Читать книгу Suitor by Design - Christine Johnson - Страница 12

Chapter Three

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.