Maggie's Journey (McKenna's Daughters) (14 page)

Maggie tucked each morsel of information into her brain. After she got home tonight, she planned to write down all they had seen, discussed, and done. If she were ever going to start a business like this, she wanted to know as much as she could about what it would take.

Agatha led the way through another door that opened into a large room toward the front of the house. Two women sat in rocking chairs doing handwork. Other padded rocking chairs were scattered around the area.

“The machines aren’t able to take care of the finer details like buttons, buttonholes, hems, and adding anything decorative, so I have women who are excellent with hand sewing. These two are my regulars.” Agatha picked up a folded blouse with rows of ruffles edged in lace down the front. “You did a good job on this, Etta.”

The woman she had complimented smiled, but continued to make tiny stitches on the hem of a skirt. Maggie leaned close so she could see just how tiny her stitches were. She lifted the edge where Etta had already finished the hem. From the outside of the garment, the stitches were invisible.

“Such beautiful work.” Maggie knew Mrs. Murdock, although a very good seamstress, couldn’t produce this quality. For a moment she wished her mother could see this place. Then Maggie’s heart lurched. She’d never be able to share her joy in designing with the woman who reared her. Therein lay many of her problems.

Agatha led the way out on the landing at the top of the staircase. Two doors were on the other side of the landing. She went to the one closest to the workroom and opened the door to a fairly large room without a single window. “This is the storeroom.”

Maggie gasped. She’d never seen so much fabric or lace or thread, even in a store. “Where do you get such a variety?”

“Since I use so much material, I often order from the manufacturers. Seldom will a store carry the complete selection of what I use.” Her grandmother stepped into the small space left in the room. If more than two people had been there, they wouldn’t have fit inside. “I’ve even gone to New Orleans to meet some of the ships that come into port. I’ve bought fabric at the dock before. And I’ve been known to draw a design and send it to a manufacturer to have the fabric made just for me. It costs more, but I have clients who are willing to pay the price for something unique.”

She had never considered something like that. So many thoughts danced through Maggie’s brain. So many options available to her, too. Would she be fearless enough to buck Mother’s restrictions? Could she actually open a business like this? If only she knew.

“I want to show you one more thing.” Agatha led her out and closed and locked the door. Then they went to the other door, which was locked as well. “This is my designing room.” She opened it wide, allowing Maggie entrance.

With the windows on the front of the house like the ones in the handwork room and the parlor downstairs, light filled the room and spilled out into the hallway. Everything in the room was utilitarian. A comfortable chair, a table with sketch pads and charcoal sticks and pencils, and two kinds of furniture Maggie had never seen.

“What are these?” She laid her hand on a wooden cabinet with three rows of fairly small flat drawers. Two of these cabinets sat side by side against the back wall.

“Those are letter and drawer filing cabinets. I use them to store my designs. Without them, everything in this room would just be a jumble.” Agatha opened one of the top drawers and let Maggie look inside.

She could see how helpful something like this would be, but she’d never seen one in Seattle. Of course, she didn’t know what was in the offices at the many businesses.

Another type of wooden object flanked these filing cabinets, each set in a back corner of the room. “So what are these?”

Agatha turned the wheel on the outside of the one closest to them. She stopped it and turned it the other way, then reversed it once again. The thick door popped open and a large shallow metal box hung on the back of the door. Inside, several vertical dividers filled one side of the box. A shelf was a few inches down from the top and ran all the way across. Two shelves divided the other side section. Each of the areas created were filled with bundles of papers that fit the size of the space.

“It’s a safe, where I keep the most important of my business files.” Agatha shut the door and gave the wheel a twirl. “I couldn’t get along without these either.”

Maggie gestured to the room. “Thank you for showing all of this to me.”

“Georgia tells me you like to design dresses, too.” Agatha studied Maggie’s face, making her feel almost uncomfortable.

Maggie didn’t want her grandmother to realize the turmoil going on inside her, so she looked back at the room. “Yes, I design clothes. And I really want to do the same thing you do here . . . but maybe in Seattle.”

“That’s wonderful.” Agatha clasped Maggie’s arm. “But you wouldn’t have to do it there. Wouldn’t you like to stay with me awhile and work with me? I could help you learn everything you need to know about the business.”

That idea hadn’t even occurred to Maggie. What would her parents say if she suggested such a thing?
But it is something to consider
.

“You don’t have to decide right now.” Agatha put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “If you decide you’d like to do that, I could contact your parents and extend the invitation.”

All kinds of possibilities opened in Maggie’s mind. But she knew she needed more time before she would dare to raise the issue with her parents.

“I will think about it,” she promised. “It would be a wonderful opportunity. Thank you.”

This idea went along with her previous thought about wanting to be the person who could buy her grandmother’s business at a later time. Could she see herself staying here in Arkansas? Only time would tell.

Chapter 14

Florence picked up the fourteen-karat-gold, Elgin Monarch pocket watch with the train engraved on the cover. This would be the perfect gift for Joshua. Today was their twenty-sixth anniversary, and he hinted they would have a romantic dinner together tonight. These last two weeks had been wonderful, with him coming up with all kinds of interesting things for them to do. She almost felt like the young woman she had been when they married. If only she could forget that one night on the Oregon Trail when her heart was so dark and her thoughts so evil. But the memories wouldn’t stay in the forgotten recesses of her mind. A lone tear made its way down her cheek.

The clerk behind the counter stared at her. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

She mustn’t let him know what she was thinking about. “Yes.” She pulled her hanky from her sleeve and dabbed it against that side of her face. “Today is my anniversary, and I was remembering the day we wed.”

He nodded. “So will this be your gift for your husband?”

“Yes.”

She quickly paid the man, and he wrapped the box in white paper and handed it to her.

“I hope he appreciates it.”

“Oh, he will.” She slipped the package into her handbag and hurried out to the coach.

Erik Jorgensen jumped down from his perch and opened the door. “Would you like me to take you anywhere else, ma’am?”

“No, I’m ready to go home.” She wrapped her coat even tighter around her. The air today had a decided nip to it.

When they arrived at home, Erik opened the coach door and escorted her to the front door. “If you don’t need me anymore, Mrs. Caine, I have an errand to run for your husband.”

“That’s fine. I’m not going anywhere else.”

After she was in the house, she told Ingrid to bring hot water upstairs to the bathing room. A nice hot bath would warm her, and she’d be fresh for when Joshua came home. He hadn’t said anything about going out anywhere, so she didn’t know how to dress. Maybe Mrs. Jorgensen would know. Before she started upstairs, she went into the kitchen to ask her, which was unusual for her since they usually met in Florence’s sitting room to discuss the week’s meals and other things. Mrs. Jorgensen was busy spreading white, fluffy icing on a cake.

“I don’t remember us talking about you making a cake today.” It did look good though.

“No, ma’am, but Mr. Caine asked me to make one.” Her movements were no longer smooth. They jerked as if she were nervous.

“So we are dining at home tonight?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Interesting
. Well, she mustn’t keep bothering their cook. Florence slowly ascended the curved staircase, trailing her fingers along the smooth, wooden banister, wondering what sort of surprise Joshua had cooked up.

After she had bathed with the rose-scented soap she kept for special occasions, she dried off and put on her wrapper. When she went into her bedchamber, Ingrid was just laying a gorgeous blue brocade dress across the bed.

“Where did that come from? I haven’t seen it before.” Florence ran her fingers across the soft fabric and realized it was made of silk.

“I believe Mr. Caine had Mrs. Murdock make this for you. Erik just brought it to the house.” Ingrid headed out the door.

Florence sat on her dressing stool and looked at the lines of the new garment. They looked vaguely familiar. Where had she seen something like this? Then it hit her. The last drawing she saw Margaret making. But Florence distinctly remembered tearing up that drawing. A pain pierced her heart. What had she done? Had Margaret been drawing the dress for her?
How could I have treated her so shabbily?
So much of her life was filled with regrets.

By the time Joshua came home, Florence was dressed in the wonderful gift, and Ingrid had created a flowing hairstyle with a lacy snood. Joshua had always loved Florence’s hair down instead of up, and it had been a very long time since she’d worn it that way. Since he had planned things to please her, she’d decided to make him happy too. With more than just a fancy pocket watch.

He led her downstairs to the parlor. A linen-draped table was set in front of the fireplace, where flames leaped and played, chasing the shadows away and warming the room. Lighted candles on several tables around the room joined the light from the candelabrum surrounded by flowers in the center of the table. Instead of having places set across from each other, they were on adjoining sides. Silver, crystal, and china sparkled in the ambient lighting. Just the way she liked it.

Joshua pulled out her chair and gently moved her the correct distance from the table. He even unfurled her napkin and placed it in her lap, his fingers lingering longer than necessary. She loved that feeling, and delicious tingles danced up her spine. Then he took his seat and clasped her hand in his. He bowed his head and praised God for the years they had been blessed to be together.

Florence had never imagined Joshua felt that way about their marriage after all these years. An ache started in her chest. Would he feel that way if he really knew what she was like deep inside? She blinked back tears before they could escape. Tonight was too perfect for her to mess it up.

Mrs. Jorgensen entered with the first course. She carried in a tureen and set it on the table. Then she ladled a creamy pumpkin soup into each of their bowls. The blended spices lent perfume to the air. In addition, the cook arranged hot
vols-au-vent
around the edge of the plate.

“I believe you like these.” Joshua lifted one of the meat-filled pastries and fed it to Florence.

She couldn’t say a word as she enjoyed the excellent seasoning. When she finished chewing it, she picked up one of his and fed it to him. “It’s quite tasty, isn’t it?”

His smile of agreement was quickly followed by him grasping her hand and licking the sauce that had seeped onto her fingers. The sensations of his tongue on her fingers while his eyes stared into hers with adoration would have buckled her knees if she had been standing. As it was, flutters in her midsection sent heat roaring through her veins.

Memories of the two newlyweds feeding each other the same way flooded her thoughts. When he pulled her closer and tasted her lips, she couldn’t hold anything back when returning his caress. So easily, they soared into passion the way they had that first night when he’d introduced her to the delights of the relationship between a husband and wife.

Breathless, she finally leaned back in her chair. “Our soup is getting cold.” She wondered if he could hear her, the words were so soft.

“But we aren’t.” The chuckle that followed his pronouncement was deep and intimate.

While they continued the meal of filet of beef, dilled carrots, and hot bread, Florence kept remembering why she’d married this man so many years ago. And she felt sure he remembered why he had chosen her. The meal took an inordinate amount of time. Time well spent in giving and receiving many kinds of caresses among the nibbles of food.

After they finished their slices of the wonderful spicy apple cake, Joshua pulled her up from her chair. Erik, Ingrid, and Mrs. Jorgensen quickly made the table and everything on it disappear, and the couple stood alone in front of the fireplace. As Joshua enfolded her in his arms, she leaned against his strong chest. With her ear pressed against him, she heard their hearts beating in identical rhythms. That’s how their life should have been all these years. It would have except for that fateful night eighteen years ago.

A lifetime ago when she was too young and too selfish to think about anyone but herself. How she hated that woman who turned her own life topsy-turvy and never righted it. The foundation on which it was sitting had a large crack that could open at any moment and reveal all her foibles. She fought to keep from sobbing.

Joshua’s arms tightened around her, and he leaned his head to kiss her hair. “I love you so much, Flory. You changed my whole life when you agreed to marry me.”

She turned her face up and received his ardent kiss, hungry for more before the chance for them slipped away. Someday soon, she would have to tell him the truth, but she hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to reveal the depth of her depravity to him.

When she was so breathless she could hardly think, Joshua put his hands on her shoulders. “Turn around, Flory. I have another surprise.”

She obeyed, missing his touch when his hands left her. After only a moment, he slipped something around her neck. The metal felt cold against her heated skin. Her fingers touched the jewel-encrusted necklace. “What is this?”

He dropped another kiss against the back of her neck. “My anniversary gift to you. It reminded me of your eyes.”

Florence went into the foyer and stood before the oval gilded mirror near the front door. She’d put it there when they moved into this house so she could check how she looked before she went out. Now she wanted to see her necklace. Staring at her own reflection, her eyes widened. The sapphire stones matched the color of the silk dress. She knew she had never looked this good before. Joshua was right. The stones and dress really played up her eyes.

She’d heard it said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Florence was thankful that wasn’t completely true, because the woman who looked back at her didn’t reveal the ugliness hidden deep inside.

•••

Florence awoke alone in their bed. Joshua had gone to work, leaving her asleep after their wonderful night filled with surprises, followed by the kind of intimacy they had missed for such a long time. The memory of the ecstasy sent a shiver of awareness up her spine. She picked up his pillow and hugged it tight, inhaling the familiar scent that meant Joshua, a mixture of St. Thomas Bay Rum shaving lotion and a musky male scent that was essentially his alone.

Her joy was too painful. Joshua was such a good man. He deserved a good woman, and Florence knew she was not good. Far too long, she’d been nothing but a bitter woman who was only concerned with herself and what she wanted. All that time Joshua had been building a business that provided her the things she thought she desired. But now she knew that material things weren’t what she needed.

The time since Margaret left had been filled with Joshua trying to fulfill her deepest desires. Joshua loved her in spite of herself. He didn’t hold her bitterness and quarrelsomeness against her . . . but she did. She was the reason God’s greatest gift to them, their precious daughter, had wanted to go away for a while. What if Margaret never returned? It would be all Florence’s fault if she decided to stay in Arkansas with her grandmother.

Why couldn’t she have been the kind of mother her mother had been to her? Even if she didn’t agree with something Florence did, her mother wouldn’t have ever tried to make her daughter into someone she really didn’t want to be.

That one night with her hateful thoughts had changed Florence forever. Everything that happened after that was colored by her choices. She insisted Joshua not tell Agatha or Georgia that Margaret was adopted. She nagged Joshua until he agreed to leave Oregon City where people knew about the adoption. Establishing a life in Seattle that was built partly on a lie had been her idea, but Joshua hadn’t been very insistent that they be completely truthful.

Florence wished he had been, but she wouldn’t put the blame on him. It rested squarely on her shoulders, and it had become a burden too great for her to bear. Tears clogged her throat, but she’d held them back for so many years, they didn’t fall now.

Why had she been so hard on Margaret when she had that silly green dress altered to fit her? Of course, she looked better in it than Florence ever had. Even though she had been jealous, that wasn’t the real reason.

A sudden thought grabbed her heart and squeezed like a vise. What if Margaret looked at other things in the attic? She probably didn’t, but if she did, could she have found the white chest Florence had buried under so many other castoffs?

Florence jumped out of bed and dressed faster than she had in a long time. As she left the room, she caught herself just before she crashed into Ingrid bringing a tray with a pot of tea to her.

“Are you ready for some . . . ”

“Not right now.” She quickly interrupted the girl. “Just take it down to the kitchen. I’ll come there to get it. I have something else to do first.”

Florence watched confusion cloud Ingrid’s eyes. She shouldn’t have been so brusque with the girl.