The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  Annie accepted the rebuke. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you.”

  Iris drew a clean nappy to her chest and faced her. “I was the one who wanted to be a shopgirl.”

  Annie suffered an inward sigh. “We’ve gone over this. The other day you said that Macy’s was too large a store for you.”

  Iris nodded and looked to the floor then at Annie. “It was, and it is, and …” She smiled broadly. “The truth is, I’ve given up the notion of ever working in a shop. My future is set.”

  It sounded both ominous and hopeful. “How so?”

  Iris looked past her to the main room. The children’s voices could be heard, but none were close by. “Thomas proposed to me.”

  The sprinkle bottle slipped from Annie’s hand, but she caught it before it hit the floor. “When did this happen?”

  “A few days ago.” She beamed. “He says he loves me.”

  If he did, Thomas had made quick work of it. Annie couldn’t help but remember his initial interest in herself. “Do you love him?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation. “I think I do.”

  “Think you do?”

  “I do. I do.”

  Annie hoped Iris wasn’t getting married to be married. She was only seventeen and had only known Thomas a short time.

  “Don’t doubt me,” Iris said. “Don’t make me doubt myself. That’s not fair. You’ve found yourself a new life, so don’t begrudge me doing the same.”

  Annie pushed her doubts aside and embraced her. “Congratulations. I’m very happy for you. When is the—”

  Annie’s words were cut off by a horrific scream coming from the bakery below. It sounded like Mrs. Tuttle. Annie and Iris rushed down the stairs, with the children close behind. They nearly ran into Jane, coming up to get them.

  “What happened?” Annie asked. “Is your mother all right?”

  Jane’s face was a mask of panic. “It’s not her, it’s …” She looked to Annie and then Iris. “It’s Danny.”

  The girls ran into the bakery, looking this way and that for Danny. But he wasn’t there. No one was. Everyone was outside.

  Annie got there first. She fell upon Danny sprawled in the back of the delivery wagon. He was covered in blood.

  Thomas held Iris back as she screamed, “No!”

  So much blood, too much blood.

  “Is he …?” Annie asked.

  “Yes,” Gramps said. “He’s dead. Beaten and stabbed.”

  Annie stared at Danny’s bruised and bloodied face and torso. How could this broken being be her vibrant Danny? She took Danny’s hand in hers. “Sweet boy, dear Danny. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry?” Mrs. Tuttle asked.

  Why couldn’t they see the obvious? “It’s Grasston. He did this. He was angry with me but took it out on Danny.”

  Iris broke away from the comfort of Thomas’s arms and hurled herself toward Annie, pounding her with her fists. “You did this! This is all your fault!”

  Thomas pulled Iris away so Annie was saved from her pummels.

  But not from the truth.

  Annie hugged herself and looked to the floor as she answered the constable’s questions. If only she could disappear or wake up and find it was all an awful dream.

  “What is this Mr. Grasston’s first name?”

  Shocked at the question, she looked up. “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm. You say he had a grudge against you? What for?”

  “He worked for the Friesen family as a footman. He bothered me and Danny’s sister, Iris, and—”

  “Bothered?”

  It was too soft a word. “He made inappropriate advances on us.”

  “Oh.”

  “He did worse to me last night. He’s been following me for days, showing up at my work, coming in the bakery just to intimidate me.”

  “So he was after you, not the young man.”

  There was the truth of it. “He blames me for him losing his job at the Friesens’.”

  “But hadn’t he also ‘annoyed’ Mr. Dalking’s sister?”

  “I was the one who stood up to him.” The rest of it would sound petty, but she had to say it. “I took his footman’s gloves when the three of us left service, and he got in trouble for it. Told me that was the reason he was sacked.”

  The officer blinked. “Over gloves.”

  Annie realized how daft it sounded. How far fetched and false. She could honestly add, “I’m sure it wasn’t just the gloves.” She stood straighter and looked at the officer, emboldened by this truth. “He was a horrible man. He attacked me last night as I walked to a friend’s house. He knocked me to the ground and would have …” She needed to just say it. “Would have had his way with me if my screams hadn’t brought others to save me.” She showed him her scraped palms. “See?”

  His eyes grew wide. “I’m so sorry for your pain, Miss Wood.”

  “Thank you. I spoke with an Officer Brady. You might talk to him about it.”

  He nodded. “But the question remains, why would this Grasston kill Mr. Dalking if his beef was with you?”

  She thought of Danny and his declaration to keep the two girls safe. “Danny was protective by nature. I’m sure he died defending me.”

  The officer nodded to the elder Mr. Tuttle. “That’s what the old man said. Said a man approached them and started harassing the boy. Went away, but then must have caught him when he was alone.”

  To get to me. “You see what a despicable man he is? Instead of talking to me, why don’t you go out and find him. Please. Before he hurts someone else.”

  “We’re doing that, miss.” He closed his notebook. “If I have any more questions, I’ll come back. Until then, you have my condolences.”

  As the officer left, Annie did a double take when she saw Mr. Culver on the street nearby. He walked toward her.

  Impulsively, she flew into his arms. “He killed him! He killed Danny!”

  Mr. Culver held her close. “I’m so sorry.”

  Annie let his warmth and strong arms comfort her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Don’t let go. Don’t ever let me go. “Why are you here? How did you know where I live?”

  “I went to Macy’s for our baseball outing and—”

  She pulled away. “I’m sorry. I should have sent word.”

  He shook his head, brushing away her apology. “Obviously that pales in relation to this horror. When I heard you’d gone home and pressed Mrs. MacDonald for why, she gave me your address so I could check on you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She longed to return to the safety of his arms. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He touched her arm. “I’m so sorry for this, and for what you endured last night. They’ll catch him. I know they will.”

  Annie knew no such thing.

  She spotted Iris coming toward them, her face sagging with grief and tears. Annie feared another pummeling and was surprised when Iris held out her arms.

  Annie was glad for the embrace. “I’m so sorry, Iris,” she whispered. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  Iris began her nod even before she left the embrace. “None of us did. He’s an evil man. Our Danny died as he lived, protecting those he loved.”

  Annie drew in an enormous breath and let it out, relieving herself of the guilt that had restricted her breathing. “You forgive me, then?”

  Iris nodded. “Of course I do.” She returned to Annie’s arms for a second embrace.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  And God cried.

  That’s what it seemed like during the week of Danny’s death. The morning after he died, the skies opened with the tears of every mother and sister and father and brother. God may have welcomed Danny into His everlasting arms, but those left without him couldn’t grasp the whys of it.

  There was no answer to that.

  Annie had few memories of the wake and the funeral. The rain created a somber veil keeping the pain inside. She
had vague memories of visits from Edna, Mrs. MacDonald, and Mr. Culver. Sean. For his care had shoved aside all formalities. He was Sean and she was Annie.

  Annie awakened to commotion in the main bakery, and only by that sound realized it was time to get up. The first morning that Danny hadn’t awakened her, she’d slept so long that Jane had been forced to come in the storeroom to get her up—for they were in need of more flour.

  Not wanting to be embarrassed again, she’d started to sleep with the door ajar so she could hear them earlier. Hearing them now, she quickly rose, lit the lamp, and dressed. As she buttoned her work uniform, she worried about her day. She was going back to work for the first time since Danny’s death. Macy’s had been very understanding about her time off, but she could not take advantage of their largesse any longer. The Tuttle family and Iris had buried the dear boy, had found a proper pocket to keep their grief, and had gone back to work. Could she do any less?

  Her eyes fell to the makeshift beds that used to belong to Danny and Iris. The covers and pillows were gone now. For even Iris had left her, moving upstairs to be with the family she now claimed as her own.

  She paused in her buttoning. “I’m all alone here. I’m not family.” And finally, as a natural conclusion to her statements, she said, “I can’t stay here anymore.”

  The realization forced her to sit. Where could she go?

  Edna’s.

  With the force of the answer Annie stood. She would ask her friend if she could be a lodger and felt totally assured Edna would take her in.

  She finished dressing, and as a period to her decision, folded the linens of her bed and took them out to the bakery.

  “Good morning, Annie,” Jane said. Her eyes grazed over the linens. “Would you like me to wash them?”

  Annie cleared her throat, needing all of them to hear. “I am moving out.”

  Mr. Tuttle, Gramps, and Thomas all stopped their work. “You’re leaving us?”

  She’d stated it too plain, without the proper preamble. “I am ever so grateful for the welcome you gave me and Iris … and Danny. The place to sleep, the meals, the care and sense of family.”

  “You are family,” Jane said.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Annie shook her head. “Iris and Thomas are going to be married, and I am happy for them. It’s a joyful event that will help ease our current pain. But …” She had no hard and fast reason. “I need to move on.”

  “But where will ye stay?” Mr. Tuttle asked.

  “I’ve made a good friend at work. Mrs. Holmquist. I stayed with her the other night.”

  Mr. Tuttle nodded. Then Jane said, “We’re going to miss you.”

  “And I will miss you. I am forever in your debt.”

  The sounds of the rest of the family coming downstairs for breakfast interrupted the conversation. Annie dreaded telling Iris, but the decision was made. The deed was done.

  As the children swarmed around the table and took their places, Annie took Iris aside.

  But instead of an argument, Iris said, “Are you sure?”

  Annie felt the hint of disappointment rise then fall away. “I am.”

  Iris glanced at Thomas. “You will come to the wedding, though?”

  “Of course. And I’ll visit. Edna’s isn’t that far away.”

  With a nod, Iris hugged her. “Good-bye, then.”

  The finality of her words made Annie wonder if Iris still held Annie accountable for Danny’s death.

  So be it.

  Since the good-byes had already been accomplished, Annie decided to forgo breakfast. She quickly packed her bag, took the hot roll offered by Mr. Tuttle—and a loaf to give to Robbie for seeing her home from Macy’s a week ago—and left the bakery.

  As the door shut behind her, she felt as if more than a door had been closed. A chapter of her life had ended.

  And a new chapter had begun.

  “Of course you can move in with me,” Edna said.

  Annie hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She breathed free. “Thank you so much. I shan’t be any trouble, and I’ll be a proper lodger and help with expenses.”

  “Not a worry. When can you move in?”

  “Straightaway? Tonight?”

  Edna chuckled. “You are a girl who makes quick decisions.”

  She hoped it wasn’t a rash one.

  It was odd being back at work, waiting on customers, smiling. Helping a woman choose a pattern and fabric seemed frivolous compared to the life-and-death situations she’d endured the past week.

  Her only relief was that Mildred had kept to herself. Though others had offered condolences and wanted to know the lurid details and whether Grasston had been arrested—which he had not—Mildred offered accusatory glances. Accusing Annie of what, she wasn’t sure.

  It didn’t matter. Mildred Krieger had no part in Annie’s life. She was an annoying fly on the back side of a window.

  As Annie was finishing up with a customer, she spotted Mildred talking to Mrs. Reinhold, the customer she’d helped during one of her first days on the job. She saw the woman pointing at Annie, and Annie waved. With a nod, Mrs. Reinhold said a few more words to Mildred and then came over to Annie’s counter.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Reinhold,” she said. “I’ll be with you in just a few minutes.”

  “I will wait,” she said.

  As Annie wrote up the other customer’s purchase, Mrs. Reinhold addressed the woman. “You are smart to let Miss Wood help you with your sewing purchases,” she said. “Look at what she helped me put together.” She spread her arms and turned in a circle.

  Only then did Annie realize she was wearing the gold coat and brown skirt they had designed together. “What a fine job you did,” Annie said. “You are a very talented seamstress.”

  “And you are a very talented fashion designer. From skirt to coat, to hat and gloves.”

  The other customer pointed to the hat. “Did you make that, too?”

  “I did—with Miss Wood’s design expertise.”

  The new customer turned to Annie. “I’d like to make a similar hat to go with the fabric I am purchasing. Can you help me?”

  Annie feared the extra time required would offend Mrs. Reinhold. She need not have worried. “Don’t concern yourself with the delay, Miss Wood. I have the time. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to add my two cents to the process.”

  The other woman beamed. “I’d welcome your opinion.”

  Annie proceeded to help the ladies.

  While Mildred stewed nearby.

  Annie was cleaning off the cutting table when she looked up and saw the owner of Macy’s standing before her.

  “Mr. Straus.”

  “Good day, Miss Wood.”

  She put a hand to her hair, hoping the stray strands were neatly tucked away. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Continue on as you have been doing,” he said. “I’ve heard good things about your work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  His face grew serious. “I wanted to check to see how you were after the death of your friend. I offer my sincere condolences.”

  “Thank you, sir. I am coping. And I want to thank you for the time off. I enjoy working here, so to have my job still available after being gone a week is—”

  “Paid time off,” he said.

  She gawked. “Paid?”

  “It is the least we can do for our employees in their time of need.”

  “Oh, sir. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re quite welcome.” He looked embarrassed and quickly said, “Carry on.”

  She watched him walk away, his hands clasped behind his back. He greeted many of the clerks and customers, the store’s attentive father.

  Soon after Mr. Straus’s visit, Sean stopped by. Annie was busy with customers, but he quickly wrote something on a slip of paper and handed it to her. When she was free she read it: Skip lunch and let’s have our baseball date today at 2:30. At least we can hear part of
the game.

  They were still playing the World Series?

  Annie asked Mrs. MacDonald about it. “Oh yes,” she said. “They played the first three games, but then because of constant rain, game four in Philly and today’s game here were postponed. Tomorrow is the last game—in Philadelphia. Unless we win both, and then they’ll have to play a seventh game.”

  Annie was getting confused. “Are we winning the series?”

  “We need a win today to stay alive. Philadelphia is ahead three games to one.”

  The only detail that mattered was that the Giants needed to win today, and Sean wanted her to be there. With him. She showed Mrs. MacDonald the note. “May I go? For a short while?”

  The woman smiled. “Of course you can. You need some frivolity in your life.”

  The morning flew by, and soon she held Sean’s arm tightly as they made their way through the crowd in front of the Herald Newspaper offices. A police officer shooed them up onto the curb and sidewalk, trying to keep Broadway clear. But both sides of the street were shoulder to shoulder.

  “There,” Sean said, pointing to the building. “That’s the Play-O-Graph. See the diamond on it?”

  “But what does it mean?”

  He explained the game: bases, outs, strikes. He received help from men wedged on either side of them.

  “I think I have it,” she said, truthfully. “It’s a bit like cricket where they hit a ball and run while it’s being fielded.”

  One of the men laughed. “You could be right, miss. I don’t know cricket, but your quick understanding of baseball means you’ve done better’n my wife. I’ve been trying to get her interested for ten years but she won’t have nothing to do with it.”

  “You have a fan,” Sean whispered in her ear.

  “I hope I have more than one.”

  He winked at her.

  She enjoyed the crowded conditions, for it enabled her to stand close to Sean without fear of seeming too fresh. She stood in front of him, enabling her ear to be near his lips. He put a protective arm around her, keeping her safe. And happy. It felt good to be happy.

  But Grasston is still out there.

  She shoved the thought away. He wouldn’t dare bother her with thousands of witnesses.