A Perfect Silhouette

by Judith Miller

  “Excuse me for a moment. I need to speak to the shop owner. I’ll be right back.” Mellie waved toward the paintings. “You and the children can look at the beautiful paintings while I’m gone.”

  “That’s fine, but I don’t have a lot of time.” The woman grasped her little girl’s hand and followed the two boys as they headed to where the paintings were displayed.

  A short time later, Mr. Harrison followed Mellie to the front of the store and approached the woman. “Miss Blanchard tells me she thinks a daguerreotype of you and your children would make a fine gift for your parents, but you don’t think you can afford the expense.”

  “That’s right.” Her eyes were clouded with confusion as she glanced at Mellie.

  Mr. Harrison offered a gentle smile. “I believe I could do a daguerreotype of you and the children for about the same cost as three silhouettes and frames.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded. “Grandparents should have the pleasure of seeing their daughter as well as their grandchildren. Come sit over here, and I’ll get everything set up.”

  Mellie stood at a distance while he guided the family into the small alcove that had been arranged much like the corner of a parlor. With the mother seated in the chair and the little girl on her lap, Mr. Harrison had the boys stand on either side of their mother.

  Mellie turned as the bell over the front door jingled. She smiled at the young man who had entered and gestured toward the counter. “I have your purchase ready for you, sir.”

  Morgan chuckled. “Sir? You’re making me feel like an old man.”

  “That wasn’t my intention, but I didn’t realize until after you left last night that I hadn’t asked your name.”

  “Morgan.” He cleared his throat. “William Morgan, but most of us call each other by our last name. I’ve gotten to where I prefer Morgan.”

  “Thank you very much for your business, Mr. Morgan.”

  He shook his head. “Just Morgan—please.”

  She nodded and smiled. “Thank you for your business, Morgan. I hope we’ll see you again in the future.”

  “You will. I enjoy watching you do your paper cutting.”

  “It’s Scherenschnitte.”

  His brows dipped low. “What is?”

  She laughed. “The art of paper cutting is known as Scherenschnitte.”

  “Oh!” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I doubt I’d ever learn to say that word properly, so I’ll just say paper cutting instead.”

  “Of course.” The bell rang, and a group of several girls stepped into the shop. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to see to these ladies.”

  He nodded and turned toward the alcove, where Mr. Harrison was photographing the mother and children, while Mellie moved to the front of the store.

  Mellie was aware of the young man throughout the remainder of the evening. He was either studying the paintings or watching as she cut silhouettes. At nine-thirty, when Mr. Harrison announced it was time to close the shop, Morgan drew near. “If you don’t have someone coming to escort you to your boardinghouse, I hope you’ll permit me to do so.”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you, Morgan. I’m not in need of an escort.” He seemed a nice fellow, yet she barely knew him.

  “I understand. Still, I don’t think it’s safe for you to walk back to the boardinghouse unescorted.”

  “I’ll be perfectly safe.” At least she wanted to believe she would, but this would be the first night she would be walking home without Cora and Clara at her side. Though they’d offered to come by and walk home with her, she’d refused. It wasn’t fair to expect them to leave the warmth of the boardinghouse every night just to walk her home.

  He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s wise, but I won’t pressure you to accept my offer. Even so, if it’s all right with you, I’m going to follow you at a short distance in case there should be a problem.”

  His presence would offer a modicum of safety but without giving the appearance they were together. She gave him a slight nod. She slipped into her coat, tied her bonnet, and stepped outside. When he followed, she turned and glanced over her shoulder. “You must not follow me to the door of my boardinghouse. I don’t want the keeper to see me in the company of a man.”

  He gave a solemn nod, smiled, and crossed his heart with his finger. “I promise.”

  Chapter

  ten

  MELLIE HADN’T MENTIONED HER POSITION AT MR. HARRISON’S shop to Mrs. Richards. She had told only Cora, Clara, and Phebe, then asked that they remain silent about it. They understood Mellie didn’t want Olive or Charity coming inside the shop and causing any problems. Both Olive and Charity appeared to like embarrassing others. At times Mellie believed they were insecure girls who longed to be accepted. At other times, she thought they both possessed a mean streak and enjoyed inflicting pain on others.

  Eager to help Mellie keep her secret, Cora planned a new route to their dance lessons—one that wouldn’t lead them past the photography shop. After proving it would take less time, they’d eagerly followed her directions to Granite Hall each evening. Of course, there was no way she could guarantee one of the girls wouldn’t come to town on another evening and spot Mellie, but so far Mellie had been fortunate.

  Immediately after accepting the position, she’d considered telling everyone. After all, if most of the girls in their boardinghouse came to have a silhouette cut, she could make a profit in a short time. Once word spread among the boardinghouse, it would likely move among the other houses, and then more customers might visit the shop. Yet the idea of having Olive or Charity make an appearance had deterred her. Mellie continued to avoid them whenever possible, both at home and at work. But when Olive wanted something bad enough, she’d wait until bedtime and then slip upstairs to the attic. That way, Mellie couldn’t escape seeing her.

  Even though she disliked doing so, Mellie had relented and loaned her shawl to Olive. The girl’s threat to tell her newspaper-reporter friend had hit the mark. Right now, all Mellie wanted was to make enough money to be certain Margaret and the children didn’t suffer any further. She decided that one loan of her shawl was a small price to pay to keep any gossip at bay. Still, she wasn’t a fool. There was little doubt whether or not Olive’s extortion would continue. Mellie could only hope that Olive would not eventually demand money. If that happened, Mellie would draw the line. Borrowing clothes was one thing, but she wouldn’t be forced to give away her hard-earned wages.

  Lifting her skirts, Mellie stepped around several mud puddles. As the days of pounding rain continued, she’d begun to wonder if they should follow Noah’s example and build an ark. Today the skies had finally cleared, but the mud left in the wake of the storms made both walking and riding difficult. Carriage wheels groaned in protest while horses strained to lift their hooves from the congealing mire, and those on foot would need their galoshes for days to come.

  She stopped as she neared the shop. A hinged, two-sided wood sign sat in front of the door. The profile of a child had been drawn and painted on the board, advertising that silhouette cuttings would be created each evening from seven-thirty until nine-thirty. The prices and sizes were listed below the picture, along with her name as the Artist-in-Residence. While the title was flattering, she didn’t deserve or want such an unwarranted accolade. In truth, she would have preferred that her name had not been placed on the sign, either.

  Upon entering the shop, Mellie removed her galoshes and set them on an old piece of newspaper Mr. Harrison had placed in a corner behind the door. She spotted Mr. Harrison at the rear of the store and waved her umbrella to gain his attention.

  He strode toward her with a wide smile. “Did you see the sign?” His eyes shone with delight.

  “Yes. I was taken by surprise. You didn’t mention you were going to have a sign made.”

  “I painted it myself. I don’t count myself an artist, but it turned out better than I expected.”

  “I didn’t know creating signa
ge was among your many talents. It is quite nice, and I’m sure it will garner attention.” She didn’t tell him how she’d nearly tripped over it as she tried to enter the store. “We might want to move it a little farther away from the door.”

  His brows furrowed as he glanced at the door. “I see what you mean. I’ll go move it so it’s in front of the window instead. Passersby will spot the sign, then look up and see you sitting in the window. It will be perfect.”

  She didn’t wish to dampen his enthusiasm, yet she wanted him to remove her name and the gratuitous reference to her as an artist. He was the artist—not her. “Could you possibly make a few small changes before moving the sign to the window?”

  Her question brought him to a halt. “Did I spell something incorrectly?”

  “No, but if you could paint over my name and the wording below, it would please me.”

  “But why? That is your name, and you are my artist-in-residence. Customers prefer knowing our names when they come into the store.”

  She didn’t want to upset him. No doubt he had spent hours painting the sign, and he’d done a good job of it. “I suppose you could leave my name, but I don’t think it’s proper to advertise me as an artist.”

  He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Bah! You are one of the finest artists I’ve ever seen. Art comes in many forms. Some in sketching, some in painting, some in pottery, and some in your Scherenschnitte.” He chuckled. “Did I pronounce it correctly?”

  “You did.” She offered a weak smile and decided not to argue any further. She’d worked here for a little over two weeks now, not very long. She couldn’t chance losing this opportunity.

  “I hope you won’t feel I am taking advantage, but I have accepted a dinner invitation for this evening. I’ll return before closing time, of course.” He offered a sheepish smile. “I know you are capable of handling things while I’m out. If anyone should come in for a photograph, please offer to make an appointment tomorrow or tell them I will be in throughout the day and evening tomorrow.”

  Mellie’s heart warmed. He’d come to trust her, and helping him was a small way for her to repay his kindness. “You go and enjoy yourself. There should be no problem.”

  “Thank you.” He inhaled a deep breath before once again gesturing to the front of the store. “Because of the sign, I had four customers come in and make appointments to have silhouettes made this evening. I hope that you approve. I wrote the names and times on a paper.” He pulled the note from his pocket and glanced at it. “The first lady should be in anytime now.” He’d barely finished his sentence when a woman with two children entered the store. He smiled and made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Ah, Mrs. Franklin, do come in. Miss Blanchard is eager to create your silhouette”—he looked toward the children—“and your children’s?”

  She nodded. “I thought I would have their silhouettes made, as well. I’m sure my husband will be pleased.” She turned to Mellie. “You will have time to do all three of us, won’t you?”

  Mellie looked at the appointment sheet and nodded. “Yes. Why don’t we begin right away? Who wants to be first?”

  The younger boy raised his hand, and soon Mellie had completed their cuttings, all of which pleased Mrs. Franklin. She was choosing frames when the bell over the door jingled. Mellie’s throat tightened when she turned and saw who was entering the store.

  Olive and Charity stepped inside, their features twisted into sneers. Olive moved a little closer. “We’re here to see the artist-in-residence. But you don’t look like an artist, and you certainly don’t reside here.”

  Mrs. Franklin’s satin skirt swished as she carried three frames to the counter and placed them alongside her silhouettes. She lifted her chin and cast a cold stare in Olive’s direction. “The artist is currently assisting me. I would appreciate it if you would put your manners to good use. It is rude to interrupt.” She looked down her nose at the two girls. “I highly recommend Miss Gilbert’s classes on etiquette and proper comportment. They are conducted two nights a week, and I’m sure that being under her tutelage would be helpful to both of you.”

  Olive stiffened but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned away and pretended to study one of Mr. Harrison’s paintings until Mrs. Franklin and her children departed.

  Once the older woman was out of sight, Olive walked over to Mellie with purpose in her step and a blazing anger in her eyes. “How dare that woman speak to me like that! You’re lucky I didn’t tell her you’re nothing more than a mill girl, just like us.” Her lip curled. “Since you’re such an artist, I want to pose for a silhouette. You can prove just how good you are.”

  Mellie sighed. This wasn’t going to end well. She could feel it in her bones. Yet any attempt to dissuade Olive would likely result in another embarrassing scene. “Why don’t you remove your bonnet and have a seat on the stool?” She pointed to the back of the room. “Please turn so I have a good view of your profile.”

  Olive gave a sly grin as she looked toward Charity.

  Mellie’s stomach clamped hard around her supper. Since they appeared determined to stay, she’d cut Olive’s silhouette, then encourage them to leave before any other customers arrived. Picking up a piece of black paper and her scissors, Mellie stared at Olive’s profile while she snipped tiny indentations, then made longer cuts down the forehead and at the neck. She rotated the paper and snipped a few wisps of hair at her nape.

  Once finished, Mellie placed her scissors on the table and forced a smile. “All done.” She extended the cutting toward Olive. “Would you like to choose a frame, or do you have one at home you’d prefer to use?”

  The bell over the front door rang, and Mellie turned to see Morgan entering the shop. He nodded and offered a smile, but before she could acknowledge him, Olive squealed like a stuck pig. Startled, Mellie twisted around. Olive had extended her arm to its full length and was holding the silhouette between her thumb and forefinger. “Charity! Look at this. She’s given me a nose that’s much too large and made my chin as pointed as the tip of a knife.” She swung the cutting back and forth like a fan and glared at Mellie. “How dare you!”

  Morgan hurried toward the threesome, turning a frown on Olive as he drew near. “Are you suffering an illness of some sort, miss?”

  “No, of course not. My health isn’t the problem.”

  “Then I can’t imagine what would cause you to behave in such an unladylike manner.” Morgan shot a look of concern toward Mellie.

  Olive scooted around on the stool and tapped a finger on the cutting that still hung from her fingers. “Look at this! She’s done her very best to make me appear dreadful.” She waved in Mellie’s direction.

  Morgan removed it from her hand and held it near Olive’s face. He looked from the silhouette to her profile and back again. “I’m bewildered that you aren’t pleased.” He fastened his gaze on her. “If you don’t mind my saying, you are a very attractive young lady, and this cutting exemplifies all of your best features.” He turned to Charity. “Don’t you agree?”

  Before Charity could answer, Olive leaned toward Morgan. “I believe you may be correct. I think the inadequate lighting caused me to arrive at a hasty decision.” She slipped off the stool and pressed close to Morgan’s side. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Olive French.” She batted her lashes at him. “And you are?”

  “William Morgan.” He took a backward step and glanced toward the counter. “I believe you can pay over there at the counter—if you’ve decided you like the silhouette.” He tipped his head. “If I were you, I’d certainly purchase it. I’m sure your beau would be pleased to have it as a gift.”

  “Mr. Morgan! Well, I do have my choice of gentlemen callers, but none of them is a steady beau. Of course, they’ve all asked, but I’m still waiting for the perfect match to come along.”

  Mellie thought Olive’s attempts to look and sound coy were ridiculous. She stepped behind the counter. “You didn’t say, Olive, if you’d like a frame for y
our silhouette.”

  Olive wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “No, I don’t believe I want a frame.”

  “Then that will be five cents, please.”

  Olive tilted her head and looked at Morgan. “I’ll buy the cutting, but only if you agree to walk me back to my boardinghouse. That way I’ll know you meant all those things you said to me.” She purred and preened like a cat seeking shelter.

  “I don’t see any reason why I couldn’t escort you home, miss.” Morgan pulled his flat-billed cap from his back pocket and held it in his hand.

  Mellie found it difficult to believe that Morgan agreed. He’d been so eager to walk her home over the past weeks. Perhaps he did find Olive attractive. She picked up the coins Olive had flung onto the counter, then watched as the girl slipped her hand into the crook of Morgan’s arm.

  Something poked at her insides. Jealousy? No, it couldn’t be. Disappointment? Yes, that had to be it.

  None of Olive’s behavior had come as a surprise to Mellie, but she now wondered if Morgan was the man she’d first thought. After appearing at the store and walking her home for the past couple of weeks, he no longer seemed worried about her safekeeping. Was he truly interested in a girl like Olive—one who would fawn over him and boost his ego?

  Before she could dwell on the thought of Morgan and Olive walking arm in arm, Mellie’s next appointment arrived. This time it was a young man who appeared to be thirteen or fourteen. He doffed his cap and ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed.