“An enormous leap.”
“Of faith?”
Annie was taken aback. “Is that what it is?”
“Seems so to me. You left the Kidds with the expectation you’d find something better.”
“I had no idea what I’d find.”
“Exactly. You took the leap—on faith—that there was something better out there. And there was.”
“I did that.”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Both.”
Edna retrieved a Bible from her bedroom. She leafed through it then handed it to Annie, her finger pointing at a verse. “There. Hebrews 11:1. Read it aloud.”
“‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’” Annie put a hand on Edna’s forearm. “I just got the shivers.”
“I always take such shivers to mean that God approves of what I’m thinking. As if saying, ‘Yes, Edna. You’ve got it.’”
“Surely not.”
“You want to argue with me? Or Him?”
Annie’s soft laugh broke through the seriousness of the moment. “I do like the notion that God is right here, letting me know I’m on the right go of things.”
“So you’re all right with staying? With turning your back on what was and fully investing in what could be?”
Annie let a deep breath come and go. “Sean said the old Annie is dead and a new Annie has risen in her place.”
“Has she?”
This time Annie’s nod was filled with certainty. “She has.”
“Very good, then. Give God a ‘thank You,’ and welcome to now.”
Now seemed a very good place to be.
Thank You, God.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Annie was deep at work, trying to perfect the pattern for a draped overskirt on a dress, when suddenly all the girls in the department turned toward a sound in Mrs. Downs’s office.
Through the glass window of the office Annie could see a visitor, a woman wearing a lavender wide-brimmed hat with a plume. She was talking very loudly to Mrs. Downs, gesticulating wildly with her hands.
“Who is that?” Annie asked Dora.
“That’s just Mrs. Sampson, a rich lady with too much time on her hands.”
“At it again, I see. Or rather, hear,” Suzanne said.
The other girls giggled.
As the woman’s voice grew more animated, Annie turned to Maude for a more detailed answer. “What’s the story with her? She’s a giddy kipper for sure.”
There was a pause, and then the girls laughed. “Giddy kipper?”
“She’s overly excited.”
“That she is,” Maude said. “Always is.”
“She comes here often?”
“Too,” Suzanne said.
“What are they arguing about?”
“She’s a fashion rebel,” Maude explained. “If she had her way we’d all go around naked.”
More giggles.
“If she’s for nakedness, why is she visiting a company that designs clothes?”
“Don’t take me too literally,” Maude said. “She’s one of the rational-dress reformers, those who are against corsets and clothing that binds.”
“I’m against corsets, too,” Annie said, adjusting the pinch of boning under her arm.
“But you wear one,” Dora said. “We all do.”
Suzanne shook her head. “It’s improper to do otherwise.”
“Scandalous,” another girl said.
The subject got her thinking. “I know that’s the way it’s always been, but wouldn’t it be nice not to be bound up? When I was a—” She caught herself before she admitted to being a maid.
“A what?”
She found a different tack. “When I was younger I was all excited to wear a corset, not knowing what a discomfort they could be.”
“A torture.”
“A cruelty to women.”
As if on cue, all the girls made adjustments to their corsets.
Maude put a halt to the subject and pointed at the designs at hand. “Back to work, girls. After dealing with Mrs. Sampson, Mrs. Downs will be in a foul mood. We’d better be getting something done.”
The four girls returned to their work. Maude looked over Annie’s shoulder at the pattern pieces for the skirt and offered no suggestion. Then she placed a sketch in front of her.
“What’s this?” Annie asked.
“Mrs. Downs wants us to add more hobble skirts to our catalog.”
Annie looked at the drawing. The skirt of the dress was wide at the hips but at the knee narrowed drastically toward a tight tube above the ankles. “I’ve seen a few women around town in these, but they look ridiculous.”
“It’s fashion,” Maude said. “From Paris.”
“I don’t care where it’s from,” Annie said. “Women can’t walk in them. I saw a woman trying to get in a cab and she had to receive assistance, and then virtually had to lift the skirt quite high to get in.” She pointed at the ankles of the woman in the illustration. “She’s showing her ankles even before she tries to get in a cab.”
“It’s the fashion of women’s rights,” Maude said. “No more heavy petticoats. No more tripping on our skirts.”
There was no “right” to it. It was illogical. “So we are free from the length, but create a new restriction in the width?”
“It’s modern,” Suzanne said from her table.
“It’s silly.”
“Yes it is. My point exactly.”
None of them had noticed Mrs. Sampson leave Mrs. Downs’s office until she stood beside Annie. “It’s nice to hear the voice of reason in the design department.” She gave Annie a look-see. “Are you new?”
“I am. Very.” Annie caught Mrs. Downs’s scowl. “Since I don’t know much about fashion yet, I probably shouldn’t voice my opinions.”
“Of course you should voice them,” Mrs. Sampson said. “We need a clear voice of reason in this company.” She nodded at Mrs. Downs. “This is exactly why I continue to delight you with my visits. Think of me as the woman repeatedly coming before the judge in the Bible, wearing him down.” She gazed directly at Mrs. Downs. “I will wear you down.”
Mrs. Downs swept an arm toward the elevator. “Thank you for your visit, Mrs. Sampson, but the girls have work to do.”
“Fool’s work, if they’re creating more patterns for that insipid fashion.”
Mrs. Downs was insistent. “If you please.”
With a dramatic sigh, Mrs. Sampson turned to leave. Then she paused and turned back to Annie. “What is your name, miss?”
“Annie. Annie Wood.”
“I look forward to winning you over to my side. Carry on.”
When she left she took a good portion of air with her.
“She exhausts me,” Mrs. Downs said, pressing a hand to her brow.
“She seems interesting,” Annie said.
“You will not be swayed by her rantings.”
“Some of what she says makes sense.” Annie pointed at the drawing. “This isn’t a fashion for the everyday woman who needs to move about easily in order to get through her day. Home sewers don’t want this.”
Annie heard Dora gasp. And Suzanne took a step back. Maude crossed her arms and shook her head.
Now I’ve done it.
Mrs. Downs glared at her. “You are an instant expert as to the needs and desires of our customers? We’ve been in business since 1863, we have over a hundred branch offices and over a thousand agencies, and are second only to the United States government in the size of our publishing department, yet you know best?”
Annie wanted to hide under the table. “I’m sorry. I misspoke.”
“Indeed you did. Focus on our company’s goals, Miss Wood, not the absurd rantings of a rebellious malcontent.” Mrs. Downs stormed into her office and shut the door hard enough to rattle the glass.
“Oh dear. I dropped a clanger on that one.”
Maude laughed. “Tha
t you did.”
Dora and Suzanne moved back to the main table. “I do see your point,” Dora said. “The hobble skirts are a silly fashion.”
Suzanne shook her head. “They may be silly, but if it’s good enough for Paris and the Wright brothers, then—”
“The brothers who invented the aeroplane?” Annie asked.
“Rumor is they’s the one who started it,” Suzanne said. “They were taking some ladies up in their planes and tied a sash around their skirts below the knees so the fabric wouldn’t flap around.”
It made an odd sort of sense. “But very few women go on aeroplanes.”
Dora shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to matter. It became fashion.”
“And as such, we need to work with it,” Maude said.
As they turned their attention back to the drawing, Annie had one last question. “If Mrs. Downs doesn’t like Mrs. Sampson, why does she let her in?”
“She and her husband have more money than spit,” Dora said.
“That’s hardly a nice way to put it,” Suzanne said.
“It’s all I could think of on short notice.”
“She and her husband are friends with the Astors and Vanderbilts,” Maude said. “Powerful families. Powerful businessmen.”
“With power comes a voice that demands to be heard?” Annie asked. “Exactly.”
“You are right about one thing, Annie,” Dora said.
“What’s that?”
“Mrs. Sampson is a giddy kipper.”
With work going well, there was still another issue that needed to be addressed, and a phone call to make.
Since the people at Butterick knew nothing of Annie’s personal life—beyond her friendship with Sean—she didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing the call, so she left the building and found a phone booth. She held a business card for reference and dialed the number. When the call was answered, she asked, “May I speak to Officer Brady, please? Annie Wood calling.”
While she waited for him to pick up, she recognized a few coworkers walking on the sidewalk, gave them a nod, and then discreetly turned away.
“Miss Wood,” the officer said. “I am glad to hear from you.”
Her hopes swelled. “You’ve caught him?”
“Uh, no. I was wanting to check to see if you’d seen him.”
There was something pitiful about his question. “No.”
“That’s good.”
“It is, but as I explained, I changed jobs. He doesn’t know where I work.”
“That’s a plus.”
“It is, but … the reason I called is this. I need to go to the Tuttles’ to fit a wedding dress for Iris. But now that I hear he’s not been caught, I’m hesitant to show myself there.”
“You have reason to be hesitant. My men have seen him near the bakery.”
“Then why haven’t they caught him?”
“Seeing and catching are two different things.”
His words were the antithesis of encouraging. “I’m not sure what to do. I really need to see Iris. Plus, I want to visit the rest of the family.”
“This won’t solve the latter issue, but perhaps Iris can come to you for the fitting?”
“Wouldn’t Grasston follow her?”
“Not if he doesn’t know where she’s going. Since she left the Friesens’ he’s never been after Iris, has he?”
“Just me. And Danny.” And Danny’s dead.
“Then if she’s aware and wise—and if someone accompanies her—I think it’s a valid solution. I’d prefer that you stay away from the places he used to find you. No Macy’s. No bakery. I’m sorry, but until we catch him …”
What choice did she have?
Annie thanked him—for what, she wasn’t sure—then called the bakery. Saturday would be a good day for the fitting.
Thomas answered. Thomas, Iris’s perfect chaperone.
A boy ran into the workroom, an envelope to his chest.
“Yes, boy?” Maude asked.
“I got here a message for a”—he read the envelope—“a Miss Wood? And I’s supposed to wait for a reply.”
“That’s me,” Annie said, raising her hand.
There was a chorus of oohs and teasing comments. “A secret admirer, perhaps?”
“There’s no secret. It’s Sean Culver who admires her.”
“Maybe this is a rival.”
“Girls!” Maude said, shushing them. “Enough speculating.” She turned to Annie. “Read the note.”
“Thank you,” Annie said.
But Maude wasn’t through. “Then let us know what it says.”
“Thatta way, Maude,” Suzanne said.
Annie enjoyed their banter because it made her feel like one of them. She stepped toward the window and dramatically turned her back to read it. She assumed it was from Sean and planned to chastise him for being so bold.
But when she saw the elegant cursive of her name on the front of the envelope, she knew it wasn’t from him. It was a female’s hand. Maybe a note from someone at Macy’s?
Inside was a letter written on fine stationery, folded in two. There was a printed letterhead.
Eleanor Sampson.
What would Mrs. Sampson want with her? They’d only met this morning, with Mrs. Sampson being a blustery wind that had blown in and out of the room.
“Come on, Annie,” Dora said. “What’s it say?”
She hadn’t gotten that far—yet the message was short: You’ve impressed me, Miss Wood. I invite you to dine this Friday with myself and my husband. Eight in the evening. You may bring a companion. Relay your answer to the boy. I look forward to getting to know you better. There was an address at the bottom.
“Come on, chickie,” Maude said. “Spill.”
Annie was hesitant. It had been made very clear that Mrs. Sampson and her rebellious ways were not looked upon kindly at Butterick. Plus, there was the question of why the woman would want to meet with her.
Before she could make the decision to share or not share, Maude plucked the letter from her hands.
“Wot! That’s personal.”
Maude read it quickly. “Why would she want to meet with you?”
There were many questions of “Who?”
The cat was out of the bag—and running about the room. “Mrs. Sampson.”
Maude handed the note back and addressed the others. “Annie’s been invited to dine.” The last word was expressed with a haughty tone.
“Mrs. Sampson is giddy rich,” Dora said.
“Very,” Maude added. She gestured toward the letter. “They live at 451 Madison Avenue.”
“Ooh,” Suzanne said. “La-di-da.”
Annie was intrigued by their response. “That’s a posh address?”
“The poshest.”
Annie was rather embarrassed with her first thought. “I don’t have a thing to wear. I have work clothes, not dinner dresses.”
“Miss?” It was the boy. “I needs an answer?”
Maude did the honors. “She says yes.”
“And thank you,” Annie added. The boy left Annie staring at the letter. “Why does she want to talk with me?”
“You and a companion,” Dora said. “Who you taking with you?”
“I know,” Suzanne said in a singsong.
Annie didn’t like that they thought Sean was a foregone conclusion. “Perhaps I’ll bring my landlady. She’s a dear friend.”
“A landlady?” Dora said. “Don’t be ridiculous. You must go with a man on your arm.”
“And Sean’s your man,” Suzanne said.
They were right. If she asked Edna, Edna would be just as nervous as Annie. Sean’s presence would hopefully keep her calm. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll ask Sean to go.”
“Now there’s a modern woman for you. She’s doing the asking.” Maude motioned toward the other girls. “We best get back to work or Mrs. Downs will have our heads.”
“She still needs something to wear,” Dora said, going back to the dre
ss form she was draping.
“There’s no time to make anything,” Annie said.
Maude stared at the door, a hand to her chin, her thoughts clearly whirling. Annie left her alone. If anyone could find an answer, it would be Maude.
An hour later, Maude came to Annie’s workstation and said—more loudly than necessary, “I’m afraid I was negligent about the tour of Butterick. Follow me, Miss Wood. There’s one more area I’d like to show you.”
“But where—”
“Shh.”
When they were in the stairwell they could talk. “Where are you taking me?”
“To your very own personal closet.”
“What are you talking about?”
Maude’s face glowed with excitement and adventure. “We often fully make up the patterns with nice fabrics. Some are for fashion shows, and some for photographs, but all are stored together in a large closet.”
Annie took the knowledge to its logical conclusion. “Do you think they’ll let me borrow a dress?”
Maude started up the stairs and answered over her shoulder. “We aren’t going to ask.”
Annie tugged on the back of Maude’s skirt. “But shouldn’t we?”
Maude looked down at her from two steps up. “Do you want to risk a no?”
“Do I want to risk my job? And yours?”
Annie saw a moment’s hesitation in Maude’s eyes. “Opportunities such as yours don’t come often into a working girl’s life. You can’t not go.”
“I could still go, and just wear a blouse and skirt.”
Maude shook her head. “Mrs. Sampson said you impressed her. So do that. Impress her by wearing something fashionable, something that shows you appreciate the invitation and are aware of what’s proper and what’s not.”
“It’s very tempting.”
Maude put a hand on her shoulder. “They don’t go through the closet often. The dresses that have already been utilized are just sitting there, gathering dust. We can choose one, borrow it, and you can bring it back on Monday.”
The thought of dressing up—really dressing up—was enticing. Yet once again reality reared its head. “How do we get it out of the building?”
Maude glanced past Annie, revealing that this was an issue. Then her eyes brightened. “Occasionally I take home a garment to work on the design with my own machine.”
The Pattern Artist Page 19
