The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  She would have rather stood but didn’t want to offend.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I … I am leaving Macy’s for another position.”

  His left eyebrow rose. “Is there a reason? Were you unhappy working here?”

  She scooted forward in her chair. “Oh no, sir. Not at all. I am very thankful for the experience you’ve given me. I will be forever grateful for that, and for your kind sympathy and patience after Danny was murdered.”

  “Murdered,” he repeated. “Have they found his killer?”

  “They know who did it, but they don’t have enough evidence to convict him.” She considered telling him that Grasston was on the run but didn’t want to go into it further.

  “I’m sure he will be judged and jailed.”

  “I hope so, sir.”

  “So who is the lucky company who’s stolen you away from us?”

  “Butterick Pattern Company.”

  “A thriving company for certain. They just built a sixteen-story building. Very impressive.”

  Annie was unaware of these details but was glad to know them.

  “What position will you have?”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not sure. They’re not sure where they’re going to use me.”

  Mr. Straus laughed. “Which most likely means they see a myriad of talents in you and need to take time placing you to their best advantage.”

  It was a wonderful thought. “I hope so.”

  He stood and extended his hand. “I wish you the best of everything, Miss Wood. Don’t be a stranger to us.”

  She was moved by his gracious farewell. She only hoped the people at Butterick would be so kind.

  As soon as she saw Mr. Horace walking toward her, Annie felt her entire body tense. The grim look on his face made her wary.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Wood,” he said.

  “Good afternoon. Is something wrong?”

  “Something isn’t right.” He handed her a note. “This is from Officer Brady. He didn’t want to come inside because he knew his presence tends to disrupt business.”

  “How thoughtful of him.”

  “Read it,” he said.

  The note said: Miss Wood, An update: Grasston is still at large. Continue your vigilance as we continue our efforts to capture him. Officer Brady.

  She sighed deeply, folded the note, and put it in her skirt pocket. “I was so hoping …”

  “I know. We all were. You are being careful when you go home?”

  “I am. I hope he still believes I live at the bakery.” She thought of something. “Are the police watching the Tuttles? Watching for him there?”

  “They are. But what about your new residence with Mrs. Holmquist?”

  “I still don’t think he knows about it.”

  “He could follow you after work.”

  Thanks for reminding me. “Did you hear I gave my notice today?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Did he scare you off?”

  “Partly. But I also received an exciting job opportunity I could not refuse.”

  “Good for you. Good for you in ways beyond the opportunity. Hopefully Grasston never finds out where you work.”

  “That was one consideration in taking the job.”

  He extended his hand for her to shake. “It has been nice knowing you, Miss Wood. I wish you a well and safe future.”

  Annie suffered a shudder. She wouldn’t feel truly safe until Grasston was caught and convicted.

  “I have a confession to make,” Annie told Sean as they entered the restaurant.

  “Is it something incredibly juicy and naughty?”

  She batted him on the arm. “Sorry to disappoint. I was simply going to confess that this is the first time I have ever eaten in a restaurant.”

  “Ever?”

  “Ever. When I was young we were too poor—and there were no restaurants in Summerfield anyway. In service for the Kidds I ate with the servants. On the ship over to America I also ate with the servants, as I did at the Friesens’.” She looked around the restaurant, which glowed with soft electric light and the sparkle of crystal and silver. “I have never ordered from a menu. Actually, I have never had much choice regarding what to eat at all, unless you count the cafeteria at Macy’s.”

  “I don’t count the cafeteria as proper restaurant dining.” Sean pulled her hand around his arm and held it there. “I am honored to be the one who gives you a proper initiation.”

  A man dressed like a butler led them to a table and held out her chair, then Sean’s. He placed a linen napkin in her lap with a flourish.

  “Finally, our dinner out,” Sean said with a wink.

  “Are you saying Edna’s dinners are lacking?”

  They received menus. “I’m saying no such thing, and don’t you ever imply that to her. I’m simply happy for the time alone with you.”

  She smiled at him then hid behind the menu lest he see her blush.

  He guessed her ploy and pushed it down. “Is the feeling reciprocated?” Annie pointed to the day’s specials. “The codfish looks enticing.”

  Sean pressed the point. “Don’t be coy with me, Annie. Or elusive. Or flirtatious.”

  “Then what should I be?”

  “Open. Honest. And …”

  “And?”

  He looked at the menu. “I think I might try the mutton chops.”

  “You are so cheeky.”

  “I can be,” he said. “And will no doubt continue to be.” He set the menu aside and extended his hand on the table, waiting for her to take it.

  Which she did.

  “What I want from you, for us, is not a courting game that involves meaningless chitchat about nothing, but something very real that involves meaningful discussion about everything.”

  She was moved by his sincerity yet also a bit frightened by it. “I want that, too,” she said.

  “I hear a ‘but’ hanging nearby.”

  “But … everything in my life is happening so fast. Too fast. A very short time ago I was a housemaid. Then a clerk. And now a pattern artist.”

  “Your quick journey reveals your true inner talent.”

  “It’s not just my career that has moved quickly, it’s my private life, too. I went from knowing the Kidd family and the servants in the house to knowing Iris and Danny, to the Tuttles, to Edna and Mildred, and … and you.”

  “Saving the best for last.”

  She loved how he could make her smile. “I have no one left from my before life. Every friend is a new friend.”

  “That doesn’t make us bad friends.”

  “Not at all. It’s just …”

  The waiter came and took their order. They stuck with their initial cod and mutton chops.

  “It’s just?” Sean prodded.

  She adjusted the napkin in her lap, trying to return to the previous thought. “It’s just that everything in my entire life is new. Even my so-called talent is new. I’m not sure who Annie Wood is anymore. I don’t recognize her. I don’t know her.”

  He found her hand again and squeezed. “But I do. Would you like me to introduce her to you?”

  She laughed. “Are you going to make me blush again?”

  “I certainly hope so.” He let go of her hand and cleared his throat. “Annie … What’s your middle name?”

  “Louise.”

  He cleared his throat again. “Annie Louise Wood, aged …?”

  “Nineteen, but nearly twenty.”

  “So old.” He continued, “Annie Louise Wood, aged nearly twenty, is an extraordinary modern woman. She knows her own mind, is not afraid to share it—even when she’s wrong, and—”

  “Blimey.”

  He held up a finger, stopping her objection. “And she has the ability to make everyone she’s with feel special. She sees the world with wide-eyed eagerness, open to whatever life throws at her.”

  The thought of Grasston came. And went.

  He had more. “She makes friends easily, has
an incredible work ethic, and has excellent taste in male companions.” He grinned. “I couldn’t resist, but only because it’s true.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “You want more praise?”

  “You have more?”

  He sighed with feigned drama. “Annie Louise Wood has an amazing, fascinating, and surprising life in front of her. She will succeed in everything she does—with God by her side. There,” he said. “Satisfied?”

  “It sounded a bit like a eulogy. I’m not dead, you know.”

  “In a way you are. The old Annie is dead and a new Annie has risen in her place.”

  His words took her aback, for they were full of truth.

  Annie set her fork down and leaned back in her chair. “I cannot eat another morsel.”

  Sean did the same. “The apple tart crowned the meal—and then some.”

  She sipped her coffee. “The dinner was brilliant. I thank you for the meal, your delightful company, and for my new job.”

  “Your phone call with Mr. Burroughs cinched it. I merely put the idea in his head.”

  Remembering the interview … “Did you tell him I used to be a maid?”

  “No. I didn’t know if you wanted that mentioned. I focused on your work at Macy’s, and your drawing ability. But—”

  “Drat,” she said. “Not knowing whether you mentioned it or not, I mentioned it. I hope he doesn’t think less of me for my humble beginnings.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. I spoke to Mr. Burroughs after your interview and he said that your experience as a maid under Lady Newley was the tipping point in giving you the job.”

  She was confused. “Why would that help my cause?”

  “You told him you’ve altered couture gowns?”

  “Well, yes. Lady Newley and Miss Henrietta went to Paris every spring to see the newest fashion. They had their clothes custom made. Of course I never went with them. But their lady’s maids did.”

  “Ah. Paris. I’m betting that was the clincher for Mr. Burroughs.”

  “Why would the Kidds going to Paris matter?”

  “Because Butterick sends handpicked employees to those same fashion shows.”

  “Why?”

  “To make sketches that we turn into knockoffs for our home sewers. You play your cards right and you might get to go to Paris, too.”

  She had to laugh. “Me? Going to the fashion shows in Paris?”

  “You, working as a pattern artist in the largest pattern company in the world?”

  Annie put a hand to her heart and felt it pounding. “Why are good things happening to me?”

  Sean studied her a minute. “What did you tell me yesterday? That you thought it possible to will yourself to be happy? That’s what you’re doing now.”

  “Am I?”

  “You are. You’re not letting the pain of Danny’s death and Grasston rule your life. You’ve chosen joy and hope.”

  “Have I?”

  He laughed. “You are either searching for more compliments—which I shall be happy to provide—or you’re simply not allowing yourself to enjoy and accept the very marvelous woman you are.”

  Annie’s heart swelled at his words—because they encouraged—but also because they revealed him to be an extraordinary man.

  “There is one more thing I choose,” she said.

  “And what’s that?”

  “I choose you.”

  He leaned over the table and kissed her, sealing the moment.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Take a deep breath, Annie.”

  Annie did as Edna instructed, putting a hand upon her midsection. One breath then two for good measure. “I’ve got the collywobbles.”

  Edna smiled. “I’ve never heard that term before, but I understand completely. It’s natural to be nervous about your first day on a new job.”

  Annie smoothed her new skirt. “Do I look all right?”

  “You look lovely. They’ll certainly be impressed you created your outfit with Butterick patterns.”

  She had second thoughts. “Is it too obvious? As though I’m a toady?”

  “A what?”

  Americans didn’t use that term? “A flatterer. Buttering them up?”

  “Ah,” Edna said. “Don’t point it out to them, but if they notice, you can certainly say something.” She pointed to the toast on Annie’s plate. “Eat. You need a good breakfast.”

  Annie wasn’t sure her stomach was up to food, but she nibbled at the bread and drank her tea.

  Sean had said it was approximately two miles from Edna’s to the Butterick offices at Spring and MacDougal Streets. It should have taken her forty-five minutes at a brisk pace, but she’d taken a wrong turn and had to backtrack.

  She was late. She hated being late.

  The Butterick building loomed at the west end of Spring Street like a massive monster intimidating the three-story buildings around it. Its presence spoke volumes toward the company’s importance and success.

  Before she entered the building, she dabbed at her face and neck with a handkerchief. To “glow” prettily was one thing. To be sweaty was another. She looked at her reflection in a window and smoothed the stray strands of hair that announced her frenzied walk. Then she forced herself to take some deep breaths, hoping to calm her pulse. Please, God. You brought me here. Help me do my best.

  She entered the lobby and approached a front desk. “Excuse me, but I’m a new employee. Today is my first day and I don’t know where to go.”

  “Of course, miss,” the receptionist said. “What is your name?”

  Annie was instructed to go up the elevator to the fifth floor and report to Mrs. Downs.

  As Annie walked away, the girl said, “Welcome to the Butterick Company, Miss Wood.”

  Her politeness reminded Annie to move out of her self-focus and reciprocate. “Thank you for the welcome and your help.”

  The girl’s smile was genuine. “Don’t be nervous. We don’t bite.”

  Annie’s laughter eased her nerves. “That’s good to know.”

  The elevator operator greeted her warmly. “First day?”

  “Is it so obvious?”

  “Just a bit. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

  The doors opened up to an enormous room filled with oak desks piled high with papers.

  A man whose desk was in the front row asked, “Looking for someone?”

  “Mrs. Downs? I’m Annie Wood. I’m new.”

  His gaze took in the whole of her, but she couldn’t tell whether he was impressed or appalled. “We heard you were coming. Follow me.”

  By the way he said it, it seemed they’d been warned she was coming. She hoped her instincts were wrong.

  “Mrs. Downs,” the man said to an older woman with a pinched face. “This here’s Miss Wood, come to work.”

  The woman eyed her, yet her gaze avoided Annie’s face and took in her clothes. “I recognize the skirt—pattern number 8358, and the blouse is 3758, yet not completely.”

  Annie was impressed but immediately regretted altering the sleeve to her own design. “I changed the sleeve.”

  Mrs. Downs moved close and inspected it. “I do like the sleekness here, and the cuff … It is an interesting alteration.”

  “Thank you.” Annie hastened to add, “It wasn’t that I thought the initial blouse pattern faulty, I just had an idea and—”

  “You are here to design, Miss Wood. To create. To take what does not exist and make it real.”

  Annie realized she’d been holding her breath. “I am eager to get to work.”

  “Hmm,” Mrs. Downs said. “Come with me.”

  Annie was led into another room that contained an extremely long layout table in the center. Along the window wall were smaller tables, each four feet in length. A half-dozen women sat at those tables, while others fitted pattern pieces or fabric on headless dress forms that wore muslin ensembles in various stages of construction. A girl stood at the long table, using a curved
ruler to mark on some paper.

  Mrs. Downs clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention—an act that was unnecessary as Annie had everyone’s eyes from the moment she’d come in the room. As the man said, they knew she was coming.

  “Ladies, I would like to introduce you to Miss Annie Wood, who has come to fill the position vacated by Agnes. As you’ve been informed, she has artistic ability illustrating designs, as well as an innovative eye. I trust you’ll make her feel welcome.” She pointed at the girl who was fitting some muslin on a dress form. “Maude? I place you in charge of Miss Wood.”

  “How grand. I’ve always wanted to be in charge of someone.”

  Mrs. Downs pointed a finger at her. “Be kind. Show her around the building and then lead her through the design process.” She looked at Maude over her glasses. “Don’t make me regret choosing you for the task, Miss Nascato.”

  Maude put a hand to her chest and feigned indignation. “I wouldn’t dare.”

  Annie was shocked by her boldness. Yet Mrs. Downs must trust Maude or she wouldn’t have chosen her.

  As soon as the older woman left, the room erupted in giggles and comments such as “She lets you get away with murder, Maude” and “Be nice to Miss Wood, Maude” and “You’d better behave yourself, or …”

  Maude turned to the last speaker. “Or what?”

  The girl went back to her table. “One of these days …”

  “I agree,” Maude said. “One of these days I’m going to get what is coming to me: fame, wealth, and unimaginable happiness.”

  Her words quieted the girls and they returned to their work. But as Maude turned her attention to Annie, Annie wasn’t sure what to think of her guide.

  Maude stuck some stray pins into a cushion then headed for the door. “Come along, Annie Wood. Let me show you what you’ve got yourself into.”

  Annie was shown the press room where they printed up the envelopes for the patterns, as well as the pattern catalogs and copies of the Delineator magazine—which—Maude informed her, was the most successful women’s magazine in America, with a circulation of 1.3 million readers. Annie had no concept of such numbers.

  The sound in the press room was deafening, and the constant frenetic motion of the massive machines was almost frightening. Also frightening—in its own way—was the attention of the men manning the presses. They winked at her, whistled, and laughed among themselves.