The Hatmaker's Heart: A Novel

by Carla Stewart

  Nell agreed. Oscar knew she would vouch for them. She’d missed spending time with her grandmother because of his threat to fire them. They were worth fighting for. She showed him her preliminary sketches and promised to have samples done by the end of the week so production could begin. By lunchtime, four designs had been approved. She gathered the supplies and took them to the workroom to get started.

  Hazel looked over her shoulder, then said in a low voice, “Is it true about Calvin leaving?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Lucky duck.”

  “I’m sure it was a personal choice, not because he was unhappy here.”

  “He’d be the only one.”

  “What would you say if I told you Mr. Fields is considering a pay increase for you?”

  “It’d be a miracle, that’s what.”

  “And Marcella, too. I’m counting on both of you to get our new fall line off the ground.”

  “It’d be nice to be appreciated. Too bad you’re not running the salon—we’d be a sight better off.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, but Mr. Fields is still in charge. Always will be.”

  Nell showed her the new designs, and from the way Hazel’s eyes lit up, she knew she had her cooperation, at least for now.

  * * *

  Nell shut the door of her flat behind her and turned the key in the lock. The first thing she intended to do was put Jeanette through an interrogation of why she didn’t tell her about Calvin leaving the salon.

  The flat was empty, and as Nell put the kettle on, she remembered Jeanette was going to spend the evening with her mother when she finished at the dance studio. She’d spent the better part of the weekend there, too, saying her mother needed her. Or perhaps she was avoiding Nell because of Calvin. It wasn’t like Jeanette to skirt around the truth. So be it—she would go to Sal’s and have a bite to eat as soon as she’d changed. On her way out, she remembered the kettle and turned back as the phone rang.

  “Hey, Nellie March. Guess you made it back.” Calvin.

  “You. You! I’m so mad at you I could spit. What do you mean by going to Murdoch’s?”

  “Well, I didn’t expect I’d get hugs and smooches when you got back, but I was hoping at least for a pleasant hello.”

  “Sorry. You caught me off guard, but I want some answers.”

  “Maybe you were expecting a call from someone else? Oscar perchance?”

  A snakelike shiver slithered up Nell’s spine. “Why would he call me at home?”

  “Rumor has it—”

  “What rumor?”

  “All those parties you went to across the pond. Steiger had a heyday talking about how he heard Oscar was wooing you, buttering you up to be his next wife.”

  “That’s r-rubbish. What does Steiger know? Yes, we went a lot of places, but the only moves Oscar made were making sure all the right people saw us.”

  “You’re right. Steiger probably invented it to stir up trouble.”

  “Guess you didn’t have anything better to do than believe false rumors and look for a new job.”

  “Back up. Let’s start this over. I called to talk to Jeanette.”

  Nell winced, a pinch in her gut. “Oh.”

  “You did know I’ve been seeing Jeanette?”

  “She mentioned it. But she didn’t tell me you were a traitor.”

  “Could we talk about something else?”

  “Not until you tell me why you left.”

  “Hey, what happened to the timid Nellie March?”

  “More than you’d like to know, and don’t call me Nellie March.” She stopped. Calvin was her friend. Jeanette’s boyfriend. With effort, she softened her voice. “I am interested in what you have to say, unless you’d be breaking some confidentiality clause from Murdoch’s.”

  “Not at all. How about I buy you lunch one day this week and talk about it? For old time’s sake. Murdoch’s is only a couple blocks from Oscar Fields.”

  They picked a time and place, and Calvin asked again to speak to Jeanette.

  “She’s not back from her mother’s. And sorry to be so prickly. I’m truly glad you and Jeanette are seeing each other.”

  “She’s a swell egg. Like you, Nell. You gonna tell me about your trip?”

  “At lunch. If you’re nice.”

  “Always.”

  He hung up. And of course, he was right. Calvin was nice. Always.

  She dropped onto the settee, still feeling irritable. Calvin’s remark about Steiger nagged at her, his prediction that she would be Oscar’s next wife. Is that what the promotion was about or was it because she’d stuck it out and earned the position of designer? Steiger just liked to stir things up. No wonder it was so easy for Calvin to leave.

  Instead of going to Sal’s, Nell meandered through the neighborhood and stopped for a tortellini and cup of tea when her stomach started growling. The days were growing longer with the advent of summer. She found a bench at the edge of a green park and watched a gaggle of young boys kick a tired rubber ball in the street, their laughter and shouts a symphony.

  A teenage couple strolled by, adoring eyes on each other, their fingers clasped. She and Quentin had been like those two once. Until they both grew up. When the familiar pangs of regret swallowed her, she rose and went back to the flat.

  The least she could do was thank Quentin for his honesty and wish him happiness. Perhaps he was never hers to begin with. It was time to let go. But it felt as if she were severing a limb.

  She spent the evening thumbing through a stack of fashion magazines, letting her imagination drift, but all the while she was drafting the words she wanted to say to Quentin. She went to her desk, her grandmother’s sampler with the words Strength and honor are her clothing giving her courage. She whispered a quick prayer; assembled her stationery, pen, and ink; and wrote, “Dearest Quentin.”

  She scratched through “Dearest,” then tore up the page and started over.

  Dear Quentin,

  It was a pleasure to see you again in London. You’re looking well, and I enjoyed reminiscing with you. We had an uneventful voyage back to the States, but already new plans for the work ahead are under way, and there’s the possibility of doing another runway show with the couture designer Soren Michaels. I believe I’ve told you about him.

  I owe you an apology. In my state of surprise at your engagement, I failed to ask when the wedding would be. Will you marry in Heathdown or London?

  Should you and Colleen get a chance for a trip to New York, I would consider it an honor to show you the sights. There are many I’ve not seen myself in this vast city, so it would be a pleasure to discover them with the two of you.

  I’m expecting a visit from Aunt Sarah and the twins next month.

  I’ll always be grateful that I was able to return to England and especially to see dear Grandmama. If you go up to Heathdown, give her my love, won’t you?

  Although it may be unseemly to mention, you’ll always have that special place in my heart as my first love.

  With my kindest regards,

  Nell

  Chapter 27

  Soren Michaels came in the next day with sketches and to discuss the preliminaries for the runway show he called spectacular. Whatever negotiations there were between Soren and Oscar had apparently been worked out, and Oscar was up to his usual criticism of the hemlines of Soren’s designs.

  “Nell and I value your opinion, Oscar, but no one is doing Edwardian anymore. This is the golden age of jazz, and if we aren’t at the forefront, we’ll be edged out.”

  “Tasteful evening wear will never go out of fashion. We witnessed that in England, didn’t we, sweetheart? The Brits hold to their traditions, their conservatism.”

  Nell shuddered at the sweetheart, which she knew was for Soren’s benefit. “Our clients were conservative, I agree, but the events they were attending were more formal, too. The couture shops leaned toward the shorter hemlines and less coverage on the top. I can see t
his one appealing to the free-spirited American image.” She pointed to a frock with a black tulle skirt and a sheer top with pink beaded florets in a diamond pattern. The underbodice was a simple flesh-colored chemise, but the placement of the rosettes and the sparkle spoke of detail and elegance. A bit provocative, but brilliant, too.

  Oscar scowled but held his tongue.

  Soren said, “Girls today want something that can go from the opera to a speakeasy without a change of costume. Flirty skirts that swing. The boxy look that falls from the shoulders with unrestricted movement. I just spent a delightful evening at a new club in Harlem. Glitter and glamour are all the rage.”

  Oscar mulled it over and said, “As long as it brings in a steady flow of customers, I have no objections.”

  “To placate you, Oscar, I have several designs for the mature women in the crowd, like our mutual friend, Mavis Benchley. Jeanne Lanvin in Paris has done quite well with her line that’s a bit longer with fuller skirts. I just don’t want to veer too far from my trademark look. I know you understand the importance, Oscar, of having something that sets you apart from the other milliners here in town.”

  Nell wanted to kiss Soren, but Oscar only nodded and asked what date he had in mind to do the show.

  “I have a couple of chaps who are trying to get inside information on when the other houses are having their runway shows so we can schedule accordingly—the first show of the season is the one people remember.”

  “Certainly. I’m sure Nell can be ready whenever you are.”

  As before, Soren told them he would have copies of his designs sent over for Nell to begin working on them. “I want to know this time I can trust you not to let them fall into the wrong hands. I still shudder when I think of those shabby imitations in Phillip Price’s window. And the nerve of him to call it couture.”

  “Your sketches will be kept in my suite of offices. I’m sure Nell won’t mind working next door to me on this project.” Oscar’s look dared her to disagree, but it was fine with her. It worked both ways. She could keep an eye on him, too.

  * * *

  “It was a business decision. Sort of a slap against the head when I had time to think it over. Plenty of time while you were gone, you know.” Calvin took a bite of his corned beef on rye. They’d spent the first minutes of their lunch with Nell giving Calvin the tie from Carnaby Street and a few awkward starts, but both of them knew the real reason for their meeting.

  “I thought you’d take advantage of our being in London to come up with something dazzling.”

  “I did.” He winked. “Only it went in the portfolio I took to Murdoch’s. Keen for me that they liked it.”

  “So this was your plan all along?” She stirred her minestrone, the barley bits popping to the surface.

  “No, my plan was to become a premier designer, like you.” He leaned in and took another bite. “Congratulations, by the way. Jeanette told me you got a promotion, that you’re officially a designer now.”

  “Thanks. I feel bad that Oscar always overlooked your ideas.”

  “Don’t be. That’s the way it is in this biz. It’s swell now that I’m working for someone who’s not a schmuck.”

  “But Oscar owns all your designs. At least the ones you made for him.”

  Calvin shrugged. “Nothing done on Oscar’s time went to Murdoch’s, but I did have a few late nights at home putting a portfolio together. I never knew it could be such fun.”

  “I know you haven’t been happy at Oscar Fields, but why now?”

  “Something’s bothered me for a long time. I always thought there was something fishy about how Mr. Fields took me on with barely a glance at my portfolio. I thought my degree in textiles was proof enough at the time. Then a month or so ago, Steiger cocked an eye at me and sneered, said my old man hadn’t done me any favors getting me a job at the salon.”

  “Your dad got you the job?”

  “Yeah, before I joined Fields, I was on the outs with my dad about my career choice. I told him if I couldn’t get a design job in New York, I was going to Paris. My mother went on a crying jag about me leaving, so a few days later, my dad asked if I’d considered Oscar Fields Millinery. To make a long story short, I landed the job.”

  “How?”

  “That’s what I wondered at the time, but then I forgot about it. You came and everything was good at first, but Fields never gave me the time of day. After the remark in the workroom, I asked my dad. He and Fields went to the same club, and Oscar was on the verge of losing his membership for not keeping up his dues. My dad bailed him out and mentioned I was interested in millinery. Voilà. I got the job.”

  Nell laughed. “Oscar always says it’s about connections and who you know.”

  “That’s for sure. If I hadn’t known you, I wouldn’t have ended up with a swell girl like Jeanette. I was just too dense to see it at first.”

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “So tell me, anything new you’re working on?”

  “I can’t tell you that. You’re the competition.”

  He held up his hands. “Not trying to steal any secrets.” He pushed away from the table. “Better get back or Murdoch will wonder where I am.”

  He gave her a brief hug and said, “Stay strong, Nell.”

  * * *

  Jeanette jumped when Nell walked in. “Criminy, you scared me.”

  “Because I’m early?”

  “No, I was going over the routine for the dance class in my head. Miss Beverly says that picturing the moves and memorizing the positions and order of the steps will make it second nature.”

  “What? Are you going to be in a recital or something?”

  “No, just leading the class for the first time while Miss Beverly observes. I can’t remember being this nervous in my entire life.”

  “They’re just schoolkids. They won’t know if you have a misstep.”

  “No, but I will. The little girls are so energetic and enthusiastic, I just get tingles when I’m working with them. I sort of understand why you get excited about your hats sometimes.”

  “So you really love it?”

  “Oh, you know it. And I’ve noticed a difference in Calvin, too, now that he’s doing what he loves and doesn’t have Oscar breathing down his neck. How was your lunch?”

  “Strange.”

  “Really? I always thought you and Calvin got along.”

  “We did. I guess we still do, but…I don’t know. It’s not the same at the salon. No one to share a joke with or show my designs to…”

  “You haven’t even been working with Calvin for the past four months. Did he tell you his big news about the Paris designer?” The minute she said it, Jeanette clapped her hand over her mouth. “Never mind. What did you talk about?”

  “What Paris designer?”

  “I can’t tell. Sorry, it just slipped out.”

  “Is Murdoch’s working with someone from Paris?”

  “You didn’t hear it from me. Promise you won’t say anything.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, although I could get on Oscar’s good side by slipping him the information.”

  “Please don’t.”

  “You know I won’t. Could I ask you something about Oscar, though?”

  “Sure. What do you want to know?”

  “I’ve noticed that he’s always talking about money—if this show is profitable, if the fall season is successful. And when I’ve tried to ask him to see the books, he bristles. Says it’s not my place. That, I do understand. I have no seniority, but while we were gone, I kept the supply room and did the ordering, so I wanted to know if what we took in on the hats balanced the expenses.”

  “You’re losing me. What’s the question?”

  “Do you know if Oscar has financial problems? Or had them in the past?”

  “I’m not sure. He’s sort of slippery, you know. Acts like he’s flush with dough sometimes, then tight as a drawstring on a coin purse the next. I told you he paid my rent for a
while. Maybe a few months. Then he said he couldn’t afford it. When Anna married him, they lived in a nice flat on the Upper West Side, but after she died, he moved back to his club.”

  “He doesn’t have his own place?”

  “I don’t think so. Oh, get a load of this. Mother said he dropped by the other day to pay his condolences and gave her a hundred dollars. Like you, she was leery, but she took it. She said he even hung around and had coffee with her. Why the interest in Oscar all of a sudden?”

  “I’m just trying to figure him out. He was slippery, like you said, in London. Buying me expensive clothes—by the way, you might want to check out my closet sometime—and then acting like he didn’t have two farthings to rub together.”

  “You ask me, staying there is just going to bring you misery, promotion or not.”

  “The thing is, Oscar’s been decent lately, and I have a steady string of clients. Mrs. Benchley’s been a love, encouraging me. If I left, I would lose those contacts, the ones who are loyal to Oscar. They’ve become my friends as well.”

  “Unless it turns out that Oscar is really a snake and is just waiting to strike.”

  “You’re too harsh, you know that. I’m just trying to see it from all sides.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. You’ve got this show coming up with Soren. See what happens.”

  “Thanks. I feel better. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”

  “Did you mean it about the dresses?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 28

  Soren slung his briefcase on the conference room table and glared at Nell and Oscar. “Seven weeks! Those blasted Frenchmen don’t know that in New York, we do the fall shows in August and the holiday shows in November. No one is in any humor to look at fur collars in July. Half of the patronage will still be in Martha’s Vineyard or over in Jersey taking their summer vacations.”

  Oscar frowned. “What Frenchmen? I didn’t know any of the Paris houses did New York shows.”

  Soren waved his fingers. “They do now. Murdoch’s has teamed up with the House of Perrault the last Saturday in July.”