Suitor by Design

by Christine Johnson

  “That’s different.”

  “Is it?” Minnie shot her sister a look of defiance.

  “Yes. They got married.”

  Minnie started to protest that Jack Hunter and Darcy Shea didn’t marry until after they’d built the plane and took it on the disastrous test flight, but then she saw Peter through the office windows. It must have been the way the light hit him, for he looked older and more handsome than ever before. His face was sculpted, his posture commanding, as if he could take on the world and win.

  In that moment, every lucid thought disappeared.

  * * *

  Peter had heard enough of Beatrice Kensington’s scolding to know he’d gone too far with Minnie. Guys and gals got together all the time to go to the movies and ball games and whatnot, but the Foxes were pretty strict about things. He should have sent Minnie home right away instead of showing her the Pierce-Arrow’s engine. If he had any hope of a future with her, he’d have to do things the right way.

  That meant asking Mr. Fox’s permission.

  As Peter walked home, he glanced at the dark windows of the dress shop, the shades drawn for the night. Next door loomed the massive Hutton’s Department Store, its windows lit into the evening hours to tantalize shoppers. Minnie’s house was behind both buildings. He should walk around the block and ask to speak to Mr. Fox. Maybe he could clear up any worries about Minnie and him working together. His intentions were honorable and all, but she didn’t seem to feel the same way about him as he did about her.

  He paused on the street corner, teetering between the two options. Go to her house and convince her father, or return home and hope for the best. If he asked to talk to Minnie’s father, she might get mad at him. Probably would, considering how much she resisted his invitations. He blew out his breath, and the air turned to a cloud of steam.

  Sally Neidecker and Reggie Landers exited the department store arm in arm. She laughed and laid her head on his shoulder. He grinned and led her past Peter as if he was invisible. The two moved as one, their chatter pure nonsense to outsiders but perfectly understandable to each other. Peter wanted that kind of closeness. He wanted a real family, one that would laugh with him and be glad to see him. He’d had that with the Simmonses. Then Hendrick married, Ma lost the house and Anna married. Now everyone except him had a new life.

  Why not me? he wondered.

  Drawing up courage, he walked up the side street and looked down the alley between the department store and the Fox house. The kitchen window still glowed dimly, but Blake Kensington’s auto wasn’t there. He must have parked in front of the house. The family could be in the front parlor.

  Peter shuffled down the snowy street to the next cross street. There sat Blake’s Cadillac. The house’s front windows were all lit, casting enough light across the yard to reveal a man pacing near the car. A second man hurried down the street toward the first.

  “Ready?” the second man asked.

  Voices must carry in cold, calm air.

  “Still waiting on the wife.” Kensington’s voice was tinged with the sort of anxiety Peter hadn’t heard since his street days in New York.

  Peter backed away. He didn’t want to overhear a private conversation, especially if it revealed anything that would harm Minnie’s sister or family. Something about Kensington had always sat wrong with him. Maybe it was the money. As heir to the Kensington empire, Blake liked to throw his weight around. Fancy clothes, big talk and overindulgence were traits Peter recognized from the seedier elements he’d come in contact with in New York. Too bad Blake didn’t spend that money on his wife’s family. Maybe that was what got to Peter most of all. Family had to come first.

  As he slipped out of sight, Kensington’s next words sent prickles up his spine. “Is the rumor true? Are they looking to run out of here?”

  Peter slowed to listen for the response.

  “That’s what I hear. They’ll be looking for deliverymen.”

  Peter raced away, not wanting to hear another word. The men could be talking about anything. The Kensingtons owned the mercantile. Maybe Blake was looking to bring in something new to replace the ready-made clothing business lost to the new department store. Maybe he was opening a new store in another town.

  Yet as Peter hurried home, he knew deep down that was only wishful thinking.

  * * *

  “Now, Beattie,” Daddy said, “things aren’t the same today as they were when you were courting.”

  “That was only six years ago. Six.” Beatrice, her face flushed above the fox-fur collar of her fashionable wool coat, practically quivered. “Propriety never goes out of style.”

  Jen rolled her eyes and made a face from the kitchen doorway. She’d either finished washing dishes or had abandoned the task Mother gave her in favor of better entertainment.

  Minnie clasped her hands around her knees, wishing she’d chosen to sit next to Daddy rather than all alone opposite him and Mother, whose frown deepened with every word.

  “Now, Hugh, Beatrice has a point. We don’t want people to talk.”

  Minnie groaned and buried her face in her hands. “It’s a job. With Peter. Peter! We’re just friends. We’ve never even gone to anything together.” She stopped short of saying she never would. “This is ridiculous.”

  “What’s ridiculous is taking on that sort of job when you’re already busy,” Mother said. “Who did you expect to run the dress shop?”

  “Ruthie will be back soon.”

  “I’m afraid she won’t. I received a letter today saying they are staying in the city until April.”

  “Until April?” That dealt Minnie’s hopes a fateful blow. “Why so long?”

  “Apparently they have an opportunity to display your sister’s designs at a fashion exhibition.” Daddy beamed. “It’s an incredible honor. Our little Ruthie. In front of the biggest names in the industry.”

  Minnie drooped. There was no hope Ruth and Sam would return early.

  “So you see,” Mother added, “you will need to manage the shop for at least another five weeks and likely more. There’s no time for another job.”

  “You can’t expect me to spend every waking hour at the dress shop. You might help,” Minnie pleaded with Mother.

  “And I can help out until the snow melts,” Jen added, forgetting that she was supposed to be in the kitchen and not listening to the conversation.

  “See?” Minnie leaped on the offer before Jen changed her mind. “There’s plenty of time for me to work in another job. And it’s business for the shop. It might be just the start. Maybe if we do this job right, Mr. Galbini will send us more work.”

  “How many automobiles could one man have?” Mother responded. “One is plenty for even the wealthiest family.”

  Minnie leaped on the first possibility that came to mind. “Maybe he has friends?”

  “Exactly.” Daddy took up her cause. “He’ll want to show off the excellent workmanship. Once they see it, they’ll want the same thing in their automobiles. If you ask me, it’s a brilliant proposition. Not only is it good for the dress shop, it’s a whole new line of business. If Minnie proves she can upholster automobile seats, why not expand into home furnishings? Ever since the Baumgartners closed their shop, there’s been a void in Pearlman. Reupholstering tired, worn chairs and sofas could be a big boost to business.”

  “As long as it takes place at the dress shop,” Beatrice declared. “Not in a motor garage alone with a bachelor.”

  Minnie rolled her eyes. “How am I supposed to get an automobile into the dress shop?”

  Jen snickered.

  Beatrice frowned at Jen before answering, “You have Peter remove the seats and bring them to the shop.”

  “That makes sense,” Daddy said.

  Mother added her approval with a nod.


  “But I can’t do that with the luggage compartment,” Minnie protested.

  “Why not?” Mother leveled her gaze at her. “Peter can install the compartment after you’ve finished.”

  “Yes, but...” What could Minnie say? Their argument made perfect sense, but she felt chained to the dress shop. Unhooking the battery cable had demonstrated that she could do something that few women could do. She liked that feeling and wanted to learn more.

  “It’s not the same.” Jen came to her rescue. “You always do fittings for your customers, right?”

  Mother and Daddy nodded.

  “I think what Minnie’s trying to say is that she needs to do a fitting or two for the automobile.”

  Minnie could have hugged her sister.

  Unfortunately Beatrice wasn’t done. “That doesn’t solve the problem. Minnie must guard her reputation.”

  Jen appeared unfazed. “Then I’ll chaperone them. I don’t have much to do at the flight school for a while.”

  Though Beatrice looked skeptical, Daddy put an end to the discussion. “That settles it, then.”

  Minnie shot her next-oldest sister a look of gratitude.

  We promised, Jen mouthed.

  Their vow! Minnie felt her cheeks heat, but she couldn’t explain that this job had nothing to do with pursuing Peter Simmons as a suitor. Nor did it have to do with any affection for Mr. Galbini. She couldn’t exactly articulate what it did mean, except that she’d never wanted something so badly. The glamour that Galbini represented certainly played a part in it, but this was more. This job represented a chance to both shed the commonplace and help her family. She could try her hand at something new. Minnie wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip away.

  Chapter Nine

  Peter was glad Minnie didn’t show up at the garage the rest of the week. He had a decision to make and didn’t need her presence distracting him.

  When he had to think things through, he turned to wood. Feeling the grain beneath his fingertips always gave him peace. He’d think on how every ring measured a year’s growth. Good years and lean ones showed in the grain. Through it all, the tree endured. Strong as the oak. That was how he’d managed to live his life lately. It helped him get by.

  Now he could only think how a single man could fell that mighty oak. Was Vince that man? Would this job send Minnie’s family crashing to earth? The thought kept him up at night, staring at the darkened window of his tiny attic room. He could turn down the job, but he’d given his word. A man’s word must not be broken. Moreover, Minnie’s family could use the money. But what if this wasn’t a luggage compartment? What if the deliveries he’d overheard Kensington mentioning were of liquor, not dry goods? But the luggage compartment was so small and the hidden portion barely tall enough for a bottle lying flat. A man couldn’t store enough bootleg liquor in there to make it worth the risk.

  No, it must be exactly what Vince said—for luggage and personal valuables.

  Still, Peter found no peace. He pressed his hand to the frosted window, melting a clear spot through which to see. Outside, the tree branches rattled in the breeze, lifeless fingers reaching for the hope of spring. The waning moon offered no comfort. Countless prayers gave him no answer.

  So he turned to wood. Hendrick let him keep a little workshop in the back corner of the garage. He retreated there after closing the garage each day. Maybe if he could finish up this job before Minnie’s hand healed, he could talk her into showing him how to fit the felt to the inside of the compartment. If she had no part in the actual construction, she couldn’t be considered an accomplice. He’d still pay her. That should solve everything.

  Then why didn’t he feel better?

  “Peter?”

  He jumped at the sound of Minnie’s voice and dropped the planer. It clattered against the concrete floor. He must be hearing things. The doors were locked. No one could be in the garage. He picked up the planer and slid it over the surface of the wood, peeling off the rough outer layer.

  Someone pounded on the doors to the work bay. “Peter! Let us in.”

  Us? The voice was Minnie’s, but she must have brought someone with her. He set down the planer and worked his way out of the back of the garage until he reached the big doors. He lifted the board used to secure the doors and pushed one open a little. Minnie and Jen Fox stood just outside.

  “I’m here to work.” Minnie looked rather pleased with herself.

  “Can’t.” Peter had to stand firm.

  “What do you mean I can’t? You hired me.”

  “I’m alone. It’s not proper.”

  Minnie rolled her eyes. “That’s why Jen is chaperoning us.” Her cheeks were rosy from the cold evening air. “So, are you going to let us in?”

  “Don’t suppose I have much choice.” Peter reluctantly opened the door, and Minnie traipsed in with Jen following.

  Minnie went straight to his woodworking area. “Is this it?”

  “Yeah.” Peter glanced at Jen, who perched on the edge of a workbench and pulled a magazine from her coat pocket.

  “Don’t mind me,” she said.

  Some chaperone. He supposed he should be grateful. He walked back to the wood shop, where Minnie was inspecting the boards. “This board forms the back of the compartment. I had to shape it so the seat cushion will fit.”

  “Does it fit flush? Will I need to cut the felt lower to accommodate it?”

  Peter was impressed with Minnie’s questions. They showed a surprisingly mechanical mind for a girl. By the time he’d finished explaining every construction and design detail, he figured she’d be bored to tears.

  Instead, her expression got more and more animated. “I can see exactly how it will look. And these smaller pieces will work perfectly with the restrictions my parents put in place.”

  Her statement made no sense. “What restrictions?”

  “They want me to do most of the work in the dress shop. Whenever I’m here, I need a chaperone.”

  “Oh.” That pretty much killed his hopes for time alone with her. Jen might pretend to read a magazine, but her ears were undoubtedly wide-open.

  Minnie sighed. “I told them there was nothing to worry about, but my oldest sister is such a stick in the mud. I said we were just friends, but she insisted.”

  Peter struggled against a tide of disappointment. Not only had he lost time with Minnie, but she also still thought of him as a friend. Why couldn’t she see him for who he was? Why was she always chasing after swells? Would she have agreed to such restrictions if she was working with Vince? No. She’d battle to the death. But not for him.

  “I don’t think I’ll need you,” he blurted out.

  “What?” Her eyes widened, the blue so dazzling in the electrical lights that he couldn’t look away. “What do you mean you don’t need me?” Her gaze narrowed.

  “Uh.” He gulped and tried to gather his thoughts.

  “Well?” She planted her hands on her hips. “We made an agreement. In front of Mr. Galbini.”

  “Yes, well, if you remember, I told him you could do the upholstery if I needed any done.”

  “You also agreed to my plan to line the compartment.”

  “It’s not difficult—”

  “It’s my job.” She jabbed her finger into her chest. “Mine. You promised.” She blinked rapidly.

  Not tears. Why did women always resort to tears? “I’ll still pay you.”

  Her pout didn’t ease. “For doing nothing? Never. And what if we get more work based on this? Maybe I want to do this. Maybe I need to do this.”

  This was going badly. One careless statement fueled by jealousy, and everything he’d hoped to build between them came crashing down. Peter raked a hand through his hair, and his cap tumbled to the floor. He stooped to pick it up whil
e he tried to figure out how to get out of this mess. “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. A promise is a promise, Mr. Simmons.”

  Her formality kicked him in the stomach. “All right.”

  She glared at him. “All right what?”

  Peter mopped his brow. Vince wouldn’t lie to him. The Pierce-Arrow was a personal car. Bootleggers used trucks, not cars. He must be reading too much into what he’d heard. This was Pearlman, after all, and two men talking loudly in the open could not mean anything sinister. He took a deep breath. Those months living on the street had made him too suspicious. That was over now. Peter had asked Jesus into his life. The slate was wiped clean. Pastor Gabe said so. The past would not resurface. It was gone forever.

  He swallowed. “All right. You can do the work.”

  He hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake.

  * * *

  Minnie wanted to start that night, but Peter made her wait, saying he had work to do first. The following week, he brought the first board to the dress shop.

  Minnie stared at the flat, varnished board he set on her worktable. “Just one?”

  Peter shrugged and shuffled his feet, the way he always did when nervous. “When you finish it, I’ll bring the next one.”

  “But how am I supposed to know where I can attach the felt and where I can’t?”

  He pointed to the board. “I marked it.”

  She leaned close, trying to make out what he was pointing at. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Can’t you see the pencil mark?” He leaned over the worktable until the top of his head nearly touched hers.

  She moved back a little. “No, I can’t.”

  He rubbed his finger over the glistening finish. “It’s right there.”

  “Well, I don’t see it. You’d need a microscope to make out anything under that finish.”

  Instead of being offended, he puffed up like a turkey. “Here.” He guided her finger to the spot.

  At last she made it out. “Why’d you make it so light?”