finished buttoning her worn hand-me-down coat and followed her sister. The moment she stepped outside, a blast of icy wind knocked her hat off her head. It tumbled and rolled toward the street. Before she could retrieve it, a fancy new car glided past. Its deep blue finish gleamed. The chrome grille sparkled. Every inch of it looked fast and expensive. She grabbed Jen’s arm, her hat forgotten. “Look at that. I wonder who owns it. He must be rich to afford an automobile like that.” Jen dug her hands deeper into her coat pockets. “I suppose.” “I’ve never seen the car before,” Minnie mused. “It’s not Mr. Kensington’s or Mr. Neidecker’s or anyone else’s from the Hill.” Everyone referred to the wealthy neighborhood above Green Lake as the Hill. “He must be a newcomer. He could be a motion-picture actor.” Jen rolled her eyes and started toward the dress shop. “In Pearlman?” “Why not?” By the time Minnie retrieved her hat, the frigid air had numbed her cheeks and fingertips. She hurried after Jen. “Maybe he’s a new student at the airfield.” “There won’t be any new students until spring.” “Then who could he be?” Minnie leaned over the frozen street, trying to see where the car went, but she lost sight of it after it passed the bank. “Maybe he’s just passing through.” “No one just passes through Pearlman.” Jen had a point. That meant a newcomer in town—an important newcomer. Hopefully, he was a bachelor. * * * Minnie had smiled at him. The thought warmed Peter on the short walk to the orphanage. Not only had Minnie smiled at him, but she’d also said nice things. Mariah’s lucky to have a brother like Peter. That was just about as close as Minnie had ever gotten to giving him a compliment. Didn’t matter that Mariah wasn’t really his sister or even his real sister-in-law. She’d married Peter’s foster brother, Hendrick. Seeing as Peter didn’t have kin—leastways none he wanted to acknowledge—that made Hendrick and Mariah as good as family. He’d do anything for them. Still, it was good of Minnie to notice. The orphanage was in chaos, the older kids chasing the younger ones around. No wonder Mariah had reached the end of her patience. Those kids needed something to keep them busy. When he’d been in the New York orphanage, he’d learned carpentry and how to fix things. The older kids needed something like that—a place to go and someone to teach them. But this was Pearlman, not New York. There just weren’t that many places a kid could go. Peter dropped off the medicine and scooted out, saying he had to get back to the garage. That was kinda true. He’d closed the doors while he ran the errand and hoped Hendrick would understand. Business was slow this time of year, both at the motor garage and in the factory. His almost-brother had gotten edgy lately, but he refused to take a cent from Mariah’s family. Peter respected that. A man had to have his pride. He dug his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged down Main Street. Kate Vanderloo and her friends entered the new department store, still giggling and chattering like a flock of blackbirds getting ready to head south. Why did Minnie have to see him fetching female tonic for his sister-in-law? He didn’t mind the likes of Kate Vanderloo snickering at him. She was a selfish snob. But Minnie was good, through and through. He was gonna ask her to join him at the church supper on Wednesday, but after the way those girls teased her, she got all jumpy. Minnie couldn’t seem to hold up to that kinda talk. She was always wanting to look like some movie star, but to his way of thinking she had them beat a hundred times over. A throaty car horn jerked Peter out of his thoughts. He knew every car in Pearlman, and none of them had a horn that sounded like that. This blast came from a gleaming new Pierce-Arrow touring car that inched down Main Street alongside him. “Hey there, Stringbean,” shouted the man behind the wheel. Peter squinted into the glare of the late-day sun. No one had called him Stringbean since the orphanage. Even there, only one person used the nickname. “Vince?” The driver sounded like Peter’s old friend, but this man had slicked-back hair and a fancy suit. Gold cuff links flashed in the sun. “Vince Galbini?” “You got it, kid. I said I’d look ya up, and here I am.” Peter couldn’t get over it. “How’d you find me? Mariah said Mr. Isaacs closed the orphanage.” “I got my contacts in the old neighborhood. They told me you were sent here.” That made sense. Mariah had gone back to the orphanage after all the orphans on the train were placed in families. She’d probably told everyone working there that he’d found a home with the Simmons family. From there, the news would have spread through the neighborhood. “You kept your promise,” Peter said in astonishment. “I can’t believe it. You said you’d find me again, and you did.” Pleasure surged through him at the thought. “You remembered.” “’Course I did, kid. Vincent Galbini always keeps his promises.” Vince rapped his hand against the car door, a gold ring clinking against the metal. “Let’s catch up on old times. Where do you call home?” Peter didn’t want his old pal to see that he was living in an orphanage, even though he wasn’t there as an orphan. Vince had clearly risen in the world. Peter, on the other hand, was just trudging along. “I’m headed back to the motor garage.” Peter pointed down the street and puffed out his chest. “I’m a mechanic now, and I manage the place.” Vince whistled. “I heard you were working on cars, but I didn’t know you were the man in charge. You’re doing all right, kid.” Peter stood a bit taller under the compliment. Vince was proud of him. Vince Galbini, the man who’d taught him how to measure and cut two pieces of wood so they joined without a gap. Peter had learned how to plane and sand and finish from him. Most of all, he’d learned to respect each piece of wood, to feel the flow of the grain and use that to make the perfect cut. Vince had sure changed in four years. He’d been a hard-luck carpenter from the neighborhood who liked to help out at the orphanage. His trousers were always patched. His stained shirts looked more gray than white. His cap had hidden a mop of wiry hair that rarely saw soap and water, but he’d always had time for the kids, especially Peter. A couple months before the orphan society plunked Peter on that train, Vince had stopped by to tell them he was leaving. “I got a real good job,” he’d said with a grin. “They’ll be throwin’ buckets of money at me.” Vince loved to exaggerate. No one believed he’d really get that kind of money. Except Peter. When Vince promised to come back for Peter after making his stake, Peter clung to that promise. He waited at mail call. He prayed for a telephone call. He sat in the front window and watched the street. No letter, no call, no Vince. Then Mr. Isaacs put Peter on the train, and he figured he’d never see his friend again. Yet here Vince was, and it sure looked like the company had thrown those buckets of money at him after all. A new Pierce-Arrow cost more than Peter could earn in a decade. Its quiet, powerful engine was the envy of every man who longed to show others he’d made it big. Vince had done just what he’d promised. “Hop in, kid,” Vince said. “Passenger seat’s empty.” As he rounded the car, Peter’s pulse accelerated. Maybe Vince hadn’t just shown up to keep a promise. Maybe he was gonna spread a little of his good fortune around. That sure would get Minnie’s attention. By the time they reached the garage, Peter and Vince were chatting as if it was old times. Vince whistled when he pulled up in front of the garage. “Nice place. You’re doin’ good for yourself, kid. How many cars can you work on at once?” “Two inside. Three if they’re small. Let me show you around.” “Sounds like a good plan.” Vince pushed open his door. Peter hopped out, taking care to close his door without slamming it, and then hustled to pull open the big doors to the work bay. His friend moseyed forward. “Looks like you do a good business.” “Good ’nuff.” Peter dug his hands into his pockets and kicked an ice ball toward the gasoline pump. It banged against the metal case and stopped. Compared to Vince, he’d come plumb against a brick wall. No gal. No fancy car. No car at all. He’d been reduced to fetching female tonic for his sister-in-law. Vince took a gold cigarette case from his inside jacket pocket. He flipped it open, removed a cigarette and offered it to Peter. “No thanks. Don’t smoke. Yet.” Peter was too embarrassed to say he found the habit disgusting. His uncle Max smoked, and he wouldn’t do anything that rotten man did. “Give it a try.” Peter shook his head and toed the ground. “Maybe some other time.” Vince snapped the case shut, slipped a lighter from another pocket and lit the cigarette. After a couple draws, he pointed to the garage. “Let’s take a look.” Once they got inside and Peter started showing off the machine shop and all his tools, the old Vince came back. Excitement lit his eyes, and he asked dozens of questions. He got especially excited when he saw Peter’s wood shop and heard how Peter made the shelving and counter at the bookstore. “Sounds like you can build anything.” Maybe it was the lighting, but Peter thought he saw a gleam in Vince’s eye. “Most anything. Can’t make a spark plug, of course.” Vince laughed and ran his hand over the fender of Mr. Kensington’s Packard. “Have you ever done custom work on the body of the car?” Peter thought back to the luggage rack Mariah had insisted they make for her Overland after returning from Montana. “Some.” “Think you could redo an interior?” Peter wasn’t sure what his friend was getting at. “Not the upholstery.” “But anything in metal or wood?” “Sure.” He tried to sound more confident than he felt. Vince’s grin broadened, and he clapped Peter on the back. “Then I’ve come to the right man. I told the boss that I knew someone that could do the job.” “What job?” “It’s more like an opportunity, old sport, a chance to get yourself some of this.” Vince flicked his gold cuff links. “My boss is lookin’ to get his car customized to his particular needs.” “What kind of needs?” “He needs room for...er, luggage.” “I made a luggage rack for an Overland.” Though many touring car manufacturers offered luggage racks with a trunk, Peter figured the car in question must not have that option. Vince shook his head. “My boss don’t want a trunk outside, where his stuff might get wet. Do ya know what I mean? He wants storage inside the car.” “There’s storage under the rear seat if it’s a sedan.” “But it’s not quite the right size. And he wants a place for his valuables, say underneath the main luggage compartment. Is that something you can do?” “You mean a hidden compartment?” “That’s it,” Vince said with a grin. “Glad we understand each other.” Peter supposed a man rich enough to run a company that paid Vince high wages would want to hide his valuables. “Depends on the car. What make we talking about?” Vince motioned to the Pierce-Arrow. “How about that one?” Peter ambled over and peered inside. The rear seat was spacious and had decent depth. He popped his head out and wiped his fingerprints off the polished door. “I can do it, but it wouldn’t fit a full steamer trunk.” Vince waved that off. “The boss wouldn’t bring anything that big. I’m thinking about like this.” He demonstrated something almost twice the size of a vegetable crate. “That’d fit, but I might have to raise the seat a bit depending on the size of the hidden compartment. How big do you need it?” Vince explained the dimensions. They even pulled out the seat cushion, and Peter measured the space. He penciled the figures on a piece of paper and sketched a rough design. “Look all right?” Peter asked. “Perfect! Just what the boss wants.” For some reason, Peter got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe because Vince never said who he was working for. “Your boss?” “An up-and-comer out of Brooklyn. He moved to Chicago a few years ago and set up shop. Furniture. Antiques. That sort of thing. Since coming to these parts, business took off, and he’s setting up other locations.” Vince wandered around while he talked, seeming too fidgety to stand still. That made sense, but the strange feeling wouldn’t go away. “Is this a paying job?” “Of course.” Vince laughed. “Would I ever cut you short?” Peter thought back to those long days waiting for Vince to come back to the orphanage. “I guess not.” “Tell ya what, kid. Do a good job, and the boss’ll make it worth your while.” Vince pulled out a money clip fat with bills. “Maybe he’ll even have more work for you.” Peter’s jaw dropped. The outside bill was a hundred. There had to be fifty of them in the wad. Vince grinned. “That’s right, kid. I seen the way you worked with your hands back in New York. Figured you still had the talent, but I had no idea you got a shop like this.” He whistled. “Far as I’m concerned, you’re the man for the job.” He pulled one bill off the clip and slipped the rest back into his pocket. “Is this enough to start?” He waved the bill before Peter and then snatched it back. “One question. What about the upholstery? You got anyone who can handle that if you gotta change the seat?” Minnie’s face flashed into Peter’s head. She did sewing at the dress shop, and her family could sure use the extra money with her pa sick and all. Maybe if he got Minnie some work, she’d be so grateful she’d see him as more than a friend. “I know someone who could do it.” “Good.” Vince grinned and handed him the hundred-dollar bill. “We got a deal, then, Stringbean?” He extended his hand. Peter hesitated. Something still didn’t feel quite right, but it was a lot of money. It would help at the orphanage, and Minnie’s family could use a little extra. Maybe she’d even stop chasing after no-account swells and notice him. Besides, Vince was a good guy. Peter had known him for years. He grasped Vince’s hand and shook. “Deal.” Chapter Two (#ulink_952335c1-bd14-54d3-b73f-3012cdcff560) Minnie didn’t spot the sleek new car again until they reached the dress shop. From there she could see it parked half a block ahead in front of Simmons Motor Garage. The driver leaned against it, his back to her, as he talked to Peter. The man wore a slick wool suit in the latest fashion. The cold didn’t seem to bother him. No overcoat. No gloves. No scarf. Just a black fedora. His cuff links flashed in the sun. Could they be gold? Her pulse quickened. Had her unspoken prayer been answered that quickly? A wealthy stranger in Pearlman. In February. That simply didn’t happen. Now, if he was a bachelor who happened to be looking for a wife... “I wonder who he is,” she mused. Jen paused at the dress-shop door. “Who are you talking about?” “The man driving that fancy car. He’s talking to Peter. Either they know each other or the man has car trouble. Must be the car. How would someone like that know Peter?” “I don’t know.” Jen opened the door. “Are you coming?” “In a minute.” Minnie couldn’t let this opportunity pass. “Will you start closing up? I promise to be back just as soon as I find out who he is. Please?” Jen relented. “All right, but hurry.” “I will,” Minnie called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the garage. When she reached the end of the block, she lingered on the corner, pretending to wait for an opportunity to cross Main Street. A quick glance revealed nothing had changed. The man still stood with his back to her. He gestured with his arms as he talked. A few heavily accented words drifted her way. To her disappointment, he was shorter and stockier than Peter. But that suit! Even Hutton’s Department Store didn’t carry one that fine. A cloud of steam rose above his head, and he lifted a cupped hand to his lips. Oh, dear. That wasn’t steam. He was smoking a cigarette. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She hated their stench, but they were growing more and more popular thanks to the movies. Peter looked her way, and she darted behind a nearby maple. Peeking around the trunk, she noted that the two men continued their conversation. Neatly trimmed dark hair peeked from under the brim of the driver’s hat. From the way the hair gleamed, he must use a treatment. One of those nice-smelling ones, she imagined. She hugged her gloved hands to her chest, torn between wishing he would turn around so she could see his face and terrified that he’d turn around and see her spying on him. She chewed on the fingertip of her glove. The man acted as if he knew Peter. The two laughed, and then the man clapped Peter on the back. They shook hands, and the man climbed into his car. He was leaving? Then he couldn’t have car trouble, at least not bad enough to leave the vehicle at the garage. As the man backed the car away from the building, the sun reflected off a thick gold band on his finger. Minnie squinted. A ring! Oh, no. Worse, it was his left hand. The car turned, and she saw his hand clearly. What a relief. The ring was on the pinkie, not the ring finger. Minnie slid around the tree as the man drove down the side street. She didn’t get a good look at his face, so she couldn’t tell if he was handsome or not, but he didn’t seem terribly old. The car turned left on State Road and headed out of town. He was leaving, and she would never know who he was or why he’d come to Pearlman. She pressed a cheek to the prickly bark. Why did every opportunity elude her? For ages she’d pined after Reggie Landers, although he not only wasn’t interested in her, but he’d also gone and gotten engaged to that nasty Sally Neidecker, who bossed Minnie around as if she was the mistress of the house. Mrs. Neidecker was much kinder and even gave Minnie a little extra money at Christmastime. Still, Minnie longed for the day when she wouldn’t have to clean houses. This man could have been her chance. She bit her lip. Maybe he still could be. If he knew Peter, he might come back. Moreover, Peter could tell her if he was married or not. A smile settled in place. Peter liked her. With a little encouragement, she could get him to tell her anything. She flounced across the street, passed by the fueling pump and stepped into the office of the motor garage. The nasty smell nearly sent her right back out. Grease. Exhaust. She fought the urge to press a handkerchief over her nose. No one was in the office area, if it could be called that. The tiny room had lots of shelves and hooks filled with automobile parts, like belts and hoses and stuff that Jen would love but Minnie didn’t recognize. A single desk with a small cash register and a messy pile of papers dominated the room. To the left, an open doorway led to the work area. A couple of cars filled the dirty space, but Minnie couldn’t see Peter. He must be underneath or inside a car. Should she wait or call out for him? As she nibbled on the glove and debated what to do, she happened to notice that the papers on the desk were work orders and bills. If the man needed work on his car, then one of these might have his name on it. She turned the top piece of paper around. No, that wasn’t it. Mr. Kensington’s name was at the top. “Can I help you?” Peter said. “Oh!” Minnie jumped away from the desk, paper still in hand. “I was just...” She didn’t have a good explanation, but maybe a smile would distract him from the fact she’d been snooping. She slipped the paper behind her skirt and gave him her biggest smile. “I thought maybe we could talk.” “About what?” Peter stood in the open doorway between the office and the work area, rubbing his hands on a filthy old rag. “That rag must be putting more dirt on your hands than taking it off.” “You came all the way here to tell me that?” “No.” She gave him another smile, swished in front of the desk and covertly replaced the invoice on the desktop. “I wondered what kind of car that was.” “What car?” “The one your friend just drove away in.” “A Pierce-Arrow.” “Ah.” Minnie noted that he didn’t contradict her assumption that the driver was a friend of his. “It looks expensive.” “It is.” “Your friend owns it?” Peter looked suspicious. “Why do you want to know?” “No particular reason. Just making conversation.” Out of the corner of her eye, Minnie saw the invoice slip off the stack. Before it slid to the floor, she nudged it toward the center of the desk. Though Peter hadn’t answered her question, he hadn’t contradicted her assumption, either. That was good enough for her. Now all she needed to know was his marital status. “Is your friend staying long?” “Just the night. Why?” “I just figured you would want to talk with him. You know, catch up on family and all.” Peter didn’t bite. “What are you getting at?” This time Minnie couldn’t explain away the heat in her cheeks, so she stared at her feet. “Just wondered who the stranger was. We don’t get many newcomers in Pearlman, especially someone with such a fancy car.” “Vince is an old friend from New York. He used to help out at the—” he hesitated, and his neck flushed red “—at the orphanage.” “Like volunteer work?” Maybe this Vince was like Pastor Gabe and his sister. They did a lot of work for the orphan society that had sent Peter and a handful of other orphans to Pearlman almost four years ago. “I suppose he volunteered, but I don’t really know. It didn’t matter to the kids if a person was paid or not.” “Oh.” Embarrassed, Minnie struggled to turn the conversation back in the right direction. “But he became your friend.” Peter smiled at that. “He taught me carpentry.” Relieved, Minnie seized the opening. “He’s a carpenter? He doesn’t look like one.” The only carpenter she knew dressed in work clothes and drove a Model T truck. “Is that his regular job?” “I don’t know. Why all the interest in Vince?” Minnie had come too close to revealing what she wanted. “Oh, just curious. It gets so dull here that anything new is welcome.” She tossed him another smile. “Besides, he did a good job teaching you carpentry. You make beautiful furniture.” He beamed. “I like working with wood. It’s kinda creative. More’n fixing cars.” He flushed again. “I mean, more than fixing cars.” In a way, Minnie appreciated that he tried to speak correctly around her, but it made him nervous, and a nervous Peter wouldn’t divulge what she needed to know. “I’m glad he taught you. Be sure to thank him for me and for my father. Daddy appreciates the bed table that you made for him. The casters make it easy to move into place, and it lets him work on the accounts. It helps him feel—” her throat swelled before saying the last word “—useful.” Peter shrugged. “I liked making it.” He shifted his weight, telling her this conversation had gone on too long. “Well, I suppose I should get home.” “Me, too.” Minnie wouldn’t exactly call Constance House a home, but Peter had moved in with his foster brother and sister-in-law a couple of years ago to help out at the orphanage. “See you later.” Peter headed back into the garage. If she didn’t get the answer she needed now, she’d never know. “I hope you get to spend time with your friend tonight.” Peter halted, his expression quizzical. “Before he has to go home to his family,” she added and then held her breath. He shrugged. “Oh, he’ll be back on Saturday.” Then he returned to work. Minnie didn’t follow. He hadn’t told her what she wanted to know, but she had time to find out. Between now and Saturday, she would transform herself into a woman who would dazzle Peter’s friend. * * * Peter had let an opportunity slip away to ask Minnie if she would help with the upholstery, but he didn’t realize it until he sat down to supper and Mariah asked about his day. Long ago, they’d learned to feed the children first and then have the older orphans read to the younger ones so the adults could eat in relative peace. That gave them the chance to catch up and take care of any pressing business. “Anything interesting happen today?” Mariah asked him. Hendrick looked up hopefully. “Any new business?” Peter swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes as his mind flitted over the surprising events of the past several hours. “An old friend stopped by after I dropped off your medicine. Do you remember Vince?” She shook her head. “Vincent Galbini. He helped out around the orphanage in New York.” “Oh, yes. I remember him now.” Mariah set down her fork. She still looked a little out of sorts. “He used to do odd jobs, carpentry and repair work, right?” Peter nodded. “He’s the one who taught me to work with wood.” “At least one blessing came out of his work there.” The strange feeling that something wasn’t right returned, but Peter shoved it away. He must have misread his sister-in-law. “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure grateful for that. Having something to do kept me out of trouble.” Mariah smiled briefly before her brow furrowed again. “The last I heard, he found work somewhere, but I can’t quite recall where he went. Brooklyn? New Jersey? Baltimore?” She shook her head. “I can’t remember, but that’s not the point. Whatever would bring him to Pearlman?” “He promised.” Peter gulped down a swig of milk. “The day Vince left the orphanage, he promised to find me once he got ahead.” “He did?” Mariah glanced at Hendrick before returning her attention to Peter. “That’s quite a commitment for someone with Mr. Galbini’s prospects.” Her words rubbed Peter the wrong way. “He told me he was going to get a good job, one that paid a lot.” “Money does not bring happiness.” But it sure doesn’t hurt. Peter bowed his head to hide his feelings. Mariah had never known hunger. She hadn’t scavenged through garbage or risked jail for a bit of bread. She hadn’t slept on the sewer grate hoping for a little warmth when the snow fell. The raw pain of those months on the street came back as if they had happened yesterday. “He’s doing good for himself. He’s got nice clothes, and the job pays good.” “Well,” Mariah corrected. “Well,” Peter repeated, though he wasn’t quite sure what part of his sentence he’d gotten wrong. Mariah picked at her potatoes before leveling her gaze at him again. “How did he find you?” “He said he talked to friends back in New York who knew I’d been sent here.” “Hmm. I suppose that’s possible. We never kept it a secret that you and the other children found good homes in Pearlman.” An impish smile curved her lips. “So you’re telling me that he came all this way to fulfill a promise, and you didn’t invite him to supper?” “Uh, he had to leave.” Peter didn’t want to admit he’d been ashamed to invite Vince to the orphanage. He shouldn’t feel that way. After all, he wasn’t an orphan anymore. Not exactly. “He headed back to Brooklyn?” Mariah looked confused. “Already?” “No. He lives in Chicago now.” Peter pushed the canned peas across his plate. This was beginning to feel like an interrogation. “That’s still a long drive,” Hendrick said. “You should have asked him to stay with us.” “I—I think he’s staying at Terchie’s.” At least Peter assumed he was at the boardinghouse. Hendrick scowled. “Isn’t our place good enough?” Peter swallowed hard and stared at his plate of food. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he couldn’t face his foster brother’s reproach. To his surprise, Mariah rescued him. “It was quite thoughtful of Mr. Galbini to take other lodging. Peter must have told him we were full.” Peter felt even worse. Why had he been so ashamed to tell Vince he was living at the orphanage? What would it matter to a guy who used to help out at one? Mariah continued, “I may have to change my opinion of Mr. Galbini. It shows considerable integrity to keep a fleeting promise to a boy.” Peter squirmed. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason he stopped by. He wanted to know if I could do some work for him.” That caught Hendrick’s attention. “What kind of work?” Peter’s foster brother was still in charge of the garage, though he’d handed over day-to-day management to Peter after his airplane-motor factory went into production. Peter mashed the peas to pulp. “Nothing much. Just wants a luggage compartment for his car.” “Oh.” Hendrick resumed eating. “You could make a rack like the one we built for Mariah’s Overland.” Peter didn’t point out that Vince wanted something entirely different. “What make of car?” Hendrick asked. “Pierce-Arrow.” Both Hendrick’s and Mariah’s eyebrows shot up. Mariah picked up her fork. “Mr. Galbini must be doing very well in his new job to afford a Pierce-Arrow.” “Real well,” Peter confirmed, “but the car isn’t his. It belongs to his boss.” “Ah. That explains things.” Still, Mariah looked concerned. “Just make sure everything is completely legitimate. I’m afraid that Mr. Galbini kept company with some pretty rough sorts.” “He did?” That came as a shock to Peter. Vince was nothing like Uncle Max. Vince kept his promises. He could turn a warped old board into a toy or a beautiful piece of furniture. Peter owed Vince a huge debt. “He was always good to me.” “I’m sure he was.” She smiled weakly. “And he’s got money to pay. He gave me a deposit.” Hendrick looked up from his supper. “That’s good thinking on your part.” Peter didn’t want to explain that he hadn’t asked for a deposit, but he appreciated Hendrick’s confidence in him. “And there’s plenty more to pay for the whole job. He showed me a money clip with a huge wad of bills. He’s making his mark in the world.” Mariah cleared her throat. “A man’s true worth isn’t based on how much he earns.” “Tell that to Minnie Fox.” “Oh?” Mariah lifted an eyebrow. “Minnie, of all people, should understand that money does not make the man.” Peter wasn’t so sure. He’d heard her comments in the drugstore and watched her chase after worthless guys just because they were swells. “Speaking of Minnie,” Mariah said softly, “why don’t you invite her to the church supper tomorrow night?” Peter smashed the last pea. “Maybe I will.” If he got up the nerve. But if Minnie turned him down—which she probably would—he’d feel worse than he already did. “Maybe I won’t,” he added, just in case. “If Mr. Galbini decides to stay longer, please invite him to stay here with us.” “That’s not necessary, ma’am.” Peter couldn’t quite imagine Vince in a house full of orphans. But it was big of Mariah to offer the invitation. “Thank you, though.” “You’re welcome,” she said with a soft smile. Still, the raw undercurrent of concern hung in the air. For some reason, she didn’t trust Vince, but Peter did. He had to. Vince offered hope. If Peter did this job right, maybe Vince’s boss would hire him to do more work. More work meant more income. He could help out Hendrick and Mariah. If there was enough work, maybe he could teach a couple of the older orphans to help out. And if the work included upholstery... The thought of working with Minnie made any risk worthwhile. Today, she’d come to see him. In all the years he’d known Minnie, she’d never set foot in the garage. Nor had she come to Constance House. She barely acknowledged him at church. In school, she’d made faces at him, probably because he’d played tricks on her. She constantly pointed out that she was four months older than him—or at least she thought she was. He’d never told anyone that he’d lied about his age. But today she’d come to the garage to see him. And she’d complimented his woodworking. Maybe he stood a chance. Maybe she’d even agree to go to the church supper with him. Winning over Minnie Fox would take effort. Asking her to help with the upholstery might be a good start. He’d find her first thing in the morning, before the dress shop opened. He fingered the hundred-dollar bill in his pocket. Maybe that would catch her attention. * * * “Cut it just like this.” Minnie pointed to the picture on the cover of Photoplay and settled onto the chair in front of the cracked wall mirror. The silver beneath the glass had been scratched and tarnished years ago, so her reflection looked wavy. Jen gathered a handful of Minnie’s long hair and snapped open the shears. “Are you sure?” The sound of the shears made Minnie hesitate. Her hair had always been long. This was a big step. She gripped the magazine and squeezed. After Ruth and Sam’s devastating news that the clothing company hadn’t bought her designs, this family could use a change. If short hair brought fame to moving-picture actresses, it could change her life, too. Maybe one day, she would step on the stage to grand applause. Wouldn’t that make everyone take note? She took a deep breath. “I’m ready, but make it quick.” Instead of snipping, Jen hesitated. “Mother will have a conniption. You know how she says that you have her hair.” “Which she always wears up so no one can see it.” “And that she thinks bobbed hair is boyish and a symbol of the ‘degradation of our country’s youth.’” Jen perfectly mimicked their mother’s tone of voice. In spite of her nerves, Minnie laughed. “I’d hate to become a symbol.” “Of the entire country,” Jen snorted. “As if anyone in Pearlman has anything to do with the rest of the world. We’re so far removed from places like New York and Hollywood that it takes years for trends to reach us.” That brought a troubling thought. “Would a newcomer think I look silly?” “A newcomer? Such as that man driving the Pierce-Arrow?” “You know what kind of car it is?” Minnie marveled at her sister’s knowledge of all things mechanical. “Of course, but that’s not the point. Was he handsome?” Minnie hedged, “I didn’t get a good look at him, but he sure had a nice suit. Did you see those gold cuff links?” “Who could miss them?” “Are you thinking what I am? Could he be another Mr. Cornelius?” A year ago, nurses at the Battle Creek Sanitarium had told them the story of a wealthy patient, Mr. Cornelius, who fell in love with a nurse and whisked her away to a life of ease. Ever since, the sisters had clung to the hope that just such a philanthropist would give their father the lifesaving treatment he needed. “If not Mr. Cornelius,” Jen said, “then surely Mr. Rothenburg.” After the sisters had hatched the idea to help each other marry wealthy men, their older sister, Ruth, had literally stumbled into department-store heir Sam Rothenburg and ended up marrying him. “But Sam didn’t turn out to be any help,” Minnie pointed out. “Instead of owning a business empire, they run the dress shop and live across the hallway.” “They’re in love. Ruthie says that’s most important of all.” “I suppose so.” Minnie folded up her hair so it was jaw length. “I just hope Vince likes short hair.” “Vince?” “That’s the man’s name.” “Then you met him.” “No,” Minnie had to admit. “Peter told me his name. They’re friends.” “I didn’t know that Peter had any friends from out of town. I mean, this Vince doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would work at an orphanage.” “I think he did. Peter said something about Vince teaching him carpentry.” “Huh. Doesn’t look like a carpenter, either, not with a suit like that.” “I know.” Minnie sighed. “He’s a mystery. Isn’t that exciting?” “Maybe for you.” Jen snapped the shears again. “So, do you want to make sure he likes short hair before we do this?” “Stop stalling.” Minnie squared her shoulders and gripped the seat of the battered oak chair. “I’m ready. Do it now.” Jen grabbed a clump of Minnie’s hair and hacked through it. Fourteen inches of dark blond hair dropped to the floor. Minnie gasped at the jagged gap and instinctively clapped her hands to her head. “Are you all right?” Jen asked. Minnie nodded while trying to stifle the tears. “It’s just that I’ve never had it cut before. Not really. Not like this. It looks so—” she searched for a word that wouldn’t offend Jen “—peculiar.” “No turning back now, sis.” Jen snapped the shears in front of Minnie’s face. “Unless you want to walk around with a hunk of hair missing. I’ll tell you right now that no guy is going to fall for you looking like this.” “Oh, no-o-o,” Minnie wailed. “You want me to stop?” “No.” Minnie moved her hands from her hair to her eyes. She couldn’t watch. “Cut it all. Now.” Jen snipped and snipped until Minnie feared she wouldn’t have any hair left at all. What had she been thinking? Jen had cut her own hair so short that Mother had dropped into a chair speechless when she saw it. Now Minnie would look just as bad, and Vince would never notice her. Not in a good way. She’d have to wear a hat until autumn. “All right.” Jen whisked the towel off Minnie’s shoulders. “I’m done.” “Do I have anything left?” “Just enough.” That didn’t make Minnie feel any better. She peeked through her fingers. “Oh, Jen.” She dropped her hands and jumped to her feet to get a better look. “It’s gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.” Her head—indeed her whole body—felt lighter, as if she could float off the floor. She cupped the soft ends of her hair where it caressed her jaw. The waves in her hair had turned to loose curls, creating a soft bob. She looked just like the picture on the cover of Photoplay. Jen tossed the shears onto the dresser. “Glad you like it. Hope your guy likes it, too.” Minnie grinned. “He’s not my guy yet. But after he sees me, he might be.” “Oh? He’s still in town?” “He’ll be back on Saturday.” “Then you have four days to get used to your new hairstyle,” Jen said as she left the bedroom. “I’m getting a cup of tea. Want one?” Minnie shook her head. Four days. She had to wait four whole days. It might as well be an eternity. Between now and then, Minnie would have to clean houses and work her hands raw getting Mrs. Neidecker’s house ready for the Valentine’s Day Ball. Everyone would stare at her at tomorrow night’s church supper or even on the street. Kate would probably make a snide remark. The waiting would be dreadful, but she could bear it if Vince liked her. Saturday! Between now and then, he might decide not to return at all. She couldn’t wait. Peter said Vince was staying the night. There was only one place to stay in Pearlman—Terchie’s boardinghouse. She could meet him there. But to do that, she would need an excuse. An unmarried girl simply did not go to a boardinghouse alone to talk to a man. She tapped a finger against her lips and pondered the possibilities. Her gaze wandered over her dresser. Inside the top drawer she’d hidden the face powder and lipstick she’d bought earlier. On top sat the old bottles she’d collected as a child and the talcum powder Mother gave her for Christmas last year. On the wall she’d tacked a calendar that kept track of where she worked each day of the month. Of course! She cleaned houses. She could go to the boardinghouse at breakfast time and ask Mrs. Terchie if she needed help. If Peter’s friend was still there, he’d see her. She’d make sure of it. Chapter Three (#ulink_af103a3f-c545-5798-89c9-923133f3edab) The next morning, Peter left Constance House before the sun rose. Mariah’s reaction to Vince’s appearance still puzzled him. Sleeping on it hadn’t helped, but the icy predawn air cleared his mind. Vince had changed since Mariah knew him. He’d done well and wanted to spread the wealth. Why not accept his generosity? The income would help everyone. He might even be able to take the older boys off Mariah’s hands after school and teach them carpentry. Best of all, Minnie’s eyes would light up when he offered her the job. The sun rose late this time of year. At seven o’clock, it barely grayed the horizon. Peter jammed his hands into his coat pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bone-deep cold. Each breath rose in a white cloud, illuminated by the lights brightening the windows of the houses and businesses he passed. Smelled like snow. Peter had always been able to sense bad weather. A storm was coming, sure enough. After talking to Minnie, he oughta warn Vince. That car of his might cost a fortune, but it could get just as stuck as a rusty old Model T. By the time Peter passed the drugstore, he couldn’t feel his toes. He needed a new pair of work boots, but they would cost his entire savings. Some things were more important than cold feet. Minnie’s pa, for example. He’d make do with this old pair as long as he could. A couple strips of rubber from an old tire would bolster the thin soles. “Good morning, Peter,” Pastor Gabe called out as he opened up the church. “Morning.” Pastor Gabe was Mariah’s brother. That made him some sort of a relation by marriage. Peter liked Pastor Gabe. He wasn’t like most preachers. A regular fellow could understand him, and he didn’t traipse around in fancy robes or put on airs. Most times, he dressed no better than Peter, even though his folks had plenty of money. Gabe said God had blessed his family so they could help others. That was why he and Mariah had given so much time and money to the orphanage in New York. That was why she’d opened the one here in Pearlman. Peter remembered them stopping by the New York orphanage almost every day. That was how she’d met Vince. Maybe Pastor Gabe would remember him, too. “Hey!” Peter hustled across the street. “Do you have a minute?” Even though he was anxious to catch Minnie, he figured he had a minute or two to spare. “Sure, come on in.” Gabe held open the door. “No, thanks. I got a simple question. You remember Vince Galbini?” “Sure. He helped out at the orphanage. Good with his hands, if I recall.” Peter was relieved that Pastor Gabe didn’t look as concerned as his sister. Gabe let the door swing shut and tucked his hands in his jacket. “Why do you ask?” “He showed up yesterday.” “Here? Why would he come to Pearlman?” “Back when he stopped working at the orphanage, he promised he’d look me up again.” “I remember that. You were disappointed when weeks passed and he didn’t show up. I’m glad he finally kept his promise.” Peter wondered if he should tell Pastor Gabe about the job that Vince had offered him. That was what seemed to bother Mariah, but then she was a woman, and women had a way of worrying about things that could drive a man crazy. “Anything else?” Pastor Gabe stomped his feet. He must be getting cold toes, too. “Nope.” Peter retreated down the church steps. Minnie would be leaving for the dress shop before too long. “I gotta get going. Have a good day.” “You, too.” Peter hustled back across the street, feeling better about his decision to take the job. He fingered the hundred in his pocket. This would impress Minnie. He grinned when he imagined her look of surprise. She’d probably never seen a hundred-dollar bill before. He hadn’t, and he sure never dreamed he’d hold one. After passing the mercantile, he rounded the corner onto the side street. On his right loomed the massive Hutton’s Department Store. The Foxes lived across the alley from it. Second one in. Lights glowed warmly in the kitchen window. The curtains were still drawn, so he couldn’t see who was up, but he figured the whole family would be eating breakfast about now. He couldn’t show up at the kitchen door. No, a man had to call on a woman at the front door. That meant crossing the street, going around the corner and navigating the short walkway in the dark. This wasn’t the rich part of town. Most folks didn’t have electricity, and a little town like Pearlman sure didn’t have streetlamps like the big city. He hurried, his breath puffing like a steam locomotive. When he reached the walk, he noticed the front windows were dark. What if Minnie’s pa was resting in the parlor? He paused, unsure whether to continue, wait a while or go to the kitchen door. What he wouldn’t give to take Minnie to the church supper tonight. She’d sure look fine on his arm. Maybe he could even convince her to wear her hair loose, instead of all pulled up like she wore it when she was cleaning houses. Peter liked long hair on a woman, and no one had prettier hair than Minnie. The color reminded him of toffee, all warm and sweet and inviting. In the summer, streaks of gold ran through it like shining ribbons. It floated in gentle waves, a little curlier near her temples. Perfect. He looked up at the moonless sky and dreamed of taking her to the supper. Ma would smile. She liked Minnie and made little comments suggesting they were meant for each other. Peter liked to see his foster mother smile. She was the kindest woman he’d ever met. While he daydreamed at the gate, the front door of the house opened and a slender female slipped out. Dawn’s gray light only silhouetted her, but he’d recognize that figure anywhere. His pulse accelerated as he stepped forward to greet Minnie. She bounced down the steps, and he halted in confusion. This woman had bobbed hair. It couldn’t be Minnie. Only Jen had short hair, and it wasn’t bobbed. Ruth always wore her hair back in a bun, as did their mother. No other women lived there. Then who on earth was leaving their house so early in the morning? * * * Minnie almost died of fright when a towering man approached her out of the dark. Though thin, he was big enough to overcome her. Her shriek trumpeted through the still-morning air, but was it loud enough for her mother and sister to hear it all the way back in the kitchen? “Keep away,” she warned, raising her fists. “It’s me. Peter.” “Peter?” She dropped her hands, but her pulse still raced, fear turning to anger. “You frightened me out of my wits. Why are you skulking around in the dark?” “Sorry.” He toed the ground, suddenly getting all bashful. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to talk.” “Talk? At this hour? In the dark?” Oh, that guy could get on her nerves. Of all the rotten timing. Why did he have to show up now, when she was on her way to see Vince? She sure didn’t want Peter following her to the boardinghouse. Neither could she wait. Vince might leave at first light. Maybe sooner. She tapped her toe. “Well, say what you came to say. I can’t wait all day.” “What do you got going on that’s so important?” She crossed her arms. “It’s none of your business.” “Maybe it is. A lady doesn’t go sneaking out of her house in the dark.” “It’s not exactly dark, in case you happened to notice.” She tossed her head, delighting in the carefree swing of her new bob, and pushed past him. “Besides, it’s my house. I’m hardly sneaking out of it. I have things to do.” He quickly caught up and matched her stride. “Are you going to work?” Minnie didn’t want to lie, but she couldn’t have him following along after her, either. “Where I go and what I do is none of your business.” “Then you’re not going to work.” He kept pace with her. “If you’re fetching something from the drugstore, I can help carry it.” Fiddlesticks. Was he going to follow her the whole way? She couldn’t very well impress Vince with Peter hanging on behind her. Minnie gritted her teeth and quickened her pace. “I’m not going to the drugstore.” That had to be obvious, since they’d already passed Terchie’s boardinghouse. She’d have to double back once she shook Peter. If she could shake him. This street didn’t have many businesses, just Terchie’s and the cinema. The movie house wouldn’t open for hours and hours. She could pretend to head for the parsonage, which she cleaned on Saturdays, except it was Wednesday. Moreover, Peter would know she wasn’t supposed to go there, since he was some sort of relation to Pastor Gabe. “So, where are you going?” Peter asked. “The flight school’s not open.” “I know that.” She halted and planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you have somewhere to go, Peter Simmons? Like the garage?” He shrugged, hands in pockets. “Got some time yet.” He shot her a glance. “Don’t you have to open the shop?” “Ruth and Sam do that.” She pulled her coat closed at the neck and fastened the top button. Now that she was standing still, the frigid cold seeped into her bones. She had worn her Sunday gloves, and her fingers were starting to ache. Back a block, the side windows of the boardinghouse reflected the crimson clouds on the horizon. That light also revealed the sleek Pierce-Arrow dusted with frost. Vince was still here. If Peter would just leave her alone, she could catch him before he left. But Peter was staring at her as if she had a dab of egg yolk stuck on her face. She glared back. “What’s wrong?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Your hair. Don’t like short hair. But it’s all right.” “Oh. Is that all?” She didn’t know why he talked all choppy around her, but it was getting annoying. “Is that why you were standing at our gate?” Impossible. Jen had cut her hair last night. Only the family had seen it. Mother had gasped and fanned herself, but at least she didn’t faint. Ruth had shaken her head. Tears had risen in Daddy’s eyes, but he’d still told her she looked beautiful. “Uh, no,” Peter muttered. “Then why?” He showed no inclination to answer, which only perturbed her more. “I don’t have all day,” she snapped. “I need to get going.” Unfortunately she couldn’t walk to the boardinghouse with Peter glued to her side. Maybe if she headed toward the dress shop, he’d go to the garage. Both businesses were located back in the direction from which they’d come. Since he made no move to do anything, she trudged back through the ankle-deep snow, regretting that she’d decided to wear her good shoes rather than boots. Naturally, he followed. “Me, too. I got to catch up with Vince before he leaves Terchie’s.” Minnie growled with frustration. Now she’d never get to see Vince alone. She plodded forward, Vince’s car in her sights. Smoke curled from the boardinghouse’s chimney. Breakfast would be under way by now, with everyone gathered around the table. She supposed her chances of catching Vince alone were slim anyway. Maybe she ought to go there with Peter. It would ensure she actually saw Vince and not just Terchie. “What a coincidence.” She forced a laugh. “I was on my way to ask Terchie if she was hiring.” Peter’s brow pinched in dismay. “You’re looking for another job? Things not going well at the shop?” Minnie wasn’t about to tell him the troubles they faced. He couldn’t help. He didn’t have any more money than they did. Maybe less. “Just looking for a little extra spending money. Why don’t we go there together? You know, take care of two things with one visit.” He frowned. “I suppose.” But he didn’t sound too happy about it. * * * What was Minnie up to? Whatever it was, she wasn’t giving Peter a chance to ask the questions he needed to ask her. Why did it have to be so tough to talk to a gal? He wouldn’t have a bit of trouble asking her older sister to sew up some seat upholstery, but around Minnie his tongue got all tied, probably because he’d been daydreaming about taking her to the church supper. He wanted to. So bad his gut knotted up tighter than an engine without oil. Was any gal worth this much agony? He took a quick peek at her walking beside him up the boardinghouse walkway. My, she looked fine, even with short hair. He’d been pretty near shocked to death when he caught sight of what she’d done, but in the daylight, it didn’t look so bad. The face powder and red lips, on the other hand, made her look cheap. “Why’d you go putting that stuff on your face?” Her jaw tensed, but he saw her blush under the powder. She jutted out her chin. “A girl has to look professional.” “I suppose.” But the only profession he’d seen wearing that kind of stuff wasn’t one that nice girls went into. “I thought you were just looking for a cleaning job.” “It’s not like working in a private home. In the boardinghouse, people will see me.” That was when it dawned on him. She’d worn the powder to attract someone’s attention. She hadn’t stopped by the garage yesterday to see him. She wanted to know about Vince. Now he’d gone and committed to bringing the two of them face-to-face. Peter clenched his fists. If Vince looked at her wrong even once, he’d punch the man out, friend or not. That’d put an end to the job offer, but no money was worth a woman’s honor. He should turn around and let Vince head off into bad weather. With the sun peeking over the horizon, he’d have a tough time convincing the man that a storm was on its way anyhow. Minnie would think he was plumb crazy if he started talkin’ about snowstorms. He couldn’t let her go to the boardinghouse alone, though. It wasn’t proper. So he trudged along, trying to think of something else to ask Vince. They reached the porch. He’d better come up with another plan and quick. Minnie climbed the steps ahead of him and stopped at the front door. “Are you coming? I thought you wanted to talk to your friend.” He dragged himself up the steps like an old man. Minnie rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and tapped her toe. “I’m waiting.” When he finally got to the door, she stood aside. No door had ever looked so imposing. Peter licked his lips. “Well, aren’t you going to knock?” Minnie said. He glanced at her. That was a mistake. His stomach lurched, and the last glimmer of thought exited his brain. “Guess I’ll have to do it,” she huffed, reaching around him to rap the brass knocker three times. The sound of the knocker against the wooden door gave Peter an idea. He could ask Vince if he wanted the lower compartment to hinge or lock. Better yet, he could then ask Minnie about doing the upholstery. The door opened, and Terchie greeted them, her plump cheeks rosy and her portly figure topped with a flour-dusted apron. “I’m looking for Vince,” Peter said. At the woman’s blank stare, he added, “Mr. Galbini.” “Oh, the Italian fellow. Most folks are eating breakfast,” the cheerful proprietress responded. “Come on in. I’ll see if he’s in the dining room.” Only after Peter stepped into the warmth of the parlor did he realize how cold he’d gotten. While he waited, he held his hands over the steam radiator and noticed Minnie looking longingly at it. He stepped to the side. “There’s room for two.” She hurried over and tugged off her thin going-to-church gloves. No wonder her hands were cold. Those dainty things couldn’t warm a mouse. Moreover, she’d worn shoes instead of boots. Her feet must be frozen. When she thrust her hands over the radiator, her arm brushed his. Even through his thick coat, he shivered at her touch. “Thank you,” she murmured, eyes fixed firmly on her hands. Had she felt it, too? Peter took a breath. Now was the perfect time to ask her to the church supper. “I was wondering—” he began. “Peter!” Vince interrupted. “What you doin’ here, old sport?” He clapped Peter’s back so hard that he coughed. “See you brought a gal with ya. Howdy, miss.” Minnie blushed and ducked her head. Peter felt sick. His suspicions were correct. She was sweet on Vince. “You gonna make introductions, sport?” Vince gripped his shoulder so hard that Peter winced. Peter supposed he didn’t have a choice. “Miss Fox, this is an old, old friend of mine, Mr. Vincent Galbini. Mr. Galbini, this is Miss Fox.” “Buongiorno.” Vince threw his arms wide and kissed Minnie on each cheek. “You have a first name, darlin’?” “Minnie.” Her blush deepened to red, and she patted her hair. Little beads of melted snow gleamed like diamonds in the electrical lighting. “You can call me Vince.” Peter flexed his hands. He wanted to pound sense into Vincent Galbini. Minnie wasn’t some floozy who frequented speakeasies and smoked cigarettes. She was a good Christian gal worth more than a hundred of that type of woman. “You Peter’s gal?” Vince asked. “No!” The rapidity of her reply plunged an icy knife into Peter’s gut, but then she darted a shy glance at him and twisted a lock of wavy hair around her index finger, and his pain eased. “We’re friends. Good friends.” Good friends might have satisfied Peter a year ago, but now he wanted more. He wanted her to respect him, to want to be with him, maybe even to love him. He sure didn’t want her to get tangled up with Vince. Visions of her leaving town in the Pierce-Arrow sucked the air from his lungs. He had to do something to keep her here, close enough to him that she’d forget all about Galbini. “Minnie’s a seamstress,” he blurted out. Galbini’s brow lifted. “That so?” He clearly didn’t understand what Peter was getting at. “She can do the upholstery.” There, he’d said it. Vince grinned. “Good. I’m glad to have your gal on board.” His gal. Peter liked the sound of that. He dared to glance at Minnie. Her brow was drawn in pure fury. Peter stared, speechless. She was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to like him even more. He was giving her work. Why would that make her angry? “I can do what?” she demanded, even though she’d heard every word. “S-s-sew upholstery,” Peter stammered, the confidence ebbing out quicker than oil into a drip pan. “For pay.” “You? Pay me? With what?” Her lips thinned as she crossed her arms. Now he’d gone and done it. In that state, she’d never agree to go to the church supper with him. “Uh...” he croaked. Vince roared with laughter. “Don’t worry, darlin’. The boss is paying.” “The boss?” Minnie looked from Vince to Peter. “Whose boss?” Vince answered, “Mine, darlin’.” Something like excitement lit her eyes. “Do you work for a motion-picture company?” “Naw, but I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Capone to give that a shot, too.” Capone. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place it. What he did know was that the bad feeling that’d been hounding him since Vince’s arrival got a whole lot worse. Chapter Four (#ulink_41c389b6-b48b-5b37-99af-a30136ca84b2) Peter Simmons had some nerve. Minnie would give him a piece of her mind the moment they were out of Vincent Galbini’s earshot. How dare he volunteer her to sew upholstery for some furniture he was making for Vince? What was he thinking? She had no idea how to upholster anything, least of all something for the man she was trying to impress. Her family ran a dress shop. They worked with voile and crepe de chine and georgette, not the thick fabrics used by upholsterers. She wasn’t even sure their sewing machine could handle the heavier fabric, but she couldn’t say that in front of Vince. She had to bite her tongue until she and Peter left the boardinghouse. He closed the door behind her and followed her down the steps. The moment they reached the walkway, she punched him in the arm. “Ow!” He rubbed his biceps. “What’s that for?” “For saying I would do something I don’t know how to do.” He stared at her blankly. She glared back. “Sewing.” “You don’t know how to sew?” “I don’t know how to upholster furniture.” “Furniture? Who said anything about furniture?” “You did.” Minnie hugged her arms around her midsection to ward against the bitter cold. “Don’t tell me you forgot already that you volunteered me to do some upholstery for your friend.” “No, uh—” his neck flushed red “—maybe I should have asked you first.” “Maybe?” She flung her hands into the air and headed back home. “I give up.” He ran to catch up. “Then you won’t do it?” She didn’t stop. “Didn’t you hear me? I can’t upholster furniture.” “But it’s not furniture. It’s a car seat.” She halted. “A car? How is that any better?” “You’d just have to fix what’s already there. How hard can it be?” “Much harder. Automobile seats are covered in mohair. It’s thick. I don’t know how to work with it. I don’t think our machines would handle it.” “Uh, actually, they’re leather.” “Even worse. Impossible.” “Oh.” He cast his gaze down. “I thought maybe you could use the extra money for your pa.” She bit her lip. Her father ought to return to the Battle Creek Sanitarium for treatment, but they couldn’t afford it. The family had banked on a ready-made clothing manufacturer buying Ruth’s designs. Yesterday’s failure set them back. “What car?” Peter looked up hopefully. “The Pierce-Arrow.” “But Vin—” She caught herself. She oughtn’t use his Christian name in public. “Mr. Galbini’s car looks new. What would need fixing?” “Actually, the Pierce-Arrow belongs to Vince’s boss.” “Oh.” Then Vince wasn’t as well-off as he appeared. “And I’d only need your help if I rip a seam or have to take the upholstery apart in order to make the luggage compartment he wants.” “Oh.” This was getting less and less impressive, but if she just had to restitch something, it shouldn’t be that difficult. She’d just have to use the existing holes and do it by hand. “That doesn’t sound like much of a job. What does it pay?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d depend on what needs to be done. Ten dollars?” “Ten whole dollars for stitching up some leather?” “It would have to look good,” he added. That was the problem. “I’m only an apprentice seamstress. You should hire Ruth.” She tossed her head, feeling the swing of her short hair, and started back toward home. Again he hurried after her. “I could ask your sister, but she’s so busy with her designs and all that I figured you might have more time.” “Is that the only reason you asked me?” She tried hard to shove away the disappointment. “No, uh...uh, that’s not it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed above his coat collar. “I think you’d do the best job.” That was about the sweetest thing he’d ever said to her. “I wouldn’t, you know. Ruthie is gifted and experienced. I muddle through.” His hazel eyes blazed with surprising intensity. “Don’t cut yourself short, Minnie. You can do anything you set your mind to.” Her stomach did a crazy little flip-flop. “I suppose I could try.” Then she remembered Ruth’s tears last night. “But my sister would do a better job, and she’s not too busy.” She hesitated, unsure if Ruth would want her defeat known to anyone outside the family, and then decided that Peter was practically family in a convoluted way. His foster brother had married Pastor Gabe’s sister. Minnie’s oldest sister had married the brother of Pastor Gabe’s wife. She took a deep breath. “Ruth got bad news from New York last night. The company isn’t going to buy her designs.” If anything, Peter looked more crestfallen. “Sorry.” Her fingers were getting numb again. “I’ll ask Ruthie if she wants to do it.” “I suppose.” But his shoulders drooped. She wasn’t waiting around to ask why. “’Bye, then.” After he echoed the farewell, she headed for home while he trudged toward the garage. For some reason, having her work on the car mattered to him. If not for Ruth’s tears, Minnie might have snatched at the opportunity, but to keep Vince coming back, the work had to be done right, and Minnie was an amateur next to her sister. Besides, she could always come along whenever Vince was in town. Ruth might need her help. Minnie could carry something for her or hold the leather in place or something. The kitchen was steamy hot when Minnie stepped inside. She wiped off the face powder and lipstick with a handkerchief and then tugged off her good gloves and shoved them into her coat pocket before her mother saw them. Mother sat at the table mixing flour into milk and yeast to make bread dough. “You were out early this morning.” “I had something to do.” Minnie held her numb fingers near the coal stove’s firebox. “Do you want help?” “I thought you were working in the shop this morning.” Minnie glanced at the clock. “It’s not nine o’clock yet.” “You know your sister wants you there before the shop opens.” Minnie sighed. Go here. Do this. Take care of that. The duties never seemed to end. Already the excitement of Vince’s arrival had worn off. Though he’d greeted her in the romantic European fashion and called her darling, she didn’t feel the flutter of excitement that she’d expected. It was more like...well, like greeting an uncle or older brother. How disappointing. Worse, the flutter had shown up when she least expected it. Why should Peter’s statement that she could do anything send her stomach flip-flopping? Why then? Why Peter? He was just a friend, wasn’t he? “Go now.” Mother motioned toward the door with flour-covered hands. Minnie dragged her feet across the room. “And put on boots,” Mother chided. “Your good shoes are for Sunday only.” She sighed. “Ask Ruth to trim up that dreadful mop of hair when you get there. It should at least look neat.” Minnie picked up her boots, stiff and dry from sitting near the stove overnight, and sat in the nearest chair. This day was going from bad to worse in a hurry. She hadn’t finished lacing the boots when Ruth pushed open the door, letting in a blast of icy-cold air. Ruth’s face glowed pink from the cold, and she stomped the snow off her boots. “I’m coming,” Minnie said, tying off one lace, “as soon as I get my boots on.” Ruth didn’t seem to hear her. “We’ve come to a decision, Mother.” Her eyes shone bright. Mother stopped working the dough. “A decision about what?” “I promised Sam I’d tell you and Daddy at the same time, but I’ll burst if I can’t tell someone right away.” Mother rose on shaky legs, her face drawn in concern. “The baby?” Ruth touched her abdomen. “Fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong, Mother. In fact, everything’s right. We’re going to New York!” She let out a squeak, which was about as excited as Ruth ever got. Mother sank back into her chair. “New York City?” “Yes. Sam thinks we have a better chance of selling my designs in person. He wants to show them to the clothing-line representatives. You know how persuasive he can be.” She paced around the kitchen, more animated than Minnie had ever seen her. “Mariah’s parents offered to let us stay with them. The train fare isn’t too terribly much, and you and Minnie can run the shop while we’re gone.” “Me?” It was Minnie’s turn to squeak. “You know how to do everything,” Ruth said, “and Mother will help. Daddy is handling the orders and bookkeeping. It’ll be a breeze.” She turned back to Mother. “Isn’t it exciting?” Mother frowned. “I understand Sam going. His business sense and contacts are essential, but are you sure you should travel, what with the baby and all?” “Mother, I’m only three months along.” Ruth sat down, still coiled with eager excitement. “Where Sam goes, so will I.” Mother pulled a hand away and tugged a handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Like Naomi and Ruth, going to a strange land.” “Don’t worry,” Ruth said. “We’ll be back long before the baby is born. Why, we’ll probably return before the end of winter.” Mother managed a feeble smile. “I’ll miss you, dear.” “Me, too.” Ruth hugged their mother. “There is one thing I need to ask.” Mother pulled away. “What is that?” Ruth ducked her head. “The fare. We don’t quite have enough saved. I wondered if you might loan us the rest.” “You’ll have to ask your father.” Ruth hurried off to do just that, but Minnie knew what the answer would be. Daddy would never deny his most talented daughter a chance at her dream. That left Minnie at home and in charge of the shop. The responsibility was enormous. Mother must have realized that, too, because she gave her a very stern look. “Are you ready to take charge, Miss Wilhelmina?” Minnie cringed at her full name. Mother only used it when angry or extremely serious. “I guess so.” “Humph,” Mother grunted, returning to the bread dough. “We’ll see what your father says. This will be an added burden on him.” She looked up. “And you’ll have to quit your cleaning jobs in order to manage the shop.” Minnie hadn’t thought of that. Though she’d longed to stop cleaning houses, quitting those jobs meant less money coming in. They would have to get even more frugal. No more cherry sodas or magazines. No frivolous purchases at all, unless she took the job that Peter had offered. Ruth couldn’t do it. Ten dollars would buy a lot of food. She would have to accept the offer—and pray that Vince found her so enchanting that he overlooked the poor workmanship. * * * Peter stepped away from Mr. Kensington’s Packard and scratched his head. His plan had gone wrong somehow. Now he was stuck working with Ruth instead of Minnie. Worse, Minnie had tittered and giggled at everything Vince said. It was disgusting. What could she see in Vince? He must be ten years older than her. Then again, she’d been fascinated by Reggie Landers, and he was years older than her, too. After that crush ended, he thought she would come to her senses. Apparently not. It seemed that anyone with a fancy suit caught her eye, but not a hardworking man. He tossed the wrench into his toolbox and wiped his forehead with a rag. Kensington wanted his car by the end of the day, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. The morning’s efforts had amounted to removing two valves and picking up the wrong-size wrenches time after time. At this rate, he’d never finish the job on time. Concentrate. By fixing his attention on the tools, he managed to pick out the proper wrench this time. It slipped from his damp, greasy fingers and clattered to the floor. He wiped his hands on the rag and picked up the wrench. Just thinking about Minnie made him sweat. She’d twisted things around so much this morning that he’d plumb forgot he wanted to ask her to the church supper tonight. Now he’d have to sit alone with the rest of the family. Hendrick had Mariah. Anna had Brandon. Even Ma Simmons had memories of her beloved late husband. He could only dream of having a gal to love, but he wanted just one. Minnie. He’d fallen for her the moment he set eyes on her, but she’d never given him the time of day. One chance. That was all he wanted. Just one chance. “Peter?” The most precious voice in the whole world yanked him out of misery and into a firestorm of hope. “Minnie. What are you doing here?” She stood in the doorway between the office and the shop, looking so pretty he couldn’t rip his gaze from her. From the red plaid skirt to the matching hat, she could warm up the coldest heart. The snow dusting her shoulders and hat made her even more beautiful. He wiped his brow again. “You busy?” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her boots dripping with melting snow. “Not at all.” She looked up hopefully. “I was wondering if you might reconsider.” Peter quickly thought through what she might mean and came up empty. “Reconsider?” “Hiring me.” She shrugged and tilted her head in that way of hers that drove him crazy. “Instead of Ruth. She’s going to New York, you see, and can’t do the upholstering that you wanted. But, if you’d give me a chance, I’d like to try.” Peter’s heart nearly stopped. She wanted to work with him. His plan wasn’t dead at all. She dropped her gaze. “I understand. You want someone experienced to help out your friend. Here I went and said I didn’t know how to do it and would do a horrible job and all—” “All right.” He had to cut her off before she dug a bigger hole. Her wide-eyed wonder shot an arrow straight into his heart. “You mean it? I can help?” “Yeah.” Then a thought occurred to him. If she was willing to work with him, maybe she would agree to a little more. “Maybe you can come to the church supper with me.” She blinked. “Tonight?” “Yeah. We can, you know, talk things over.” “Oh. We can’t do that now?” Peter examined the wrench in his hands. “I suppose, but I’m pretty busy.” “Oh. But it’s Ruth’s last night home, and we all want to be together. Daddy can’t go out, especially not in this heavy snow.” Peter could have kicked himself. “I forgot.” “You couldn’t know.” Her quick smile dazzled him. “I’ll stop by later, then. Your friend is bringing the car on Saturday?” He nodded, unable to think of a word to say. “Saturday, then.” She gave him a little wave before waltzing through the office and out of the building. Peter watched her go, unable to move a muscle and not entirely sure what had just happened except that she wanted to work with him. He finally had a chance. Chapter Five (#ulink_aaf6a59e-432c-5575-8adb-0935b36c38f1) The rest of the week flew by in a flurry of activity. Between Ruth and Sam leaving Thursday morning and two clients wanting last-minute alterations on their ball gowns for Friday night’s Valentine’s Day Ball, Minnie didn’t have time to think. She also forgot to notify Mrs. Neidecker that she was giving up her job while Ruth was gone and thus had to serve punch at the ball. By Saturday morning, she was exhausted. “Get up, get up,” an annoyingly cheerful Jen called out. “It’s another gorgeous day.” Minnie pulled the covers over her head. “It’s dark out.” “I can see the moon and the stars. That means sunshine. Mr. Hunter says that sunny days and cold nights make the airfield perfect for flying. He wants to test out the new cold-weather engine they’ve been designing over at the factory. It’s got a special cowling—” “Sorry I asked.” Minnie hadn’t understood a word her sister just said. Honestly, she couldn’t fathom how any woman could be the slightest bit interested in mechanical things. She had to practically hold her breath inside the motor garage. “Better get moving. You have to open the shop this morning.” “You can do it,” Minnie moaned. “Please?” “Not a chance. I want to be at the airfield at first light. That’s when the Hunters are testing the motor. If it works, they’re going to start planning for the run to the North Pole.” Jen whistled “Ain’t We Got Fun?” as she headed out of the room and downstairs to the kitchen. Peace at last. Minnie breathed in the quiet and relaxed. Just a few more minutes. She reveled in the warm blanket cocoon. If only she could stay here all day. If only she could rest a little bit longer. “Minnie!” At Mother’s command, Minnie shot up. “I’m coming.” She rubbed her eyes. Mother set a lit lamp on her dresser. “The Saturday after the ball is often busy, what with the guests and all the revelry the night before. Someone always needs a repair. Hems torn out, underarms ripped and who knows what. It’s different every year. And now that Ruth and Sam have added cleaning, it’s sure to be busy. Guests could come pouring in.” “Guests.” That woke her up. Saturday meant Vince would return. “What time is it?” “Eight o’clock. I let you sleep as late as I could.” “Eight o’clock?” Minnie scurried out of bed. She had less than an hour to dress and do her hair and eat breakfast. How could she ever look presentable in that amount of time, especially when she couldn’t put on the face powder and lipstick until she reached the shop? “The oatmeal is ready,” Mother said as she headed downstairs. Minnie squinted at her reflection in the wall mirror. She looked dreadful. Hair stuck out every which way, and blue half-moons circled under her puffy eyes. She splashed cold water on her face and pressed a damp cloth to her eyes. Though Vince Galbini hadn’t exactly excited her at their first meeting, maybe this time would go better. He was older than she’d imagined, and that crooked, flattened nose made him look more like a prizefighter than a movie star, but he was definitely on his way up, and that had to be worth something. Though he didn’t wear a wedding band, she couldn’t be certain he was unmarried. Today, she’d unearth the truth on that subject. As she dressed, her energy returned. With Vince’s return came the start of her new job. She hadn’t exactly told Mother or Daddy yet, but they’d understand. They both liked Peter. They might not care that she would have to work evenings at the garage. She tugged a brush through her wavy hair. Maybe she wouldn’t have to tell Mother or Daddy about the job. She could simply present them with her wages after she finished. Wouldn’t that be a wonderful surprise? She tucked the face powder and lip color into her handbag and headed for the stairs. “Minnie?” Daddy’s soft voice drew her to a halt. He leaned on a cane in the doorway to his bedroom. “Daddy, you shouldn’t be up.” After the seizure last summer, which Doc Stevens attributed to his weak heart, he spent most of his time in his room. Mother brought his meals there, and Ruthie gave him the receipts at the end of each day so he could do the bookwork. He waved off her concern. “I’m fine.” But he leaned against the door frame. “Let me help you back to bed.” He managed a grin. “I’m not an invalid quite yet.” “Oh, Daddy. I didn’t mean that.” “I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you.” His blue eyes misted. “How quickly the years pass. I remember holding you shortly after you were born, and now you’ve grown into a fine, responsible woman.” Minnie clutched her handbag to her midsection and averted her gaze. The cosmetics secreted inside burned like hot coals. “How pretty you are,” he said softly. “I like your hair. It reminds me of the style worn by Mariah Simmons.” She pushed the unruly locks behind her left ear. “I suppose it is similar.” “She’s a fine woman. You could do worse than to emulate her.” Minnie kept her head down so he didn’t see the guilt. She wasn’t emulating Mariah or anyone else that Daddy would consider respectable. “Give me a hug before you go to work,” he said. She set down her handbag and held on to his thin shoulders as he squeezed her tight. He tapped a finger to her chin. “Do good work, my little princess, and don’t be in too much of a hurry to grow up.” “All right, Daddy.” He’d meant to encourage her, yet as she picked up her handbag, she felt terrible. * * * “I could use some advice,” Peter admitted to Hendrick once they were alone at the breakfast table. Mariah had left to get the children ready for a toboggan outing at the hill in the park. Ordinarily, Hendrick would help, but he was headed to the airfield for the test of the new engine. Instead, Pastor Gabe and his wife were joining Mariah for the sledding expedition. Judging from the disputes and shrieking already under way, the three adults would have their hands full, especially when Pastor Gabe’s two children were added to the mix. Hendrick eyed him solemnly. “Advice on what?” Peter squirmed. “Women.” “Ah, women.” Hendrick dug into his eggs with more fervor. “Mariah might be a better person to ask. Or Anna.” “No. I want a guy’s perspective.” Even though Peter had gotten closer to his foster brother over the years, he still felt awkward asking such a personal question. “All right, but I warn you I don’t have a lot of experience.” “You caught Mariah’s attention.” Hendrick shrugged. “That was more than likely God’s doing. I said a lot of dumb things around her.” “You did?” Peter was feeling better already. “Afraid so. I even left her.” “I remember that. You went to New York, right?” “Long Island. Dumbest thing I ever done.” Every once in a while Hendrick got his grammar wrong, just like Peter. “By the time I realized how much I missed her, I figured I’d blown my chances.” “But you didn’t.” Hendrick grinned. “She’s a forgiving woman. But enough of me. What’s your question?” Peter looked at his cold scrambled eggs and half-eaten slice of bread. “Just wondering how a guy can impress a gal.” “Anyone in particular?” That was the part that made Peter squirm. “Minnie Fox.” “I see.” Hendrick scooped up the last of his eggs, and Peter had to wait for him to finish. “She’s pretty young. What? Eighteen?” “Almost nineteen.” “Humph. Same age as you. Don’t worry. You’ve got plenty of time. I didn’t get married until I was twenty-eight. Wait it out.” That didn’t help, especially since Peter was a bit older than he’d claimed to be. “But she’s looking at every other guy.” Hendrick quirked an eyebrow. “Anyone in particular?” “Vince.” Peter’s shoulders drooped. “He’s your age at least. Why would she think he’s so great?” “Because he’s new. Give her time. The newness will wear off. Then you mosey up and show her who she really should be looking at.” Peter frowned. “How?” “Like I said, you should probably ask a lady.” He must have spotted Mariah, because he called out to her. She ducked a head into the kitchen, looking rather frazzled. “What is it?” “What do women want from a guy?” Hendrick said. Peter slumped down in his chair and shoveled the cold eggs into his mouth as fast as he could. “Hendrick,” she said, “what a time to ask something like that. I have children running around everywhere.” “Just thought you might shed a little light on the subject for Peter.” Why did Hendrick have to go and name him? “Peter? Oh,” Mariah said, “be yourself. You’re already a special young man. Any girl with half her wits can see that.” Then she hurried off to break up a row over mittens. “I see what you mean,” Hendrick said. “She wasn’t much help.” Peter shook his head, seeing as his mouth was jammed so full of eggs that he couldn’t even figure out how to swallow them. He reached for his cup of tea, now cooled to lukewarm. Hendrick leaned back and folded his hands across his chest, like a sage elder. “If you ask me, a woman likes a man to make her feel special. Tell her she’s beautiful.” Already tried it. With the tea, Peter managed to choke down part of the eggs. “You could dress nice,” Hendrick added. Peter gave him a look of disgust. How could he dress nice when his hands and arms were covered with grease most of the time? Today, Vince was going to show up. Knowing him, he’d have on that nice suit of his. Next to Vince, Peter looked like nothing, especially to a girl who dreamed of meeting a moving-picture actor. With his last swig of tea, he swallowed the rest of the eggs. It was hopeless. He’d never dazzle Minnie. Not in a million years. * * * Though Minnie kept a lookout from the dress shop all day, she never saw the Pierce-Arrow cruise through town. She had intended to walk down to the motor garage as soon as Jen showed up, but her sister never did arrive. Instead, the post-ball customers kept her busy with requests for repairs and cleaning. When she finally closed the shop at five o’clock, she headed directly for the garage with the envelope containing the day’s receipts and orders tucked in her coat pocket. Soon enough she saw the Pierce-Arrow in the first bay. Vince and Peter hovered near the front end, discussing something. Minnie pinched her cheeks for color and pressed her lips together, hoping the lipstick hadn’t bled. Her pulse thrummed as she crossed the street and stepped into the garage office. “Got one that’ll fit?” Vince asked from the work area. Minnie wrinkled her nose at the pungent combination of grease and cigarette smoke. She instinctively opened her handbag to fetch a handkerchief to place over her nose and then changed her mind. It might muss her face powder, and it certainly wouldn’t impress anyone. So instead she forced a smile and stepped boldly through the door into the work area. “I’m here.” Both men stopped talking to look at her. Her jaw dropped. “What happened?” Their trousers were wet and muddy. “Flat tire,” Peter said. The front passenger’s side was balanced on a jack, and the punctured tire lay on the floor. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/christine-johnson/suitor-by-design/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. 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