Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (39 page)

“You weren’t prying. You were making conversation. And showing concern. I appreciate both.” Suddenly, Jane realized that she’d come to a new place in regards to her past. What was it Mamie had said about the women?
They’re good women.
And they were. Sarah wasn’t prying, and Jane didn’t need to feel defensive. In fact, she felt safe, not only with Sarah but also with the other women she’d come to know through quilting.

“My mother died a long time ago. Long before I married.” She paused. “I was visiting my daughter in Nebraska City. Her name’s Rose.”

“You must bring her to quilting if she’s ever here on a Tuesday,” Sarah said. “And of course, church on Sunday.”

Jane nodded. Swallowed. “There’s something I should probably tell you about Rose. We’ve been—estranged since she was a child. It’s a long, involved… and not very nice story, I’m afraid.”

“It seems that it has a happy ending, though.”

Jane blinked back tears. “Yes.” She nodded. “But if you knew—“

Sarah reached over and squeezed her hand. “Dear woman, don’t we all have ‘not very nice’ in our past? Isn’t that why our Savior had to die? Goodness, did you think everyone in those pews on Sunday is all shiny and clean?” She chuckled. “Even our pastor’s wife has a shaded past as a she-hawk.” With a pat, she released Jane’s hand and took a sip of coffee. “My mother used to say that if we ever found a church full of perfect people, we must never join because we’d ruin it.” She took a sip of coffee. “You don’t need to explain anything for me to share your joy over the happy ending.”

“Rose is coming to live with me when she attends the university in a couple of years. Of course I’m hoping she’ll want to join the Ladies Aid.”

“That would be wonderful. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. I shall look forward to meeting her.” Sarah turned her attention back down to the drawing. Shook her head. “It
is
a bit insane to attempt it.” She traced the sashing sketch with her index finger, tapping the space where a setting square would be required. “A small compass would be lovely there. And unify the overall design.” She looked up at Jane. “Don’t you think?”

Jane chuckled and shook her head. “I do…. But
Sarah.
“

Sarah shrugged. “Anything worth doing is worth overdoing.” She laughed. “Which brings me to lunch. Let’s start with dessert. You must never tell her I said this, but Dinah’s lemon meringue pie rivals mine.”

Over pie, the women discussed the upcoming fall bazaar and what Sarah pronounced Louise Irwin’s “good work” on the Female Department Improvement Committee. “I so admire her for taking that on,” Sarah said. “Those poor women… I can’t imagine.” She took a sip of coffee before asking Jane about the coming fashion season and how to update a favorite walking suit, and the two women were just about mid-pie when the bell on the door gave a jingle.

“Goodness,” Jane said, with a glance at the watch she’d taken to wearing pinned to her waist. “It’s nearly two o’clock. Mamie’s coming in for a fitting this afternoon, and I promised to help Mamie decide on buttons for her wedding dress.”

Sarah folded her napkin and reached for her bag. “This is my treat,” she said. “You go on back to the shop. I don’t want Minnie taking me to task for keeping you too long.” She smiled. “You’ve been a great encouragement in regards to my compass quilt, Jane. Thank you.”

Jane laughed as she stood up and reached for her parasol. “Just remember you said that when you’re laboring over adding piece number twenty-two to the first block.”

And then she heard a familiar high-pitched titter and realized who’d just come into the diner. Claudine DuBarry. Her aunt and uncle. And Max. Her Max. With that… child… on his arm.

S
tanding before her dressing mirror, Ellen gave her hair a quick brushing, then twisted it into a chignon and pinned it into place. Stepping into her petticoat, she pulled it up and buttoned it, then paused to glance over at Ian, still lounging on the bed. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to the office?” She crossed the bedroom and peered out the windows toward the garden. “And Georgia will be back inside any minute. There isn’t that much left to pick.”

“Georgia,” Ian said—and hooked a finger in the waist of Ellen’s petticoat to draw her close—“isn’t really out there to pick the fall produce, although maybe she’ll end up with an armful of something. The truth is, I asked her to give us a little more privacy than just a closed door. I think she said something about going over to the flower beds at the entrance and gathering seeds.” He wrapped her in his arms. “Do you know how adorable it is that you still blush?”

Ellen relaxed in his arms for a moment, then kissed his chin. The clock in the hall chimed noon. “Lunch was delightful, Mr. McKenna, but if I don’t hurry and get dressed, I’m going to make Mamie late for her fitting in town.” Ian collected another kiss, then released her.

“Lunch?” he chided as he reached for his shirt. “I must be losing my touch. Time was you called these clandestine meetings
dessert,
Mrs. McKenna.”

Ellen tied on her bustle, then donned her skirt and, turning away from the mirror, looked over her shoulder as she adjusted the skirt into place. She’d just buttoned the top button of her waist when a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Sorry to bother you two,” Georgia said through the door, “but I thought you’d want to know that Miss Dawson’s just driving across to fetch Mrs. McKenna.”

“I’ll be right down,” Ellen said.

Ian frowned. “You aren’t taking our rig into town? I thought the Dawson sisters shared and traded out over the weekend.”

“Martin bought a new rig,” Ellen said. “And the prettiest little mare. Chestnut with four white socks. Mamie says he drove her crazy with it. Was this buggy all right? Did the springs cushion the ride enough? Was the step too high? Too low? Did the horse seem a big fractious?”

“Reminds me of me when I was trying to win you,” Ian said. “I used to stand in front of the mirror trying on vests and retying cravats like some fool.”

“Just for the record, you never got the cravat quite right.”

Ian stared at her in mock horror. “Surely you jest.”

“No, but it didn’t matter. I thought it added to your boyish charm.” She pinned her hat in place, blew him a kiss, and headed for the door. Opening it, she paused and looked back. “I love you, Mr. McKenna.” Her face flushed as she said, “Let’s do lunch again… tomorrow, if you can find the time.”

“I’ll find the time. Now get out of here before I send Georgia on yet another meaningless errand and tell Mamie you are… indisposed.”

“Now, Jane,” Sarah said, as soon as they’d left the diner, “don’t jump to conclusions. It’s no secret that Eugénie Savoie has a soft spot for Dr. Zimmer. She’s suffered from melancholia for years, and whatever the doctor did, there’s been a remarkable improvement. Everyone who knows her realizes it—and they’ve all heard her give Dr. Zimmer credit. It would not be wise for him to offend one of his most influential supporters.”

“You’re right,” Jane said, hoping she sounded convinced.

“The fact that they are having lunch doesn’t mean anything but that. They are having lunch.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“Dr. Zimmer is clearly very fond of you, Jane. Everyone knows that. That’s why we had such fun teasing you at quilting the other day.”

“I know.” He’s fond of me. But he hasn’t kissed me. And I wanted him to at the train station. But he didn’t. He winked at me like I was his buddy.

They had rounded the corner and were out of sight of the diner when Sarah stopped in her tracks. “Jane. Are you listening to me? Don’t jump to conclusions. Give the poor man a chance to explain.”

Surprised when tears welled up, Jane merely nodded. She cleared her throat. “I—I have to get back to the shop. Thank you… for everything.” She watched Sarah make her way toward her home, then hurried off, but when there wasn’t a rig outside Manerva, she decided to walk a bit more to calm her nerves. It wouldn’t do to be in a state when Mamie and Ellen arrived for the fitting. Mamie deserved a relaxed afternoon and a chance to chat with her sister. As for Jane, she’d been looking forward to hearing the news from the third floor. Whether or not Max was spending time with a French snippet shouldn’t affect any of that.

Her feet unwittingly carried her past Max’s combination house/infirmary, where the sign in the window informed patients that
Dr.
Zimmer will return at 4:00.
Jane wondered at the hour. Apparently the Savoies and Miss DuBarry had more than lunch planned for
Monsieur le Docteur.

Jane stifled a sob. What was it Mamie and Minnie called it when they needed to help their mind control their emotions? She must take herself in hand.
And concentrate on thankfuls. And rejoice with Mamie this afternoon, and not distract anyone with my troubles.

She listed thankfuls all the way back to Manerva, calmed by the idea that she had so many. Among them… Max Zimmer, whatever form their relationship might take in the coming days.

“Back-door customers are best!”

Ellen McKenna’s voice sang out from the back door as she and Mamie stepped inside. Jane held up one hand signaling “just a minute” and kept pedaling until she’d finished the inner seam on the second of the claret sleeves for Mamie’s ensemble. Ellen and Mamie went on into the shop. Jane heard Minnie order her sister behind the dressing screen, even as she lifted the presser foot and snipped the threads. Reaching inside the sleeve, she grasped the bottom edge and gently turned it right-side out as she asked Minnie if she should press it.

Minnie shook her head. “That won’t matter as much for a fitting. We’ll do fine.” She draped the sleeve over the dressing screen, then went to retrieve the pin cushion she’d fashioned to fit around her wrist. Draping a measuring tape about her neck, she took up her station by the dressing mirror, waiting for Mamie to emerge. While the women waited, Minnie asked Ellen how things were on the third floor.

Ellen, who was scanning the bolts of fabric on the far side of the shop, pulled out a rich burgundy paisley wool and laid it atop the cutting table. She spoke to the folding screen. “Shouldn’t Mamie answer that question?”

“Mamie’s buried in truly unmentionable unmentionables,” Minnie said, then added, “I’ve made a few purchases on her behalf.”

“Minnie!” Mamie called out from behind the screen. “You don’t have to shout it to the entire population.”

“Who’s shouting? You don’t think your friends know a lady needs certain appurtenances for her wedding trousseau?” She paused. “If you need help with those ribbons, let me know. It can be tricky for the uninitiated.”

“Are you telling me
you’re
initiated? Because if that’s the case, it has the makings of a scandal.”

“For goodness’ sake, Minnie. I’m a professional. Dressmakers have to know all about the many layers of fashion. All layers, dear. And we have to be able to discuss them without blushing, so”—she peered around the screen—“you’ve got it, dear. And you look lovely. Martin will be speechless.”

“Martin doesn’t need lace and ribbon to render him speechless. Most anything does, you will recall. Now go away and leave me be until I’m decent.”

Minnie reappeared and looked over at Ellen. She nodded at the bolt of cloth. “That’s become quite popular for men’s dressing gowns. I’ve an order to make one for Judge Savoie.”

At mention of the name, Jane excused herself to “look in the back for another selection of buttons for Mamie to consider.” But searching for buttons didn’t keep her from hearing the conversation in the shop as Ellen ordered a dressing gown for her husband, then selected another pattern for Jack. In the midst of selecting styles and discussing whether to put fringe or tassels on the sashes, Ellen gave a report about the women that quickly drew Jane back into the room, button drawer in hand.

“Mrs. Irwin has been to Omaha twice now, and next week I’ll be going along,” Ellen said. “Mamie has decided—and both Vestal and Agnes agree—that it would be easier for them to get a fresh start someplace new. There’s a church interested in providing a house as lodging for women like Vestal and Agnes. And”—Ellen smiled at Jane—“there is the promise of a job for them both. Working in a small store.”