Emma’s Secret (11 page)

For her part, Evan, who was quick, intelligent and acute, knew she had made a good impression on Linnet, and now she said in that lovely quiet voice of hers, ‘I guess you’re planning to have the retrospective in June, from what Mr. Harte said.’

‘No, no, it’ll be in the middle of May,’ Linnet responded swiftly, and then thought to explain, ‘My cousin was referring to a birthday party we’re helping to plan with my mother. It’s for his father and mine. That’s what Gideon was talking about when he mentioned the big bash in June.’

Evan merely inclined her head, hoping she didn’t look foolish for assuming something, and then voicing it so readily without knowing the facts.

Linnet went on, ‘The retrospective will be on view for about four months, perhaps even six. The longer the better, and so I do want it to be something really smashing. Sumptuous clothes, elegance all the way.’

Evan asked, ‘Where will it be housed in the store?’

‘On the top floor. We have an auditorium up there, which my mother carved out of a number of different defunct departments a few years ago. She demolished and remodelled, she’s very good at that. It holds about eight hundred people, so it’s very spacious, as you can imagine. The clothes will be displayed to great advantage there.’

‘There’s a lot of preparation involved in this kind of show,’ Evan murmured, thinking out loud, her mind racing when she thought of all that had to be done by May. It was the middle of January already. Yes, it was a big challenge indeed.

‘I agree with you,’ Linnet was saying. ‘But the clothes we already have are in perfect condition now. They’ve been cleaned, and repaired, whenever that was necessary, and also steamed or pressed. Touch-ups can be done once the clothes are on the mannequins and in position in the auditorium. But all that aside, there’s still an awful lot to finish. That’s why I need extra help. Would you be interested in the job?’

‘Oh yes, I would!’ Evan’s voice echoed her enthusiasm.

‘When could you start?’

‘Whenever you want me to.’

‘I’ll talk to my mother and get back to you tomorrow morning?’ Linnet said.

‘Thank you, Miss O’Neill.’

Once she was alone, Linnet looked at Evan’s résumé again, and she liked what she read. She also liked Evan. There was something open and honest about her, and certainly she was enthusiastic about working at Harte’s; Linnet had detected in her a desire to work. No shirker here, she thought, as she stood up, and walked out of her office.

Hurrying down the corridor, she headed in the direction of Maggie Hemmings’s office.

Jennifer looked up as she went in, and smiled. ‘Hello, Miss O’Neill. Can I help you?’

‘I was looking for Maggie. Is she in her office? Is she free?’

Jennifer nodded.

Linnet smiled, crossed the room, knocked on the door, and went in. ‘Do you have a few minutes, Maggie?’

The older woman looked up, gave Linnet a warm smile. ‘Certainly.’

Linnet sat down, looked across at the head of Human Resources. ‘I wanted a word with you about Evan Hughes. I thought you seemed a little reluctant about her, not as enthusiastic as I would expect after reading her résumé.’

‘The résumé does read well, I can’t argue there. But I wasn’t sure if she was quite right for Harte’s.’

‘Oh.
Why not?’

‘I can’t really put my finger on it…’ Maggie shrugged. ‘It’s just a feeling. And anyway, I thought it was odd, the way she was introduced by Mr. Gideon, and then she denied knowing him to me. There’s another thing,’ Maggie leaned over the desk, and added, in a lowered voice, ‘Don’t you think she looks like your mother?’

Linnet laughed. ‘They’re similar types, that’s all. And I don’t think it’s odd, no. As for my cousin, he ran in to her in the corridor when she was looking for this office. He simply guided her here. He
doesn’t
know her, Maggie.’

‘I see.’

‘And even if he did, why would it matter? I think she has excellent credentials, and certainly she would be very helpful to me at this particular time.’

‘Are you going to hire her?’ Maggie asked, her voice neutral now, her expression cautious.

‘I’m certainly going to think about it,’ Linnet answered, and with a nod and a smile, she rose. ‘Thanks, Maggie,’ she murmured as she left the office.

What was
that
about? Linnet asked herself as she went back to her own office, baffled by the attitude of the other woman, but determined not to be influenced by anyone. Evan could be of great help to her in mounting the retrospective. Perhaps she would hire her on a trial basis.

The following morning Linnet spoke to Evan on the phone. ‘I’d like you to come in and see me again, Miss Hughes. Around eleven. We can talk some more, and I’ll take you to see the collection of clothes we’ve already assembled.’

Evan was thrilled. ‘I’ll be there, Miss O’Neill, and thank you very much.’

Always punctual, Evan arrived at Linnet’s office exactly on time.

After chatting to Evan about the retrospective and her needs, Linnet said, ‘I’d like to offer you the job, on a trial basis, Evan.’

Evan beamed. ‘I accept, Miss O’Neill. Thank you.’

Linnet took Evan to a storage room on the seventh floor, behind the
haute-couture
fashion department. Pausing at a large metal-clad door, she took out a set of keys, and turned to Evan. ‘Only India and I have keys to this room. That way we’re the only two people responsible, and only we can be blamed if anything goes wrong. Or goes missing.’

‘I understand.’

Linnet unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped inside. She paused for a moment on the threshold until she found the light switch on the wall. A split second later many overhead lights came blinking on; she beckoned to Evan to follow her and walked into the cool, temperature-controlled storage space.

There were dozens and dozens of racks of clothes hanging in cotton bags, and when Linnet saw Evan’s face she exclaimed, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to show you everything right now. There’s far too much to look at. But perhaps you’d be interested to see a few choice pieces that belonged to Emma.’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

Hurrying to the far end of the room, Linnet moved a rack or two around and explained, ‘There are a couple of outfits here that are just knock-outs.’ As she spoke she began to untie the drawstring at the top of a cotton bag which held the garment.

Evan watched her taking out a black suit on a padded hanger, and she remarked, ‘What a marvellous idea these cotton bags are. Did you have them made?’

Linnet swung around. ‘Not these, no. They came from Paris. But we have had similar ones copied for the other clothes hanging here. Actually, the bag is called an “
oooss
”.’

‘An
oooss,’
Evan repeated slowly. ‘What a strange name.’

‘That’s the way it’s pronounced, but it’s spelt
h-o-u-s-s-e.
It’s the French word for “cover,” in fact.’

‘They’re certainly effective for storage purposes,’ Evan replied, thinking they looked like voluminous tents.

‘Look at this suit.’ Linnet held it out. ‘It’s by Cristóbal Balenciaga. Emma had it made in 1951.’

Evan inspected the suit closely, and nodded her head. ‘There’s nothing like a piece of
haute couture,
is there? The cut, the shoulderline, the overall silhouette. It’s simply impeccable, a masterpiece of workmanship.’

Linnet pulled a dress out of another cotton bag. ‘And this is a cocktail dress by Balenciaga. Emma also bought it in 1951. I happen to think it’s fantastic. Here, Evan, hold it against yourself.’ She handed her the cocktail gown on its padded hanger; Evan did as she instructed and held it against her body, looking down at the dress, which was made of black tissue taffeta. ‘I love the way the skirt is flounced in tiers and the bodice wrapped around. It’s unique. And the wonderful thing is that, like the suit, it’s not a bit dated.’

‘I agree with you. There’s a picture of Emma in the dress, and it looks as if it was taken only yesterday. Over there–’ Linnet swung her head, gestured toward more racks–‘are some couture outfits lent by my mother, India’s mother, and my aunts Emily and Amanda. Their pieces will also help to flesh out certain years in design.’

Evan helped Linnet put the two garments back in their cotton covers and, as they stood at the rack, Linnet remarked, ‘I think you’re going to enjoy working on the retrospective, Evan. Even though we have a tough road ahead, I believe that the three of us will be able to pull it together most effectively.’

‘I know we will,’ Evan answered, crossing her fingers, stepping away from the clothes rack and picking up her purse.

‘Let’s go and see Maggie and get you properly hired as my assistant,’ Linnet said, leading the way out of the storage room.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

E
van felt as if she were walking on air when she left Harte’s several hours later. She was not aware of the cold, frosty weather and the biting wind, nor did she feel hungry, even though it was turning two. I’m on cloud nine, she thought, hurrying towards the cab she had hailed, and which had suddenly slithered to a stop close by.

Once inside, she sat back against the leather seat, her thoughts on her father. All she wanted now was to get back to the hotel so that she could put in a call to him.

Since today was Wednesday she knew he would be at the antique shop in New Milford; he always did his books when business was slower. She could hardly wait to tell him her news; he would be surprised, she was certain of that. She could scarcely believe it herself: that she actually had a job at Harte’s was something quite incredible to her.

Once she was in her quarters at the hotel, she shrugged out of her red scarf and long black coat and put them away in the cupboard. And then, after turning on the electric fire in the small sitting room, she sat down next to it in the big easy chair. Picking up the phone, she dialled his Connecticut number and waited for it to ring through. A couple of seconds later, her father answered the phone.

‘Good morning. Hughes Antiques.’

‘Hi, Dad! It’s me, Evan.’

‘Evan, honey, you sound great! You’ve made a good recovery, I can hear that.’

‘I’m feeling like my old self, more or less. But listen, Dad, I’ve got some great news. I’ve got a job.’ She paused for maximum effect, and then cried, ‘At Harte’s! I’ve got a job in the fashion department at Harte’s.’

There was a moment’s silence at his end of the phone, but in her excitement and enthusiasm Evan paid no attention.

‘Well,’ he said, at last and rather slowly. ‘That’s good news.’

It struck her then that his voice was flat. Certainly there was no enthusiasm in it, and she exclaimed, ‘You don’t sound a bit excited, and I thought you’d be thrilled for me…’ Her voice died away on her, and she clutched the phone a little tighter, frowning.

‘Oh I am, Evan, I am. I was simply taken aback, that’s all. I hadn’t realized you’d already been there and applied for a job.’

‘I didn’t. What I mean is, I hadn’t been there before, I just wasn’t up to it until yesterday morning. But I felt so much better that I got ready and went to the store. Basically to see Emma Harte, as Grandma told me to do.’

‘Yes, I know what she told you. And did you see Emma Harte?’

‘Dad, she’s
dead!
And for thirty-one years. So I don’t know what Gran was going on about. If they’d been friends she must have
known.
Anyway, I was startled. And upset. But, you know me, I bounced back after I’d had a cup of coffee and time to think. I liked the look of the store, it’s very beautiful, so I decided to go up to management and apply for a position. I mean, what did I have to lose?’

‘Nothing. And so they hired you just like that. Is that what you’re saying, honey?’

‘I was lucky yesterday,
very
lucky. I happened to be in the right place at the right time.’

‘Were you now,’ he murmured. ‘So go ahead, tell me all about it.’

‘What happened was this…’ Swiftly, but graphically, Evan told her story, finally finishing, ‘And before I knew it, Maggie Hemmings, of Human Resources, was taking me to see Linnet O’Neill. She’s the head of fashion and the great-granddaughter of Emma Harte.’

‘It does sound very fortuitous,’ Owen remarked softly. ‘And this Linnet O’Neill was impressed enough to hire you on the spot, is that it?’

‘Not exactly, I had to go back today for another chat with Linnet O’Neill and then she hired me on a trial basis.’

‘Congratulations, I’m pleased for you. And who was the nice young man you mentioned?’

‘His name’s Gideon Harte, and I found out later that he works at the family’s newspaper company. He runs the
London Evening Post.’

‘I see. Well, Elayne and Angharad
are
going to be thrilled when I tell them the news later.’

‘Give them my love. I’ll be helping Linnet put on a fashion retrospective for the next few months, and hey, Dad, guess what? Some of Miss Trigère’s clothes are going to be in the retrospective. Emma Harte was a fan of hers.’

‘I’ll tell Pauline. She’ll be pleased to hear it,’ Owen replied.

‘Dad?’

‘Yes, honey?’

‘Do you think Grandma
knew
Mrs. Harte was dead?’

There was total silence at his end of the phone.

Evan said insistently, ‘Dad, are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m here.’

‘So…what do you think?
Did
Gran know? If so, why did she tell me to go there?’

‘I’ve no idea. She never mentioned anything about Emma Harte to me, except that she’d known her during the Second World War. Look, Evan, my mother could’ve been wandering in her mind, or delirious, in her last moments. I told you that before you left for London.’

‘I know. At least she pointed me in the right direction…as it turns out.’

After another short silence, her father agreed, saying quietly, ‘That’s true, yes.’

Evan asked, ‘How’s Mom?’

His voice brightened as he answered, ‘She’s better; she’s come out of herself a bit. And she cooked a nice dinner for me last night. I think the new medication’s started to kick in.’

‘Oh I’m so glad! That’s great. Give her my love.’

‘I will. When do you start at Harte’s?’

‘Tomorrow morning.’ She began to laugh, and quipped, ‘They really do need me there, Dad.’

She expected him to laugh with her, which was usually his way, but he did not. ‘Perhaps,’ he answered in the same low voice, and rapidly changed the subject.

They talked for a few minutes longer about other things, and then said their affectionate goodbyes.

After Evan put the receiver down she leaned back in the chair, thinking about her father’s reaction to her news. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and she felt oddly disconcerted, even irritated by his low-key response, and somewhat baffled by his attitude. The more she thought about it the more she came to realize that he hadn’t sounded pleased about her job. She couldn’t help wondering why. Like her grandmother, he had always cheered her on, been her greatest booster. But not today.

Pondering this in London, Evan Hughes had no way of knowing that, thousands of miles away, her father, seated at his desk in his New Milford shop, was staring absently into space. He was wondering what exactly his mother had set in motion on her deathbed, admitting to himself that he should have known Glynnis would have been unable to resist pulling a few strings at the end. Under his breath Owen cursed himself for having so enthusiastically encouraged Evan to go to London, to take a sabbatical there as he himself had once done years ago. Instead, he should have discouraged the trip. But in December he had not known what he knew now. Anyway, it was too late. Evan was already there…and the wheels had begun to turn…

Evan liked the public rooms at the little hotel in Belgravia, which George and Arlette had decorated in the manner of an English country house. Not that she had ever been in an English country house, but she had seen photos in magazines, and she was partial to that particular look: the vivid floral chintzes, the mellow woods, the fine antiques, the beautiful porcelain lamps with their cream silk shades, plus the big vases of flowers loosely arranged in the English style. Of all the rooms downstairs on the main floor, her favourite was the sitting room with its walls painted terracotta and glazed with light peach, the red-rose patterned chintz curtains at the three windows, and the overstuffed sofas and chairs upholstered in russet-red linen. On the floor, a wonderful old Persian rug had a similar background colour to the draperies, with a pattern of deep blues, pinks and greens. It helped to pull the entire scheme together, and acted as the perfect anchor for the seating arrangement.

The room was empty when Evan went down for afternoon tea, and as she walked in and headed for the fireplace, her spirits lifted. The atmosphere was rich, warm, welcoming, and the huge fire blazing in the hearth added to its overall cosiness, its lovely roseate glow.

She seated herself on one of the big sofas near the fireside, sat back and relaxed against the oversized needlepoint cushions, mentally pushing aside her preoccupation with her father’s odd manner on the phone. She let herself drift, staring at a painting of a moorland scene with a waterfall, heather and several sheep. It was restful to look at.

A moment later, her eyes roamed around, taking in the other traditional oil paintings, most of them landscapes obviously executed long ago. She liked them; the room had a particular style which made her feel comfortable, at ease, at home.

The grandfather clock in the corner began to strike four, and a few seconds later one of the young waitresses came bustling in, pushing a three-tier trolley laden with teapots, plates of finger sandwiches and scones, bowls of strawberry jam and clotted Devonshire cream.

The young woman was closely followed by a colleague, also behind a tea trolley, this one stacked with a variety of cakes on antique silver stands.

The two waitresses were dressed in Edwardian style, wearing long black dresses, white frilly aprons and caps, and they looked most effective in the period setting. Both women busied themselves at a long, mahogany sideboard at the far end of the room. The cake stands, plates of sandwiches and scones were soon deposited there, along with the numerous teapots.

Clara, one of the waitresses Evan was acquainted with, came hurrying over when she saw her sitting by the fire. ‘Good afternoon, Miss Hughes,’ she said with a bright smile. ‘Here for tea, are you?’

‘Hi, Clara, and yes, I am.’ Evan flashed her a friendly smile in return, and added, ‘I didn’t have lunch today, so I think I’ll go for the whole works.’

‘The full afternoon tea, then. Sandwiches, scones, and cake. Right away, Miss Hughes. Oh, and it
is
English breakfast tea you like, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it is, thanks, Clara.’

It was her gran who had introduced Evan to afternoon tea when she was a child growing up in Connecticut. Glynnis had made quite a ceremony out of it, serving the tea from a silver pot with a silver strainer over the cup, and thin slices of lemon, or milk for those who preferred. The tea had always been Twinings brand from London, usually the English breakfast tea preferred by Glynnis, but sometimes replaced by Orange Pekoe. Never Earl Grey, because Gran didn’t like the flavour.
Smoky,
she had called it.

Evan and her sisters had loved the finger sandwiches filled with egg salad, slices of cucumber or tomato, occasionally thin slivers of chicken, sometimes sardines, or wafer-thin pieces of smoked salmon between the crustless bread. Because Gran had liked to bake, there were always fresh scones right out of the oven, served with strawberry jam and clotted cream, and for the finale, a caraway-seed cake.

On special occasions her grandmother would make a light sponge cake, which she sliced through the middle into two flat pieces, and filled with whipped cream and raspberry jam. And when she had grown older Glynnis had taught
her
how to make the sandwiches, the scones, and the various cakes; in fact, it was her gran who had taught Evan how to cook any number of things, and over the years she had become quite accomplished in the kitchen.

Evan thought of this now as she munched on a smoked salmon sandwich, wondering what to do about an apartment. Should she look for a small one in this area? Or should she stay on at the hotel? She had meant to ask her father about this earlier, but she had been so distracted by his lacklustre response to her news that it had slipped her mind.

In many ways the hotel was more convenient because she was so well taken care of here; on the other hand, she did not have a kitchen and had to eat in the hotel dining room, which added to her expenses.

After wrestling with the problem for a few minutes, she made a decision. She would stay on at the hotel for the moment, very simply because she did not have time to look for an apartment.

In any case, Evan already had a good picture of what working at Harte’s was going to be like: back-breaking routine, long hours, and total devotion and dedication to duty. She had already perceived that Linnet would be a hard taskmaster, and that she would expect everyone to work as hard as she did. And especially a newcomer like her, who was bound to be on trial. Evan had discerned that Linnet, for all her sweetness and beauty, was at heart a tough businesswoman. This did not trouble her; rather, she admired that trait.

Yes, it’s better to stay here, Evan told herself, where I’m comfortable and have every convenience. Later, once the retrospective is set up and things are rolling along smoothly, I’ll think about finding my own place, one with a decent kitchen where I can cook; an apartment where I can do a little entertaining, even. This thought pleased her, and she reached for a scone, spread it with strawberry jam and added a large dollop of cream.

As she ate the scone she realized just how hungry she had been, but she also reminded herself how fattening scones and rich cream cakes were. Not too many of these afternoon teas, she vowed to herself, and then smiled. She would be at the store most of the time anyway–and how she was looking forward to it! All of her life she had found challenges enormously appealing.

Leaning back against the cushions once again, Evan let her thoughts wander, reviewing the events of the day. And eventually they came to settle on Gideon Harte.

He had been pleasant and helpful in the corridor when she was looking for the management offices. But later this pleasantness had turned to genuine masculine charm and much solicitousness. When she had walked into Linnet’s office with Maggie Hemmings, he had hurried across the floor to greet her. Once she had been introduced by Maggie to his cousin, he had not hidden his interest in her. In fact, he had been so attentive to her that she found herself staring back at him, as intensely as he was staring at her.