“That will be perfect.”
Nell thanked her for inviting them and told her how much she liked her house. “Is your husband here? I’d like to thank him for his part in all of this.”
“Porter? Heavens, no. The man has an aversion to fresh air and mosquitoes and the country in general. You girls have fun.” She tottered off to greet someone at the next table.
While they ate, Iris looked around and asked if Nell had seen Mittie.
“Not in a while.”
“Drama always follows her around. I hope she’s all right.”
“I’m sure she is.”
Steve came back and sat with them, playing twenty questions it seemed. And when the sun dipped in the west, casting golden shadows across the lawn, a few people started dancing. Iris accepted Steve’s invitation to have a whirl at the fox-trot, and one of his friends asked Nell to dance. Nell laughed and tried to keep her eyes on her dance partner, but she kept thinking about Mittie and found herself looking through the crowd with every turn.
Nell nearly bumped into Iris who said she, too, was getting worried. They went in opposite directions to look for Mittie. Nell found Claudia and asked if she’d seen her.
“Probably over there with Daphne and her friends. Last I looked, they were playing charades and howling over how clever they were.”
Nell found Daphne who said, “Hey, come on, join in the fun.”
“I’d love to, just not now, I’m looking for my cousin. Tall. Long, dark hair. She’s wearing an emerald dress and several long strands of pearls. Southern accent.”
“Darling girl. She was here a while ago. Talking to some guy I didn’t know, but I thought they were old friends the way they were chatting. Sure you don’t want to play charades?”
Nell shook her head and hurried off, the food in her stomach now churning. It would be dark in another hour or so and impossible to find her. They should have stuck together. She searched for Iris, and as she looked across the lawn, a roar from overhead filled her ears. Everyone stopped and looked up as an airplane approached, flying low.
Shouts went up, “Look at that! Holy smithereens, that’s one way to arrive at a party.”
It flew so low it looked as if Nell could reach up and touch the wings, and like everyone else, she watched until it passed before she and Iris went back to looking for Mittie.
The roar came again, as if the plane had circled back, even lower this time, and one of the goggled people, with hair streaming behind a leather helmet, waved furiously from the open cockpit. Nell’s heart went to her throat.
Mittie.
Chapter 31
“Mittie Humphreys, what were you doing? Do you know how dangerous that was? Of all the stupid things.” Nell’s voice shook, but her body shook even harder at the relief of seeing Mittie loping across Mrs. Benchley’s lawn. It had been more than an hour since the airplane flew over, and both Iris and Nell were convinced it had dived into Long Island Sound and sunk. Then there Mittie was, her hair a rumpled mess, her face beaming in the light from the Japanese lanterns strung across the yard.
Iris glared at her twin sister. “How could you?”
“How could I not? I mean, goodness gracious, my heart is still dancing at the thrill. It’s the most freeing thing you can ever imagine.” She held out her arms like she was floating.
“It’s the most outrageous thing I can imagine. Mother and Daddy will be livid when then find out, and you can be sure I’ll tell them.”
“You don’t have to. I’m telling them myself. And I’m going to fly again. Again and again.”
Iris yanked Mittie’s arm. “We’re leaving. I’m just glad the airplane didn’t crash into the party.”
The rest of the night and all the next day, Mittie talked of nothing else. The freedom she felt and how she gave her phone number to the guy who’d convinced her to soar with him. Ames Dewberry.
“Sometimes you just have to take a chance.” Mittie’s dreamy-eyed look sent rivulets of apprehension through Nell. Those were the very words Nell had used to convince her mother that coming to New York was a good idea. That if she didn’t take a chance, she’d never know if she could become a successful hat designer. With the show in less than a week, success still dangled like a hypnotist’s bauble. Swinging. Swinging. Back and forth. Success on one side, losing everything she’d worked for on the other.
* * *
When Oscar strolled through the conference room on Monday, Nell asked if he was feeling better.
“Whatever gave you the impression I was ill?”
“Just something Mrs. Benchley said, the reason you couldn’t go to her party last Saturday.”
He snorted. “That. Matter of fact, I’ve recovered quite nicely. With this show breathing down our necks, I had to work out a few details.”
Nell braced herself, determined to let his comment roll past her. “If you needed help, you should have asked.”
“What, and disturb your little reunion with your Kentucky kin? Quite the show one of them put on from the sounds of it.”
“They did have fun trying on the hats downstairs. I hope none of the customers complained.”
“Don’t be daft. I’m talking about the exhibition at Mavis’s party. Going off on an airplane ride with a stranger.”
Nell wondered how he had found out so fast, but told him not to worry, they would be on their way back to Kentucky tomorrow.
“Going out again tonight?”
“No, I told them my place was here. Working.”
It was nearly midnight when Nell got home from work. She had finished the hats for Mrs. Benchley and practiced her presentation. It was better, but not perfect. She was so tired she thought of crawling into bed with her clothes on, but changed into her nightgown anyway. When she reached to click off the lamp she saw the letter propped against it.
Quentin. She scrambled out of bed and got the letter opener from her desk, then slid under the covers and slipped the letter from the envelope. Two pages.
Dearest Nell,
Thank you for letting me know you arrived home safely, and please forgive me for not writing sooner. I’ve wrestled with how to tell you my news. I had, in fact, hoped to discuss it with you when you came to London. The time never seemed right, especially when I saw the glow of happiness that graced your beautiful face.
Nell held her breath, hoping…praying…that he was going to tell her he was no longer engaged, that he’d made a mistake. She held her breath and continued reading.
What I mean to say is that I wasn’t completely honest with you. While I do have an interesting job and seem to have hit it off with my colleagues, I’ve known for quite some time that banking is not the profession the Lord has for me. I’ve ignored the signs for entirely too long, but am coming to grips with the reality that unless you walk in the light of his will you will never find true happiness.
When I asked if you were happy, I saw in your eyes and heard in your voice the utter satisfaction you have in your work as a milliner. You are destined for great things, and nothing gives me more peace than knowing you are doing what you were meant to do. It also gave me courage to face my own longings.
My plans are still uncertain at the moment, but I feel God has called me into the ministry. I guess the apple never falls far from the tree, and my parents have received the news joyfully. Now that I’ve settled it in my heart, there is a quietness in my spirit. I will wait upon God’s leading for the next steps.
As I mentioned earlier, this was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about when you were in London. We’ve always shared each other’s hearts, and even though we’ve taken separate paths, I still treasure your friendship.
Best wishes on the upcoming show. I’m sure your creations will be the best ever. And that’s what I wish for you. The best life has to offer.
With kindest regard,
Quentin
Nell stared at the pages, her limbs numb, her heart as well. Like a puzzle, a few of the pieces fell
into place. Quentin’s reluctance to talk about his job, his lack of enthusiasm over it. He’d always had a tender spirit toward others, those he somehow sensed were in need of a gentle touch. A friend to lean on.
Even on that day when he’d rescued her from Simone and the boys in the confirmation class, Quentin had a pastoral quality. Strength of character. Kind, uncondemning words. And with others, too. Taking Simone to the theater as a favor. His faithfulness to visit her grandmother.
She read the letter again. Then yet again, all hope of sleep for the night gone. Quentin had seen in her eyes and heard in her voice what he regarded as happiness. Had she been honest with him? With herself? All she’d thought of in London was how pushing herself to succeed and bowing to Oscar’s demands would gain her recognition as a top designer. Would that bring her happiness?
The answer pierced her.
Making women look and feel beautiful did make her happy. Learning new techniques and perfecting her craft still thrilled her. Catching a whiff of inspiration made her float for days. Did she view all of those things only as a means to the end—making a name for herself?
She switched off the lamp and watched the shadows of the night. The curtains riffled through her open window, shifting the faint light from outside. A familiar knot filled her chest, her arms prickly. Not all of the puzzle pieces fit. Some were missing.
Did her need for success overshadow the true desires of her heart and the life God had designed for her?
A thought niggled. In her selfishness, Nell hadn’t seen her mother’s need to start a new life in the States. When Oscar Fields appeared that day at the derby, he’d been utterly charming, luring Nell away, feeding her insatiable appetite to make something of herself. A bitter taste came in her mouth.
While she chased a flimsy dream, she hadn’t even given Quentin a chance to open up to her. How could he be frank with her when she babbled on about herself and the time constraints Oscar put on her. Oscar. He’d played her like a kite string, giving her a taste of success, then reeling her back in. A spidery feeling crawled up her arms. He’d even tried to lure her grandmother into his web. Hazel had a point—Oscar had a decent salon, but how many others had paid a price? She owed Quentin the same honesty he’d given her.
She went to her desk and retrieved her stationery supplies, took them back to her bed, and began writing. She told Quentin about Mr. Fields, his unkept promises from the very beginning, his controlling nature, which only increased her own lust to succeed. Her fingers cramped from clenching the fountain pen, her breaths labored. She thought of ripping the letter to shreds, but continued writing.
You will, no doubt, think I’ve become a candidate for an asylum, and it’s something I’ve wondered myself. The one true thing I know is that I do love making hats, seeing the glow on women’s faces when they look in the mirror. I’ve considered making a change in my career, but like you, I must wait for God’s direction. I thank you for reminding me of that truth.
May you and Colleen find much happiness on the road ahead. The invitation for a tour of New York still stands should you decide to honeymoon here. I will pray for you and ask the same of you. You’ve always been a pillar for me, and I still consider you the truest friend I’ve ever had.
Your friend,
Nell
She read over what she’d written, put it in an envelope, and sealed it. She sighed as the first light of the dawn peeked through the window.
Chapter 32
On Thursday, Mrs. Benchley called and said she wouldn’t be in until right before closing time, so Nell spent the bulk of the day tidying the conference room and running supplies back to the notions room. At half past four, she went to the showroom to wait on Mrs. Benchley.
She bustled in at straight-up five and leaned on the counter to catch her breath. “Oh, sweetie, what a day this has been. I have been running myself ragged all over the city. Do you have the hats?”
“In the consultation room. I thought you might want to try yours on in private.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Just leave them on the counter, and I’ll pick them up after I deliver this envelope to Oscar. Soren asked me to drop it off. Poor man’s prancing around like his pants are on fire, fretting about the show.”
“I know what you mean. I saw him yesterday. If you’d like, I can take the envelope to Oscar, and you can be on your way.”
“Sweet of you to offer, but I’ll take it up. Oscar is expecting me.”
Nell joined her in the lift, and when they got to Oscar’s office, Harjo waved them in, saying he was just leaving.
Oscar greeted Mrs. Benchley with a kiss on the cheek. “Ah, here you are. Soren said you have the seating arrangements.”
Mrs. Benchley handed them over as Nell backed toward the door. “If you don’t need me, I’ll be going.”
Oscar said, “Splendid. And you can knock off early tonight. You deserve a little time to relax after the month we’ve had.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. I’ll see you on Saturday, Mrs. Benchley.”
Nell slipped into the conference room and gathered up another armload of ribbon and lace for the notions’ bins, and after putting them away, she stopped off at the second-floor workroom to return a pair of Hazel’s scissors and thank her for her hard work.
Hazel said, “At least someone appreciates us.”
“I’m sure Mr. Fields does, too. Men just have a different way of showing it. I believe there will be a rise in your paychecks tomorrow.”
“Certainly do hope so. Have a seat while I finish up here.”
Nell sat and chatted with Hazel, marveling at the skill with which her fingers worked the hat rim, caressing it into shape until at last she was satisfied. “Another one done. Six to go.”
“Not tonight, I hope.”
“No, just calculating out loud. Here, I’ll get my pocketbook and walk out with you if you’re leaving.”
“I’ve still got a couple of loose ends to tie up. See you tomorrow.”
The lights were off in the hall outside the conference room, no sounds of Oscar and Mrs. Benchley behind her boss’s office door. Nell made a final inspection of the hats for the show, praying she hadn’t forgotten anything. She would box them up in the morning for the courier to deliver to Soren. She sighed and looked around. Done. She’d done it. With a lot of good help. Now if she could just get through the speaking part at the show, she would be at peace and decide where to go from here. And this time, she would seek God’s counsel and wait on him.
She picked up a counter mannequin to return to the consulting salon on her way out. There was a certain calm she’d learned to enjoy in the evenings when she worked late, and she walked softly, without hurrying. Still, her heels echoed like the tick of a clock. She set the mannequin on the floor and inserted the key for the consulting salon, reached around the corner, and flipped the light switch. Then bobbling the head form she stepped into the room.
Her mouth gaped open, her heart instantly in her throat. The mannequin tumbled from her arms as Oscar Fields bolted from the davenport, his shirttail flapping against his bare legs.
Reclining in an equal state of undress on the brocade was Mavis Benchley.
Nell froze as heat rushed to her cheeks. Without a word, she turned, pulled the door shut with force, and fled the salon.
* * *
Why can’t I stop shaking?
She tried to bleat out the question, but it was no use, and as Jeanette and Calvin hovered over her, she explained again, in halting words, what had happened.
Jeanette’s face glowered. “I’m not surprised at anything that man does.”
Nell raised her hand. “Yes, but…what Oscar…does is none of my b-business.”
“It could have been you.”
“Not without my consent, and I would n-n-never.” A harsh laugh screeched against her vocal cords. “And Mavis Benchley wasn’t being f-f-forced.” It infuriated her that she couldn’t spit out the words. Mrs. Benchley? She was Ne
ll’s friend. Her mentor. Oscar’s lover?
Calvin crossed his arms and sat on the settee, his eyes looking about the flat. He ran his tongue over his lips as if he wanted to say something, then thought better of it and fiddled with the fringe on the throw pillow.
Jeanette sidled up to him. “What’s your opinion of this?”
“Hey, I’m not going to get caught in the crosshairs of this. I work for the competition and am sorry I have knowledge of anything.”
Nell scowled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into it. What I do know is that it took courage for you to leave Oscar’s salon. A courage I wish I had.”
Jeanette ran her finger along Calvin’s forearm, but she looked at Nell, her eyes drooping at the corners. “So, what will you do?”
“The only thing I can do—pretend I didn’t see anything. Go through with the show. I owe that much at least to Soren.”
Jeanette cringed. “That will be awkward. Gee, I wish I didn’t have that recital after all on Saturday. There’s no telling what kind of fireworks I’m going to miss at the runway show.”
Nell assured her she’d be missing nothing. “Except watching me stumble over the script.” Her hand went to her mouth. “That was supposed to be a surprise, Calvin. But now, with all this tension in the air, it’s likely to be a mess.”
At least having Jeanette and Calvin to lean on had helped Nell through the shock. Having a double helping of Angelo’s gnocchi later that evening helped even more. But when she rolled over to go to sleep that night, all she could think of was facing Oscar and Mrs. Benchley.
* * *
The courier loaded the last hatboxes onto his dolly and presented the invoice to Nell to sign. Oscar, who’d been holed up in his office all morning, stepped up and said, “I’ll sign for them.”
Silence hung in the air when the courier left—Nell on one side of the conference table, Oscar on the other.
Nell spoke first. “I’ve c-cleared everything out, so if it’s all r-right with you, I…I’ll go back to the studio.”
The Hatmaker's Heart: A Novel Page 24
