Suitor by Design

by Christine Johnson

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

  “You’ve been moping around the shop all week, all because of—”

  “No, I’m not,” Minnie said before Jen actually named Peter. Somehow saying she was attracted to him was worse than thinking it. “Maybe I’m moping around, as you say, because I’m sick of snow and cold. Spring can’t come fast enough.”

  “Uh-huh. You’ve never hated snow before. Could you be dreaming of moonlit walks with a certain young man?”

  “No. Absolutely not.” She gathered the nerve to stare her sister in the eyes. “Besides, there’s not a bachelor in town who meets our criteria.”

  Jen’s eyebrows shot up. “Criteria?”

  “Well-off enough to help out the family.”

  “Oh, that. I wish you’d forget that foolish idea.”

  Minnie picked up the pincushion. “We all put our hands on this and vowed to help each other, remember?”

  “It’s not a Bible. It doesn’t count. Besides, you should marry for love. Look at how happy Ruthie is.”

  Minnie sighed at the memory of her older sister looking into her husband’s eyes. The rest of them might not have been there for all Ruth noticed. Her world only included Sam. “I wish I could feel that way.”

  Jen spun the pincushion like a top. “Maybe you will one day.”

  “One day seems like forever. It’s fine for someone like you, who doesn’t want to get married, but that’s all I’ve ever wanted. How am I supposed to sit around and wait? I haven’t got Ruthie’s patience. If I have to wait another seven years until I’m her age, I’ll die.”

  Jen chuckled. “Then stay busy. Do things. Find out when you can start that job that Peter offered.”

  Minnie’s stomach bottomed out. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything since we found the lost envelope.”

  “Have you gone to see him?”

  Minnie shook her head.

  “Then do it now. I’ll watch the shop.”

  “Now?” Minnie gulped. “What will I say? What if he’s not there? What if I make a fool of myself?”

  “That you want to start the job. Come back here. You won’t.”

  “What?” Minnie was lost.

  “I’m answering your questions in order.” Jen counted off the answers on her fingers. “Tell him that you want to start the job. If he’s not there, come back here and try again later. And you won’t make a fool of yourself.”

  “Oh.”

  Jen lifted Minnie’s coat and hat off the peg in the back. “Now go.”

  Minnie reluctantly donned her outerwear. She hated to face Peter in front of anyone else. The way he looked at her sent shivers up and down her spine. What if she blushed? What if she stammered or said something foolish? She had acted the fool in front of Reggie Landers, and he’d laughed at her. Emotions weren’t to be trusted. No, sir. She’d have to keep her head. This was a business venture. Nothing more.

  Yet the moment she entered the motor garage and discovered Peter was alone, all those intentions vanished.

  * * *

  Peter hadn’t heard Minnie come into the garage. He didn’t notice her until he pulled his head out from under the hood of the Pierce-Arrow in search of the right-size wrench to unhook the battery cable.

  “How long you been standing there?” he asked.

  She tipped her head to the side, which only made her prettier. “Awhile.”

  Peter swallowed and repeated the question Hendrick insisted he use with every customer. “What can I do for you?”

  Her smile faltered, and she lowered her gaze. “Just wondering.” A shrug. “Do you still want me to help with the car?”

  “Of course.” He didn’t have to think that answer through. “I thought we’d already settled that.”

  She gave him the most dazzling smile. “When?”

  His pulse accelerated even though he didn’t know what she was asking. “When what?”

  “When should I start?”

  The answer would send her away, but Peter wasn’t ready to let her go yet. “Why don’t you come over here and take a look? It wouldn’t hurt for you to learn a little about motors.”

  Her smile faded, but she did as he asked. She settled in at the front of the car, rather than at his side. “What are you doing?”

  “Disconnecting the battery so we don’t get any unwelcome shocks.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “That could happen?”

  “It’s possible. Plus the connections need to be cleaned. Take a look.”

  That drew her closer. He felt a jolt that had nothing to do with the battery.

  “First I need the right wrench.” He reached around her to grab the elusive tool from his toolbox. “Then I loosen the nut on this cable.” He showed her which one.

  “Is it safe?” Her hands gripped the edge of the engine compartment.

  Her concern felt better than good. It warmed him more than Ma’s hugs. “If you don’t let any metal make a connection between the positive and negative terminals.”

  She looked horrified, so he explained how to disconnect the battery safely. Then he loosened the first cable and pulled it off. “See? No shock.”

  She looked up at him with awe, as if he’d done something amazing, like scale a mountain or win a race. “You know so much.”

  “It’s nothing. You could do it, too. Wanna try?”

  “Oh, no.” She backed away. “I’d bungle it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. Here, I’ll loosen the bolt. All you need to do is pull off the cable.”

  She drew near again and watched him work. He liked the feel of that, the way she smelled, the way she looked at him, her surprise over the smallest things.

  “All right.” Having loosened the bolt, he set aside the wrench. “Now you pull off the cable.”

  She tugged off her gloves and pushed her coat sleeve up to her elbow. Her dainty fingers reached ever so hesitantly into the compartment. “Just pull?”

  “Straight off the terminal.” He itched to steady her shaking hand, but that wouldn’t give her confidence.

  Her pale fingers wrapped around the cable. “You’re right. There’s no shock.” She tightened her grip and pulled. “It’s not moving.”

  “Maybe I didn’t loosen the bolt enough. Let me check.”

  “No, I can get it.” She tucked her lower lip between her teeth and put her weight into pulling off the cable.

  It didn’t budge at first, and he motioned for her to let him help. She shook him off. Then all of a sudden the cable came off. Her hand struck the metal housing, and she yelped. Dropping the cable, she yanked her hand out. To his horror, a bright red line formed on the back of her hand.

  She was bleeding!

  Minnie stared at her hand as if she couldn’t believe she’d cut it. Peter leaped into action. He whipped a clean handkerchief from his pocket and applied pressure to the cut.

  “I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. This was all his fault. He should never have urged her to pull off the cable. What had he been thinking?

  The initial shock over, tears pooled in her eyes. That made him feel even worse.

  “Does it hurt?” He hoped the wound wasn’t deep, but they’d have to get it cleaned either way. “Let’s go into the office. Hendrick keeps some hydrogen peroxide in there. We can clean and bandage it.”

  He didn’t let go of her hand as he led her to the office.

  Darkness had settled over the town. Lights twinkled here and there, but the office was dark. He turned on the electric light, keenly aware that anyone could see inside but more concerned about Minnie’s hand than idle gossip. The peroxide and bandages were on the shelf behind the desk. He sat Minnie down, had her maintain pressure on her hand and fetched the medical supplies. If the cut w
as deep, he’d take her to Doc Stevens for stitches.

  Please, Lord, don’t let it be serious.

  He’d never forgive himself.

  Chapter Eight

  “All right.” Peter knelt before Minnie, a pained expression on his face, and unstopped the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. “You need to remove the handkerchief now.”

  A whimper snuck out before she caught it. She lifted the handkerchief and tensed in preparation for the medicine. A bead of blood formed on the thin line of the cut.

  He bent over it and then relaxed. “It doesn’t look very deep, but I still need to put peroxide on it. Hold your hand out. I’m going to pour it over the cut, and I don’t want anything getting on your dress or coat.”

  Her hand shook a little as she extended it, but she was not going to let him know that she was even a little bit afraid. “I’m ready.”

  “This might sting.”

  She tossed her head, as if this was a common occurrence. “I know. I’ve had cuts before.”

  He looked skeptical.

  When the peroxide first hit the wound, she jerked her hand a little, but through sheer determination, she held it perfectly still. If Peter noticed, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he kept his focus on the job at hand.

  “Now I’ll bandage it.” He picked up the soft cotton gauze and wrapped it around and around her hand, keeping her fingers and thumb visible.

  His touch was gentle. He took such care that she almost wished he wouldn’t finish.

  “You could be a doctor,” she said.

  “I’d rather be a carpenter or furniture-maker.”

  “Not a mechanic?”

  “This is all right, but I like making things.”

  She recalled the shelving and counter in the bookstore. “Your furniture is beautiful.”

  He’d stopped wrapping, but he still held her hand. The comfort of his touch somehow outweighed the stinging pain. “Vince taught me.”

  “Oh. Right.” She didn’t want to think about him. “Back in New York?”

  Peter nodded. “When he helped out at the orphanage. He gave me hope. I’d like to give that to other kids, teach them how to work with their hands. Before he taught me how to build things and fix things, I didn’t have any skills or much education. I wasn’t good about attending and stopped going completely when my aunt died.”

  “Your aunt?” Minnie hadn’t heard anything about an aunt. “Did she die at the same time as your parents?”

  “No. My folks died when I was eight. My aunt died a year or so before I came here. She got influenza.” He rushed the words, as if he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “During the epidemic?”

  He nodded.

  “Were you living with her?” This story got sadder by the moment.

  “Yeah.” He squared his shoulders. “Let’s finish that hand.”

  She didn’t care about a silly old cut anymore. Peter had lost everyone close to him. “And then you had no one.”

  Peter didn’t look up from the bandage. “I got by, but that’s not my point. If God hadn’t been looking out for me, I could have ended up in a bad spot. There aren’t many things an unskilled, uneducated guy can do.”

  “You’re not uneducated. You graduated from high school.”

  “Yeah. After I got here. But it’s what Vince taught me that helped me get this job.”

  “So that’s why you want to teach other kids the same things he taught you.”

  His hands stilled. “I suppose.”

  Minnie felt for him. “Living in an orphanage must have been awful.”

  He shrugged. “Not so much. They were all kind. Could have been worse.”

  “I can’t imagine not having a family. We’re all so close—my sisters and my parents. When Daddy was in the hospital and when he had that seizure last summer...” Her throat closed, and she was unable to finish. It was easier not to admit the fear that she’d end up fatherless. And if Daddy could die, so could Mother. Then what? Minnie would be an orphan, too.

  He seemed to understand what she was thinking. “Don’t worry. People here watch out for each other. It’s not like the city.”

  Minnie eagerly grasped the chance to change the subject. “The city can’t be all bad. Look at the fancy clubs and big department stores.”

  “Who cares about stores when you can’t buy anything?” Peter bent over her hand again. “And the clubs? They’re the worst of it. Trust me, you want to stay away from them. Promise you’ll never go near one.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. That’s where the celebrities go.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying. Fame and fancy clothes only hide the real person. The glitter and glamour of the club is the same way. You can’t find God in a place like that.”

  What an odd thing to say. Minnie puzzled over it as Peter finished bandaging her hand.

  After tucking the end of the gauze under at the palm, he sat back on his heels. “I’m sorry I asked you to help with the motor.”

  He looked sad, like he had when he’d arrived on the train with the other orphans four years ago. He’d been much taller than the rest of them. His trousers were so short that she and her friends had snickered at him. He must have heard, because his shoulders had drooped. But when people said mean things about one of the other orphan boys because he was Italian, Peter tried to protect the boy. She’d gained a lot of respect for Peter that day. She’d even liked him a little, but once he got comfortable with his new family, he starting acting like every other boy in school, pestering her until she couldn’t stand him.

  At this moment, he was more like the boy who’d first arrived, unsure and fiercely protective of those less fortunate than him. He wanted to help other kids. He wanted to give them a chance at a good life. He wanted to teach them skills. That meant a lot.

  “I’m glad you asked me to help. You’re a good teacher.” She grinned. “Besides, why should Jen be the only one in the family who knows mechanical things?”

  His hopeful smile sent her stomach flip-flopping again. Was this what love felt like—the crazy up-and-down emotions? The wondering what he thought of her and the worry that she’d said something stupid? Or was she just light-headed because of the injury?

  That must be it. Love was something else entirely, according to the stories she read. Someone in love fell madly, passionately in love with the other person. He became the center of her thoughts and dreams. She didn’t feel that way about Peter. He was a friend. That was all.

  The glare of automobile headlamps through the windows sent Peter to his feet and wiped away her confusing thoughts.

  Peter crossed the office and pushed open the door. “We’re closed for the night.”

  The car didn’t budge. In fact, the passenger door opened, and a woman got out. Minnie recognized that woman. It was her oldest sister.

  Beatrice pushed past Peter into the office. “What are you doing here?” When she saw Minnie’s bandaged hand, she gasped. “What happened? Did he hurt you?” She turned on Peter. “How dare you touch her.”

  Minnie hurried around the desk. “No, Beattie. Peter didn’t do a thing. In fact, he helped me. I cut my hand, and he bandaged it.” She tugged her sister away from him.

  Beatrice calmed down a little, even if her frown didn’t ease. “You stay here,” she said to Peter. “I want a word with my sister.” She pulled Minnie into the work area, still bright under the electric lighting, and closed the door behind them. “Do you have any idea how this looks?”

  “Looks?” Minnie had never seen Beatrice so upset. Other than the dots of color on her cheeks, her face was pale as snow.

  “You. Alone with Peter after dark. In the motor garage.” Beatrice wrinkled her nose.

  “Nothing is going on. I’m working with
Peter on a project.”

  “At night?” Beattie’s horrified expression nearly made Minnie laugh.

  “It’s not night. It’s before supper and after closing the dress shop. When else can I do it?”

  “But it’s not proper. People will talk.”

  Minnie crossed her arms, more determined than ever to complete this job. “I don’t care what people say. The job pays well, and Daddy needs the money.”

  Beatrice’s indignation wavered. “That may be—” her gaze darted toward the office “—but you cannot work with him unsupervised. Get Jen to join you. Ask Hendrick to stop by.”

  “Impossible and impossible.” Minnie was not going to be governed by her sister’s prudish sensibilities.

  “What’s impossible is this situation. You’ll ruin your reputation if you continue this way. If you were courting with a promise of marriage, it might be acceptable. Might.”

  “Courting?” Minnie choked on the word. “Certainly not.”

  “Then I suggest you find a chaperone.”

  “And I suggest you keep your nose out of my affairs.”

  Beatrice glared at her. “I can’t believe Mother and Daddy approved this.”

  Minnie examined her bandaged hand.

  “You haven’t told them, have you?” Beatrice demanded. “Well, we’ll remedy that right now. Come along.” She grabbed Minnie’s arm. “Blake and I will take you home. It’s on our way, and we can have a little discussion with Mother and Daddy.”

  Minnie resisted. “Don’t you think they have enough to worry about already? Tell me how this is any different from anyone else.”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything. This is up to our parents. Moreover, you do not have to do things like everyone else. Come along, now.”

  “I’ll go when I want to.” Minnie was not going to be treated like a baby.

  “Stubborn girl! Don’t you care about your father?”

  That hurt, but Minnie wasn’t quite ready to give in. Most people weren’t as old-fashioned in their thinking as Beattie. After all, hadn’t Beattie’s friend Darcy done practically the same thing with her future husband? “What about Darcy and Jack? They worked together on his airplane.”