Storing Up Trouble

by Jen Turano

  “Since when have you begun being considerate of what Theo is or is not comfortable with?”

  “Do you want to know about Beatrix or not?”

  “Sorry. I’m listening.”

  Five minutes later, and after he’d explained how he’d come to know Beatrix, Norman ended with, “I’ve decided I’m rather fond of her, which is why Theo and I decided I needed to make some improvements in the hopes that Beatrix may decide at some point she’s fond of me as well.”

  Constance tapped a finger against her chin. “Let me see if I’m understanding this correctly. You’ve become fond of a woman who works at Marshall Field & Company?”

  Norman nodded.

  “Interesting,” Constance said. “Although I’m not overly surprised that you don’t seem concerned about her lack of societal standing, because that’s never been something you’ve worried about, even if the gossips are going to come out in droves if you begin courting her.”

  “Gossip has never bothered me.”

  “True, but again, there will be a lot of that, especially since Beatrix is the niece of Miss Gladys Huttleston, an eccentric lady about Chicago if there ever was one.”

  “Gladys is actually a rather nice woman,” Norman felt compelled to say. “But speaking of Gladys, I’m certainly going to have a chat with Alice when she returns from Paris about those stories she told me about Beatrix’s aunt. Here I’ve been under the misguided notion that Gladys was guilty of abducting orphans when that wasn’t true at all.”

  Constance’s lips twitched. “You were always remarkably gullible, and I’m afraid I also may have told you some exaggerated stories when we were younger.”

  “You told me stories too?”

  “Indeed, but because I feel slightly guilty about that, how about if I make it up to you by assisting you with what you should wear today?” She nodded to the jacket Theo had been considering. “That’s a bit too much for a shopping expedition, so let me see what else I can find.”

  Twenty minutes later, Norman was dressed in a blue tweed suit paired with a matching blue shirt and blue waistcoat. He was also wearing the wing-tipped collar Beatrix had chosen for him, his tie done up in what he’d learned was called the Avondale knot, which, thankfully, Constance had known how to tie.

  Stepping up to the mirror, he looked himself over, pleased with the reflection he saw, then turned, faltering for a second when he caught sight of his mother, whom he’d not heard enter the room. “Hello, Mother. I thought you’d be having tea with Gemma and Oscar by now.”

  Mary narrowed her eyes at him. “I was having tea, but then felt compelled to seek you out after Gemma asked me if I knew a Beatrix.” Mary arched a brow at Constance. “I well remember how you were at Gemma’s age, my dear, always overhearing things not meant for your ears, so I thought it might be prudent for me to come out here and see if any of you can explain to me who Beatrix is.”

  When Constance didn’t say a thing, his mother turned to him, and when he stayed silent on the matter, she turned to Theo.

  She folded within a minute of being the recipient of Mary’s rapid-fire questions.

  “Beatrix Waterbury is a delightful lady who works at Marshall Field’s in the coat check, and she’s the lady Norman’s taking to the Potter Palmer affair because he didn’t want to go with Miss Dinneen or Miss Ashburn,” Theo said in a rush.

  Mary pinned Norman with a scandalized gaze. “You’re taking a coat check girl to the Palmer ball?”

  The conversation only went downhill from there.

  Chapter 20

  “Be careful with that, girl. It’s ermine, and as such it deserves to be handled with the utmost care.”

  Keeping her smile firmly in place, Beatrix accepted the ermine wrap Mrs. George Blossom all but dumped into her arms. The less-than-careful handing over of her wrap suggested that Mrs. Blossom wasn’t all that concerned over its treatment but had made her demand in order to make sure that the two ladies in her company knew the wrap was ermine, and thus, expensive.

  “It certainly is a luxurious wrap, Mrs. Blossom. I’ll take extra care with it while you shop,” Beatrix said as she handed the lady a claim ticket.

  “I would hope you treat every garment with extra care, whether it be ermine or not.” With that, Mrs. Blossom spun on her heel and marched away, whispering furiously to the two ladies marching alongside her.

  “Don’t mind her,” Miss Dixon, one of the other two coat check girls, whispered as Beatrix hurried down the long rack, searching for a space to hang Mrs. Blossom’s coat. “She’s always unpleasant.”

  Miss Jaycox, the other woman working in coat check, nodded as she bustled past Beatrix, carrying a gentleman’s overcoat of charcoal gray, along with a black hat. “Indeed she is, but we’ve encountered worse.”

  Hoping that someone worse than Mrs. Blossom wasn’t waiting next in line, Beatrix hurried back to the counter and took a blue jacket from a lady who had two adorable little girls holding on to her skirts. Beatrix smiled at the girls, her smile fading when the lady released a sniff and hurried the girls away.

  Over the week since she’d been reassigned to the coat check, Beatrix had experienced more than her fair share of nastiness from people who apparently believed it was their right to deliver such slights because she was a coat check girl.

  Frankly, their slights were only fueling her desire to become more involved with the suffrage movement, because if women could obtain the vote, they’d then hopefully begin to see their circumstances improving through better work opportunities and greater chances for advancement.

  As it stood now, what with how men ruled over work environments and had final say in the positions women were permitted to accept, working women were resigned to taking on positions such as the one Beatrix currently held, positions that hardly improved their circumstances.

  Striding down the rack of coats again, Beatrix hung up the lady’s jacket before heading back toward the counter, where the line was getting longer. Her pace slowed, though, when she caught sight of Miss Dixon and Miss Jaycox simply standing by the counter, both of them giggling as they chatted with a well-dressed gentleman.

  That giggling was frowned upon was not in question, which had Beatrix squaring her shoulders, knowing an intervention was in order before Mrs. Goodman arrived on the scene.

  Edging around Miss Dixon, who was actually fluttering her lashes at the gentleman standing on the other side of the counter, Beatrix summoned up a smile, her smile dimming when she got her first good look at the man.

  He was dressed to the nines, sporting a well-tailored jacket that showed off his broad shoulders and was tapered to perfection, accenting the trimness of his waist. A gray-and-blue-striped tie knotted in the Avondale style sat against a brilliant white wing-tipped collar.

  Lifting her head when she realized she was giving the gentleman a more-than-cursory glance, Beatrix sucked in a sharp breath when she got her first good look at the man’s face, releasing that breath when the gentleman sent her a grin.

  “Hello, Miss Waterbury.”

  The floor beneath her feet seemed to tilt when she realized that standing in front of her was none other than Norman Nesbit, but he’d changed, drastically so.

  Gone was the long brown hair she’d become accustomed to, replaced with a style that was brushed carefully away from his face. The absence of hair straggling into that face allowed her to realize that while she’d always thought Norman was attractive in an absent-minded scientist sort of way, he was actually a devastatingly handsome man.

  Peculiar as it seemed, she found herself missing the disheveled Norman, because that Norman she’d been getting to know, but this new Norman, well, she had no idea what to make of him.

  “What in the world have you done to yourself?” she finally managed to get out, wincing when she realized her voice sounded a bit squeaky.

  His grin widened. “Visited a new barber, one over at the Palmer House.” He leaned closer. “He took forever to shape up my hair,
time I worried was wasted, but because you seem to have immediately noticed the difference, I’m now of the belief it was time well spent.”

  “You’ve done more than simply cut your hair.”

  Norman nodded. “Indeed.” He brushed the sleeve of his jacket. “Went through my entire wardrobe with Theo and my sister Constance and found numerous items I didn’t even remember I had.” He presented her with a bow. “What do you think?”

  “Ah . . .”

  Someone coughed behind Norman, which had Beatrix’s scattered thoughts snapping back into place. However, before she could do more than nod at the lady standing behind Norman, impatience oozing from her every pore, Norman turned and smiled at the lady, who immediately returned his smile, all of the impatience she’d been directing at Beatrix disappearing in a flash.

  “Forgive me,” Norman began, taking the hand the lady didn’t even seem to realize she’d held out for him. “I’m holding up the line, an inexcusable offense.” He placed a kiss on the hand. “Mr. Norman Nesbit at your service.”

  The lady’s eyes widened as her cheeks turned pink. “Good heavens, Mr. Nesbit. I didn’t recognize you. I’m Mrs. Samuel Allerton, a friend of your sister Alice.”

  Norman inclined his head. “But of course you are, and do forgive me for not recognizing you immediately. I fear it’s been far too long since I’ve had an opportunity to greet you.”

  As Mrs. Allerton launched into when she thought she’d last encountered Norman, which seemed as if it might have been a few years prior, Beatrix took another moment to look him over, the floor seeming to tilt under her feet again when she realized the brilliant white collar he’d chosen to wear was one she’d picked out for him.

  Why that small detail would have the ground feeling unstable was somewhat befuddling, but before she could dwell on that, Norman was assisting Mrs. Allerton with her wrap, smiling charmingly at the lady, the charm in that smile doing absolutely nothing for the state of Beatrix’s balance.

  “. . . simply delightful to see you, Mr. Nesbit,” Mrs. Allerton all but gushed as Norman continued smiling at her. “Do give your sister my best.”

  “I’ll be certain to do that, Mrs. Allerton, once she returns from Paris, but we seem to be holding up the line, so perhaps we should bid each other adieu.”

  Mrs. Allerton glanced over her shoulder, frowned at the ten ladies waiting behind her to check their wraps, then nodded to Norman, who then finished helping her out of her coat. She sent him a warm smile before she turned to Beatrix, the smile disappearing in a flash. “My claim ticket.”

  Beatrix summoned up another smile, passed a claim ticket not to Mrs. Allerton, but to Norman, who was holding out his hand, then watched as he gave the ticket to Mrs. Allerton, returning the smile that lady gave him before she turned and glided away.

  “I’m going to need you to hand over Mrs. Allerton’s wrap so I can hang it up,” Beatrix said after Norman turned around to face her.

  Norman’s brows drew together. “I recently read that a gentleman is never to hand over items that need to be hung to a lady who is not his wife, which is leaving me in a bit of a quandary.”

  “Where did you read that?”

  “Harper’s Bazaar, so maybe I should nip back there and hang up Mrs. Allerton’s wrap so that I’m not committing what the author of that article said was a grave offense in regard to proper decorum.”

  “You can’t come behind the counter, Norm—er, rather, Mr. Nesbit. That’ll get me dismissed for certain, so . . .” She held out her arms, which had Norman placing the wrap somewhat reluctantly into them.

  Hurrying to hang it up, she stepped beside Miss Jaycox, who was hanging up a shawl she’d taken from the woman who’d been standing behind Mrs. Allerton.

  “You know that fine-looking gentleman?” Miss Jaycox whispered. “The one Mrs. Allerton called Mr. Nesbit?”

  “I do.”

  Miss Dixon sidled up next to her, grabbing a hanger that she threw a black cape over. “But how do you know him? On my word, he’s absolutely delicious as well as charming.”

  “I suppose he does come across that way, but frankly, I’m beginning to wonder if he’s recently blown something up. Surely that would be responsible for the extremely different gentleman who has shown up at Marshall Field & Company today compared to the gentleman I’ve come to know.”

  Leaving Miss Dixon and Miss Jaycox looking somewhat confused, Beatrix all but sprinted back to the counter, coming to an abrupt halt at the scene unfolding before her eyes.

  Norman was assisting another lady with her jacket, smiling and chatting about the weather, of all things, as he assisted her. Turning, he inclined his head to Beatrix before he nodded to a line of additional wraps placed in a row across the counter. He then proceeded to rattle off a list of names that the wraps belonged to, beaming a smile at Beatrix as he informed her that those ladies were waiting to be given claim tickets.

  By the time Beatrix, with the aid of Miss Dixon and Miss Jaycox, managed to hand out tickets and then hang all the wraps Norman had apparently assisted all the ladies out of, her forehead was beaded with perspiration, and annoyance was flowing freely through her veins.

  Depositing a lovely silk wrap that belonged to Mrs. Hallberg, she marched back to a counter that was, thankfully, devoid of additional wraps as well as ladies. Norman stood there all alone, humming a cheerful tune under his breath.

  “What is the matter with you?” she demanded, which had his humming coming to a rapid end.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re acting beyond peculiar, which is peculiar in and of itself since peculiar seems to be a common state for you.”

  Norman frowned. “I’m not acting peculiar in the least.”

  “You’ve been engaging in idle chitchat with ladies I’m convinced you barely know.”

  “You’re the one who went on and on about how idle chitchat was an activity that everyone should embrace.”

  Beatrix yanked a handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse, blotting her still-perspiring forehead. “Perhaps I did, but I certainly wasn’t expecting you to try your hand at chitchat while assisting ladies with their wraps at the coat check.” She took another dab at her forehead. “If you’ve neglected to notice, Mrs. Goodman has made three passes by here, and, given the scowling she’s been doing, I’m certain I’m going to be in for a rough time of it once you get on your way to wherever it is you’re going next.”

  “I’m off to Men’s Clothing next because I’d like to purchase a few of those Prince Albert jackets you recommended.”

  Her pesky knees took that moment to go decidedly weak.

  “Dare I hope everything is going according to plan?”

  Beatrix glanced past Norman and found Theodosia standing to his right, but any greeting she might have extended to Theodosia died on the tip of her tongue when she got a good look at the woman.

  Wearing a dress that gave shabby a new meaning, Theodosia had apparently decided to try to brighten up her ensemble by attaching random bits of wilting flowers to the fabric. On Theodosia’s head was a brown hat with additional flowers glued to it, along with what appeared to be some type of stuffed bird, although the species was unrecognizable because it looked as if the bird had suffered a severe squishing at some point in time.

  “I’m not certain we can claim success with our research just yet,” Norman said, pulling Beatrix’s gaze from Theodosia to settle on him. “She’s clearly annoyed with me.”

  “Of course I’m annoyed with you,” Beatrix shot back. “You’ve disrupted the coat check, and I’ll be fortunate not to find myself dismissed.” She turned to Theodosia. “May I dare hope that the two of you have recently blown up Norman’s workshop again?”

  Theodosia’s brows drew together. “Why would you hope we’ve done that?”

  “Because that’s the only explanation I can come up with to explain Norman’s odder-than-usual behavior today.”

  Theodosia’s eyes widened before she turned
to Norman. “You’re right. I don’t believe we can call this a success because she’s more annoyed with you than ever.”

  Norman nodded. “Agreed. It’s most perplexing because I adhered to the research we gathered, and none of that research suggested that chivalrous behavior would evoke annoyance.”

  Before Beatrix could ask a single question about that puzzling statement, Mrs. Goodman came into view, bristling with animosity.

  “Is there a problem here, Miss Waterbury?” she demanded.

  “Of course there’s not,” Norman said before Beatrix could speak. “Miss Waterbury is performing her job as a coat check girl admirably, as are the other two women.” He leveled a cool eye on Mrs. Goodman. “Why would you believe there’s a problem?”

  Mrs. Goodman took a step closer. “Miss Waterbury seems flustered.”

  “Of course she’s flustered,” Norman returned. “She’s been running back and forth for almost twenty minutes, hanging up wraps and dispensing claim tickets. You’d be flustered as well if you were required to work so strenuously instead of waltzing around the first floor, dispensing gloom.”

  Miss Dixon and Miss Jaycox, who’d been standing next to Beatrix, waiting for additional customers, turned as one and bolted away, both claiming they needed to fetch more hangers from the stock room.

  “There’s the Norman I know,” Beatrix said as Mrs. Goodman stormed away. “But before you truly do get me dismissed, perhaps you should go see about those jackets you want to purchase.”

  Norman brushed a piece of lint from his sleeve. “I have no idea why you believe my behavior could possibly get you dismissed. I’ve simply been trying to be helpful.”

  “Which is curious in and of itself, but again, you need to go away.”

  “We’re going to have to do more research,” Theodosia muttered as Norman nodded in agreement.

  “Research for what?”

  “Never you mind about that,” Norman returned. “But obviously the research Theo and I have done over the past week has not been sufficient to aid us in our experiment.”