Christine Johnson - Suitor by Design

“Buongiorno.” Vince threw his arms wide and kissed Minnie on each cheek. “You have a first name, darlin’?”

“Minnie.” Her blush deepened to red, and she patted her hair. Little beads of melted snow gleamed like diamonds in the electrical lighting.

“You can call me Vince.”

Peter flexed his hands. He wanted to pound sense into Vincent Galbini. Minnie wasn’t some floozy who frequented speakeasies and smoked cigarettes. She was a good Christian gal worth more than a hundred of that type of woman.

“You Peter’s gal?” Vince asked.

“No!” The rapidity of her reply plunged an icy knife into Peter’s gut, but then she darted a shy glance at him and twisted a lock of wavy hair around her index finger, and his pain eased. “We’re friends. Good friends.”

Good friends might have satisfied Peter a year ago, but now he wanted more. He wanted her to respect him, to want to be with him, maybe even to love him. He sure didn’t want her to get tangled up with Vince. Visions of her leaving town in the Pierce-Arrow sucked the air from his lungs. He had to do something to keep her here, close enough to him that she’d forget all about Galbini.

“Minnie’s a seamstress,” he blurted out.

Galbini’s brow lifted. “That so?” He clearly didn’t understand what Peter was getting at.

“She can do the upholstery.” There, he’d said it.

Vince grinned. “Good. I’m glad to have your gal on board.”

His gal. Peter liked the sound of that. He dared to glance at Minnie.

Her brow was drawn in pure fury. Peter stared, speechless. She was supposed to be grateful. She was supposed to like him even more. He was giving her work. Why would that make her angry?

“I can do what?” she demanded, even though she’d heard every word.

“S-s-sew upholstery,” Peter stammered, the confidence ebbing out quicker than oil into a drip pan. “For pay.”

“You? Pay me? With what?” Her lips thinned as she crossed her arms.

Now he’d gone and done it. In that state, she’d never agree to go to the church supper with him. “Uh...” he croaked.

Vince roared with laughter. “Don’t worry, darlin’. The boss is paying.”

“The boss?” Minnie looked from Vince to Peter. “Whose boss?”

Vince answered, “Mine, darlin’.”

Something like excitement lit her eyes. “Do you work for a motion-picture company?”

“Naw, but I wouldn’t put it past Mr. Capone to give that a shot, too.”

Capone. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place it. What he did know was that the bad feeling that’d been hounding him since Vince’s arrival got a whole lot worse.

Chapter Four

Peter Simmons had some nerve. Minnie would give him a piece of her mind the moment they were out of Vincent Galbini’s earshot. How dare he volunteer her to sew upholstery for some furniture he was making for Vince?

What was he thinking?

She had no idea how to upholster anything, least of all something for the man she was trying to impress. Her family ran a dress shop. They worked with voile and crepe de chine and georgette, not the thick fabrics used by upholsterers. She wasn’t even sure their sewing machine could handle the heavier fabric, but she couldn’t say that in front of Vince. She had to bite her tongue until she and Peter left the boardinghouse.

He closed the door behind her and followed her down the steps. The moment they reached the walkway, she punched him in the arm.

“Ow!” He rubbed his biceps. “What’s that for?”

“For saying I would do something I don’t know how to do.”

He stared at her blankly.

She glared back. “Sewing.”

“You don’t know how to sew?”

“I don’t know how to upholster furniture.”

“Furniture? Who said anything about furniture?”

“You did.” Minnie hugged her arms around her midsection to ward against the bitter cold. “Don’t tell me you forgot already that you volunteered me to do some upholstery for your friend.”

“No, uh—” his neck flushed red “—maybe I should have asked you first.”

“Maybe?” She flung her hands into the air and headed back home. “I give up.”

He ran to catch up. “Then you won’t do it?”

She didn’t stop. “Didn’t you hear me? I can’t upholster furniture.”

“But it’s not furniture. It’s a car seat.”

She halted. “A car? How is that any better?”

“You’d just have to fix what’s already there. How hard can it be?”

“Much harder. Automobile seats are covered in mohair. It’s thick. I don’t know how to work with it. I don’t think our machines would handle it.”

“Uh, actually, they’re leather.”

“Even worse. Impossible.”

“Oh.” He cast his gaze down. “I thought maybe you could use the extra money for your pa.”

She bit her lip. Her father ought to return to the Battle Creek Sanitarium for treatment, but they couldn’t afford it. The family had banked on a ready-made clothing manufacturer buying Ruth’s designs. Yesterday’s failure set them back. “What car?”

Peter looked up hopefully. “The Pierce-Arrow.”

“But Vin—” She caught herself. She oughtn’t use his Christian name in public. “Mr. Galbini’s car looks new. What would need fixing?”

“Actually, the Pierce-Arrow belongs to Vince’s boss.”

“Oh.” Then Vince wasn’t as well-off as he appeared.

“And I’d only need your help if I rip a seam or have to take the upholstery apart in order to make the luggage compartment he wants.”

“Oh.” This was getting less and less impressive, but if she just had to restitch something, it shouldn’t be that difficult. She’d just have to use the existing holes and do it by hand. “That doesn’t sound like much of a job. What does it pay?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d depend on what needs to be done. Ten dollars?”

“Ten whole dollars for stitching up some leather?”

“It would have to look good,” he added.

That was the problem. “I’m only an apprentice seamstress. You should hire Ruth.” She tossed her head, feeling the swing of her short hair, and started back toward home.

Again he hurried after her. “I could ask your sister, but she’s so busy with her designs and all that I figured you might have more time.”

“Is that the only reason you asked me?” She tried hard to shove away the disappointment.

“No, uh...uh, that’s not it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed above his coat collar. “I think you’d do the best job.”

That was about the sweetest thing he’d ever said to her. “I wouldn’t, you know. Ruthie is gifted and experienced. I muddle through.”

His hazel eyes blazed with surprising intensity. “Don’t cut yourself short, Minnie. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Her stomach did a crazy little flip-flop. “I suppose I could try.” Then she remembered Ruth’s tears last night. “But my sister would do a better job, and she’s not too busy.” She hesitated, unsure if Ruth would want her defeat known to anyone outside the family, and then decided that Peter was practically family in a convoluted way. His foster brother had married Pastor Gabe’s sister. Minnie’s oldest sister had married the brother of Pastor Gabe’s wife.

She took a deep breath. “Ruth got bad news from New York last night. The company isn’t going to buy her designs.”

If anything, Peter looked more crestfallen. “Sorry.”

Her fingers were getting numb again. “I’ll ask Ruthie if she wants to do it.”

“I suppose.” But his shoulders drooped.

She wasn’t waiting around to ask why. “’Bye, then.”

After he echoed the farewell, she headed for home while he trudged toward the garage. For some reason, having her work on the car mattered to him. If not for Ruth’s tears, Minnie might have snatched at the opportunity, but to keep Vince coming back, the work had to be done right, and Minnie was an amateur next to her sister. Besides, she could always come along whenever Vince was in town. Ruth might need her help. Minnie could carry something for her or hold the leather in place or something.