by Lynn Steward
“Mark has been working with Brooks Brothers, which is basically doing the same thing—using menswear manufacturers to make a clothing line for its new women’s department rather than buying off the rack on Seventh Avenue. If I can get Bob Campbell on board, then Mark can finish the build-out.”
“Wow. This sounds like a really huge undertaking,” Johnny observed. “But what if Bob sides with Helen, which he’s done before? You’ll have wasted an awful lot of time and might get burned again?”
“Mark thinks that I gave up too easily, and I tend to agree with him. He thinks that, in the long run, the idea will be too good for B. Altman to resist. If we can manufacture some solid samples, I can at least make a compelling argument.”
Johnny paused, concerned that Dana’s interest in working for the House of Cirone was waning. “Mark owns Senger Display, right?”
“Yes, but between his work at Brooks Brothers and his friendship with Irwin, everything just fell into place. Trust me when I say that Mark knows the industry.”
“Does Mark know about our offer to make you fashion director?”
“Absolutely. I’ve discussed both of my options with him.”
“I see.” Johnny fell silent and sipped a glass of water.
“Is anything wrong, Johnny?”
“I hope you don’t mind my prying,” Johnny said, “but it looks like Mark’s becoming an important part of your life beyond B. Altman.”
“He is, Johnny,” Dana said. “I can’t deny it. I like him very much.”
Johnny smiled thinly. “I thought I’d detected a little flirtation at your birthday party. It sounds like he’s a pretty special man.”
Dana couldn’t suppress a smile. “He’s wonderful, and we have so much in common that … well, what can I say? We’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
Johnny didn’t confess his suspicions, but the name Mark had surfaced several times in the space of a few minutes, and Mr. Senger was clearly advising Dana on her professional life—exactly what Johnny himself had tried to do at Dana’s birthday dinner. Unfortunately, it sounded like Mark had gained quite a bit more influence over Dana than he or his father, and he wondered if his job offer could compete with a romantic interest, especially in its early stages. Johnny decided to keep his concerns to himself for now. Since he called Dana frequently, he would keep his pulse on what was happening in her life. He didn’t want to see her get hurt by a whirlwind romance, nor did he want to see her suffer more grief at B. Altman if what he considered to be her overly-ambitious plan fell through.
To Johnny’s way of thinking, things with Mark were moving way too quickly. Everything was Mark this and Mark that. He also felt that Dana had perhaps been blinded to the opportunities at the House of Cirone by Mark’s aggressive plans, at least temporarily. Johnny had met Mark before, and he’d had always seemed to be a genuine and trustworthy gentleman. But was he right for Dana? Johnny had his misgivings.
“Have to get back to the store,” Dana said when lunch was over. “And thanks for keeping an eye out for me. What would I do without you and Phoebe?”
Dana kissed Johnny on the cheek and left.
Standing near the front of the restaurant, Johnny watched her melt into the lunchtime rush on Madison Avenue. He was concerned that she might be losing herself in a relationship that was foreign to every aspect of her life. For the time being, he knew that neither he nor her family would have much influence on Dana.
Chapter Twenty-One
Andrew stopped by Dana’s office in the afternoon to show her the schematics for a new display on the main floor. She’d just returned from her lunch with Johnny, and she knew he was expecting a decision about the job offer he made at her birthday dinner. She trusted Andrew more than any of her coworkers and told him of the plans she’d made with Mark and Irwin. If all went well, there would probably be no move to the House of Cirone.
“You are one tenacious woman,” Andrew declared. “When Helen finds out about it, I want to be as far away from ground zero as possible. This will represent the most serious challenge you’ve ever given her. If you succeed, however, you might be on the inside track to becoming fashion director.”
“What would you do if you were in my shoes?” Dana asked.
“I’d push for the private line. The store has no energy since Ira and Dawn left. The drain is palpable.”
“What do you think my chances are?”
“Fifty-fifty, but I say go for it. Nobody in this business ever got anywhere without taking risks.”
“You sound a lot like Mark.”
“Mark? I suppose you could say that he—”
A ring from the telephone on Dana’s desk interrupted the discussion. Mark was on the other end of the line.
“Listen,” he said, “I’m finishing up a meeting with Revlon, and I’ve got the afternoon free. What’s the rest of your day look like? Can you play hooky?”
Dana glanced at the planner on her desk. “Sure. Nothing too earthshaking in the works. I suppose the store can manage without me for a few hours,” Dana said with a laugh. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. Just meet me at the Fifth Avenue entrance at two-thirty. I’ll swing by in a taxi.”
Andrew shook his head and smiled. “Tell Mark hello for me,” he mouthed.
Ignoring Andrew, Dana told Mark that she’d be waiting and then hung up.
“How did you know who that was?” Dana asked.
“Please,” Andrew said with a sly grin. “It doesn’t take a detective to figure out what’s been going on. I knew one of your manufacturers couldn’t put that smile on your face. Monday night dinner dates, Mark’s interest in your career—you’re on top of the world, kiddo.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“To me it is, but I know you far better than anyone else around here, so your secret is safe.”
“I’m not trying to keep it a secret,” Dana said as she straightened the papers on her desk and prepared to leave. “The British Shop—now that’s another matter. That stays between you and me until I’ve got some samples in hand and am ready to go to Bob with the whole thing. Loose lips sink ships, Mr. Ricci.”
“I’m the soul of discretion,” Andrew said. “We never even had this conversation. Where are you two going, by the way?”
Dana laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. He wants to surprise me.”
“You’ve got it bad,” Andrew said, “which I suppose is good.”
“Very good,” Dana said over her shoulder as she left the office. “Very good indeed.”
• • •
Mark jumped out of the cab and gave Dana a quick kiss as she got into the taxi. He then slid in on the other side and instructed the cabbie to proceed to their next destination.
“Well, we’re not going in the right direction for Claremont or Bauer & Sons Clothiers,” Dana observed. “I’m in suspense.”
“Having second thoughts about placing yourself in my capable hands?” Mark asked.
“Second thoughts? I never had any hesitations to begin with. I’m yours for the rest of the afternoon.”
“That’s all? I was going to suggest that we grab dinner, too.”
“Whatever you say, Mr. Senger. I’m guessing that we’re on one of your adventures.”
“They’re our adventures now. And yes, we are. Your curiosity will be satisfied soon enough.”
Several minutes later, the cab came to a stop in front of Miller’s Harness & Saddlery at 124 East 24th Street, the equine epicenter of New York. Miller’s was the city’s premiere tack shop for the well-heeled English-style equestrian. The two LLs in “Miller,”a logo in the shape of boots, had become iconic in the riding community around the world. The company supplied fifteen hundred stores throughout the country, as well as Europe and the Far East.
Mark paid the cabbie, adding a generous tip, and turned to Dana. “Ready to go shopping?” he said proudly. “The first step to becoming an equestrian is dressi
ng like one.”
“I don’t know, Mark,” Dana said, looking at the saddles, bridles, and tall boots in the display window. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this. This store is for serious riders.”
“Honey,” Mark said. “There’s only one way to approach riding, and that’s seriously. Come on. I think you can be convinced.”
They entered the store and were greeted by a salesman named Travis Smith.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Senger,” Smith said warmly. “We’ve been expecting you.”
Dana noted that Smith stood perfectly erect, hands clasped behind his back. He, as well as the entire shop, looked thoroughly English, with saddles, clothing, and various tack gear, such as harnesses and bits, lining the walls.
“Everything’s ready, just as you requested, Mr. Senger,” Smith said.
“Ready?” Dana said, flashing Mark a puzzled look.
“My assistant Ms. Harris will escort you to the dressing room, Ms. McGarry,” Smith said.
“I took the liberty of asking Travis to make a few selections for you,” Mark explained. “He knows exactly what I’m looking for. He’s been outfitting Amanda for years. I think you’ll be pleased, but you can make any changes you wish. It’s just to get you started.”
Dana looked stunned. “I’m surprised you don’t have a horse waiting outside,” she told Mark.
“Actually that would have been possible at the turn of the century,” Smith said with a smile, “but thank goodness today you can still find a horse to ride at Claremont.”
“That’s on Saturday’s agenda,” Mark said, “but Dana can’t ride in her Belgian loafers, so first we have some serious shopping to do.”
“Let’s take a look, Ms. McGarry,” Ms. Harris said.
Dana followed Smith’s assistant, and fifteen minutes later she emerged from the dressing room wearing white stretch breeches, a four-button navy blue hacking jacket with side vents and slanting pockets, and a pink oxford shirt.
“Delicious!” Mark said. “I think you nailed it out of the gate. Honey, you look fabulous.”
“Do you think I should get the khaki breeches? I love the white, but I feel like I should be on a runway, not a bridle path.”
“Get the khaki also,” Mark said. “In fact, you better get two khakis. They’re always out of stock.”
“Here, Ms. McGarry,” Smith said. “We have two khakis in your size. Would you prefer black or brown boots?”
“Black,” Dana said as Smith handed her a pair in smooth cowhide.
“Please, have a seat,” Smith said, motioning to a brown leather wing chair. “This will take a little practice, but you’ll quickly get the knack. Here’s one suggestion that always helps. Slip these socks over the breeches. They will help your foot slide down the shaft. Then insert these boot hooks in the tabs inside and slowly draw the boot up with the hooks.”
“Very snug,” Dana said, standing. “But they feel a little too high. They’re over my knee.”
“They’re fine, honey,” Mark said. “They’re supposed to be about an inch or so taller than you’d expect. With wear, the ankle area will soften and wrinkle, and the boot will drop.”
“Ms. McGarry, please step this way,” Smith instructed. “I want to check the foot bed, and the best way to do that is when you’re seated in a saddle.”
“I love this jacket,” Dana whispered to Mark as they walked to a corner of the saddlery. “Maybe I should have Irwin copy it for The British Shop.”
“Will you please forget about work?” Mark said as he gave Dana a quick kiss on the cheek.
Smith grabbed a platform of two wooden steps and helped Dana climb onto an English saddle atop a mockup that resembled an upside-down U.
Smith knelt down and examined the boots as Dana slipped them into the English stirrups.
“We need a proper fit,” he continued, “to prevent the saddle from pinching the leg or having the boot catch on the saddle’s flap. And the heel must be adequate so that it doesn’t slip through the stirrup. Heels down. There you go.” Smith pressed the fingers and thumb of his right hand against all parts of the boots and wiggled the heels left to right before pushing them against the stirrups. “Good fit,” he said. “How do they feel, Ms. McGarry?”
“A bit unusual, but overall, they’re comfortable.”
“That’s to be expected,” Smith said. “I recommend that you walk around in them as much as possible at home before you start your lessons. They’ll be a bit uncomfortable the first few times you ride, but after a month or two you won’t even notice that you’re wearing them.”
Mr. Smith helped Dana from the saddle as Ms. Harris appeared with a stock—a white silk scarf to be worn as an ascot around the neck and held in place with a pin. She also carried a brown tweed hacking jacket.
“Unfortunately, we don’t have your size in the tweed jacket,” Ms. Harris said, “but I think this one will work with a little alteration.”
“That’s fine,” Dana said. “I don’t need another jacket.”
“Yes, you do,” Mark said. “It’s a great jacket with jeans, too.”
Dana was led down a hall to the dressing area for the alterations.
As Mark wandered around the shop while waiting for Dana to return from her fitting, he noticed a green enamel dragonfly pin that he thought she would like—and need—for the stock.
“Travis, do you have a note card? I’d like to surprise Dana with this stock pin when she receives the tweed jacket. Would you mind gift wrapping it and sending it along with my note. You can enclose it with the jacket.”
“Certainly, Mr. Senger. Where shall we send it?”
Dana reemerged from the fitting room as Mark signed for the purchases. They thanked Mr. Smith and Ms. Harris who, in turn, wished Dana good luck with her riding.
“Mark, thank you,” Dana said as soon as they were alone outside the shop. “You have gone above and beyond. You’re much too generous. This won’t become a habit.”
“Are you happy?” Mark asked.
“I’m very happy, and I love everything. But what if I only look like an equestrian? I don’t want to disappoint you after you’ve made this investment. Maybe we should have waited until—”
“You’ll never disappoint me,” Mark said, “unless you’re going back to Sniffen Court tonight.”
“Aren’t you being picked up at six in the morning for your flight to Dallas?”
“I am, and we can drop you and Wills off on our way to the Midtown Tunnel. Right now, let’s bring these packages to my apartment and relax a bit before dinner,” Mark said as he hailed a taxi.
In the cab, Dana put her arms around Mark’s neck and kissed him. “No disappointments today.”
“Good,” Mark said as he returned the kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dana returned home with Wills early the next morning after spending the night at Mark’s. She got Wills settled in, unpacked her clothes, and went through her mail. It was only six-thirty and she decided to have a cup of coffee at her secretary so she could answer Father Macaulay’s last missive. She was anxious to relate developments in her life and how she was growing more optimistic by the day.
Dear Father Macaulay,
I was sorry to hear that your pub closed, but I’m sure that you will find a new one, given your indomitable spirit. One day I would very much like to hear your renditions of a few Cole Porter songs.
I am happy to report that I’m much closer to deciding whether or not to stay at the store or work at the House of Cirone. I spoke with Johnny again, this time in the presence of his father, the owner of the company and a man who we affectionately call Uncle John. Their offer is extremely generous. I would be made fashion director, giving me the opportunity to work with the head designer and even travel to Europe frequently. That, of course, would be one of the biggest perks of the job and would allow me to visit my beloved England often.
My friend Mark, however, thinks I threw in the towel too quickly when my boss rejecte
d an idea that we came up with jointly, which is to sell a private B. Altman label from a boutique within the store. Thanks to Mark (he owns a display company and is a man I’ve worked beside on occasion), I am in touch with a manufacturer who would make the clothes that I myself would design. My inclination, therefore, is to do just what you’re doing about finding a new pub, which is to take the bull by the horns, as you put it. Mark is somewhat of an adventurer who once climbed Mount Kilimanjaro, and he thinks that working for a family business might entail its own frustrations. That might be the case, and the more I’ve thought about it, I believe that working for the House of Cirone might not give me the same satisfaction in the long run. My career is very important to me, and I want to be able to look back and know that I did it on my own, which is another way of saying that maybe working for Uncle John would be like having everything handed to me on a silver platter.
Mark is trying to challenge me in so many areas of my life, and I think that taking on such an ambitious project (with his help, of course) is just what I need right now. He has even urged me to take riding lessons, and this afternoon we went on a shopping spree for proper English attire. I’m very excited about the lessons, and before too long I will hopefully be riding with him and his daughter down some of the lovely trails in Central Park. His daughter is a show jumper, so I have every confidence that I’m in good hands.
I do feel like I’m taking good care of myself for the first time in years. I feel connected to work in a new and exhilarating way, and I also feel that I have struck a better balance between my career and my life outside of work, a subject we spoke of early on. For now, I can say unequivocally that life is very good. I have not been in such high spirits for quite a long time. There were days when I might have felt guilty for being so happy, but that’s not the case at present. I’m going to enjoy what life has to offer.
Rest assured that you are in my prayers daily. I’ll keep you updated on how I do on horseback, and I look forward to your next letter.
