Suitor by Design

Hendrick scowled. “Isn’t our place good enough?”

Peter swallowed hard and stared at his plate of food. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he couldn’t face his foster brother’s reproach.

To his surprise, Mariah rescued him. “It was quite thoughtful of Mr. Galbini to take other lodging. Peter must have told him we were full.”

Peter felt even worse. Why had he been so ashamed to tell Vince he was living at the orphanage? What would it matter to a guy who used to help out at one?

Mariah continued, “I may have to change my opinion of Mr. Galbini. It shows considerable integrity to keep a fleeting promise to a boy.”

Peter squirmed. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason he stopped by. He wanted to know if I could do some work for him.”

That caught Hendrick’s attention. “What kind of work?” Peter’s foster brother was still in charge of the garage, though he’d handed over day-to-day management to Peter after his airplane-motor factory went into production.

Peter mashed the peas to pulp. “Nothing much. Just wants a luggage compartment for his car.”

“Oh.” Hendrick resumed eating. “You could make a rack like the one we built for Mariah’s Overland.”

Peter didn’t point out that Vince wanted something entirely different.

“What make of car?” Hendrick asked.

“Pierce-Arrow.”

Both Hendrick’s and Mariah’s eyebrows shot up.

Mariah picked up her fork. “Mr. Galbini must be doing very well in his new job to afford a Pierce-Arrow.”

“Real well,” Peter confirmed, “but the car isn’t his. It belongs to his boss.”

“Ah. That explains things.” Still, Mariah looked concerned. “Just make sure everything is completely legitimate. I’m afraid that Mr. Galbini kept company with some pretty rough sorts.”

“He did?” That came as a shock to Peter. Vince was nothing like Uncle Max. Vince kept his promises. He could turn a warped old board into a toy or a beautiful piece of furniture. Peter owed Vince a huge debt. “He was always good to me.”

“I’m sure he was.” She smiled weakly.

“And he’s got money to pay. He gave me a deposit.”

Hendrick looked up from his supper. “That’s good thinking on your part.”

Peter didn’t want to explain that he hadn’t asked for a deposit, but he appreciated Hendrick’s confidence in him. “And there’s plenty more to pay for the whole job. He showed me a money clip with a huge wad of bills. He’s making his mark in the world.”

Mariah cleared her throat. “A man’s true worth isn’t based on how much he earns.”

“Tell that to Minnie Fox.”

“Oh?” Mariah lifted an eyebrow. “Minnie, of all people, should understand that money does not make the man.”

Peter wasn’t so sure. He’d heard her comments in the drugstore and watched her chase after worthless guys just because they were swells.

“Speaking of Minnie,” Mariah said softly, “why don’t you invite her to the church supper tomorrow night?”

Peter smashed the last pea. “Maybe I will.” If he got up the nerve. But if Minnie turned him down—which she probably would—he’d feel worse than he already did. “Maybe I won’t,” he added, just in case.

“If Mr. Galbini decides to stay longer, please invite him to stay here with us.”

“That’s not necessary, ma’am.” Peter couldn’t quite imagine Vince in a house full of orphans. But it was big of Mariah to offer the invitation. “Thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome,” she said with a soft smile.

Still, the raw undercurrent of concern hung in the air. For some reason, she didn’t trust Vince, but Peter did. He had to. Vince offered hope. If Peter did this job right, maybe Vince’s boss would hire him to do more work. More work meant more income. He could help out Hendrick and Mariah. If there was enough work, maybe he could teach a couple of the older orphans to help out. And if the work included upholstery... The thought of working with Minnie made any risk worthwhile.

Today, she’d come to see him. In all the years he’d known Minnie, she’d never set foot in the garage. Nor had she come to Constance House. She barely acknowledged him at church. In school, she’d made faces at him, probably because he’d played tricks on her. She constantly pointed out that she was four months older than him—or at least she thought she was. He’d never told anyone that he’d lied about his age. But today she’d come to the garage to see him. And she’d complimented his woodworking. Maybe he stood a chance. Maybe she’d even agree to go to the church supper with him.

Winning over Minnie Fox would take effort. Asking her to help with the upholstery might be a good start. He’d find her first thing in the morning, before the dress shop opened. He fingered the hundred-dollar bill in his pocket. Maybe that would catch her attention.

* * *

“Cut it just like this.” Minnie pointed to the picture on the cover of Photoplay and settled onto the chair in front of the cracked wall mirror. The silver beneath the glass had been scratched and tarnished years ago, so her reflection looked wavy.

Jen gathered a handful of Minnie’s long hair and snapped open the shears. “Are you sure?”

The sound of the shears made Minnie hesitate. Her hair had always been long. This was a big step. She gripped the magazine and squeezed. After Ruth and Sam’s devastating news that the clothing company hadn’t bought her designs, this family could use a change. If short hair brought fame to moving-picture actresses, it could change her life, too. Maybe one day, she would step on the stage to grand applause. Wouldn’t that make everyone take note?

She took a deep breath. “I’m ready, but make it quick.”

Instead of snipping, Jen hesitated. “Mother will have a conniption. You know how she says that you have her hair.”

“Which she always wears up so no one can see it.”

“And that she thinks bobbed hair is boyish and a symbol of the ‘degradation of our country’s youth.’” Jen perfectly mimicked their mother’s tone of voice.

In spite of her nerves, Minnie laughed. “I’d hate to become a symbol.”

“Of the entire country,” Jen snorted. “As if anyone in Pearlman has anything to do with the rest of the world. We’re so far removed from places like New York and Hollywood that it takes years for trends to reach us.”

That brought a troubling thought. “Would a newcomer think I look silly?”

“A newcomer? Such as that man driving the Pierce-Arrow?”

“You know what kind of car it is?” Minnie marveled at her sister’s knowledge of all things mechanical.

“Of course, but that’s not the point. Was he handsome?”

Minnie hedged, “I didn’t get a good look at him, but he sure had a nice suit. Did you see those gold cuff links?”

“Who could miss them?”

“Are you thinking what I am? Could he be another Mr. Cornelius?” A year ago, nurses at the Battle Creek Sanitarium had told them the story of a wealthy patient, Mr. Cornelius, who fell in love with a nurse and whisked her away to a life of ease. Ever since, the sisters had clung to the hope that just such a philanthropist would give their father the lifesaving treatment he needed.