What Was I Thinking? (34 page)

She bustled over to Bert’s big desk for papers
and pens, and stopped herself suddenly, coloring a little. “I’m sorry. I’m
interfering where I’m probably not wanted.”

“No, no,” I assured her. “This is where needing
a friend comes in. This is all going to be very hard to figure out and I need
your help.”

She still looked uncertain, so I tried to
lighten the mood. “But you really
do
need to learn the language! We won’t ‘puzzle out,’ plans, we will ‘brainstorm a
solution.’”

Bert snorted with laughter and Augusta relaxed.
“No, really?
People say things like that?”

“All the time,” her son assured her. “That’s
quite mild compared to some of the nonsense they say to sound smart while
saying nearly nothing. Now, let’s get to it. We’ve got a lot to sort out.”

The dawn found us still scratching away on our
pads of paper, but getting near a solution. We’d taken a few breaks during the
night—and taught Augusta the term “bio break” while we were at it—and were now
cozily gathered around the big desk, with chairs brought in from other rooms
and fresh cups of coffee. I had retrieved my ballpoint pen at the first break
since it wasn’t a good time to learn how to manage a fountain pen.

We had agreed to end the engagement and to turn
the party into a launch of Titian Ablutions Products for Ladies. We had agreed
that the business was my best shot at making a living and Augusta still wanted
to be a full partner.

After considerable argument and no little
bullying from Augusta, it was agreed that Bert would move back to the family
home and I would take over his apartment here. Augusta would remain in her
suite on the second floor and she and I would not visit each other’s private
rooms without invitation. The whole third floor would remain off-limits to
servants unless I specifically requested their help.

It would afford me more privacy than the blue
room, including a private bathroom that was very luxurious for the time. It
would avoid the scandal, expense, and practical difficulties of finding and
running my own household. Augusta and I could collaborate easily on our
business. Bert’s move back to the main house would be handier for his work at
the original family business. He would come back every weekend, though, so he
and I could do research in the It room, looking for a way to predict time
waves.

Augusta would invite only her lady’s maid,
Sarah, and Mrs. Horner to stay on at this house, since both were already
involved—and quite interested—in our product development. The rest of the staff
would return downtown with Bert.

After another argument, this one between Bert
and his mother with me refereeing, it was agreed that Augusta would ask Joshua
to stay on. Bert thought we needed a man around the house to protect us.
Augusta thought that was ridiculous and insulting. I thought they were,
unfortunately, both right.

I didn’t like the fact that I was still a
guest, but Augusta insisted that I consider the apartment a payment for shares
in the new cosmetics company. I pointed out that she was also providing food,
investment money, ingredients, and staff. She pointed out that she was older,
and I could just be quiet.

I said that wasn’t bloody likely and she
laughed at me.

We kicked around the intertwined ideas of
income for me, success for the business, and sharing a home and a business
without killing each other and came to some preliminary agreements, which Bert
wrote down for us as we brainstormed aloud. Bert and I took the opportunity to
teach Augusta about “spit-balling,” “blue-skying,” and “running it up the
flagpole to see who salutes.” We were pretty giddy by then.

In the end, Augusta accepted fifty-one percent
ownership of the company, “Just to make you stop fussing, dear,” and paid for
it with two years’ lease on the apartment, provision of laboratory space, and
funding of staff and ingredients for the first batch of product. Once profits
arrived, we would take salaries and reinvest. Bert would take all these notes
to his lawyers tomorrow to set up a corporation for us.

Eventually, we noticed sounds from downstairs
that meant the servants had started the day and we broke up the meeting.
Augusta went to give the whole staff a holiday so we could sleep uninterrupted,
I headed down to the blue room, and Bert turned toward his own bedroom.

We hadn’t resolved what, if anything, to do
about the inhabitants of the anthropology exhibits, but that would take a lot
of thought. I let it go and went to sleep.

* * * *

The next day, well rested, I got up for breakfast
in the dining room, and the three of us worked on a schedule for our new plan.
We decided informing the staff was a good first move, so Augusta asked Mrs.
Horner to fetch Sarah to the morning room and Bert sent Betsy to bring all of
the others into the dining room.

Mrs. Horner and Sarah both seemed pleased with
the new plan, but it was clear that they were both a little uncomfortable.
There was a lot of hemming and hawing, and finally I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I took a deep breath and put that moose on the
table. “Look, we can tell that something is wrong, but I, for one, have
absolutely no idea what it is. We can’t fix it if we don’t know what it is.
Just spit it out.”

At the looks of horror that brought on, I
decided a little reassurance was in order. “Augusta and I would really value
your participation in the new business, but if it doesn’t sound good to you,
that’s okay, too. Just tell us.”

“Oh, no!”
Sarah burst out. She sat back,
abashed, looked at Mrs. Horner for courage, and then tried again. “We are
interested. Leastwise, I am, and I think Mrs. Horner, too. It’s only…” She
trailed off.

Mrs. Horner looked at her worriedly, and back
at us, but was uncharacteristically silent.

“We’ll have to talk to each other if we’re
going to make it work,” I said. “Please, just tell us, whatever it is.” They
both flickered looks at Augusta, and the penny dropped. I hastened to reassure
them.

“Don’t be afraid to speak out. You will
absolutely not lose your jobs—um, your positions—for anything you say today.”

They looked at Augusta for confirmation. Fair
enough. I wasn’t the one who paid them. She nodded.

Mrs. Horner took a very deep breath, straining
the seams of her bodice, and then burst out, “How can I work on the ointments
with you, and still run this big house, with all t’others gone away?”

Sarah nodded agreement, biting her lip.

“You’re right,” I said. “We’re fools not to
have thought of that. And it’s good you told us. Augusta…” I suddenly realized
I’d spoken out of turn. It wasn’t my house, it wasn’t my staff, and I was
starting to make promises with Augusta’s money.

“Do go on, Addie. Your modern business methods
are just what we need.”

I gave her a look, and she coughed. “I mean,
you learned so much at school in Switzerland, and I’m sure your guidance will
be correct.”

Whatever.
We would have to do a lot more
private planning, if this was going to work at all.

“Okay, then.” I turned back to the servants and
caught them exchanging a glance. “I know,” I said. “I talk funny. You’re
allowed to laugh and you’re allowed to ask what I mean.

“Now, then.
The first thing we need to do
is to agree on communication. Then we can communicate about how we’re going to
do everything else.

“We’ve invited you to join us in our business,
and whatever you ultimately decide, that puts you on a different level than
mere servants. I propose that we agree to speak freely among the four of us and
that we agree on a mode of address. I call her,” I nodded at Augusta, “Augusta,
you call her ma’am—she calls me Addie, you call me miss—we both call you Mrs.
Horner and Sarah. I think we should agree on one address for all of us—either
all Mrs. or miss, or all first names.”

Augusta was the first to answer this shocking suggestion. “Will
businesswomen actually call—” I glared and she amended once again. “In your
experience, is it common for all in a business to be addressed the same? I
believe dear Bert’s employees call him Mr. Roland, while he addresses them by
their first names.”

“That’s a good point. I guess I am speaking
from my own distant experience. Where I have worked before, people at nearly
all levels used each other’s first names. I just find it easier. But we can
communicate openly on this, too. What would everyone prefer?”

There was a good deal of looking at each other,
and very little talking. At last, I said, “Okay, we’ll leave that for later.
Let me just ask that, if you want a change, you bring it up.”

“That seems a good idea,” Mrs. Horner said
bravely. I smiled at her. Emboldened, she asked, “May I ask then, miss, what
your job will be, and what we are to be paid for our work?”

“Good questions. And, fortunately, ones that
Augusta and I have already discussed. She and I will be partners, but, as it’s
hard to run a business with two people in charge, I will act as the company
president. She will be the treasurer, and we’ll take most decisions together.

“As to your incomes, we thought we would pay
you what you earn now, until the company begins to turn a profit. At that
point, we could discuss whether raises in salary would be right, or whether you
would like to be paid a percent of profit. How does that sound?”

They nodded, a little uncertainly. Then Sarah
spoke up. “It’s hard to say, miss, not having settled the matter of how the
house will be managed. Would we be doing our household jobs and the ointments,
and all the rest? Because if so, begging your pardon, it
do
seem a bit…” She lost her nerve.

“You’re absolutely right,” I said. “We cannot
ask you to take on more work without paying you
more,
and I’m not sure at all that you could do more, no matter what we paid. I know
you both work very
hard,
and very long hours, as it
is. I guess the first question is
,
what would you
prefer? And this is something you should each answer for yourself—you don’t
have to choose together. Do you want to continue in your old job, or would you
prefer to join the business and have
us
find new staff
for the house?”

Glancing at Augusta for confirmation, I added
hastily, “I think it goes without saying that we will add more household staff.
No matter what you decide, it won’t be just the two of you trying to manage the
whole place.”

Augusta nodded, and took over. “If you stay on
in any capacity, you would still have your rooms and meals provided.
Mrs. Horner, if you prefer not to join the business, you could
become my housekeeper and engage the new staff.
If you do continue in
the business, I would ask your assistance in selecting a housekeeper.

“Sarah, you can also choose. Your special
expertise in working with hair would be very valuable to the business, but if
you prefer to remain a domestic, you may have your choice of positions in the
household.”

They were quiet. At last Mrs. Horner shook
herself and spoke, looking from one to the other of us, as if unsure who to
address. “If it not be too ungrateful, I’d think on it a piece. Mayhap I could
go back to the kitchen and start the chores, any road.”

I nodded and Augusta told her that was fine.

After she had closed the door behind her, Sarah
found a bit more nerve. “I had me a bit of an idea I’ve been thinking on,” she
said. “But as it ain’t in line with your offer, I don’t know quite as you’ll
like it.”

It was an excellent idea. She’d been
daydreaming of opening a sort of beauty shop with the products we’d been
developing. I thought she had probably come up with the idea for the world’s
first day spa.

“T’would
be
most
elegant,” she told us, eagerly. “Not a shabby shop, no.
A
fancy place where ladies as like to shop at The Grand Union or Barr’s might
come for a nice refreshing tea and to get advice on how best to take care of
their looks.
They could just get advice, or I could do them up, or one
of my assistants could show them how to use the lotions.”

“Wow,” I said.

Sarah looked as if she had lost the ability to
be surprised, but Augusta gave me back the same kind of look I’d been giving
her all morning.

“That is an excellent idea,” she said,
consideringly, “and I take it Addie agrees. Have you gone as far as finding a
location, or estimating how much you would need to invest?”

“No, mum.
It was only ever a daydream,
don’t you see.”

“I do see. And if I—we—backed you in this shop,
would you agree to sell our products, and no one else’s?”

Sarah nodded, eagerly.

“And that is what you would like best, better
than staying on as my lady’s maid, and better than continuing with the
experiments.”

“Yes,” Sarah replied decisively, and then
immediately backtracked. “I wish I could keep on with the experiments, too.”