Grace Read online

  He sighed. What was it about this generation that put crazy thoughts in their heads. He inwardly shook himself. None of his business.

  She placed her mug of tea on the coaster in front of her and swallowed. “Let me make sure I understand. When you get an order for a gown, you will recommend the customer crosses the road and gets an appropriate bonnet from me.”

  She frowned.

  “Or... you will convince the customer she needs a matching bonnet, and we will work together to ensure that happens.”

  She stared at him.

  Was it such a crazy idea? He didn’t think so.

  She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. Joe was horrified – women who had been brought up properly did not do such a thing!

  “What’s in it for you?” Her words demanded an answer.

  There wasn’t a lot, he must admit. “You could recommend your customers to me if they require gowns?”

  She leaned back, and he felt a little more comfortable. He hadn’t expected her to question him at all.

  She looked thoughtful, then shook her head. She took a sip of tea, then smiled. “We could have some brochures printed,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Yours advertising your bonnets,” he said. “And mine advertising...”

  She leaned in again. “No, that won’t work. We need something a bit more... innovative.” She tapped her fingers on the table, then lifted her hand for Mrs Baker to come over.

  “Mrs Baker,” she said when the woman arrived. “If you wanted a gown and a matching bonnet, would you rather go to one store or two?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Why, one of course. I’d rather not waste my time going to two different stores.”

  “Thank you,” Grace said with a grin.

  He finally saw where her thoughts were going. The question was, how did they manage that when they had two different stores?

  “I noticed, when we walked past your store on our way here,” she said. “You had some pre-made gowns. Do you have any of the fabric left?”

  He nodded.

  “Enough for a bonnet?”

  He nodded again. “I guess so.”

  “Then shall we come to an agreement on a price, and you can sell your pre-made co-ordinated outfit?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Brilliant idea!” he almost shouted. Then he paused, deflated. “What if I can’t sell either?”

  “You won’t have to pay me until the outfit is sold. Fair enough?”

  He rubbed his hands together. “That is more than fair.”

  They spent the rest of their time together working on their advertising brochure. They would ask Cecil Delbert from the Mercantile to put a brochure in his store window except that would be in complete competition to his own products.

  Perhaps they could leave a pile at the post office? And maybe Mrs Baker would be willing to help as well.

  Joe had a good feeling about this arrangement. It’s a pity Miss Sunderland was a woman, but he could work with that.

  * * *

  Grace sat at her precious sewing machine.

  She had bought it in Helena when a notorious sweat-shop had finally been closed down by the local government. They’d broken so many laws, and lives had been put at risk.

  It had cost her a small fortune, but it had been worth it.

  Grace couldn’t begin to count the number of bonnets she’d made on this little beauty.

  She looked down at the treadle. The once-shiny black paint was beginning to peel, but it was a miracle it had survived the fire.

  If she hadn’t rushed in and dragged it out, she wouldn’t have it now.

  She swallowed. If she hadn’t wasted precious time retrieving her sewing machine, her beautiful feline companion would be at her feet right now.

  Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she had to push through. She promised Mr Harkley she would have four bonnets ready for him to add to his display by tomorrow evening. That was perhaps a foolish promise to make.

  It would be a push, but provided she stuck to her schedule, it was very doable.

  He’d told her not to rush, but this was far too good an opportunity to let it pass her by. Grace glanced at the pile of excess fabric Mr Harkley had provided. There was enough material and then some for each bonnet to make it a matching outfit.

  She was cutting the strings of cotton from the first bonnet when the bell over the door tingled.

  “Good morning,” she called as she left her machine. “I am Grace Sunderland. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning,” the older woman said, wholly animated. “I am very excited at such a wonderful addition to our town.” She stepped forward and pulled Grace into her warm embrace, then suddenly pushed back. “Oh! I do apologize – I haven’t introduced myself. Esther Davis.”

  She stood there and stared as though she was waiting for Grace to say something.

  “Well my dear,” she said when no words were forthcoming from Grace. “I am in need of a new bonnet. My dear friend Mrs Baker said you make beautiful bonnets.”

  Grace had to force herself not to grin at the words. The only bonnet Mrs Baker had seen of hers was the one Grace had worn to church. Still, it was never good to refuse business.

  “I must thank Mrs Baker for her kind words,” Grace said, and meant it. “I have a few bonnets on display, or custom made is also an option.”

  Mrs Davis stared at her. “Custom made. Mr Davis would have kittens if I arrived home with something ready made.” Her lips curled. “He is such a snob. It comes from having far too much money.”

  Grace couldn’t help it – she raised her eyebrows, and Mrs Davis laughed.

  She hooked her arm through Grace’s and began to stroll through the tiny store studying each of the fabrics on display. She stopped at a bolt of the highest quality cotton. It was beige in color and had tiny pink flowers on it.

  Grace had balked at the price, but had been assured it was popular. Especially with the wealthy ladies.

  “This one,” she said, touching the fabric to her cheek. “I’d like a gown with a matching bonnet,” she demanded in the nicest possible way.

  “I don’t make gowns, but between us, Mr Harkley and myself can fulfill your order.”

  Mrs Davis gave her the biggest smile. “That’s wonderful, Grace. Let’s look for additional fabric. As you can see, my wardrobe desperately needs refreshing.”

  Grace could see no such thing, but had no intentions of informing her first, and possibly her best customer that she was completely wrong.

  * * *

  Miss Sunderland had agreed to meet with Joe in a few days, but here she was already. She surely couldn’t be finished the four bonnets already?

  She stood in the middle of his store and glanced about, perusing his wares. “Good morning, Miss Sunderland,” he said brightly. “What can I do for you?”

  “It seems our arrangement has already gleaned some attention.”

  Before she could answer, Joe intervened. “How so?” His curiosity got the better of him.

  “Mrs Davis has ordered a new wardrobe of clothes with matching bonnets.” She grinned, and his heart thudded. “She has chosen her fabrics from my store. She said you have her measurements and know what she likes.”

  Joe rubbed his hands together. “You know what this means?”

  She stared curiously at him. “No, I have no idea.”

  Of course, she was new in town. “Mr Davis is the richest man for miles around. Mrs Davis likes clothes. She is also generous with her recommendations.” He grinned broadly, he couldn’t help himself.

  He strode toward the front door of his store and turned a sign around. It said back in ten minutes. Joe hoped he would be, but if not, it wouldn’t be much longer.

  Grace followed him out and he locked the door, then hooked her arm through his. They then crossed the road together.

  “Once word gets around, we’ll both be very busy.”

  She stared at him. “But if she’s rich and others ar
en’t....”

  “They won’t care,” he said. “Emulating Mrs Davis is a favorite pastime for some of the local women.”

  “I see,” Grace said, the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

  “You’re not happy?” She seemed happy with their arrangement, but now? He wasn’t so sure.

  “It, it’s a lot of pressure,” she said quietly. “I’ve only ever made bonnets for regular people before, not rich women.”

  Her words made him laugh, but that in turn produced a frown from her. “Pretend Mrs Davis is a regular person, then.” There was a hint of mockery in his words, and he wondered if Grace realized.

  She stared at him then pouted. “I don’t appreciate you mocking me, Mr Harkley,” she said, then pulled away from him and unlocked the door to her store. She stormed off toward her fabric displays and proceeded to show him the choices Mrs Davis had made.

  He could have predicted most of them, as he’d been outfitting Mrs Davis for a long time, and his father before him.

  “They are rather beautiful fabrics,” Joe said, rubbing the fabrics between his fingers. “Good quality too. We need to sit down together and work out a fair price for both of us.”

  Grace didn’t respond and he worried she’d quoted a price already. “Did you give Mrs Davis a price, Miss Sunderland?” he asked quietly.

  She glared at him. “Of course not! Besides, she said price is no object – just make up her order and bill her husband.”

  “Excellent.” Mrs Davis was Joe’s favorite customer. She left everything to him, and she was willing to pay a little more to get the best available. “Take what you need for the bonnets, then give me the rest. Once I have what I need, I’ll return the rest.”

  She reached for her scissors. “Have you used any of these fabrics here in Grand Falls?” He studied her face, and she looked uncomfortable.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Then don’t. It is now redundant. Mr Davis does not enjoy seeing other woman parade around in the same fabric as his wife’s.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “But...”

  “No buts. You can sell it out of town, far away from Grand Falls. To another seamstress perhaps but not locally. You will be paid handsomely for it, so do not upset yourself.”

  Her relief was palpable, and Joe felt suddenly elated for her. He had the distinct impression Grace Sunderland had not been appreciated wherever she was located previously.

  He hoped that was about to change.

  “I will work out all the costings, if you will allow me.” She looked rather displeased. “I promise you will be handsomely rewarded.”

  He glanced about at the bonnets she had on display, and lifted the price tags. “You will get three times this amount for your custom bonnets from Mrs Davis.”

  Grace gasped. “Isn’t that dishonest?” she asked. “Just because she’s rich...”

  He stopped her mid-sentence. “It’s because she’s rich that she is able to demand such unreasonable conditions. Do not concern yourself, Grace. This is a business arrangement I have with Mr Davis.”

  Once Grace had taken the amount of fabric she needed, she put seven bolts of fabric in her sewing room, out of sight.

  Joe grabbed two and headed for the door. “I’ll return shortly for the rest. I have more storage space than you do.” She opened the door for him, and he stepped outside, but suddenly turned back. “Make this order a priority, Grace,” he said gently. “As I will do. We don’t want to get on Mr Davis’s bad side.”

  He strolled to the other side of the road, and unlocked his store. He could feel her gaze on his back. Their business arrangement was off to an amazing start, but he was going to have to educate Grace on some of the more... delicate issues of this business.

  Chapter Three

  Grace was ecstatic and reluctant all at the same time.

  She couldn’t believe she had landed such a big order on the first day of opening her new store. And Mr Harkley... he was a Godsend.

  What would she do without his guidance?

  It was rather strange that Mrs Davis had come to her instead of Mr Harkley who knew her so well. Grace shook herself. She was overthinking things. Again.

  She’d always been like that, according to her father. When she announced she would be a seamstress, he told her she was overthinking her future. What woman needs a career? he’d bellowed. Women are meant to marry and bear children!

  It was useless arguing with him, so she simply stared, then left the room. She made her decision in those few moments.

  She decided right then and there to leave home and make her own way in the world. It was hard to admit now, but perhaps her father had been right. She’d made a mess of things, and her entire livelihood had burned down. The worst of it was the death of her dear companion.

  Grace wiped a stray tear from her cheek. Would she never get over losing her precious feline? She sat at her sewing machine, and finished the bonnet she’d begun earlier. It only needed the matching ribbon to be added and would be done – might as well finish it and get it out of the way.

  Then she could begin work on the first of Mrs Davis’s bonnets. She’d not long started when the bell over the door tinkled.

  She looked up to see Mr Harkley filling the doorway.

  Of course – he was back for more bolts of fabric.

  As he brushed past her, she felt the slight breeze he caused, and a thrill went down her spine. Grace shook herself. What a terribly strange reaction.

  “I’ll return shortly,” he said, and again was gone.

  Grace looked down at her newest project. This bonnet would be very special. She would add ruffles to the brim, and would trim it with the most delicate of lace. The cap would be gathered with lace at the base, and be especially comfortable while looking as elegant as it could possibly be.

  She decided against the traditional ribbon to tie it, and instead would use matching lace.

  “That already looks amazing,” Mr Harkley said, startling her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even heard him enter the store again. “Mrs Davis is going to love that.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she said. “If she’s paying me so much money, it has to be worth it.”

  His face went grim. Had she spoken out of turn? What she said was true – just because she was rich didn’t mean Mrs Davis had to pay more.

  He collected the last of the fabric, but instead of leaving he hovered beside her sewing machine. “It’s her choice, you know. At least it’s her husband’s. Mrs Davis is not such a snob as he is.”

  She could feel his eyes on her, and glanced up at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Mr Harkley shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s a long-time arrangement. We give her preference over other customers, and we get paid handsomely for it. I have all her measurements and she doesn’t have to bother with fittings and such.”

  His fingers tapped the casing of the sewing cabinet.

  “Was there something else, Mr Harkley?”

  He glanced down at her and frowned. “No, I guess not. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll be on my way.”

  As the door closed behind him, Grace felt something come over her. It took a few minutes to realize it was aloneness.

  She’d never encountered it before, not really. But the moment Mr Harkley left her store, she’d felt it – an emptiness that disappeared whenever he was near.

  * * *

  As she pulled the curtains closed on the store windows, she noticed a light still burned in Mr Harkley’s store.

  Surely he wasn’t still working at this hour of the night? There was little enough light to do paperwork at night, let alone to make clothes, assuming that’s what he was doing.

  She stared for long moments, deciding whether to visit and ensure he was okay, but decided against it. Instead she settled on a short stroll. There was still some light left, and the moon sat high in the sky.

  Besides, she wouldn’t go far. She might even visit Mrs Baker’s din
er and have supper. It had been a long day and the last thing Grace felt like doing tonight was prepare food.

  Yes, that’s what she would do. Assuming she could get a table, that is.

  She locked up the store and went through to the residence to freshen up. She looked herself up and down in the full-length mirror.

  Not perfect, but not too bad either. She didn’t feel like changing, and ran her hands down her slightly ruffled skirts.

  She brushed out her hair and pulled it into a ponytail, then pulled on her bonnet and proceeded out onto the street.

  Her residence opened out onto a small alleyway, and although it was perfectly fine by day, it felt a little scary at night.

  There was rarely anyone else along here after dark. At least she presumed that was the case – she hadn’t ventured out at night before. She shivered as she hurried along the cobbled path.

  Relief flooded her as she turned onto the main street which was far more illuminated. As she crossed the street toward the diner, she spotted Mr Harkley locking up his store.

  “Good evening, Mr Harkley,” she said brightly. Seeing him was enough to put a spring in her step.

  “Oh!” She startled him, but he didn’t appear perturbed. “Good evening, Miss Sunderland.”

  “I’m on my way to the diner for supper. If there’s a table, that is.” She glanced in the direction of the diner but couldn’t gauge the availability. “Would you care to join me?”

  He flashed her a smile. “I would be delighted, Miss Sunderland. I was about to do the same – it’s been a very long day.” As if to prove the point, he stretched his back and arms then strolled toward her and extended his arm. “Shall we?”

  Grace shuddered as they made contact. What was it about this man that made her react every time they were near?

  She shook the thought aside. They hadn’t known each other long enough for such feelings to occur. She turned to him and smiled gracefully. “Thank you, Mr Harkley.”

  He nodded and they headed to the diner, which was near empty as Mr Harkley said it would. Monday night was a quiet night for the diner, he said. Friday and Saturday nights were Mrs Baker’s busy nights, and bookings were required for those.