April Snow (Dana McGarry Series Book 2)

by Lynn Steward

  Jaeger, both a brand and retailer of menswear and womenswear, was founded in 1884 by Lewis Tomalin, who had published a translation of the book by naturalist Dr. Gustav Jaeger on the merits of wearing clothing made from high-quality natural fibers such as wool, silk, cashmere, and alpaca. In fact, it was Jaeger that introduced camel hair clothing to Great Britain in 1908. In 1956, the legendary dressmaker Jean Muir, a self-taught designer who honed her sketching and business skills during a six-year stint at Liberty & Co., joined Jaeger as one of its youngest designers, exclusively using Jaeger’s knitwear and jersey fabrics. Aimed at a younger and less conservative customer, Muir created the name “Young Jaeger,” which defined the generation. During this time Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe modeled Jaeger clothing. By 1970, Jaeger represented the epitome of the quintessential British look and the first Jaeger boutique opened on Madison Avenue.

  Dana entered the store, noting as she did that the clouds were parting to reveal slivers of blue sky and weak rays of sun. Hopefully, this was an omen that the murky issues regarding Helen’s intransigence would also dissolve. She was greeted warmly by Mrs. Llewyn, store manager, and her two assistants, Sarah and Maude, to whom she always sent notes before her visits. Dana met them during her first trip to London almost eight years ago when she became a devoted customer, purchasing her first camel hair blazer.

  “How wonderful to see you again!” Mrs. Llewyn exclaimed, giving Dana a polite kiss on each cheek. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  “Are you here on business or pleasure?” asked Maude.

  Dana laughed. “It was planned as pure pleasure, but I can’t get my mind off work. I suppose if I spent all my time in museums, I could forget, but once I walk into a store, my mind always travels back to B. Altman.”

  “Have you been visiting our Madison Avenue boutique?” asked Maude.

  “Of course!” Dana replied. “I don’t have to tell you that they’re doing very well. They are always busy, even at off hours during the week. I think they need a store this size!”

  Jaeger’s six-story building was, surprisingly, an emporium of plate glass and chrome modernism, a minimalist setting that featured the classic, tailored clothing as the main attraction. Each floor was divided into small, open departments categorized by style and fabric, and all separates, sweaters, and outerwear were color-coordinated for easy mixing and matching.

  “We have a surprise for you,” Mrs. Llewyn said. “Samples arrived yesterday for our autumn fashion show. It’s a beautiful collection!”

  Dana glanced at Sarah and Maude, who were beaming. “We couldn’t wait to tell you, Dana,” said Sarah. “You will love everything! Let’s take a look! We set up a room on the second floor.”

  “I’ll stop by shortly to see your selections,” the store manager said.

  Dana followed Sarah to the Camel Room, where the autumn collection was arranged on racks. It didn’t take half an hour for Dana to make her selections: a gray and camel argyle lambswool sweater; full-cut gray flannel trousers; a side button lovat green kilt; and a raspberry cashmere sweater-set.

  While Dana thought how much she loved the little black wool dinner suit that she no longer had use for, Sarah said, “Brett would want you to have that suit. It was made for you.” Dana was startled by the sudden jolt back to reality. She decided not to tell Sarah about the pending divorce. The news could wait for the next trip. The mention of Brett, however, was a sharp reminder of her heartache during the past few months and, in a split second, she decided she deserved the suit and said, “I’ll take it.”

  While Sarah was writing up the order that would be sent to Dana in August, Dana overheard two American tourists discussing the Jaeger brand and how all the pieces coordinated perfectly with each other.

  “This is such an efficient way to shop,” said a well-dressed woman who had a slight Boston accent. “All the matching pieces are within steps of each other.”

  “I agree,” said her friend. “I spent a month carrying a sweater from store to store trying to find a pair of trousers in the same shade, and I finally gave up.”

  This was precisely the point of the trending store-within-a-store concept, Dana thought. The average American woman was busy raising a family or launching a career and didn’t have the time or the patience to coordinate a separates wardrobe. If Helen thought Nantucket was a small idea, she just might go for a full-scale tailored British boutique using Jaeger’s philosophy of matching separates and accessories in one location. The fine fabrics and knitwear, combined with classic British style, would be compatible with B. Altman’s conservative image and customer. Unlike Jaeger’s contemporary interior, however, Dana envisioned a boutique more like Brooks Brothers, with dark wood paneling, brass lighting fixtures, and chairs upholstered in wool plaid and tweed fabrics. Management would surely consider the idea because in December of 1972 they invited Fortnum & Mason to open a token branch of its London gourmet shop on the eighth floor, and it had been a huge success.

  Dana thought she had done enough damage with the little black suit and was ready to leave as soon as she paid the bill for her fall order. She visited Mrs. Llewyn and Maude before she left and thanked them for their warm hospitality. “I hope to see you in New York before too long,” Dana told the three women. “I’d love to show you B. Altman. I might even have a few surprises for you.”

  Dana returned to the Lansdowne Club, her mind swimming with ideas and images for the British boutique. After ordering afternoon tea, she sat at the writing table and began planning a fall buy and Christmas promotion. If Helen jumped on board, they could open before Thanksgiving. After several minutes, she began sketching what the boutique would look like. She couldn’t do the drawing justice, of course—not like Mark and his brilliant ability to conceptualize—but she was excited enough to commit her dream to paper.

  The fact that Helen might be positively apoplectic over the suggestion to resume and modify the build-out didn’t even enter Dana’s thinking.

  Chapter Five

  Feeling renewed by her visit to Jaeger the previous day, Dana returned to the Church of the Immaculate Conception so she could attend the twelve-thirty mass. She also wished to say goodbye to Father Macaulay and thank him for the concern he expressed two days earlier. The day was sunny and warm, and Dana felt buoyed by her plans to lobby for the boutique. She therefore arrived early to sit on the bench in Mount Street Gardens and enjoy the spring weather. She was surprised to see Father Macaulay busily trimming some hedges several yards away. He wore khakis and a blue work shirt and, after five minutes, he paused to wipe his brow with a handkerchief and noticed Dana observing him from the bench.

  Leaning his hedge clippers against a wheelbarrow, he walked towards Dana and removed his wide-brimmed straw hat.

  “Good morning, Dana,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  “Surely you have gardeners to trim the hedges,” she commented, laughing.

  “Of course, but I love to do a bit of gardening when our resident groundskeeper takes a day off. It keeps me grounded.”

  “I must confess that I arrived early for mass so that I could tell you that I’m returning home tomorrow, which is a few days earlier than I planned because I’ve been told that things are really busy at work. I also wanted to thank you for your kindness the other day.”

  “A confession and expression of thanksgiving all in two sentences,” he said with a warm smile. “You are indeed a member of the flock—and in good standing.”

  Dana cocked her head. “Well, I don’t know about the good standing part. I’m trying to figure that out.”

  “Well, maybe you should stay in London a little longer. It doesn’t sound like you’ll have much time for reflection once you get home.”

  “So true, Father. But my job is starting to distract me even though I’m here.”

  “Will a few more days make a difference?” Macaulay asked. “What do you do, if I may ask?”

  Dana described her position at B. Altman
and how much she loved the store. “I’m going home early because my boss—her name is Helen—is always fighting my ideas, always fighting change. I could do so much if only I had a free hand to use my creativity. It’s terribly frustrating at times. Truthfully, the situation has made me downright angry in the last few days. I’m angry at Helen, angry at Bre—” Dana said, annoyed at letting her husband’s name start to slip out.

  “Excuse, me, Dana,” Macaulay said, “Did you say Brett?”

  “Yes, Father,” Dana answered, her head still lowered. “My husband. Or my soon-to-be-ex-husband, to be precise. I’m waiting for our divorce to become final.” She glanced up to see that Macaulay’s expression hadn’t changed. His caring eyes were fixed on her face as he listened attentively. “My husband and I separated in January after I caught him cheating on me with a lawyer at his firm. They’ve been together for a few months in San Francisco while working on a case.”

  “So there’s no possibility of mending the fences?” Macaulay commented.

  Dana shook her head. “He’s an ambitious man, and he’s been inattentive for many years now. I was in tears the other day because I felt that maybe my decision had been a little too rash. To be truthful, however, I really want my life back and don’t believe that he’s capable of change.” Looking directly at Father Macaulay, Dana added, “I don’t know. Maybe we should have gone to counseling.”

  “So you’re a bit conflicted at times. Welcome to the human race, Dana. If you had walked away without the slightest look back at the love you had for your husband, I would say that you belong to the large number of people who don’t examine their actions through the eyes of faith and reflection, who never look inside.”

  “That’s precisely what happened when I was in the Sacred Heart Chapel,” she continued. “I was looking deeper at my decision even though I’m convinced it’s the right one.”

  “The church does not consider separation to be a sin,” Macaulay explained. “Sometimes relationships are quite difficult and don’t work out despite the considerable effort we put into them.”

  “Thank you, Father. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll be keeping busy with my job and my friends. I’m volunteering at the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute, I’m joining a reading group, and I’ll be boating with family on the weekends. I’ll be very grounded.”

  Laughing, Father Macaulay responded, “I think the word is exhausted! Keeping busy is not necessarily the same thing as staying grounded. In fact, sometimes it’s a way to avoid making decisions or really living the life we want. Your life is going through a lot of changes right now, but you can’t keep your emotions bottled up. Sooner or later, they’ll come pouring out, like they did in the chapel. Anger and doubt are normal human emotions. They only become dangerous when you hold onto them for too long. You shouldn’t be angry at yourself for having feelings.” He paused. “When I’m mad, I go to a gym and pound a punching bag for an hour. It’s all in how you handle your emotions, Dana. But here’s my concern. You’re grounding yourself by attending to duties at the store in order to work through your impending divorce. As you’ve explained it, however, work carries its own unique frustrations. How do you ground yourself from those?”

  “So you’re saying that I need to find something that helps me cope with everything. Do you mean prayer?”

  Macaulay laughed. “Well, that certainly helps, and it’s what I’m expected to say, of course. But I’m also talking about continuing to find your own center of gravity, if I may phrase it like that. Trimming hedges, beating a punching bag, and singing Cole Porter tunes at the pub every Wednesday—they help me remember who I am and what I’m called to do with my life. We’re all on a journey and you need to always return to who you are deep down inside. You have to take care of Dana first. Does that make sense?”

  Dana nodded. “It makes a lot of sense, Father. But how does one begin?”

  “That’s something only you can discover, but maybe you can start by not cutting your vacation short to get back to work. What does Dana really want to do? While you decide, I need to clean up and vest for mass.”

  As Father Macaulay rose from the bench, Dana asked, “Father, do you really sing Cole Porter tunes in a pub? “

  “Every Wednesday night, at the Four Farthings.”

  “What fun! I love Cole Porter. Brett…um…well, we always celebrated my birthday at the Café Carlyle with Bobby Short. He only sings Cole Porter, Gershwin, Noel Coward … “

  “I’m a big Bobby Short fan, too! I saw him when he performed here many years back. Safe trip home, Dana.”

  The priest walked towards the side entrance to the church but stopped and turned around, removing a slip of paper and a yellow, stubby pencil from his shirt pocket. “Here’s my mailing address,” he said after scribbling on the paper and handing it to Dana. “Transatlantic calls are rather expensive, but I’d welcome hearing from you any time you feel like you wish to share something. Or just to know how you’re doing.”

  “Thank you, Father. I’d like that very much.”

  Macaulay went inside to prepare for mass, and Dana entered the church and sat in a pew before the main altar. She still had many unresolved issues, but she suddenly felt she could handle them without bitterness or anger. In fact, she felt so good that she was no longer in a rush to get back to work or Helen. Her conversation with the Jesuit had reminded her that she needed to maintain an internal balance, that she had to stay grounded. Taking back those two vacation days was a gift she was giving herself and a step in the right direction. She knew that things would get hectic again when she returned to New York, and she would welcome the opportunity to correspond with this kind and wise man who had given her such inner peace during the brief moments they had spoken.

  New trials awaited her, but she was content to go to mass and just be Dana McGarry right now. For the moment, she was very grounded.

  Chapter Six

  Two days had passed since Brett had spoken with Ralph Hartlen by phone. Ralph had explained that the FBI was investigating donations to Hartlen Oil, donations intended to facilitate environmental responsibility. Donors had been promised that their money would be used to help safeguard marine and wildlife along coastal areas, as well as to promote clean water in rivers, streams, and oceans. The goal was to ensure water that was free of oil and industrial pollutants, with the assurance that Hartlen would work with reputable environmental groups to help achieve these purposes. The environment had become a hot-button issue since the 1960s, and pollution of the air, land, and oceans was being investigated by congressional subcommittees. Ralph believed that working towards a clean environment would be a wise PR move since oil companies were being singled out by many organizations as acting irresponsibly and negligently given recent oil spills. Oil refineries were also being named as major polluters compromising air quality. The federal government, however, was not satisfied with the way donations were being handled by Hartlen, and the FBI had gotten the IRS involved as well. Brett had dispatched one of the firm’s private investigators, a specialist in forensic bookkeeping, who had taken the red eye to Houston to make a preliminary assessment of the situation and had just returned to New York City that afternoon. Davis, Konen and Wright did not send lawyers out of town on a new case without having specialists first make an assessment on the merits of a given case.

  “What did you find out, Wade?” Brett asked while sitting at his desk.

  Wade Forrester was a slender man whose features were thin and harsh-looking, but despite his no-nonsense appearance, he was a consummate professional who wore tailored double-breasted suits and spoke with the precision of a university professor. He sat opposite Brett and looked at the lawyer with steely gray eyes.

  “Hartlen Oil has taken in approximately eighteen million dollars in contributions for their environmental campaign. Donors are primarily corporate, although individuals—like the well-meaning John Q. Public who wants to shell out a few dollars to save the world—comprise about twent
y percent of the donor base.”

  “That’s an awful lot of change going into the coffers of Hartlen Oil,” Brett commented. “So why is the FBI investigating the donations? Is our good friend Ralph Hartlen not being fiscally responsible?” Brett tendered the remark with considerable sarcasm.

  “It’s hard to say at this point,” Forrester answered without any change in his facial expression. “Hartlen Oil has letters of intent on file from several high-powered environmental organizations who wish to partner with Hartlen to clean up air and water and also preserve wildlife along coastal regions. We’re talking big boys like the Environmental Defense Fund, the Sierra Club, the Ocean Conservancy, and the Coastal Ocean Institute, to name just a few.”

  Brett raised his eyebrows, hands clasped as he sat sideways, listening to Forrester’ report. “Sounds legitimate enough.”

  “This is where the waters get murky,” Forrester said. “No pun intended.”

  Brett suppressed a laugh. Forrester was the last person to employ humor when discussing business.

  “The donations are accounted for down to the penny. In fact, I’ve rarely seen such thorough and accurate books. The problem is that the organizations it’s partnering with haven’t seen a dime of the eighteen million yet.”

  “Is that why Hartlen is in trouble?” Brett asked. “Did an environmental group start complaining that the cash wasn’t flowing?”

  Forrester shook his head. “Quite the opposite. No one has said a word. The letters of intent to partner with the oil company are rather vague and open-ended. No deadlines or dates have been stipulated for the donated money to move from Hartlen to the various environmental groups. The agreements Hartlen has with these outfits say that money will be held in a fund that Hartlen Oil calls its Responsible Use of Natural Resources Account. The money is to be disseminated to its partners after various environmental studies have been conducted and concrete action plans have been formulated.”