An Unlikely Suitor

by Nancy Moser

  “In the short time Lucy has been with us, she’s managed to impress the Langdons so much that they specifically asked for her, plus she took it upon herself to catch a thief and a cad, thus saving me money and saving the rest of you ladies from . . .” He blushed. “From further humiliation.”

  Mrs. Flynn would not be deterred. “But Bonwitter hasn’t been caught. He’s—”

  “Which is another reason for Lucy to leave town for a while.” He looked at Lucy. “There haven’t been any more threats or incidents since the greased stairs, have there?”

  “No.”

  “Then hopefully he has either left the city or gotten himself arrested for some other crime. But if not—until we can be sure the man is accounted for and brought to justice—I think it only prudent Lucy goes to Newport. It will serve a dual purpose: helping a client and keeping her safe.”

  “But I want to go too,” Sofia said.

  Mamma shushed her.

  Mr. Standish smiled. “I think we’d all like to go. Newport is a magical place during the season.”

  “You’ve been there?” Lucy asked.

  “Once. I was never privy to the society fêtes, but I always enjoyed standing on Bellevue Avenue to watch the daily parade of carriages.”

  “Parade?”

  He leaned toward them, as if sharing a secret. “Surely you ladies have guessed by now that the rich live to be seen.”

  Lucy held her hands to her chest as if pleading for mercy. “So, Mr. Standish? May I go?”

  He nodded once. “You may.”

  “But what about the work here?” Mrs. Flynn asked.

  Mr. Standish surveyed the room. “I’m sure all the ladies are quite willing to work extra hard so Lucy can gain this opportunity.”

  Sofia was appalled to see everyone nod. She wanted to raise a hand and say she was not willing to work extra hard so Lucy could get any special privilege. And wasn’t Bonwitter a threat to Sofia and Mamma too? He wouldn’t know she was out of town. There was no reason to think he wouldn’t continue his mischief.

  Mr. Standish handed the telegram back to Lucy. “Then it’s settled. You make hard work of it today, young lady, to ease Mrs. Flynn’s worries. And before you leave tonight, gather together a valise of threads and materials you may need. If more is required, have the Langdons send another cable.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Mrs. Flynn . . . if you will. I have some other business to discuss.”

  The two of them went into the lobby, enabling the women to crush Lucy with their exuberant attention.

  It was sickening.

  Seam tape!

  Lucy stopped her sewing to add seam tape to her list.

  So the day had gone. As she worked diligently on her assigned work, she made a list of what to take along to repair Rowena’s clothing.

  The two words wardrobe ruined haunted her. If the clothes were truly ruined, she would need to make replacement pieces, and would need yards of fabric. Lucy took solace in Mr. Standish’s suggestion that if she needed additional supplies, she could send for them.

  As for her personal packing . . . there was little need for her to make a list. She only owned one dress, and two skirts and blouses—and one of those was far past its prime. It was not as though she needed gowns. She was going to Newport as . . . as . . .

  As what?

  An employee? A servant? A friend?

  This last would have been her preference, but Lucy knew it was wishful thinking. Although she and Rowena had gotten along famously, her practical nature had to acknowledge that amiable chitchat did not a friendship make. Rowena had been beholden to Lucy and, therefore, had gone out of her way to be polite and attentive. That was all.

  But she said “I need you.”

  “To repair her clothes. That’s it.”

  “What did you say?” Dorothy asked.

  “Nothing.” Lucy took a moment to rub the tiredness from her eyes.

  “You don’t have to push yourself,” Dorothy said. “Madame told you we’d pick up the slack.”

  Lucy looked around the room for Mrs. Flynn, then remembered she was in the fitting rooms with a customer. “Actually, Mr. Standish told Madame you would pick up the slack.”

  “Either way, you can’t work yourself sick. Your Rowena needs you fully well and capable.”

  “She’s not ‘my Rowena.’ ”

  Tessie chimed in, putting her clasped hands to her chest and sighing dramatically, “ ‘I need you.’ ”

  “To fix her clothes,” Lucy said.

  She saw Leona slip something into Mamma’s hand. There’d been something secretive going on all afternoon. Whispers forehead to forehead, and a concentrated bustle that nearly silenced the usually chatty group.

  Lucy didn’t mind, because she didn’t have the capacity for chitchat today and was relieved for the lack of Dolly’s discourse about some new beau she thought she was in love with, or Sofia’s complaining, or Tessie’s gossip about the rich set, or even the not-so-rich set. Lucy had no idea where Tessie got her information, or whether she made it up, but there was usually enough of it to fill the air for at least half of every day.

  Lucy glanced at Mamma again and received a smile in return. She was at work adding ribbon to a smart straw boater.

  Ribbon!

  Lucy added it to her list.

  All day long there’d been a buzz in the workroom that grated on Sofia’s nerves. Everyone was excited for Lucy.

  To make it worse, there was a secret afoot. Mr. Standish had suggested—instructed—Mrs. Flynn to have a new outfit made for Lucy’s trip. So beyond their usual work, they’d spent the day cutting and sewing a present for her sister.

  Sofia had been assigned to sew the skirt on the sewing machine. Each stitch was like a prick to her nerves. Each laugh and secret whisper was a nail. Making things worse was hearing Lucy ask Tessie and Dorothy to watch over her while Lucy was gone. She didn’t need anyone looking after her. Lucy was acting like she was some great protector whose presence would be missed. Sofia could take care of herself—and Mamma.

  Mamma must have seen her mood, for when they were finishing up, she appeared by Sofia’s side. “Breve orazione penetra, Sofia.”

  Sofia looked up from her sewing. “What?”

  Mamma nodded once. “You heard me. God listens to short prayers. I suggest you say a few.”

  Mamma left her, and Sofia was faced with her horrible attitude. A part of her wanted to embrace the anger and resentment, but another part . . .

  Why couldn’t she be happy for Lucy? Why was she always jealous? Why couldn’t she let the envy go?

  Sofia stroked the brown poplin of the skirt. Lucy would look pretty in this color. And shouldn’t she look pretty? Wasn’t she representing all of the Scarpelli family—all the ladies at Madame Moreau’s—in Newport?

  Sofia glanced toward Mamma and found her mother watching her.

  A prayer. She needed to pray like Mamma instructed.

  But what should she say? The truth of it was she liked being angry. It gave her a feeling of power.

  Power? That was silly. Her anger didn’t gain her any power. If anything, it made her weak. Needy. Susceptible to all sorts of bad thoughts.

  But how could she change? It was embarrassing to think that God knew of her bad behavior and thoughts. And because of that, He wouldn’t want to hear from her.

  And yet, because Mamma was waiting, Sofia bowed her head, clasped her hands to her chin and prayed.

  Help!

  It was a rather pitiful prayer considering her sins, yet hadn’t Mamma said that God listened to short prayers?

  If so, He’d be ever so pleased with Sofia’s.

  I can sleep on the train tomorrow. I hope.

  Lucy held on to this thought as the workday drew to an end. She was always tired after the twelve-hour days, but today she felt as though the last bit of energy was slowly seeping out of her pores and any moment she would collapse into a puddle on the floor
to be mopped up and put in a slosh bucket.

  Anything else? Concentrate, Lucy. You must think of every possible need. . . .

  She stood in the storeroom, a satchel in hand, filling it with extra laces and trims from Rowena’s dresses, pins, hooks and eyes, scissors, thread, needles, padding, a few yards of muslin . . .

  Suddenly, she was not alone. All the ladies burst into the room as a pack, laughing and smiling.

  “What’s—?” She looked to Mamma to see what was going on, but Mamma’s face revealed only a smile.

  Dorothy stepped front and center. “The lot of us want to wish you well on your journey tomorrow.”

  Lucy was truly touched. It had crossed her mind that there could have been some jealousy or bitterness among the ladies. After all, she’d only altered Rowena’s outfits. These other women had made them from scratch. “That’s so very nice of you,” she began.

  But before she could say more, Tessie stepped forward and pulled a caramel brown skirt from behind her back. And then Leona displayed an ivory blouse with bulbous sleeves, while Dolly stepped forward with a blue fabric belt. “These are for you.”

  Lucy was speechless.

  They brought the clothing close for her inspection and Tessie explained. “We got the key to your apartment from your mother and brought down one of your blouses and skirts for size. We all know the extent of your wardrobe . . .”

  There were knowing snickers.

  “And we thought it just wouldn’t be proper to descend on Newport without a smart-looking outfit. Topped off with . . .” She nodded to Mamma.

  From behind her back, Mamma produced the straw hat she’d been working on all day. Three different ribbons formed stripes, and white silk flowers made it natty.

  Dorothy offered a bit of wisdom. “I’ve heard it said that a working professional woman will be satisfied with six dresses in her wardrobe, but a fashionable lady will feel destitute with less than sixty.”

  Lucy laughed. “I am one step closer to the professional requirement, thanks to all of you.”

  “Try them on!” Mavis said.

  Lucy undressed right there and put them on. The brown lightweight wool draped beautifully from her hips in the popular seven-gore style, with the interest being in the back, a contrast to the flat front. The face of the blouse was highlighted with tiny pleats, with delicate lace edging the high collar and cuffs. The blue satin belt hooked in back. Lucy touched the upright collar with awe. “Thank you,” she whispered. For the clothing and the friendship it revealed were unexpected blessings.

  The ladies applauded and Lucy turned full circle, her arms outstretched. “You look beautiful” was oft repeated.

  She felt beautiful. “I’ve heard it said clothes make a man, but—”

  “Or woman,” Ruth said.

  “Or woman, but I truly have never worn anything that proved that statement. Until now.” The threat of tears was alarming. She was not a weepy woman.

  Mamma pulled her into an embrace. “Ah, bella. Shh.”

  Mamma’s arms gave her a moment to renew her strength, and when she hugged each lady in turn, the threat of tears had passed.

  But then she saw Mrs. Flynn, standing on the edge of the group. What did she think about the women spending time—and materials—on this gift?

  “You can take the cost of all this out of my check, Madame.”

  The woman pursed her lips, then shook her head. “You don’t pay for gifts, missy. Besides, you are representing Madame Moreau’s Fashion Emporium.” She looked to the floor, then back. “Actually, all this was Mr. Standish’s idea.”

  That man.

  Up in the apartment, Lucy opened the suitcase Mrs. Flynn had let her borrow. “She’s been ever so nice about all this.”

  “You know her bark is worse than her bite,” Mamma said.

  Sofia played with the clasps on the suitcase. “And Mr. Standish makes her be nice.”

  “Where would we be without him?” Lucy asked. She moved to the bed, where her new clothes were laid out. “I can’t believe they did this. Or that I didn’t notice during the day.”

  “You had other things on your mind,” Mamma said. “Here. Let me fold those. If you roll them up they won’t get creased. See?” She carefully folded the skirt on the seams, then rolled from the waist down.

  Sofia sat upon the bed, closely missing sitting upon the sleeve of a blouse. “I suppose if you need more clothes you can borrow them from Rowena. After all, she is your bosom friend.”

  “She is no such thing,” Lucy said, surprised at her own vehemence. “She simply needs my help.”

  Sofia fingered the cuff of the blouse until Mamma took it away. “I wish I could go. I’ve never been on a train.”

  “And I have?” Although Lucy was used to Sofia’s complaining, tonight she was in no mood. “Can’t you be happy for me?”

  Sofia shrugged.

  Mamma pinged her knee with a finger. “We are a family, we three. What brings joy to one, brings joy to all. Joy and sorrow.”

  Her mention of sorrow made Lucy think about something else. She stopped Mamma’s busyness with a hand. “You must be extra careful while I’m gone to protect yourself from Bonwitter.”

  “He hasn’t bothered us in a week.”

  “I don’t trust that he’s gone completely. Just be aware. Please?” She looked at Sofia too. “Promise me.”

  “I promise,” Mamma said.

  Lucy’s sister remained silent. “Sofia? Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  A shrug and a nod would have to suffice.

  “I hope I can sleep tonight,” Lucy said as they were getting into bed. “I have to rise extra early to get to Grand Central Station to catch my train by ten. I’m so glad Mr. Standish offered to go there with me. I have no idea where I should pick up the ticket the Langdons purchased. Plus, I suspect the bustle of such a place will be overwhelming.”

  Good, Sofia thought, and immediately felt bad for it. So much for God answering her prayer for help. She still felt jealous. She still hated that Lucy was going to Newport and she was staying home.

  Once she and Lucy were settled, with the sheet pulled up and smoothed to Sofia’s liking, Mamma came in the room.

  “What, Mamma?” Lucy asked.

  Mamma moved to the bedside and knelt beside it. She looked at both girls. “Corre lontano chi non torna mai. He runs far who never turns, girls. You must stay the course. Don’t be distracted from being all you can be.”

  Lucy nodded, but Sofia had no idea what all she could be. Did Mamma know? Did God?

  Mamma bowed her head, placed it in her clasped hands, and began to pray in Italian. Sofia clasped her own hands beneath her chin and closed her eyes, letting her mother’s prayers take care of Lucy’s safe journey. But since the door to heaven was open, Sofia added a few prayers of her own, a few longer prayers.

  Help me not be jealous. Help me be a better person. Change me. . . .

  The last prayer made her open her eyes. Could God change her?

  And more than that . . . did she really want Him to?

  Chapter Ten

  Mr. Standish helped Lucy out of the carriage. “Watch your step.”

  She was immensely glad he’d offered to take her to the station to make sure she found the right train. She’d heard stories hailing the busyness of Grand Central Depot. Three distinct railroads shared the same station, but each had their own waiting room, ticketing area, and baggage handling. To add to the confusion, they all held very similar names: the New York Central and Hudson River Railroad, the New York and Harlem Railroad, and the New York and New Haven Railroad.

  Mr. Standish led Lucy across busy 42nd Street, and stood before the entrance of the massive four-story structure. “Now, then. Let me see the note from the Langdons one more time.”

  Lucy removed it from her reticule. Mr. Standish read it again. “I do wish she would have indicated which line it was. But I assume the New Haven will get you to Newport.”

  He assumed
? He didn’t know?

  “Will you ask someone?” she said.

  He offered her a reassuring smile. “Never fear, Miss Scarpelli. I will get you to the right train, on time.” He picked up her two bags, putting one under his arm, and held the door for her to enter. He immediately sought a man wearing a uniform with a flat cap, and asked the needed questions. Lucy saw the man point. Mr. Standish thanked him and rejoined her. “Over there. He says the New Haven line will be the one to get you to Wickford Junction, where you will go to the landing and get a steamer to Newport.”

  “A boat?” The last boat Lucy had been on was the huge ship that had brought them from Italy to America.

  “Newport is on an island, you know.”

  She was shocked. “I didn’t know that.”

  He laughed. “I think there will be many things about Newport that will shock and surprise you. Now, come. First off, we need to pick up your ticket.”

  They moved through the station past hundreds, if not thousands, of people who all seemed to know where they were going.

  Mr. Standish talked to a man sitting in a booth that had wrought-iron rails dividing his space from the public. He procured a ticket and was all smiles as he brought it to her. “My, my, are you going to have an adventure,” he said. “The Langdons purchased you a first-class ticket. You will be traveling in high style.”

  First class? Lucy shook her head. “But I don’t want to travel with society people. Can’t I just travel with those of my own class?”

  “I suppose you could, but . . .”

  She was causing him distress. And she was being ungrateful. “I’m sorry. It’s just unexpected. I’m not one of them. I don’t know how to act. What if they question my being there and want to kick me out?”

  “You simply show them your ticket. A conductor will ask to see it after you’re on the train, and once he’s approved your place, no one can argue. Your seat has been paid for. You deserve to be there.” At her continued distress he added, “Enjoy it, Lucy. Enjoy all the advantages that come because of your association with the Langdons. I’m sure this train ride is but the first of many amazements.”