Christine Johnson - Suitor by Design

The kitchen was steamy hot when Minnie stepped inside. She wiped off the face powder and lipstick with a handkerchief and then tugged off her good gloves and shoved them into her coat pocket before her mother saw them.

Mother sat at the table mixing flour into milk and yeast to make bread dough. “You were out early this morning.”

“I had something to do.” Minnie held her numb fingers near the coal stove’s firebox. “Do you want help?”

“I thought you were working in the shop this morning.”

Minnie glanced at the clock. “It’s not nine o’clock yet.”

“You know your sister wants you there before the shop opens.”

Minnie sighed. Go here. Do this. Take care of that. The duties never seemed to end. Already the excitement of Vince’s arrival had worn off. Though he’d greeted her in the romantic European fashion and called her darling, she didn’t feel the flutter of excitement that she’d expected. It was more like...well, like greeting an uncle or older brother. How disappointing. Worse, the flutter had shown up when she least expected it. Why should Peter’s statement that she could do anything send her stomach flip-flopping? Why then? Why Peter? He was just a friend, wasn’t he?

“Go now.” Mother motioned toward the door with flour-covered hands.

Minnie dragged her feet across the room.

“And put on boots,” Mother chided. “Your good shoes are for Sunday only.” She sighed. “Ask Ruth to trim up that dreadful mop of hair when you get there. It should at least look neat.”

Minnie picked up her boots, stiff and dry from sitting near the stove overnight, and sat in the nearest chair. This day was going from bad to worse in a hurry.

She hadn’t finished lacing the boots when Ruth pushed open the door, letting in a blast of icy-cold air. Ruth’s face glowed pink from the cold, and she stomped the snow off her boots.

“I’m coming,” Minnie said, tying off one lace, “as soon as I get my boots on.”

Ruth didn’t seem to hear her. “We’ve come to a decision, Mother.” Her eyes shone bright.

Mother stopped working the dough. “A decision about what?”

“I promised Sam I’d tell you and Daddy at the same time, but I’ll burst if I can’t tell someone right away.”

Mother rose on shaky legs, her face drawn in concern. “The baby?”

Ruth touched her abdomen. “Fine. Perfectly fine. Nothing’s wrong, Mother. In fact, everything’s right. We’re going to New York!” She let out a squeak, which was about as excited as Ruth ever got.

Mother sank back into her chair. “New York City?”

“Yes. Sam thinks we have a better chance of selling my designs in person. He wants to show them to the clothing-line representatives. You know how persuasive he can be.” She paced around the kitchen, more animated than Minnie had ever seen her. “Mariah’s parents offered to let us stay with them. The train fare isn’t too terribly much, and you and Minnie can run the shop while we’re gone.”

“Me?” It was Minnie’s turn to squeak.

“You know how to do everything,” Ruth said, “and Mother will help. Daddy is handling the orders and bookkeeping. It’ll be a breeze.” She turned back to Mother. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Mother frowned. “I understand Sam going. His business sense and contacts are essential, but are you sure you should travel, what with the baby and all?”

“Mother, I’m only three months along.” Ruth sat down, still coiled with eager excitement. “Where Sam goes, so will I.”

Mother pulled a hand away and tugged a handkerchief from her apron pocket. “Like Naomi and Ruth, going to a strange land.”

“Don’t worry,” Ruth said. “We’ll be back long before the baby is born. Why, we’ll probably return before the end of winter.”

Mother managed a feeble smile. “I’ll miss you, dear.”

“Me, too.” Ruth hugged their mother. “There is one thing I need to ask.”

Mother pulled away. “What is that?”

Ruth ducked her head. “The fare. We don’t quite have enough saved. I wondered if you might loan us the rest.”

“You’ll have to ask your father.”

Ruth hurried off to do just that, but Minnie knew what the answer would be. Daddy would never deny his most talented daughter a chance at her dream. That left Minnie at home and in charge of the shop. The responsibility was enormous.

Mother must have realized that, too, because she gave her a very stern look. “Are you ready to take charge, Miss Wilhelmina?”

Minnie cringed at her full name. Mother only used it when angry or extremely serious. “I guess so.”

“Humph,” Mother grunted, returning to the bread dough. “We’ll see what your father says. This will be an added burden on him.” She looked up. “And you’ll have to quit your cleaning jobs in order to manage the shop.”

Minnie hadn’t thought of that. Though she’d longed to stop cleaning houses, quitting those jobs meant less money coming in. They would have to get even more frugal. No more cherry sodas or magazines. No frivolous purchases at all, unless she took the job that Peter had offered. Ruth couldn’t do it. Ten dollars would buy a lot of food. She would have to accept the offer—and pray that Vince found her so enchanting that he overlooked the poor workmanship.

* * *

Peter stepped away from Mr. Kensington’s Packard and scratched his head. His plan had gone wrong somehow. Now he was stuck working with Ruth instead of Minnie. Worse, Minnie had tittered and giggled at everything Vince said. It was disgusting. What could she see in Vince? He must be ten years older than her. Then again, she’d been fascinated by Reggie Landers, and he was years older than her, too. After that crush ended, he thought she would come to her senses. Apparently not. It seemed that anyone with a fancy suit caught her eye, but not a hardworking man.

He tossed the wrench into his toolbox and wiped his forehead with a rag. Kensington wanted his car by the end of the day, but he couldn’t seem to concentrate. The morning’s efforts had amounted to removing two valves and picking up the wrong-size wrenches time after time. At this rate, he’d never finish the job on time.

Concentrate. By fixing his attention on the tools, he managed to pick out the proper wrench this time. It slipped from his damp, greasy fingers and clattered to the floor. He wiped his hands on the rag and picked up the wrench.

Just thinking about Minnie made him sweat. She’d twisted things around so much this morning that he’d plumb forgot he wanted to ask her to the church supper tonight. Now he’d have to sit alone with the rest of the family. Hendrick had Mariah. Anna had Brandon. Even Ma Simmons had memories of her beloved late husband. He could only dream of having a gal to love, but he wanted just one. Minnie. He’d fallen for her the moment he set eyes on her, but she’d never given him the time of day. One chance. That was all he wanted. Just one chance.

“Peter?”

The most precious voice in the whole world yanked him out of misery and into a firestorm of hope. “Minnie. What are you doing here?”

She stood in the doorway between the office and the shop, looking so pretty he couldn’t rip his gaze from her. From the red plaid skirt to the matching hat, she could warm up the coldest heart. The snow dusting her shoulders and hat made her even more beautiful. He wiped his brow again.

“You busy?” Her gaze dropped to the floor, her boots dripping with melting snow.

“Not at all.”

She looked up hopefully. “I was wondering if you might reconsider.”

Peter quickly thought through what she might mean and came up empty. “Reconsider?”

“Hiring me.” She shrugged and tilted her head in that way of hers that drove him crazy. “Instead of Ruth. She’s going to New York, you see, and can’t do the upholstering that you wanted. But, if you’d give me a chance, I’d like to try.”