“I am many things. Just give me time as I will give you time.”
They resumed their walk, and Annie felt better for the discussion. At least that was taken care of. “Which leaves the dress …,” she said.
“You should never have taken it. It didn’t impress Mrs. Sampson. She said as much. You risked much for little gain.”
“Although I enjoyed the wearing of it, it was a bad decision. Unfortunately, I am sure it will not be the last.”
“Perhaps you should just walk right up to the closet where you got it, put it away, and hope no one sees you.”
“Last time I checked, I was not invisible.”
“I see no other way.”
She did. “Could you go ahead of me, and make sure the way is clear?”
He didn’t answer, and she realized she was also putting his job on the line.
“Never mind. I’ll get it done myself.”
Somehow. Some way.
Annie slipped into the stairwell with the garment bag over her arm. Dozens of employees walked past her up the stairs, going to their respective departments. No one asked about the bag. Maybe she could just put it back without incident.
But what if I get caught? Surely I will lose my job. I will be shamed.
I should be ashamed. I am ashamed. I took what wasn’t mine.
Then another word fell upon the rest, sinking heavily to the bottom like a pebble in a pond. Confess.
With the thought of confession came a hint of hope that all would not be lost. Confession was good for the soul, but was it good for the job?
“It’s the only way,” she said under her breath.
A man walking by said, “Excuse me?”
She shook her head and joined the others heading up the stairs. With each step she prayed. Help me. Help me. Help me.
At her floor, Annie strode toward Mrs. Downs’s office.
“Good morning, Annie,” the woman said, looking up from a desk full of paperwork.
Annie shut the door, making Mrs. Downs set her pencil down. “Miss Wood?” Her eyes fell upon the garment bag then met Annie’s gaze. “Is there a problem?”
Annie draped the bag over the back of a chair. “Last Friday I borrowed a dress from the company’s storeroom.”
Mrs. Downs blinked. “Why?”
“I was invited to Mrs. Sampson’s for dinner and had nothing suitable to wear.”
“Mrs. Sampson. Mrs. Eleanor Sampson.”
Annie nodded. “And her husband.”
“What would they want with you?”
The full truth would not do. “As you are curious, so was I—which is why I accepted.” She thought of a point that might make the entire excursion more legitimate. “Mr. Culver in sales accompanied me.”
By the furrow in Mrs. Downs’s brow it was clear this point made things worse.
“So Mr. Culver was in on the borrowing of the dress?”
Why did I mention him! She hurried to explain. “No. Not at all. Mrs. Sampson simply said I could bring a friend, so I invited him.”
“Perhaps you should have invited me. After all, Mrs. Sampson comes to Butterick to speak with me.”
But you hate her.
“I apologize for my oversight. I was flattered by the invitation—and curious. I’d heard the Sampsons were wealthy, and I knew my work clothes would not be smart enough, so …” She sighed. “So I borrowed the dress. My vanity overrode my common sense.”
“How did you even know we had a cache of dresses?”
Annie thought of Maude and didn’t want to get her involved, too. “I saw them when I had a tour of the building.”
“Maude showed you.”
Annie thought fast. “She showed me the printing presses, too. And the order room and shipping bays.” She was running out of words. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, and I shan’t do it again.”
Mrs. Downs just sat there, clearly not knowing what to do. The silence was almost worse than if she’d yelled.
Finally she said, “This is unacceptable.”
“I know.”
“I’m not sure how to deal with you.”
Mercy? Empathy? Forgiveness?
With a shake of her head, she flipped a hand at Annie. “Take it back where you got it and get to work.”
That was the lot of it? Annie didn’t wait to hear more. She retrieved the dress and scurried up the stairs to the company’s closet.
As she was taking it out of the bag, a woman confronted her. “What are you doing?”
“Returning a dress,” Annie said. “Mrs. Downs’s orders.”
The woman looked confused, but Annie folded the empty garment bag under her arm and left.
She hurried back to her floor, her steps light, her burden lifted. Confession had been the right choice. She’d never imagined getting off so easily.
When she entered her department Maude rushed toward her. “Mrs. Downs caught you?”
Annie kept her face neutral and her voice low for the sake of those who might listen. “I confessed.”
Maude grabbed her arm none too gently and yanked her into the hall. “Did you tell them about my part in it?”
“I did not—other than to say I knew about the dresses because of the tour you gave.”
“You didn’t.”
“I had to say that much. She asked how I knew the dress existed. But I did not tell her you came up with the idea, or your part in sneaking it out of the building for me.”
Maude’s chest heaved, and she stared at the air between them. Finally she looked at Annie again. “Why did you confess? Why not just put it back?”
“I feared I would be caught, so I chose to head it off by owning up to it.”
“That was stupid.”
Was it? “I feel better for having it in the open. I don’t deal with fear well. All day I would have worried someone would find out and I’d get in trouble.”
“So you chose to get yourself in trouble?” She shook her head. “Don’t ask me to help you again.” Maude walked away.
But you suggested it. I never would have even known about it if it weren’t for you.
Annie noticed people looking at her as she stood oddly in the middle of the corridor.
What was done was done. She went back to work.
“Make sure the sleeve seam hits the cap of the shoulder just so,” Maude said.
They stood before a dress form, where Maude taught Annie how to create the sleeve piece of a pattern. “How much seam allowance do you add?” Annie asked.
“Three-eighths of an inch.”
It seemed an odd number. “Why not just make it an even half inch?”
Maude glared at her. “And they call Mrs. Sampson the fashion rebel?”
“It was just a thought.”
Maude shrugged. “You haven’t told me about your dinner Friday—which was part of our bargain.”
“It was very nice. Delicious. And their house is truly a mansion.”
“All vague details, and assumed. I want to know the reason she invited you in the first place.”
Annie wanted to tell Maude the gist of things, and she would have valued her opinion about the Sampsons’ offer, but there was still a tension between them regarding Annie’s confession. Now was not the time.
“I’m not quite sure of her reasons,” Annie fibbed. “Apparently when she was here that Monday I caught her fancy.”
“Again, assumed. But why? Why you? Why not me? I’m far more interesting than you.”
Annie was relieved to see Maude smile. Perhaps the tension was easing.
“You certainly have far more confidence than I.”
“If I don’t believe in myself, who will?”
They stopped their conversation when Mrs. Downs came in the room and made a beeline toward them. The woman stood with her back to the others and said, “You are wanted in Mr. Burroughs’s office.”
A wave of panic swept over Annie. “But I thought—”
“You thought wrong.”
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She set aside the muslin sleeve.
“You, too, Miss Nascato.”
“Me?”
Mrs. Downs lowered her voice. “Don’t make a scene. Just go.”
The two girls had everyone’s attention when they left the workroom. As they waited for the elevator, Maude said, “Your confession may be good for the soul, but it may also put us on the dole.”
“Surely not.”
Maude leveled her with a look. “One does not get summoned to talk to the boss if there are not consequences to be meted out.”
They were being sacked? Annie found it hard to breathe. She’d known that was a possibility, but after Mrs. Downs’s mild rebuke, she’d thought she was safe. Why hadn’t she simply returned the dress in secret?
The elevator came. The operator gave them a nod. Without privacy there was no chance to say all that Annie wanted to say, except a whispered “I’m so sorry.”
There were two chairs in front of Mr. Burroughs’s desk. Maude sat in one, her hands in her lap. Her expression revealed nothing.
Annie adopted the opposite posture. She sat very straight and on the edge of the seat. Her nerves were on the alert. Please help me, God. Please. I’m so sorry.
Mr. Burroughs sat behind the desk, his silver mustache and neatly trimmed hair giving him the look of an older man of wisdom.
And mercy. Please mercy.
His secretary stood beside him, showing him some numbers in a large binder. The two perused the opened page, pointed at various items, and spoke softly to each other. When they were finished, the secretary glanced at the girls with a disapproving look then made to leave.
Suddenly she dropped the ledger. The sound made Annie jump.
“A bit skittish, Miss Wood?” Mr. Burroughs said.
“Yes, sir. I am nervous, sir.”
“As you should be.” He glanced at Maude, but Annie was his main focus. “I hear you took it upon yourself to borrow a dress from our stores?”
“I did, sir. And I’m very sorry for it. It was an imprudent thing to do.”
“That it was.” He straightened some papers into a tidy pile. “You could have asked.”
Annie was shocked. “You would have let me borrow it?”
“No,” he said. “With over two thousand employees we cannot allow such borrowing. Even if it was for a special occasion initiated by a wealthy New York family.”
“Of course, sir.” Annie chided herself for not thinking of all this before the act. “I was so caught up in the excitement of my new job here, and somewhat overly flattered by Mrs. Sampson’s invitation, that I overlooked common sense.”
“And right and wrong.”
Her stomach flipped. “That, too.”
Mr. Burroughs looked at Maude. “You’ve been with us a long time, haven’t you, Miss Nascato?”
“Five years, sir.”
“I hear you showed Miss Wood the closet.”
“I did, sir. Mrs. Downs asked me to give her a tour of the entire building.”
Annie chimed in. “It’s quite an impressive arrangement you have here, sir. Sixteen floors. Very large yet very efficient.”
Mr. Burroughs closed his eyes then opened them. “At times excessive flattery can be very unflattering, Miss Wood.”
“I only meant to say that …” What did she mean to say? “I don’t want Maude to get in trouble for something I did. I take the blame. I accept full responsibility for my actions.” She risked a glance at Maude, but the girl was looking straight ahead.
Mr. Burroughs leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the armrests, his fingers tented. “What do you think I should do about you, Miss Wood? If you were me.”
Annie didn’t know whether to suggest leniency or a sterner punishment. “I would consider firing the offender, but I would decide against it because I would realize that the guilty party did confess and did apologize, and has great potential to be of benefit to the company if she were allowed to stay.”
He smiled. “Great potential, you say?”
She felt herself redden. “Good potential?”
He leaned forward. “I prefer the ‘great’ designation. Prove me right, Miss Wood. Five dollars will be docked from your paycheck as a rental fee—a one-time rental fee.”
“Yes, sir. I understand completely, sir.”
“Be assured you do. Now carry on.”
That was the full of it? They were free to go? With their jobs intact?
“Thank you, sir.”
The two women stood, but Annie didn’t dare risk a look to Maude. They opened the door to leave but saw Sean sitting by the secretary.
“You may go in now, Mr. Culver.”
With only a glance, Sean walked by Annie into Mr. Burroughs’s office. Had her mention of him to Mrs. Downs caused him to be in trouble, too?
She turned to the secretary. “Excuse me. Did Mr. Burroughs summon Mr. Culver, or did he arrange the meeting?”
There was a disapproving glint in the woman’s eyes as she said, “He was summoned.”
Annie’s relief evaporated.
The girls took the stairs down to their floor, but not before Maude asked, “You got him called up, too?”
“I only mentioned him coming to dinner with me.”
“Learn to keep your mouth shut, Annie Wood.”
At lunch, Annie saw Sean sitting at a table with two friends. There was an empty place across from him so she sat down. As soon as she did, the two friends excused themselves. What have they heard? What do they know?
“Hello,” she said to Sean as she took a sip of milk. She wanted to ask him about his visit with Mr. Burroughs but wasn’t sure how to go about it.
She didn’t have to. “You’ve already had a busy day,” he said.
Annie set her glass down. “Meaning?”
“Ruining your career, Maude’s, and mine. Quite the accomplishment.”
With a glance around the cafeteria she saw she had the attention of many others. So they all knew? She pushed her tray away. “What did Mr. Burroughs say to you?”
“He asked if I knew what you’d done. I had to tell him I did.”
“But you didn’t condone it. You were against it.”
“Yet I let you keep the dress for the weekend, and accompanied you to a dinner where you wore the dress.” He looked at his plate then up at her again. “I should have made you take it back immediately. I knew it was wrong.”
“I knew it was wrong,” she said. “It’s my fault, not yours. I’m being docked five dollars as a rental fee for the dress.”
Sean harrumphed. “A pittance compared to the fact our reputations were priceless. Now, they are tainted and tarnished. God’s given us free will to make choices. We chose wrong.”
“I’m sor—”
He shook his head. “All because you wanted to play dress-up and pretend to be someone you weren’t.”
Annie felt the breath go out of her. Was that what she’d done?
The truth of it made her next breath difficult. “You’re right. But if that’s true maybe working here is a farce, a part I’m playing. Maybe I should go back to being a maid.”
He dabbed a napkin at his mouth and stood. “Maybe you should.”
Annie was left alone at the table. Surely he didn’t mean it. Surely she didn’t mean it. Her days as a maid were over. She’d worked hard to get out of that life.
No, you didn’t. You simply ran away.
But she’d worked hard to become a clerk at Macy’s, and now a pattern artist.
Luck got you the first job, and Sean got you the second.
Now she’d ruined her biggest chance by putting on airs, and she’d hurt Maude and Sean.
It was Maude’s idea.
She shook the thought away. As Sean said, she’d been given the choice. She could have said no when Maude first mentioned it. She could have said no when Maude showed her the dresses. She could have said no when Maude detailed the scheme or when she’d seen the dress where Bertie had placed it, o
r out on the street on the way home, or that evening when it was time to get dressed. She’d been given a dozen chances to say no.
Her shame increased with the gaze of her coworkers, their whispers and soft laughter.
Annie forced herself to stay and finish her lunch. The discomfort was just what she deserved.
Halfway through the afternoon, Maude came up behind Annie and said, “Move it along, chickie.”
“Move what along?”
“Your mood.” She pointed to Annie’s wrinkled brow. “You want to look fifty before you’re twenty?”
Annie pressed a hand on her forehead and could feel the worry lines there. She looked around the workroom, but luckily the other girls were busy. “You’re angry at me, Sean’s angry at me, Mrs. Downs is angry at me, Mr. Burroughs is angry at me, and I’m angry at me.”
“As I said, move it along. It’s over. Water under the bridge, the cookie’s been crumbled, the train has left the station.”
Annie chuckled.
“That’s better,” Maude said.
“So you forgive me?”
“Of course I do. It won’t be the last time I get my hands slapped. And as I get to know you … I’m betting it won’t be your last time, either.”
“Oh yes, it will,” Annie said. “No more borrowing dresses.”
“I believe you. But something else will come up where you will cross some line—with two feet I’d guess.”
Annie thought of the Sampsons’ offer. Quitting would certainly be crossing a line.
But that was a decision for another day.
“He’ll be here,” Maude said.
“I’m not so sure.” Annie was doubtful Sean would meet her after work to walk her home. They hadn’t parted on good terms at lunch. She’d caused him strife. She’d damaged his reputation and their relationship.
Beyond mending? Even though she didn’t know exactly where she wanted their friendship to go, she valued the bond they shared.
Gazing through the mass of workers leaving the Butterick building, Annie didn’t see him. He usually stood to the right of the main door, just outside.
He wasn’t there. Serves me right.
But then Maude said, “There he is. As always.”
There he was. Behind a group of men, talking.
The Pattern Artist Page 23
