The Fashion Designer

by Nancy Moser

  © 2018 by Nancy Moser

  Print ISBN 978-1-68322-601-7

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-68322-809-7

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-68322-810-3

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Faceout Studio, www.faceoutstudio.com

  Published in association with the Books & Such Literary Management, Janet Kobobel Grant, 52 Mission Circle, Suite 122, PMB 170, Santa Rosa, California 95409-5370, www.booksandsuch.com

  Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., 1810 Barbour Drive, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.shilohrunpress.com

  Our mission is to inspire the world with the life-changing message of the Bible.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  DEDICATION

  To my family

  who taught me that

  dreams can come true

  with faith, hope, and hard work

  “Be strong and do the work.”

  1 CHRONICLES 28:10 NIV

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  CHAPTER ONE

  Late August 1912

  New York City

  Annie Culver tidied her work table for the last time. She set her ruler and French curve to the side and placed her scissors, tablet, and pencil in a drawer. These tools of her trade had become extensions of herself, a way to transfer a fashion idea into a dress pattern that could be used by home sewers across the world. Idea to pattern to finished product.

  I’ve come so far. Am I a fool for leaving it all behind?

  “Get a move on, Annie.” Her friend and coworker Maude Nascato stood at the door of the workroom. “Risk not, want not.”

  Maude’s strange phrase snapped Annie out of her reverie. “What does that mean?”

  Maude pinned a straw hat onto her black upswept hair. “Whatever it needs to mean to warm your cold feet.” She paused and gave the room one last look. “Our quitting is a good thing, Annie. As Mark Twain said, ‘I was seldom able to see an opportunity until it had ceased to be one.’ We’ve seen the opportunity. We’re walking through this door and into a new adventure.”

  “But is the opportunity a wise choice?”

  Maude released an exasperated sigh, strode to the table, took Annie by the arm, and marched her out of the workroom. “Courageous people don’t look back.”

  “I don’t feel courageous. I feel nauseous.”

  Maude laughed. “I’m afraid it goes with the territory.”

  They met Annie’s husband, Sean, on the sidewalk outside. He too worked for Butterick Pattern Company but was staying in his position. Someone had to pay the rent.

  He studied her face. “It will be all right, Annie-girl.”

  “You promise?”

  Maude started walking, leading the way to a celebration commemorating their momentous decision. “I am compelled to quote another author. John Galsworthy has pinned Annie to a tree with this quote.” She took a fresh breath before saying, “A worrier is ‘one who is always building dungeons in the air.’” She put a period on the phrase with a sharp nod.

  Annie took offense. “Do you have any more quotations to toss at me?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “What a relief. But to your complaints about my worrying, how can I not worry, Maude? How can you two be so calm? This is an enormous step we’re taking. We have no idea if our new business will succeed. And if it doesn’t, I’m not the only one out of a job, but you and Edna too. She’s worked at Macy’s for decades and is quitting because of some harebrained idea I came up with. What if we fail?”

  Maude stopped walking and faced her. “What if that building there suddenly falls to the ground in front of us? What if that motor car jumps the curb and runs us down? What if—?”

  Sean stopped her tirade. “Your examples are overly dramatic.”

  She shrugged. “’Twas all I could come up with on short notice.” She slipped her hand around Annie’s arm. “There are worries big and small all around us. Some we can deal with directly, and some we can’t.”

  “I know you,” Sean said, taking Annie’s other arm. “You’ve never let circumstances stop you. You won’t let anything get in your way.”

  Annie tried to embrace their confidence, yet the worry remained.

  “Welcome, fellow rebels!” Edna Holmquist greeted her friends as they entered the flat she shared with Maude.

  “I prefer the term ‘brave soldiers,’” Maude said.

  Annie spotted Sean’s parents—her in-laws of nearly four months—and hoped the terminology wouldn’t make things worse, for his father had vociferously argued against their plan. Annie kissed her mother-in-law, Vesta, on the cheek. “It’s not as sensational as they imply.” She turned to Edna. “How was your last day at Macy’s?”

  “Poignant.” She sighed dramatically.

  “How many sewing machines have you sold over twenty-two years?” Maude asked.

  “One thousand two hundred twelve.”

  Annie laughed. “You kept track?”

  “My sales book kept track.”

  “Pfft.” Richard Culver returned to the sofa. “It’s ridiculous to discard perfectly good jobs to pursue an idiotic folly.”

  “Hello to you too, Father,” Sean said. He kissed his mother’s cheek, and they shared a look of commiseration.

  “I believe in you,” Vesta said. “I am thrilled with the notion that you three ladies will be starting your own fashion company.”

  “The notion,” Richard said. “Not reality.”

  Edna offered him a sandwich from a tray. “It is a reality, Mr. Culver,” she said. “We have financial backing, creative energy, and a fire in our bellies.”

  “It’s a fool’s errand, doomed to failure.” He looked askance at the ham-and-cheese sandwich, took one, then set it on his plate on the end table beside him.

  Annie was not going to let him squelch their joy, yet she wasn’t comfortable enough with the family dynamics to stand up to him. From what she’d learned from Sean and Vesta, their lifetime quest was to keep Richard on an even keel. It was the best anyone could ask for, as the man never seemed happy. Except perhaps when he was making money in his general store in Brooklyn. Though even then, profits were never high enough, employees lazy, and the preferences of customers, woefully fickle.

  An
nie had a choice to make. She could let Richard’s negativity squelch their celebration—and feed into her own worries—or choose to be enthusiastic and encouraging.

  She owed it to her friends to choose the latter.

  Famished, she took a large bite of her sandwich. “Edna, these hit the spot.” When she was finished with the bite, she said, “I know the risk we are all taking and thank you for it. Beyond the unknowns, I am chuffed to bits about our new venture.” She took up a glass of lemonade and held it high. “To New York City’s newest, most brilliant, and most smashing fashion house!”

  “Hear, hear!”

  Everyone toasted except for Richard, but Annie refused to let him drown the moment. She was done with him.

  “When is our meeting at the Sampsons’ tomorrow?” Edna asked, as she sat and ate her own sandwich.

  “Ten o’clock,” Maude said. “Have we decided on a name for our company yet?”

  “I vote for Annie’s Dresses,” Edna said.

  “I second that name,” Vesta said. “You should get the credit, Annie, for if it wasn’t for—”

  Richard pointed to the seat beside him. “Shush, woman. You are not a part of this. Sit.”

  Annie despaired the look of hurt resignation on Vesta’s face. But she knew a way to brighten it. She took Sean’s hand and gave him a look. “Yes?” she whispered.

  He drew her hand to his lips. “We have something else to celebrate besides the start of a new business—the real reason we asked you here tonight.” He looked to Annie.

  “We are also starting a new family.” She scanned the faces of their audience.

  Vesta jumped from her seat. “A baby?”

  Annie nodded and felt tears fill her eyes. “It’s due in February.”

  She was embraced by all—as was Sean.

  Richard remained noticeably seated. Finally, all eyes turned to him.

  “Father? Will you congratulate us?”

  “We will be grandparents, Richard. Isn’t it grand?”

  He took a sip of lemonade then set the glass down. “You two certainly move quickly.”

  Annie felt a wave of disappointment. Couldn’t he be happy for them?

  Sean put an arm around her waist. “After nearly being on the Titanic, we realize life is short.”

  Maude nodded. “The three of us had an amazing time in Paris getting ideas for Butterick at the fashion shows, but all would have been for naught if we hadn’t missed our train to Cherbourg.”

  Annie finished the scenario. “Which caused us to miss the sailing.”

  “God saved you,” Edna said.

  Vesta’s eyes turned misty. “Saved you, and saved your future together. I’m so pleased with your happy news.”

  Sean kissed Annie’s cheek. “Our close call is why we married soon after we got home from Europe.”

  “We did not expect a child so quickly,” Annie admitted. “But we are not in control of such things. God is.”

  “Tell Him to slow down,” Richard muttered.

  “Richard!” Vesta said.

  Annie heard Sean’s breath hasten. How dare his father mar this special moment? “We will not ask God to slow down,” she said. “The Almighty is never late and never early, and we are very willing to accept His perfect timing.”

  “Indeed we are,” Maude said. “A marriage and a new life came out of our close call, and so did the business.”

  Edna lifted her glass. “To God’s perfect timing!”

  Hear, hear.

  CHAPTER TWO

  They live here?” Maude asked as they stood in front of 451 Madison Avenue.

  “In that wing,” Annie said, pointing to the four-story brick-and-stone wing to the right of an outdoor atrium.

  “There are four other smaller townhouses in the rest of the building,” Sean added, pointing around the horseshoe-shaped structure. “But wait until you see the inside of the Sampsons’. Theirs is enormous, and everything is covered in gilt, marble, marquetry, and—”

  “Marquetry?” Edna asked.

  “Tiny pieces of wood inlaid together to make a design,” Annie said. “Macy’s had some boxes with marquetry for sale. I saw an inlaid table too.”

  Edna stared at the building. The flowers in her wide-brimmed hat shuddered in the breeze. “Boxes are one thing, I just never thought it would be used in a house. Mansion. Manor. Whatever it is.”

  They walked through an ornate wrought-iron gate, and Maude led the way to a double-entry door. “No stopping now. We need to go into whatever-it-is in order to fulfill our fashion destiny.”

  “Whatever it is,” Annie said under her breath. For though she tried to exhibit an air of confidence about their future, she knew Mrs. Sampson better than anyone, and knew her to be zealous to the point of folly and fickle to the point of frustration—everyone else’s but usually not her own. Her thought process was unique and often unfathomable.

  It’s unfathomable that she believes I can be a viable fashion designer.

  “Annie? Are you coming?” Sean asked.

  She was so glad it was Saturday and he could come with them. Annie shifted her portfolio of fashion designs under the other arm and pretended she was brave. She rang the bell.

  They were shown inside by a butler. He motioned them to the right, down a wide hallway leading to the drawing room. “The Sampsons will be with you shortly.”

  Annie was glad for the delay as it would give her friends time to absorb the opulence around them.

  Maude gazed at the hall floor. “Look at this tile. There must be thousands of pieces put together to create the design.” With a hand to hold her hat, she looked up. “And look at the ceiling. Are those tiles too?”

  They all looked up at the barrel vaults that interconnected above them. They were replete with intricate patterns like the floor.

  “All that detail for a hallway,” Maude whispered.

  “The drawing room is even fancier. Follow me.”

  Annie’s sense of purpose intensified when she reminded herself she’d been in the drawing room before, during her first meeting with the Sampsons the previous autumn. She and Sean had also experienced the vast dining room that evening. Those facts spurred her confidence—to a small degree.

  Once through the drawing room doors, the newcomers gasped—with good reason. The room was enormous, with marble walls and columns. The ceiling was coffered and covered in gilt. Painted murals divided windows on three sides. The fourth side sported two fireplaces flanking the entrance where they stood.

  Annie pointed to the elaborate floor. “See, Edna? Marquetry.”

  “I hate to step on it.”

  “Who knows how to create such things?” Maude asked.

  “Who has the money to pay for the labor of it?” Sean said.

  “The Sampsons do, and—” Annie heard footsteps echo in the long hall. “Shh.”

  They all faced the door, ready to greet their host and hostess.

  Mrs. Sampson swept in, the ruffles on her dress waving like lavender flags of chiffon. She immediately did a twirl. “You like?”

  Actually… “Is it new?”

  “Brand. I had my dressmaker whip it up for our time in Newport this summer.” She executed another twirl. “It portrays the essence of graceful motion, don’t you think?”

  The essence of flaunting too many flourishes. “It does move well,” Annie said diplomatically.

  “The color is beautiful,” Edna managed.

  “The chiffon is feminine,” Maude added.

  Mrs. Sampson stopped her preening. “Is beautiful and does move, as if you are finding it difficult to find something nice to say about it?”

  Oh dear.

  “I meant no offense,” Maude said. “I meant to say that fabric that is sheer and flowy—in general and in respect to your specific dress—is—”

  Luckily Mr. Sampson intervened. “Why don’t we sit and work out the details of our joint venture?”

  “I’ve been stewing about it all summer,” Mrs. S
ampson added.

  Mr. Sampson winked at her. “And if you know Eleanor, you know she can only stew so long before she spills the pot.”

  As they were shown to some chairs, Annie and Maude exchanged a look of relief at getting through their awkward faux pas. It would not bode well to be on tenterhooks before the main discussion began—a life-changing discussion.

  Sean helped Mr. Sampson draw some other chairs closer together, creating an intimate circle in the huge space, a circle suitable for conversation.

  Mrs. Sampson arranged the myriad of ruffles on her lap and over the arms of the chair. Only when she was finished did she speak. “Well then.”

  Her words were met with silence. Finally Annie said, “Where do we begin?”

  “With a soiree, of course.”

  “A what?” Sean asked.

  Mr. Sampson interpreted. “A party. Eleanor loves parties.”

  “I do. I happen to be quite good at giving them.”

  “And attending them,” he said.

  “That too.” She drew in a deep breath as though fueling her next words. “The plan is for you to sew up a dozen dresses and have a fashion soiree right here, with the who’s who of New York City in attendance. In fact, I will ask their daughters to be the models. The whole of society will be so awed by your designs that they will order them in copious amounts and—”

  Annie lifted a hand, stopping her words. “I thought our customers were working women.”

  “Everyday women,” Maude said.

  Edna nodded and pointed to Annie’s portfolio. “Annie’s already drawn up some designs that we think—”

  Annie began to reach for it, but Mrs. Sampson stopped her with a hand. “Not yet.” Her face had grown stern. “I believe we need to remedy this misconception between us.”

  It was more than a mere misconception. It was the essence of their business.

  Sean sat forward in his chair. “Remember when we spoke about the business on the voyage home from the Paris fashion shows?”

  Mr. Sampson let out a breath. “After we all narrowly missed the Titanic.”

  Annie shivered at the memory. “I will never forget when our captain told us the news of its sinking—while we were still out on the ocean.”