The Last Honest Seamstress (33 page)

"What brought him to Seattle?" Coral's tone was casual, but Fayth knew she fished for information.

"Concern for my welfare."

"Oh, Fayth! How romantic! He comes to look out for you even though he has married another."

Fayth stared hard at Coral over the steaming teacup she held up to sip. "He hasn't. She lost the baby and the marriage plans fell through."

"What? He's available? Why did he come, Fayth? Confess." Oh, Coral's eyes were too eager.

"He proposed."

Coral stared and her mouth popped open. "What?" She hesitated. "Any regrets?" When Fayth didn't answer immediately she continued, "Con is a good man."

"Don't, Coral. I don't need cheering or reassurance."

"He still has your heart, then?"
 

"Emphatically not." Coral misread her, too. She didn't love Drew. She loved the Captain. Drew's arrival only verified it. But loving the Captain meant trusting him, and she just didn't know if she could, if she should. Before the Captain left she thought it didn't matter, but now with Captain Bailey's letter, and the Captain not sending her the money she needed, she worried. Was he leaving her? Could she give up the security of her business to be his wife in every sense, bear his children?

"Will Mr. Hanbrough be leaving Seattle soon?"
 

"I don't know, Coral. I don't think he knows."

Chapter 14

Whore. Whore-lover. Decent women beware.

The ugly, white, painted words looked like gaping wounds in a surreal world against the bright red of the new brick exterior, like the building bled around them.

Fayth stepped to the sidewalk and ran her fingers over the fresh paint. She couldn't let Coral see this. It would destroy her. The newspaper articles had been one thing. But this, this show of cowardice and hate . . .
 

"They'll wash off. It'll take a good bit of elbow grease, but it can be done."

Fayth jumped, startled by Drew's voice coming from behind her, by the sympathy it held. He stepped next to her and pulled her by the elbow away from the hideous accusations. "Let's step inside, Fayth."

She obeyed him without thought. Inside, she spoke. "Why would anyone do this?"

"Why?" he replied. "Probably just a good bit of fun being had by adolescent boys, I expect."

"No," she argued. "I don't think so." She turned to look at Drew. Dark circles, evidence of a hard night of drinking and little sleep, rimmed his eyes. "Enjoy your evening?"

"You know too well I didn't, Fayth. I hardly slept."

"The alcohol didn't lull you to sleep?" Why couldn't she resist barbing him? But, as in old times, it seemed her duty to keep him in line. "What brings you here today?"

He didn't answer immediately. A dress on a display mannequin held his attention.

"Silk and velvet, decorated with silk cord." He ran his hand over the dress shoulder almost reverently. "Four-gored skirt nearly concealed by draperies. Look at the elegant hang over the long, slender bustle." He whistled under his breath. "Bodice with double bust darts, side-back gores, decorated with a
gilet
. What a beautiful creation, Fayth. I see your signature style in it." Drew moved toward where Fayth stood.

"You're coming into your own. That dress flows and hangs better than any of the sketches I last saw. I wouldn't be surprised if you become famous one day."

"Designing in Seattle? I don't think so." His flattery came easily today. What did he want?

Drew walked around the shop nonchalantly, looking at everything, picking things up and setting them down again. "So you earn your living here. Exclusively women's clothing?"

"As much of it as I can. I still do some men's tailoring."

"Seattle seems an unlikely city to prosper in the ladies' clothing business."

"I originally thought so, too. Until the fire last summer, I only sewed for men. But right after, I acquired a patroness who insisted I sew for women."
 

Lou Gramm did me some good, after all.

"I see. So this is what you've done with your father's business, turned it to ladies' fashions."

"This is
my
business." Did he realize he ventured toward dangerous topics? "I had to sell Father's, and got precious little from it."
 

Largely because of you
, she thought.

Drew smiled, unaware of, or unwilling to follow, the turn of her mind. "I stopped by this morning hoping for an invitation to dinner. I'm eager to meet your captain."

"As I told you yesterday, the Captain is at sea, Drew. You're best off not waiting for his return. I don't know when he'll be back." She hated making the admission to Drew.

"I apologize. You did tell me, but I forgot. I was distraught." He leaned toward her and whispered. "Still am."
 

When she didn't respond, he paused and cleared his throat in an uncharacteristic, nervous manner. "A few minutes ago you asked what I'm doing here. I'll get straight to the point, Fayth." He cleared his throat a second time. "I'm not too proud to admit I'm a little down on my luck just now. The unfortunate event with Florence wiped me out financially. I'd intended to come to Seattle, marry you, and establish a business."

She snorted. "With what, my money?"

"Fayth, please give me some credit. I figured we'd get a loan. A man can always borrow for his start." He spoke a certain truth. "Truth is, I used the last of the money I had to get here."

She sighed. "What is it you want, Drew?" He'd always had a way of making her feel responsible for his misfortunes.

"A job." Her hesitation must have been evident. "Just temporarily, until I get back on my feet." He took a step toward her. "You need a man around to keep the riffraff away."

Fayth shuddered, remembering the words engraved
 
across her building front.

"And Coral may be a sweet girl," he continued. "But how much does she know about fashion and sewing? She can't help you with the business. I heard about the newspaper article, and how it's costing you customers. I admire your principles, and your tenacity keeping Coral, but you need help."

Fayth frowned. "What a nasty spy you are. I'll thank you to stop prying into my business."

Drew laughed. "Not nasty, astute. Just from a quick look around, I see things that need improving. I'm probably the only man in Seattle with the skills you need. How many lumberjacks out there even know what a bodice is? Or a seam? Or an account ledger?"

"No, Drew."

"Don't be so quick to turn me away. Have you no compassion? I won't even be able to afford the hotel much longer."

"Drew—"

"I'll make you a deal, Fayth. I'll stay only until your Captain comes back, and I'll never let him know I worked here."

"I don't conduct business behind my husband's back."

"Would you turn me out on the street? I'm asking for mercy." He gave her his crooked little grin.

Despite what she felt, and how he had behaved in the past, she had to admit he had guessed correctly about the shop. She needed help. His help. The words scrawled on her outside wall frightened her. Without the Captain in town, she needed a man around. She made a quick decision she would probably regret.

"You have always been an astute observer. I can't trust Coral alone in the store. Since the article, I've been making house calls to keep my clients.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a job as my assistant, my shop manager. The pay won't be much, but you'll earn a commission on each order you bring in. And I will try to forgive you, Drew. But forgiving doesn't mean condoning what you did. What you did was wrong. It doesn't mean reconciliation, either.

"In exchange for the job, you promise not to bring up our past and not to mention marriage again. And I promise to try to be cordial. Deal?" She extended her hand to him.

"Deal. And your husband?"

He had her there. What did she do when the Captain returned?
 

"That's not your concern. You promised you'd leave. You may have to. For now, let's plan to tell him the minimal truth. You apprenticed under Father, fell on hard times, and came to me for help."

"Thank you, Fayth."

"And Drew, there's a men's hotel down the street. The Captain's manager lives there. I've heard it's quite reasonable. You might see if they have a room."

"I will. When do I start?"

"Today. Your first order of business is to get rid of the graffiti out front before Coral shows up this afternoon."

"Done." He stepped up to her and took her hand. "One last time, before our agreement starts. I love you, Fayth, always will. If you ever need me—"

"Drew."

"Remember." He bent and kissed her cheek.

It took Drew less than a week to establish himself as a fixture in the business.

"Really, Drew." Fayth arrived at the shop and found him seated at the worktable, chatting with Coral as they ate their noon meal. The one Coral had packed and Fayth had paid for. "I'm going to have to start charging you board. I'm not my parents, you know. I have no obligation to feed you. You aren't my apprentice."

"You ladies always serve up more than you need. If I wasn't here, you'd throw it out."

"Does it occur to you the reason Coral brings so much is because she knows you'll be joining us?"

"I'll make you a deal, Fayth. I'll treat you ladies to a night out as soon as I get back on my feet."

Fayth set the mail she'd been carrying down on the counter and leafed through it. A letter addressed in the Captain's bold handwriting caught her eye and her pulse. She set it aside, shoved the rest of the mail to the back of the counter, and reached for the letter opener. Too often disappointed with the Captain's letters, she didn't trust herself to open it in the privacy of her office. The letters were well written, but the content was too predictable, too disheartening, too impersonal. They were almost newspaper accounts. A few tidbits about his business. A line about how he missed her. Insincere? What else could she think when he shorted her with the rent money for the cottage? Either the business was in trouble, or he'd forgotten his responsibilities toward her. Neither option was appealing.

Or maybe the small amount of, no, the near pleasure she'd given him wasn't worth the price. Lately, every time she thought of him, she worried about the businesses, his and hers. Would O'Neill Shipping sink and take her shop down with it? Dark images, fears she'd rather not face flooded her mind.

Well, at least she wouldn't fall prey to Drew again. And for all the evil she used to wish on him, Drew was keeping his end of the bargain nicely, starting with scrubbing that awful message off the building. He ran the shop with smooth efficiency, charmed the ladies, and brought in new customers by the dozens. And he hadn't made one untoward advance. She just might meet expenses this month. As much as she hated to admit it, Drew had already paid for himself, even figuring in that she was feeding him now, too.

She eyed the envelope again. Reading the letter in front of Coral and Drew would force her to maintain her composure. She slit viciously through the envelope.

Dear Fayth,

I have wired another deposit to the business account in Seattle. Mr. Tetch will subtract out the money for the business and deposit the rest in your household account. I hope the money will be sufficient to meet your needs.

Sufficient? Hardly. Had he no idea what it cost to run a household? Maybe he did, and had no intention of continuing to support her. She grimaced, hating herself for the thought.

Extreme weather and rough seas have delayed many runs. It looks like I will have to stay several more months to fulfill my contract. I miss you.
 

Yours faithfully, Con

She folded the letter and returned it to its envelope. No words of love, no echoes of regret over what almost had been, just business.

"Bad news?" Coral asked.

"He won't be home for several more months."

Drew frowned. "So long? I was looking forward to meeting him soon." His expression said anything but.

Clouds hung over the city, thick and gray, heavy with their frigid loads. Snowflakes had begun falling as Fayth left the shop. Now, standing on her own front step, she stamped her feet and shook herself off, feeling as burdened as the clouds laden with snow overhead. If only she could shed her problems, let them drift away, delicate flakes on the wind. Ah, to be a cloud and simply float off. At least she'd made it up the hill home before the roads grew slick.
 

Blast that Drew. Claiming he had errands to run, he'd left just after noon and had not returned. Maybe the snow had frightened him into hiding, as it had half the city. The coward. She dusted her sleeves off and sighed. Without Drew to run the shop, she'd been forced to close early. And though it seemed unlikely anyone would stop by, she hated the thought of turning away any customer, even one only a phantom of thought. As poor as business had been, she'd serve a ghost and gladly if he carried cash.