Читать книгу Suitor by Design - Christine Johnson - Страница 9
ОглавлениеPearlman, 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.”
