“And who is going to wash the pots and pans now?” Mr. Tuttle asked.
Annie set the parcel containing her clerk uniforms aside and glanced at Jane. Jane’s hands were covered with flour, but the task of washing would once again fall on her.
She looked at Thomas to see his reaction, but he was focused on forming the dough into rolls.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Tuttle, but aren’t you happy for me? I’m proud to work at such a prestigious store as Macy’s.”
“So we ain’t good enough for ye?”
“You know that’s not true. I appreciate you taking us in like you did, but I made it clear I was seeking another job.” She noticed the sink overflowing with pots and pans. “I’ll still do the washing today.”
“We wouldn’t want to put ye out.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
She ignored his tone, tied on an apron, and set to work. If she clanged and clattered a bit more than necessary, let them complain.
Jane came up behind her and whispered, “I’m happy for you.”
“I’m sorry about the dish washing.”
Jane shook her head vehemently. “Don’t be. You getting a job at Macy’s is ever so exciting.”
“Girls?” Mr. Tuttle barked. “Work.”
Jane had one last thing to say. “Be a grand success, Annie. For both of us.”
The awkwardness continued when the rest of the Tuttles came to the kitchen for dinner. Mrs. Tuttle was at the stove, and Iris was busy getting the children set at the table. Annie wanted to tell Iris when they were alone, but with the Tuttle clan teeming around them, it wasn’t possible.
Just as the adults were sitting down, Danny and Gramps returned from deliveries.
“Smells great, Mrs. Tuttle. I’m starved to near wasted away.”
“You are always starved, boy. Eating us out of house and home, you are.” He gave her a peck on the cheek before washing his hands at the sink.
Gramps sat at his place with a noisy oomph. “Don’t get af’er the boy. He earns his keep.”
Mr. Tuttle glared at Annie—implying she was not earning her keep. She might as well share her news now rather than later. “I was hired at Macy’s. I start tomorrow.”
Her news was received in silence. Danny was the first to respond. “Congratulations, Annie. It happened just like you hoped it would.”
She looked at Iris, who was just sitting down with the baby on her lap. “Are you happy for me?”
“Of course. Good for you.”
That was all?
Mrs. Tuttle finished spooning out the soup. Only then did she look at Annie. “You’re putting us in a bind.”
How? Until two days ago Jane washed the pots.
“We let you have a room here if you worked for us, but now …”
“Once I get a paycheck, I will pay you rent.”
Mrs. Tuttle exchanged a look with her husband. He was the one to answer. “One dollar a week for the room, and one dollar for the meals.”
That would be a third of her paycheck. “I’ll be eating the noon meal at Macy’s,” she said. “Apparently, they have an employees’ cafeteria with reasonable prices.”
“Seventy-five cents, then,” he said.
How could she haggle? “Consider it done.”
Done for now. One day she’d have a proper working-girl flat.
Annie draped her new uniforms over some bags of sugar in the storeroom. She carefully set her lace collars on top—one white and one ecru.
Iris came in. “Fancy shopgirl clothes.”
“They’re not fancy,” Annie said. “But they are the uniforms worn by all the girls. I bought two skirts, two blouses, and two collars.”
Iris ran her fingers along the batiste fabric as if it were the finest silk. “You got the job I always dreamed of.”
Annie hadn’t thought of that. “You can get a job there, too. Mr. Jones says they have over five thousand people on staff.”
Iris pulled her hand away from the temptation of the outfits. “I haven’t seen five thousand people in my life.”
“You know what a big store it is. Eight floors of pretty things to buy.”
“Things you can’t buy if you don’t have any money.”
Annie didn’t want her to be miffed. Or discouraged. “The Tuttles said they would pay you something in addition to the room and board.”
Iris shrugged. “Actually, I wanted to work in a small sort of shop with just a few clerks.”
Her stipulation removed some of Annie’s guilt. “Then Macy’s isn’t your cup of tea.”
Their conversation was interrupted by two distinct pounds coming from the floor above. “Mrs. Tuttle needs me.”
“That’s how she calls you? She stomps on the floor?”
“I have to go.”
As she left the room, Danny came in. “Well I’ll be. Look at your fine duds.”
“It’s a uniform. All the clerks wear black with a collar.”
“Fancy.” He slumped onto his blanket. “I am happy for you, Annie.”
“I am happy for me, too. But I don’t want Iris to be green about it.”
“Ah, don’t mind bug. Though she won’t admit it, I think she likes taking care of the children.”
Annie sat on the straw bags that were her bed. “I couldn’t do what she does. There are so many of them.”
“Don’t you want to be a mother someday?”
The dreams of her future had never strayed in that direction. “I know I should want that.”
“No should about it. And you don’t have to decide now. What are you? Eighteen?”
“Nineteen, and no, I don’t have to decide that yet. Besides, a husband needs to come first.”
He grinned. “I know someone who’s interested.”
“I am not interested in Thomas.”
He lay on his back, linking his hands behind his head. “New York is enormous. I didn’t know how big it was till I got the chance to drive the streets.”
“Do you like your work?”
“I do. I like being outside and driving the wagon. I like Gramps, too. He reminds me of my own granddad: feisty and full of good stories.”
“Do you see him? See your own granddad?”
“Nah. He died. Grandma and our parents, too.”
Annie felt a wave of compassion. “I’m so sorry.”
“It happens.”
“But all of them? What did they die of?”
“Some fever. Iris and me were spared because we were working at the Friesens’.”
The implication was sobering. “Those jobs saved you.”
He shrugged. “Those jobs, and now the jobs we have here.”
“And at Macy’s.”
“It seems the lot of us are right where we ought to be.”
“So it appears.”
“God did a pretty good job arranging it, didn’t He?”
Annie had no complaints.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Annie tried the entrance door at Macy’s, but it was locked. She moved to another one and found it, too, was locked. She felt panic rise within her. How could she be on time if she couldn’t even get in?
But then a man inside noticed her, came to the door, and talked through the glass. “Store opens at eight thirty, miss.”
“I’m a new clerk. Today is my first day.”
The bald and bearded man studied her a moment then unlocked the door, letting her in.
“A little eager, are we?” He pulled a pocket watch from his vest. “It’s only quarter of eight.”
“A little eager, yes. And nervous.”
“No need to be. Macy’s wants you to succeed.”
She liked the sound of that. “I never thought of it that way.”
He leaned close, as if sharing a confidence. “If you succeed, Macy’s succeeds.”
She laughed. “I will do my very best.”
“Which department?”
“Dress goods and sewing supplies.”
“Are you a talented seamstress?”
She considered this a moment. “I am a seamstress with aspirations of talent.”
“Work hard and you will attain your aspirations.”
For the first time Annie noticed that not all the lights were on. Was it this man’s job to light the store? “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did I take you away from your work?”
“Nothing takes me away from my work.”
The door opened behind them, and Mrs. MacDonald entered. “Mr. Straus. Miss Wood.”
“Good morning, Mrs. MacDonald. It appears you have an eager new clerk.”
“I do, sir.”
“Carry on, then. Good day, ladies.” He left them.
“You are one lucky girl.” Mrs. McDonald said.
“Lucky?” Annie asked.
“To meet Mr. Straus on your first day.”
“Who is Mr. Straus?”
Mrs. MacDonald gawked. “You’re joshing.”
“I’m not. I don’t know who he is.”
“He’s our boss. He’s the owner of Macy’s.”
Annie looked back. “But he was so nice.”
Mrs. MacDonald took her arm and got them walking. “He is nice. And he cares about his employees and their families. Among other things, he’s the one who stopped the practice of keeping the store open until ten or eleven o’clock on the ten evenings before Christmas so we could spend more time with our families and stay in better health. Before then, I remember not getting home until midnight and then having to be back to work at eight. The new policy is much better for everyone.”
“That was nice of him.”
Mrs. MacDonald stepped onto some moving steps leading upward. Annie balked.
“Haven’t you ever seen an escalator before?”
“I hadn’t been in an elevator until yesterday.”
Mrs. MacDonald was halfway to the next floor. “Come on. Don’t be scared. Take the handhold and step on.”
Annie watched the steps ever moving from flat to full. If she timed it just right …
She stepped on and grabbed the hold, only bobbling a little. Mrs. MacDonald stood at the top, laughing. “My, my, you have been in the sticks.”
Annie wasn’t sure what she meant by the comment but ignored her ribbing, as the stair was ending and she had to concentrate on stepping off without incident. As she did so, Mrs. MacDonald applauded. Annie responded with a bow. And a sigh of relief.
“By the time we get to the floor that houses the employee lockers, you’ll be an expert.”
They finally reached the area where they put their hats and jackets in lockers. Mrs. MacDonald nodded toward some other rooms. “Employee restrooms are in there. The public ladies’ is on the second floor, right next to the boys’ clothing department. But we are to use these facilities and leave the other to the customers.”
“Understood.” Anything is better than the privies at the Tuttles’.
Mrs. MacDonald checked her hair in a mirror. “There are also shower facilities for employees.”
“Really?” Annie had never had a shower, and the last bath she’d had was at the Friesens’. “Have you used them?”
“I prefer baths. But it’s there for you to use. Men’s and women’s, of course.”
“Of course.” Annie tucked a few stray hairs behind her ears. “It seems Mr. Straus has thought of everything.”
“Most everything. I’ll tell you more as we go along. Come, now. Let’s get to work.”
“Miss Wood, I would like you to meet Miss Krieger, the other clerk in our department. Mildred, meet Annie.”
Annie extended her hand to a petite girl in her early twenties, whose sharp and pinched facial features made her look cross. Surely when she smiled, the look would fade.
Unfortunately, the smile did nothing to soften her expression. On the contrary, the smile seemed false, as though it was only for show and there was malice behind it.
Mildred ignored Annie’s hand. “We don’t need another clerk.”
Mrs. MacDonald’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not for you to say.”
“She’ll just make it harder to sell over our quota, taking away any chance of a bonus.”
With such a tetchy attitude, Annie wondered why any customer would buy from Mildred.
Mrs. MacDonald moved on. “Please watch the counter as I teach Annie the sales procedure.”
Mildred had the audacity to shrug. How did she ever get hired with such an attitude?
Mrs. MacDonald brought out two sales books. “This one is for Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and this one is for Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. When you have a sale, you list the items and their cost and then collect the payment and put it, along with your sales slip, in one of the pneumatic tubes over there.” She pointed to a creeper vine of brass tubing on the wall. “It is sent to cashiers in the tube room, who send back change and your sales slip, stamped to show that payment was made. You call a parcel boy to wrap the package for the customer.”
“What do I do with the paid sales slip?”
“You put it in your book for the proper day and turn them in at night to be checked against the money received. That’s why you need a different book for alternate days.”
It was all very logical. “It gives them time to do the checking and get the book back to us.”
“Exactly. Well understood. Follow the rules and make shopping a pleasant experience for the customer and—”
“And a profitable experience for Macy’s.”
Mrs. MacDonald beamed. “I’m glad you were hired, Miss Wood.”
Annie ran her hand along a bolt of gold shantung. The weave of the silk caught the light, making the cloth sumptuous.
A customer—her very first customer—strolled by, eying the bolts. “May I help you with your choice today, my … madam?” She’d caught herself before saying the familiar “my lady.”
“I’m looking for cloth suitable for a walking suit. Something for autumn.”
Annie chose the gold bolt and unrolled a yard or two of the fabric to best showcase its depth and texture. “This color mimics the rich hues of the season.” She noted the woman’s auburn hair. “It would also complement your coloring beautifully.”
The woman blushed and put a hand to her cheek. “Do you think so?”
“I do, Mrs …?”
“Reinhold.”
“Would you like to look at suit patterns and find a style that pleases you, Mrs. Reinhold?”
The woman ran a hand over the fabric as if they were getting to know each other. With a final pat she claimed it as her own. “I would. Thank you.”
Annie led Mrs. Reinhold to the Butterick pattern catalogs and turned to the suit and coat section. Mrs. MacDonald was watching and gave her a nod of encouragement.
“Are you making this yourself or having it made?” Annie asked.
“Myself,” Mrs. Reinhold said. “I haven’t sewn my own clothes much, but in the past year we’ve had a few setbacks and my husband wants to cut … wants me to be thrifty and wise.”
“That is always a worthwhile goal.” Annie sensed that a simpler pattern would be the best choice. “What about this one?” she said, pointing to a drawing of a streamlined three-quarter-length coat. “You could use a gold velvet for the stand-up collar and cuffs, and perhaps some wash braid sewn into a curved design down the front and along the bottom. See how clean the back silhouette is?” Clean, meaning simple to sew.
“I do see,” the woman said, leaning close to the page to see it better. Annie hoped she had spectacles at home, or sewing anything would be difficult.
The woman stood upright and finalized the decision with a nod. “This one,” she said. “I think I can conquer this one.”
Annie smiled at her terminology. “I’m sure you can. Would you like a skirt to go with it? Let me show you another pattern that would complement the coat.”
They quickly found a pattern for a simple A-line skirt to be sewn in brown lightweight wool, and the customer a
pproved of Annie’s choice of a chocolate-brown soutache braid as an accent to be applied in a loop design.
While Annie measured and cut the fabric, Mrs. Reinhold studied the illustration on the pattern envelope. “I do like her hat. And with brown gloves …”
“I would be happy to accompany you to the hat department and see if they have anything to your liking. If not, Macy’s has an extensive trim, ribbon, and silk flower department so you can make your own hat that will be every bit as grand as the one in the picture.”
“Ooh. I’d like that.”
It took an hour to complete Mrs. Reinhold’s transaction. With the fabric, trim, pattern, thread, basic hat—and the silk flowers and ribbon bought to recreate the one in the picture, Mrs. Reinhold’s total was $9.45. Plus fifty cents for brown gloves—$9.95.
Annie sent the receipt and the money up to the tube room where change would be made. A boy collected the goods to wrap as Annie and Mrs. Reinhold chatted.
“If you have any questions about the construction, come back and ask.”
Mrs. MacDonald joined them. “I couldn’t help but see the lovely ensemble you’re going to make. The color is very becoming.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Reinhold said. “I couldn’t have done it without Miss Wood’s help.”
Mrs. MacDonald put a hand on Annie’s shoulder. “She is a prize.”
The change was made, the hat and its trims were safely in a hatbox, with the fabric wrapped in brown paper, tied on top to form a handle. “I think I’m ready,” Mrs. Reinhold said. “I can hardly wait to get home and get started. Thank you, Miss Wood.”
“You are utterly welcome.”
As the customer walked through the store toward the exit, Annie felt as if she would burst with pride. “I did it. I knew I could do it, but I actually did it.”
“That you did,” said Mrs. MacDonald. “You seem to have an eye for fashion and design. And because of your suggestions, she also purchased hat supplies and a pair of gloves. Well done.”
“Thank you.”
The floorwalker, Mrs. Gold, walked toward them. “Things going well, Mrs. MacDonald?”
“Very well, thanks to Miss Wood.” She gave Mrs. Gold the details.
“A notable first transaction, Miss Wood,” the older woman said. They all spotted a woman approaching the display of batiste blouse fabric. “Don’t stop now,” she said to Annie.
The Pattern Artist Page 8
