Storing Up Trouble

by Jen Turano

  Horror flickered through Theodosia’s eyes. “I’m not going to the second floor.” Her hand reached up and touched what Beatrix hadn’t neglected to notice was very unevenly short hair before she gestured to the customers mingling around the different counters. “All these ladies are finely dressed and have their hair styled to perfection. I hate to imagine what the saleswomen would think of me if I, dressed as I am right now and with my hair all but burnt off, showed up on the second floor.”

  Even though Beatrix longed to tell Theodosia that the saleswomen would find it a privilege to assist her, she knew that because Theodosia was currently wearing a dress of the dullest shade of gray she’d ever seen, along with sporting numerous stains as well, it would be less than the truth.

  The reality of shopping at Marshall Field & Company was this—ladies shopped not only to purchase new items but to be seen in their finery. Enormous and well-decorated hats were a must, as were proper gloves, brooches, fine reticules, and even parasols, if it was overly sunny outside.

  Unfortunately, the leather gloves Theodosia had taken off before she’d tried on the riding gloves were worn and cracked, and her hat, an outdated style that suggested Theodosia had purchased it at least five years prior, was missing a good deal of stitching and didn’t sport so much as a single flower or feather on it.

  Beatrix had no doubt that if she were to encourage Theodosia to mosey up to the second floor, that woman would soon find herself being scrutinized by the most snobby of saleswomen, even if they would greet her with a smile.

  “How are you going to get a new riding habit if you don’t purchase one here?” Norman asked, which earned him a scowl from Theodosia in return.

  “I’ll order one from a catalog, just like I order all of my clothing.” Theodosia nodded to Beatrix. “I find the Montgomery Ward catalog to be very convenient, and they send the orders right to my house, which saves me the bother of shopping in a store.”

  “But how can you know that clothing will fit you properly?” Beatrix couldn’t resist asking, having never ordered anything in her life from a catalog.

  Theodosia shrugged. “I’ve never been one to bother much with that. I just hack off the hem with a knife if a garment arrives too long, or use pins if something’s too large.”

  Norman’s brow furrowed. “Why don’t you use a needle and thread to hem your garments instead of hacking at them with a knife? Seems to me your method would cause the fabric to unravel.”

  “Have you ever hemmed any of your garments?” Theodosia tossed back at him.

  “Of course not, but I’m a gentleman, and no one expects a gentleman to be proficient with a needle and thread.”

  “Unless you’re a tailor,” Beatrix said, which earned her an unexpected smile from Norman before he nodded to Theodosia.

  “You about finished?”

  Theodosia’s nose shot into the air again. “I’ve barely begun.”

  It took a great deal of effort to swallow the laugh that was bubbling up her throat. Clearly Theodosia was still put out with Norman and was, if Beatrix wasn’t much mistaken, prolonging her time at the glove counter as a way to punish him for all the annoyance the man had caused her that day.

  “If you’d agree to tell Mr. Cabot you’re unable to attend the ball with him, you could then abandon the glove counter, since you must know it doesn’t matter to me if you wear old gloves while in my company,” Norman said.

  Theodosia’s eyes flashed. “I’m not going to the ball with you, nor will I disappoint my father by changing my mind about attending the ball with Harvey Cabot.”

  “You don’t even like Harvey.”

  “I don’t dislike him, and he’s an attractive gentleman, what with his dark hair, somewhat broad shoulders, and a gaze that seems to linger on me quite often.” Theodosia smiled. “He told my father he finds me to be an intriguing lady, giving him hope that Harvey is soon to approach him about courting me.”

  “You don’t want a man like Harvey courting you,” Norman said firmly.

  Realizing she was rapidly losing control of the situation, and because Mrs. Goodman was making yet another circle around the glove counter, Beatrix decided an intervention was desperately needed. “Perhaps, Mr. Nesbit, if you’d allowed Miss Robinson to know of your interest in her, she wouldn’t have agreed to attend the ball with Mr. Cabot.”

  The squabble Norman and Theodosia had been in the midst of came to an abrupt end as the two of them burst into laughter, Theodosia laughing so hard that she came down with a case of the hiccups.

  “What an amusing conclusion you’ve come to, Miss Waterbury,” Theodosia said before she hiccupped again, exchanged grins with Norman, then hiccupped once more.

  “Indeed,” Norman agreed before he turned his grin on Beatrix, the unexpectedness of his grin causing her to lose her train of thought, until Norman continued speaking.

  “As Theo stated before, we’re acquaintances, and neither of us has any interest in changing our acquaintance status. But before you decide to launch into a full-blown argument about that, I believe I’ll remove myself from your presence and go off to do a bit of shopping for myself.” He consulted his notepad. “I need new collars, a few belts, some shirts, and if time permits, I might see about ordering a few jackets.” He lifted his head. “Where might I find those in this monstrosity of a store?”

  “You’ll find the collars and belts in Men’s Furnishings on the other side of this floor, while jackets may be found in Men’s Clothing on the second floor.”

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense if those two departments were located side by side on the same floor?”

  “A valid point,” Beatrix said. “But I suspect the reasoning behind the layout rests with having customers travel from one floor to another so that they may purchase items they’d not been intending to.”

  “An impressive marketing plan,” Norman said before telling Theodosia to meet him in Men’s Furnishings when she was done selecting gloves and then wandering away.

  “I find I’m in no hurry to join him,” Theodosia said after Norman disappeared from sight.

  “Can’t say I blame you for that. He can be trying at times.”

  Theodosia nodded before she frowned. “If I do wear the gown I always wear, what gloves would you recommend?”

  “Depends on the cut and the color.”

  “It’s got a high neck, long sleeves, and the color is, well, it was once a shade of ivory but it’s somewhat yellow now.”

  “Are you certain you don’t want to pay a visit to the second floor?”

  “And be mocked by everyone up there? Thank you, but no.”

  Since Mrs. Goodman was making another circle, Beatrix held her tongue, fetched a pair of ivory gloves that had a hint of yellow in them, then proceeded to fetch ten additional pairs of gloves for her to try on after it became clear Theodosia really wasn’t in a hurry to rejoin Norman.

  While Theodosia tried on pair after pair of gloves, exclaiming over every pair she tried on, Beatrix had to excuse herself time and again to assist other customers. Thankfully, those customers knew exactly what they wanted, which meant Beatrix didn’t need to spend an inordinate amount of time with any of them.

  “I think all these should do it,” Theodosia exclaimed as Beatrix sent young Bertie on his way to the delivery room with a package that needed to be delivered to a Mrs. Sterling’s residence later that afternoon.

  “You’ve made some nice choices,” Beatrix said, looking over Theodosia’s selections. “Now all that’s left to do is for you to tell me how you’d like to pay for these, give me your address, and then I’ll make certain your purchases are delivered to your house by late afternoon.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of carrying my gloves home with me.”

  “Then I’ll wrap them up for you and you may take them with you.”

  “Why would ladies bother having their gloves delivered to their homes?”

  “Most ladies stop by the glove department first, then ventu
re into other areas of the store to continue on with their shopping. By the time they’re done, they’ve usually acquired quite a few items.”

  “A logical explanation, but because I have no intention of any further shopping today, I’ll take my gloves with me.” Theodosia opened up a battered bag that was swinging from her wrist and pulled out a wad of bills.

  “Good heavens, Miss Robinson, have a care. That’s a great deal of money you’re showing right now, and one can never know when unscrupulous types are lurking about.”

  “I’m not really the type to secure the interest of anyone, let alone unscrupulous types. People tend to give me a wide berth.”

  Having no good response to that, Beatrix tallied up Theodosia’s purchases, took some of the cash Theodosia was still holding in her hand from her, then pushed the button for the cash boy. Thirty seconds later, a young boy by the name of Robert appeared at her counter, and after giving him the money and telling him how much change he needed to return to her, she nodded to the money Theodosia was still clutching in her hand.

  “You should put that away now, even if you don’t believe anyone would try to deprive you of it.”

  Theodosia stuffed the money back in her bag. “No one would deprive me of it because, again, no one ever notices me.”

  “Harvey Cabot has apparently noticed you,” Norman said, striding up to join them. He raked a hand through his hair and nodded to Beatrix. “I need your help.”

  “More than you probably realize, but how exactly do you need my help now?”

  “There are too many options for collars, and the salesman was less than helpful.” Norman raked his hand through his hair again. “He was all but fawning over Mrs. John Hamline, who is married to Mr. Hamline, a broker and president of the Chicago Stock Exchange, information I obtained through listening to the salesman who was doing all that fawning.”

  “Since I’ve just finished with the gloves,” Theo began, “I can help you select a few collars.”

  Norman frowned. “When was the last time you selected men’s collars?”

  “Well, never, but I’m sure it can’t be that difficult.”

  Norman turned back to Beatrix. “While I have to admit I’m surprised by Theo’s offer, I don’t believe she’s got the experience needed to assist me in picking out proper collars. I’d like you to come with me and pick out collars for me.”

  “I can’t abandon my counter. I’ll be dismissed for certain.”

  “I’ll watch over the gloves for you,” a woman said from behind her.

  Turning, Beatrix discovered Miss Darlene Wheeler, who was responsible for the umbrella counter that was next to Beatrix’s. “Won’t Mrs. Goodman be upset with me if I leave my counter to you?”

  Miss Wheeler waved that aside. “This gentleman evidently wants you to assist him in Men’s Furnishings, so that’s what I imagine Mrs. Goodman would want you to do.” She walked to stand beside Beatrix behind the glove counter. “I’ve not had but three customers today since it’s not raining. I’ll be fine looking after your counter.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Norman said before Beatrix could summon up another protest. “Shall we?”

  “I can’t leave until the cash boy comes back with Miss Robinson’s change, and I also need to finish packaging up her purchases because she wants to take the gloves with her instead of having them delivered.”

  Pulling out another piece of brown paper, Beatrix started wrapping the gloves, annoyance running freely when Norman began drumming his fingers on the counter.

  “Stop that,” she muttered.

  “Stop what?” he asked.

  “Making so much noise.”

  “I’m doing no such thing.”

  “Norman often fidgets when he’s made to wait,” Theodosia supplied, earning herself a grimace from Norman, although he did discontinue drumming his fingers against the counter.

  Robert returned with Theodosia’s change right as Beatrix finished tying a string around the package she’d assembled. After she handed it to Norman, who took it even though he was still throwing exasperated glances Theodosia’s way, he jerked his head toward the aisle.

  “Now are you ready to go?” he asked.

  “You’re very impatient,” Beatrix said before she stepped out from behind the counter and nodded to Miss Wheeler. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” Miss Wheeler said as Beatrix began making her way toward Men’s Furnishings, Norman falling into step beside her while Theodosia trailed behind.

  Even though Miss Wheeler had encouraged her to take her time, Beatrix knew taking her time with Norman could prove to be disastrous. The man was notorious for irritating her, which could very well provoke an argument between them, something that would certainly see her dismissed from her position. That meant her only course of action was to find the items Norman needed as quickly as possible and then send him on his way.

  Chapter 13

  “How many collars do you need?” Beatrix asked as she sailed down the aisle past a gleaming counter filled with buttons.

  “No idea. How many collars do men normally purchase?”

  “Depends on how many you still have at home and how many you go through in a given day.”

  Norman slowed his pace. “I don’t normally go through many collars a day because I don’t wear them when I’m working.”

  “But you’re running low on them?” Beatrix pressed.

  “Hard to say.”

  She stopped walking. “How can you not know how many collars you have?”

  “Norman lives with his parents,” Theodosia said, stopping by Norman’s side. “He doesn’t normally bother himself with trivial matters such as collars.”

  “Then why are you doing so today?” Beatrix asked.

  Norman didn’t bother to answer her. Instead, he frowned at Theodosia. “I don’t live with my parents. I live in the carriage house behind their main house.”

  “You might as well live at the main house because that’s where you take all your meals. Your mother also sends a maid to clean your apartment every day and has that maid collect your laundry, which is then returned to your wardrobe after its been laundered.” Theodosia turned to Beatrix. “Norman’s mother has always been rather insistent about looking after him.”

  “Because he almost died after his horse accident?” Beatrix asked.

  Theodosia shot a look to Norman. “You told her about that?”

  “Of course I did, what with how she was badgering me about not properly riding the horse I was using to get away from the train robbers.”

  Theodosia returned her attention to Beatrix. “You were badgering him?”

  “Badgering isn’t the word I would use to describe what I was doing.”

  “Interrogating,” Norman said with a nod. “That might be a better word.”

  Beatrix resisted a smile. “Perhaps, but weren’t we speaking about your mother?”

  Theodosia nodded before Norman could respond. “Indeed, and I should probably clarify that she doesn’t only dote on Norman because of his accident. She also dotes on him because she believes his unusual mind is a gift from God, so she wants Norman to make the most of that gift instead of concerning himself with the more mundane realities of life.”

  Beatrix glanced to Norman. “And what do you think of your mother’s belief?”

  He shrugged. “I had to get my unusual mind from somewhere, didn’t I?”

  “But you’re a man of science.”

  Norman smiled. “Ah, I see where you’re going with this. You wonder if I put much stock in matters of faith. And while there are many men of science who don’t believe in God, I don’t happen to be one of those.”

  He took Beatrix’s arm, seemed to realize that wasn’t the thing to do since she was an employee and he was a customer, so he released it and began heading across the store again, with her walking beside him. “I’ve always thought it arrogant for anyone, especially men of science, to claim there is no God, for how c
an one explain the intricacies of life without God?”

  “How do you explain the intricacies of life?”

  “No idea. I’m of the belief that our minds are limited in that they can’t grasp the full measure of God or how He created all the splendors of our world or how those splendors work. That’s where faith comes in, something I struggle with at times since I enjoy being able to explain everything through mathematic equations or scientific experiments.”

  “I don’t imagine there’s a mathematical equation to prove the existence of God.”

  “Yet,” he said with a smile, stopping directly in front of the Men’s Furnishings department. He nodded to the two salesmen, who were both assisting fashionably dressed matrons, neither salesman giving him more than a cursory look.

  “See, I told you I wasn’t receiving good service here,” Norman said.

  “And while I could point out that your less-than-fashionable long hair might be partially to blame for their careless disregard, the Marshall Field’s employee handbook explains on page five how employees are to treat every customer the same, no matter if that customer appears to be wealthy or not.” With that, Beatrix surged into motion, locating the collar section with ease. Dismissing the paper collars with a wave of her hand when Norman lingered over one, telling him he deserved better, she moved to the linen collars, quickly selecting three different styles—the stand up, the wing-tipped, and the perry. Pulling twelve of each out of the drawers situated beneath the counter, she stacked them in a pile before gesturing for Norman to follow her to the belt section.

  “How many belts do you need?”

  The blank look on Norman’s face was answer enough. Eyeing his waistline, she moved to the drawers where the stock was kept, pulled out three different styles in what she estimated to be Norman’s size, then added those to the pile of collars.