The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  A man stood beside the Play-O-Graph, getting news that was relayed from inside. “Miller on first!”

  The crowd roared. And Annie’s heart soared.

  “Seeing you three times in one day is quite the treat,” Sean said.

  Annie retrieved her carpetbag from her locker and put on her coat. “You don’t have to help me move to Edna’s,” she said. “All I have is this one bag—which I can easily carry.”

  Nearby, Edna secured her hat with a hat pin. “Quiet, Annie. If a man offers to help, you let him help.” She winked at Sean. “Especially a handsome man.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Mrs. Holmquist?”

  “Was I? Who knew I still had it in me. Come now, you two. I want to stop at the butcher’s and get some beef. I’m going to make you Swedish meatballs.”

  “You don’t have to feed me,” Sean said. “I work for free.”

  “If a woman offers to feed you, you let her feed you.”

  Annie’s few belongings were moved into Edna’s extra room, and then dinner was enjoyed by all. Annie was impressed by how easily Sean kept the conversation lively. Between his stories about growing up in Brooklyn, Edna’s stories about her early days at Macy’s, and Annie’s stories about working as a maid at Crompton Hall, time flew by.

  Edna shoved her third cup of coffee away and stood, groaning as she arched her back. “Sitting so long makes these old muscles tighten like a clothesline in the winter.”

  Sean stood, too. “I should be getting home myself. Tomorrow is a workday.”

  Annie hated to see him go. “I thoroughly enjoyed today,” she said.

  “Especially since the Giants won the game.”

  “It was fun to lark about and see a portion of it, and then hear the crowd cheering even after I was back at work.”

  “I’ll make a fan of you yet,” Sean said. He moved toward the door but detoured to the sewing machine where Annie’s blouse was being sewn. “Is this the product of your lessons?”

  “It is,” she said. “And you’ll be pleased to know I used a Butterick pattern. Sort of.”

  “What do you mean ‘sort of’?”

  She took up the blouse—which only had one sleeve set in. “Since I’m a bit taller than most women, Edna showed me how to alter the patterns to fit. Plus, I wanted to try a tight sleeve to the elbow and let it go into a wider flare and—”

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  Annie took up a pencil and paper and sketched it for him. “See? The upper sleeve is straight, but the bottom half billows out at the elbow and is secured again at the cuff.” She studied it a moment. Something was missing. She took the edge of the pencil and smudged a bit of lead on the underside of the sleeve to better show it off. “There. That’s better.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “It was just an idea I had and—”

  “I’m impressed by your sketching ability.” He took the page and showed it to Edna. “Did you know she could draw like this?”

  “I did not. Annie, why didn’t you tell me you were an artist?”

  “I’m no artist.”

  “You most certainly are,” Sean said. “Look at how you captured the design with just a few lines. You even added shadow. You must have had some training.”

  She laughed at the thought. “I’ve been a housemaid since I was young. I’ve never had time or the inclination to draw anything, much less become an artist.”

  “I’m even more impressed,” Sean said. “To have a talent you don’t even know you have?” He shook his head. “Fascinating.”

  Edna handed the drawing back, and Annie looked at it with new eyes. It was good—though next time she would add the entire bodice to the drawing to give it context.

  Sean put on his coat and hat. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, Annie-girl?”

  Apparently.

  Before Annie turned out the light in her room at Edna’s, she stepped across the hall and rapped on the other bedroom door. “You still awake?”

  “I am. Come in.”

  Edna was sitting up in bed, reading the Bible. “Do you have everything you need?”

  That one innocent question punched a hole in the wall Annie had built around herself, letting her emotions rush out in a torrent. She fell into Edna’s arms.

  “Oh my. Oh sweet girl.”

  “My best friend is dead!”

  Edna stroked her back. “I know.”

  Annie thought of more. “I don’t have a spot at the Tuttles’ anymore.”

  “I know.”

  “Grasston’s still out there. Who knows if he’ll find me again and hurt me.”

  “I know.”

  Annie sat up to face her. “Iris is getting married.”

  “The gall.”

  The change in Edna’s answer made Annie blink. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. I’m happy for her.”

  “Are you?”

  “Of course.”

  “You don’t sound happy. You sound peeved.”

  Annie stood beside the bed. “I never expected her to find love—at least not so quickly.”

  “Before you.”

  The words could have stung, but oddly they did not. “I’m not seeking marriage.”

  “Was Iris?”

  Annie didn’t know. “She wanted to work in a shop, but then the Tuttles needed her help with the children, and …”

  “And she was happy doing that?”

  “I suppose.”

  Edna peered at her over her glasses.

  “Yes. She was happy.”

  “Isn’t that what you want for her?”

  “I do.” Annie didn’t like how Edna flipped her grievances over upon themselves. “But Danny is dead!”

  “A true tragedy. But are you upset because he died so young and lost the chance at a fuller life, or because he left you?”

  “You’re turning everything around.”

  Edna removed her glasses and set the Bible on the bedside table. “I’m merely pointing out that everything you mentioned had you as the focus. The truth is, it’s not just about you.”

  “That’s rude.”

  “Truth can be rude, but that doesn’t stop it from being the truth.” Edna patted the side of the bed, and Annie sat. “Yes, your best friend died, but he’s the one who had his young life taken from him.”

  “I didn’t mean to belittle his loss, but—”

  Edna raised a hand, stopping her words. “It’s true you don’t have a room at the Tuttles’ anymore—or perhaps, even a place in their family. But you are not on the street, not destitute. You do have a room—a real room with a bed to sleep upon, not a makeshift bed on some flour sacks.”

  Shame took a turn. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to downplay all you’ve offered me. I truly appreciate the room. Actually, I’ve never had a room of my own.”

  Edna cocked her head. “Never?”

  Annie let her thoughts trail through her life. “When I was small I shared with my brother, and when I got a job with the Kidds I shared a room with another maid. Even here in New York I shared a room—and a bed—with Iris.” She was shocked by her realization. “And at the Tuttles’ I shared a room with Iris and Danny.”

  Edna spread her arms. “You have risen up in the world.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of it like that? “Thank you, Edna. For everything you’ve done for me. Befriending me, giving me sewing lessons, feeding me, giving me the room, encouraging me …”

  “I did all those things—do all those things—because I care for you.”

  Annie took her hand. “I care for you, too. Immensely. You’re like the mother I never had.”

  “You mother wasn’t around?”

  A snicker escaped. “She was around in body but had none of your loving and generous character.”

  “I am exceptional,” Edna said with a laugh.

  Annie clasped her hand harder. “Actually, you are. My parents begrudge the world its every smile or bit of happiness. They fee
l due, as if everyone and everything owes them. They can’t see that they have nothing because they give nothing. They don’t understand it isn’t just about them.”

  Edna’s left eyebrow rose, and Annie realized Edna had just said it wasn’t all about her.

  She tried to recover from the similarity. “But they are leeches, sucking the world dry. Nothing is ever good enough or enough enough. It’s left them gorged with pessimism.”

  “I’m so sorry. What a horrible way to live.”

  Annie squeezed her eyes shut, ridding her mind of the memories. “Their attitude is why I went into service when I was fourteen. I had to get away from them or be pulled under with them.”

  “All the more reason to count your blessings. You are here, across the world, fully free to be all you can be.”

  “I am free, aren’t I?”

  “Completely. You have a job you enjoy, a warm bed, the most fabulous landlady—”

  “Absolutely.”

  Edna held up a finger. “And you have a newly discovered talent to draw.”

  The idea was still hard to fathom. “I never knew I could do that.”

  “A talent uncovered is a talent recovered.”

  “Recovered?”

  “It’s always been with you, Annie. You just didn’t know it was there. It’s a known fact that God’s gifts can’t be returned.”

  God gave her that gift? It made her wonder what other talents lay hidden.

  “You’ve forgotten one other blessing in your life.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Ah. Sean.”

  “Yes, ah Sean. He’s a good man who likes you very much.”

  “But—”

  “Before you discount his interest, think about all he’s done for you in the short time you’ve known him. He’s defended you to his company against Mildred’s complaint.”

  “A stupid complaint.”

  “Let me finish. After Grasston assaulted you, Sean sought you out to check on your well-being.”

  “He did.”

  “That took effort. He also was a comfort after Danny was killed, yes?”

  She nodded. “He came to the Tuttles’ every day. He accompanied me to the funeral.”

  “Which shows how much he cares.”

  It does.

  “And,” Edna said, “he took you out to listen to a baseball game during the World Series.”

  Annie laughed. “I never would have experienced that without him.”

  “I’m betting there are many things you can experience together.” Edna’s smile spoke beyond the words.

  “I am not ready to be courted.”

  “You may not be ready to be courted, but you are being courted. By Sean and by someone else.”

  “Who?”

  Edna lay a hand on her Bible. “The Almighty is working all around you if you just open your eyes. He’s waiting for you to notice Him.”

  Annie wanted to respond but couldn’t find the right words. “If you say so.”

  “I do.” Edna squeezed Annie’s hand. “Now go to sleep, girlie. And may all your dreams reveal wonderful surprises.”

  Annie snuggled amid the covers of her very own bed, in her very own room. Edna was right. Even through the hard times of the past few weeks, there had been good times, times of great blessing.

  “The Almighty is working all around you if you just open your eyes. He’s waiting for you to notice Him.”

  She was still a bit baffled by Edna’s words. She believed in God. She even prayed occasionally.

  When I need something.

  Wasn’t that all right? Didn’t God want to hear her needs so He could provide for her?

  More of Edna’s words returned: “It’s not just about you.”

  She sat up in bed. “Then who’s it about?”

  “Me.”

  The thought surprised her. What also surprised her was the unexpected knowledge that “Me” was God. God was claiming that He wanted the attention? That it was all about Him? Wasn’t that selfish?

  “Come to Me first. You are Mine and I am yours.”

  The words that were unspoken yet felt frightened her. The concept of a God who gave Himself to her and drew her close was beyond any father-child relationship she’d ever experienced. Fathers weren’t loving. They were judgmental, disparaging, and cruel.

  “I love you, Annie.”

  God. God was telling her He loved her? This was too strange. Things like this didn’t happen to her.

  Annie lay down and pulled the covers close.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Annie looked up from a display case of scissors to see two police officers standing in front of her. One of them was Officer Brady, who’d spoken with her after her assault. Memories of that attack and Danny’s death forced themselves to the front of her thoughts.

  “Officer Brady, is everything all right?”

  The two bobbies touched the brims of their hats, and Officer Brady said, “I believe it is, Miss Wood. For we have caught your assailant.”

  The fear that had rushed forward retreated like a tide going out to sea. “Grasston.”

  “Oscar Grasston, yes, miss,” the other officer said.

  “So he’s going to jail forever?”

  The officers exchanged a glance. “For assault, no.”

  “But he killed Danny.”

  “Allegedly,” Officer Brady said. “We’ve not found a witness.”

  “Yet,” the other officer said.

  “But he’s guilty! He did it! Gramps saw them arguing then found Danny stabbed. All after Grasston threatened him with a knife at the bakery.”

  Officer Brady made a “calm down” motion with his hands, and Annie realized she’d raised her voice. She saw Mrs. Gold approach Mrs. MacDonald to talk, her eyes on Annie and the officers.

  This was neither the time nor the place.

  “We need you to come to the precinct and pick him out of a lineup.”

  “But I know he assaulted me. I don’t need to identify him.” She leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “He knocked me down. He was on top of me.”

  Did bobbies blush? Both of them looked down, cleared their throats, and then looked back at Annie. “It’s just a formality, Miss Wood, as we do have statements from others at the scene. You confirm he’s the one and we’ll take care of the rest.”

  Annie noticed too many eyes watching. She needed them gone. “May I come after work? Around six?”

  “We can hold him that long.”

  That long? He needed to be jailed forever.

  Brady handed her a card that showed the precinct address, and they left.

  Before they were even out of the store, they were accosted by Mr. Horace and another plainclothes security man. As that was happening, Mrs. Gold approached Annie. “Miss Wood, this sort of attention is not welcome in Macy’s.”

  “It’s not attention, ma’am, it’s police work.”

  “I realize that, but uniformed officers disturb the customers.”

  “I don’t understand why. They should feel more secure seeing officers here.”

  “I will not play tit for tat with you, Miss Wood. I merely mean to impress on you the need to maintain an enjoyable shopping experience.”

  Annie understood, but it rankled her. “If you’re interested, they caught the man who assaulted me, the man who killed my friend. I will be visiting the precinct to identify him.”

  “On your own time, I assume.”

  “On my own time.” This was wearying. “You’re treating me as if I caused all this.”

  Mrs. Gold’s hesitation was telling. “Carry on, then, Miss Wood. But please inform the officers that next time they need to speak with you, they can send you a note.”

  The silly thought of the two burly officers writing a note made her smile.

  “Do you find this amusing, Miss Wood? Because I assure you I take it very seriously.”

  “I take this seriously, too, Mrs.
Gold. After all, my friend and I were the victims.”

  With the lift of an eyebrow the supervisor walked away, only to be quickly replaced by Mrs. MacDonald—and Mildred, who’d somehow made her way from fabrics over to the sewing notions section, where she busied herself sorting tape measures. Annie was beyond caring. Let her listen in.

  “So?” Mrs. MacDonald asked.

  “They caught him.” She looked directly at Mildred. “They caught your friend, Grasston. He’s been arrested for assault and murder.” She forgave herself the embellishment.

  Suddenly Mildred stopped her sorting and came close, her forehead furrowed. “He … he’s arrested?”

  “He is. I tried to warn you. I hope you didn’t spend any time alone with him.”

  Mildred shook her head vehemently. But then she began to cry.

  Tears? “What did he do to you?” Annie asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you crying?” Mrs. MacDonald asked. “Did he hurt you?”

  Mildred retrieved a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “Thankfully, no. He wanted to take me out, but we never went anywhere. He gave me attention here at the store and led me on then disappeared and never came back.”

  So it was an issue of pride. “He disappeared because he’d killed Danny.”

  Mildred turned away from them and blew her nose. When she turned back she said, “I’m crying because I finally get a man interested in me, and he turns out to be a criminal.”

  That would hurt.

  Annie let Mildred cry on her shoulder.

  Would wonders never cease?

  “You’re treating me as if I caused all this.”

  Although Annie’s previous words to Mrs. Gold were said in her own defense, and though Mrs. Gold had not confirmed them, they hung over Annie the rest of the day as her own private condemnation.

  For it was true. She was to blame for all the problems Grasston had caused, and who knew how many more people he had—or would—hurt because he was angry at her.

  Oddly, during her lunch break in the cafeteria, she saw men talking among themselves—their glances revealing that she was the subject of their discussions. And the women … When she went to sit with some girls from the shoe department, they quickly left.

  Now I know how Mildred feels eating alone. She had the notion to take her tray and eat in the locker room.