by Bess McBride
“I see,” he said, blowing slowly through pursed lips as if expelling a large breath of air he’d been holding.
She tilted her head, trying to read his expression, but it was as if he had shuttered it.
“Let me get my things, and we’ll go to lunch.”
Sometime later, ensconced in a table in the dining room of the local hotel, Gem leaned forward and whispered, “Supposing that I can’t figure out a way to get back, John. I can’t just wander around all day. I need to try to work or something. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t live off of you.”
John looked startled. “Work? What skills do you have?”
“I’ll have you know that I have my own little business in my time!”
Gem wasn’t as offended as she sounded. She felt certain that John had her best interests at heart, however he interpreted those.
He looked over his shoulder and leaned forward.
“I think we should discuss this at the house. The need to whisper is not conducive to such an important discussion.”
“No, you’re right.”
At the end of lunch, John was set to walk her home, but Gem declined. She was in no hurry to return to the house.
“I think I’ll just explore a bit more, since I’ve got my hat on and all!” She patted the top of her hat.
“Since you have your hat on and all,” he repeated. “Yes, of course. Will the train station feature in your explorations again?”
“Why do you ask?”
“As you know, I am not fond of trains or train stations. And I would rather you not vanish without saying goodbye.”
“I wouldn’t do that, John! Not if I could help it.”
He nodded as if satisfied with the answer.
“Good. I will see you at dinner then.”
“Bye,” she said, turning from him to head down the boardwalk. She looked over her shoulder to see him standing in front of the hotel, still watching her. Her cheeks flamed, and she raised a hand to wave. He lifted his hand in response, turned and walked away.
Gem passed Nancy’s Fine Apparel and stepped inside.
“Good afternoon, Miss Holliday,” Mrs. Yates said from behind the counter. “How are you today? You look very well.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Yates. You were a great help to me the other day.”
“It was my pleasure. How may I assist you today?”
“I was just wandering around.”
“Do take your time. Ring the bell on the counter here if you need anything. I am very busy today. My assistant, my shop girl, just quit to marry, and I have a multitude of tasks that need my attention. At the moment, I have to do some paperwork.” She nodded and hurried toward her office, leaving Gem staring after her with an open mouth.
She wasted no time and followed the shop owner to her office.
“Oh, Mrs. Yates! What a coincidence. I was just telling John that I needed a job. Would you consider hiring me?”
Mrs. Yates, already seated behind her desk, looked up, startled.
“You, Miss Holliday? Work?”
“Well, yes, I have to work, like anyone else.”
“But what about Mr. Morrison? Would he approve?”
Gem reared her head.
“Mrs. Yates, John is a distant cousin. He is not my husband and not a sugar daddy, whatever those women thought the other day. I need a job. I understand if you don’t think I would be qualified for anything, though I believe I am, but I don’t have to ask his permission or seek his approval.”
Mrs. Yates rose, the color in her cheeks bright red. Gem regretted the harshness of her words.
“I am sorry, Miss Holliday. One would hope that I of all people should have chosen my words more carefully. I answer to no one. I am sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Mrs. Yates. Here I am asking you for a job and I snap at you. That’s not a great job interview.”
Mrs. Yates laughed.
“Call me Nancy, please. If we are to work together.”
“Really?” Gem exclaimed, her heart jumping. “Really? But I didn’t even give you my qualifications or experience. I’m a certified public—”
“Whatever you can do on the shop floor would be a great help to me,” Mrs. Yates rushed in, relief evident on her face. “I will need you five days a week. If business is slow, I could let you go home early.”
Gem thrust out her hand. Working on the shop floor didn’t exactly sound like accounting, but she was grateful to find anything.
“Thank you! Thank you! When do I start?”
“Would tomorrow morning be too soon? I truly am overwhelmed.”
“Not at all! I’ll be here. What time?”
“I open the shop at ten. That would be fine.”
“I’ll be here at ten. Thank you again, Mrs. Yates.”
“Nancy.”
“Nancy. See you tomorrow!”
Nancy smiled widely.
Gem hurried home, ran upstairs, washed up in the bathroom and waited until John came home to give him her news.
She kept watch by the window, and when she saw John walk up to the house, she ran downstairs.
“Guess what!” she said.
John, in the act of handing the ever-present Sally his hat and coat, looked up.
She hadn’t seen Sally, and she paused.
“What has happened?” he asked, following her eyes to Sally, now hanging John’s coat and hat on the tree stand by the door.
Gem slowed her step and inched down to the foyer, hoping Sally would leave. But Sally stood there as if waiting to hear Gem’s news.
John must have understood Gem’s concern, because he excused Sally.
“Thank you, Sally.” He inclined his head toward Gem and led the way to the parlor, closing the door behind them.
Once again, Gem struggled with her conflicted thoughts about Sally.
“Sorry. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I just wanted to tell you some news, and I didn’t want to do it in front of Sally because she doesn’t know about me.”
John looked toward the closed door.
“I am at a loss as to how to deal with her right now. I have not forgotten your theory. I thought about it much of the day...among other things. It is possible. My father, if he was indeed my father, was no saint. But to imagine Sally and him together...” John shook his head in apparent distaste more than repudiation of the idea.
“And my poor mother. My other mother. She must have known. There was no way she could not have known. She was a loving woman. I can only imagine how difficult life must have been for her. Harvey looks just like her. I have no doubt that he is her son.”
Gem gave him a sympathetic look. “I feel like I’ve turned your life upside down, coming here with all these half-formed innuendos and partial facts.”
John looked at her with a troubled expression.
“You have, but not necessarily for those reasons.”
Gem’s heart jumped before she tamped it down as a reaction to wishful thinking.
“What is your news?” he asked, gesturing to the sofa. Gem sat, and John took the chair opposite.
“I have a job!” Gem thought she would let that settle in before she filled in the details.
“What?” John’s eyebrows shot up. “But we only discussed it briefly less than three hours ago. How did this happen?”
“Mrs. Yates gave me a job. I stopped in. Her assistant had just quit to get married, I guess, and she said she was looking for someone. I volunteered, and she hired me. I start tomorrow morning. I’m going to be a shop girl!”
Gem wasn’t prepared for John’s next words.
“Gem, how can you help in a women’s dress shop when you do not even know how to dress?”
Gem blinked and gasped.
“Wow!” she exclaimed. “Did you just say that?”
“I did not mean it the way it sounded. I am so sorry. I only meant that you are unfamiliar with the form of dress in our time. I am certain fashions have changed
much in your time.”
“Well, give me the benefit of the doubt, John. I can learn! I’ll have you know that I have a master’s degree in accounting! Surely, selling clothes couldn’t be harder than crunching numbers, even in 1905!””
“I was not aware of that,” John said. “With such an education, surely you would not be happy with the position of shop assistant, would you?”
“Well, she said she needed help on the shop floor, and I took the job. I’m grateful to find any work at this point, even if I don’t ‘know how to dress.’”
John leaned forward in his chair. “Please believe that I did not mean to insult you. I do not think I am explaining my concerns well enough. In fact, I think I am making a mess of the entire thing. I do not want you to expose yourself as a time traveler. I cannot imagine what will happen to you, how people will stare at you, talk about you, whether the government will try to take you away.”
His voice grew so husky that Gem struggled to understand his words.
“The government?”
“Yes, Gem. I do not think I exaggerate when I say that the government would have considerable interest in a person who could travel through time.”
Gem thought about humanity’s horrible history of experimenting on other humans.
“I guess you’re right. In my time, I don’t think anything would really happen to a documented time traveler, even if that could be proven. They’d get rich, but no one would take them and lock them up or experiment on them if they were harmless. At least not here in the United States.”
“I understand that you want to busy yourself, perhaps even find some independence and self-sufficiency, but I urge you to be careful.”
Gem nodded.
“I will. I promise.”
“Then I congratulate you, Gem.”
“Thank you!”
While he nodded, Gem thought she saw the concern remain in his blue eyes. “I will be careful, John,” she reassured him again.
“Yes, I know you will try. It is not you that I worry about.”
Chapter Fifteen
Gem reported for work a few minutes before ten. She tapped on the glass window of the door, and Nancy opened it.
“I didn’t know what to wear, so I picked out this blouse and skirt. I hope they’re acceptable?” Gem looked down at her conservative charcoal-gray poplin skirt and peach lace blouse.
“Of course! I sold them to you, so they must be acceptable. You will be the best-dressed shop assistant in town!”
Gem laughed. “You did pick some expensive fabrics,” she said, fingering the silk in her blouse.
“I knew Mr. Morrison would want the best for you.”
Gem looked around.
“Where should I start? Do you want me to dust? Sweep? Wait on customers?”
“Yes to all of those. Here is a clean cloth. If you could wipe down the counters, that would be lovely. When a customer comes in, simply put the rag down and wait to see what she needs. Since I do the books, I will handle the purchases or adding to the accounts.”
Gem nodded, her belief reinforced that the shop owner was in no need of an accountant. She set about wiping down counters while Nancy returned to her office. Gem would have preferred to roll up her long sleeves to keep the cuffs clean, but she thought that might look tacky, so she wiped with care.
The door opened within minutes, and several women stepped into the shop. To Gem’s dismay, she recognized them as the women who had gossiped about her the other day. She struggled to remember their names. Mrs. Bertha Landry and Mrs. Agnes Schultz. She recalled that one seemed much nicer than the other. Gem set down the rag and smiled from behind a counter.
“Good morning. Can I help you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
From the imperious tone in the voice, Gem deduced the tall, stout woman addressing her was probably the gossip. Nancy had called her Bertha Landry. Gunmetal-gray hair topped a plump face. She dressed much like Gem did in a neutral skirt and white lace blouse. Her hat, a work of art in blue and green ribbons and flowers, was far too festive for her condescending expression.
“Can I help you?” Gem repeated with a fixed smile. “I’m working here for Mrs. Yates, so if there is anything I can help you with, please let me know.”
“How nice for Mrs. Yates to have some help,” Agnes Schultz said. As stout as her companion but much smaller, her gray hair shone. Or maybe it was her kind smile.
Gem returned her smile.
“Goodness me,” Bertha murmured. “How interesting.”
Gem gritted her teeth. She hadn’t forgotten that it was Bertha who insinuated that Gem was something more intimate than a cousin.
“I’m looking for some gloves. I should have purchased some when we were in the shop a few days ago,” Agnes said, “but I forgot.” Agnes dressed similarly to her companion, but her hat was more conservative, a dark-blue straw affair with black silk ribbons.
“The gloves are right here.” Gem led them toward a glass-topped cabinet that she had seen the other day, the case that housed the hatpins, brooches and other small accessories.
Out of the corner of her eye, Gem noticed Nancy peeking out from her office. The shop owner gave her a nod of encouragement and disappeared back into the office, leaving the doorway open.
With no retail experience, Gem was unsure what to do besides hover in case Agnes wanted her to pull some gloves out. She waited behind the counter while Agnes studied the inventory.
“We should introduce ourselves,” Bertha said. “I am Mrs. Landry, and this is Mrs. Schultz. And you are?”
“Oh, you must not have heard when I was introduced to Mrs. Yates the other day by my cousin. My name is Miss Holliday.”
Gem could safely say that she had never introduced herself in such formal terms, but she had a feeling she was going to need a suit of armor with Bertha Landry.
“Why yes! I do remember you now, but I didn’t hear introductions. That was Mr. John Morrison, attorney, with you, wasn’t it? You are his cousin? I know his brother has a practice in town as well.”
Gem nodded. “I am, yes.”
“How very nice of him to take you shopping. Most men would not show their face in a ladies’ store.”
“He is very kind,” Gem replied.
“And where are you from? Not Montana surely.” Bertha raised another eyebrow.
Gem wondered why she couldn’t be from Montana. “Seattle.”
“Seattle? That explains your pale skin then. I visited Seattle once. Very rainy.”
“Yes, that sounds like Seattle.”
“Do you see anything that you would like to try on?” Gem asked Agnes, hoping to stop Bertha’s inquisition.
“Not yet,” Agnes said. “I’m fussy. Don’t mind me.”
Short of staring at a woman who wanted to shop for gloves uninterrupted, Gem could do nothing but look up into Bertha’s pale-blue eyes.
“And you are working now. So you are staying here in Livingston?”
“I am staying here, yes.”
“With Mr. Morrison?”
“I am staying with my cousin for now, yes.”
“I suppose he has more room for a guest since he doesn’t have family, but surely you would be more comfortable living with your other cousin, Mr. Harvey Morrison and his wife?”
“Bertha!” Agnes remonstrated. “Could I see these three pairs, Miss Holliday?”
Bertha pressed her lips together.
Gem pulled out the three pairs of gloves that Agnes pointed out. Thankfully, Bertha said no more but instead perused the jewelry on display.
“What material is this, Miss Holliday?” Agnes asked.
Gem’s eyes widened. She touched one of the gloves.
“I’m not sure. I could ask Mrs. Yates.”
“No need, dear. Do you have any other sizes?”
Gem’s upper lip started to perspire. She wasn’t aware that gloves came in sizes other than “one size fits all.”
“I’m not sure
,” she said, searching the cabinet. “I’ll ask Mrs. Yates.”
“Where are your toques?” Bertha looked up.
“The what?” Gem asked.
“Toques?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “Is that an undergarment?”
“Good grief, Miss Holliday! How can you not know what a toque is? Must I take my business to the milliner?”
Gem wiped at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t, Mrs. Landry. But anything I don’t know, I can ask Mrs. Yates.”
“But how extraordinary! What woman doesn’t know what a toque is? Surely, even in Seattle, women wear toques, don’t they? I’m ever so surprised.”
“Yes, I’m sure they do. I mean, yes, probably...” Gem started to stutter. She had no idea retail could be so stressful. That it was over a hundred years in the past made it all the more difficult.
“Agnes, I think I must speak to Mrs. Yates about this. Most unsatisfactory.”
“Bertha, please calm yourself. You are embarrassing the poor young woman.”
“Miss Holliday, are you certain you should work in a ladies’ dress shop? I would have thought your cousin would have offered you employment in his office.”
“Bertha!” Agnes spoke sharply. “Really! I must insist you stop, or I will leave the shop this instant!”
“And I think I’d like to leave with you, Mrs. Schultz!” Gem muttered under breath. But apparently not enough.
“What did you say, young woman?” Bertha barked. “Well, I never!
“Can I help you, ladies?”
Nancy hurried out of the office, and Gem felt sure her days—no, hours—as an employee at the dress shop were numbered. She wished she had at least bit her tongue.
“Mrs. Yates! At last! Your new girl, Miss Holliday, has been very rude. Further, she doesn’t seem to know anything about ladies’ clothing. She doesn’t even know what a toque is. How is that possible? I understand her to be new to the position, but surely any American woman knows what a hat is. And Agnes has questions about glove sizes. The young woman cannot even help with that.”
“Bertha, please!” Agnes said again.
Nancy spoke. “We have a selection right over here, Mrs. Landry, if you care to look at them. Mrs. Schultz, I would be happy to check glove sizes for you.”
