Suitor by Design. Christine Johnson

      “Ow!” He rubbed his biceps. “What’s that for?”

      “For saying I would do something I don’t know how to do.”

      He stared at her blankly.

      She glared back. “Sewing.”

      “You don’t know how to sew?”

      “I don’t know how to upholster furniture.”

      “Furniture? Who said anything about furniture?”

      “You did.” Minnie hugged her arms around her midsection to ward against the bitter cold. “Don’t tell me you forgot already that you volunteered me to do some upholstery for your friend.”

      “No, uh—” his neck flushed red “—maybe I should have asked you first.”

      “Maybe?” She flung her hands into the air and headed back home. “I give up.”

      He ran to catch up. “Then you won’t do it?”

      She didn’t stop. “Didn’t you hear me? I can’t upholster furniture.”

      “But it’s not furniture. It’s a car seat.”

      She halted. “A car? How is that any better?”

      “You’d just have to fix what’s already there. How hard can it be?”

      “Much harder. Automobile seats are covered in mohair. It’s thick. I don’t know how to work with it. I don’t think our machines would handle it.”

      “Uh, actually, they’re leather.”

      “Even worse. Impossible.”

      “Oh.” He cast his gaze down. “I thought maybe you could use the extra money for your pa.”

      She bit her lip. Her father ought to return to the Battle Creek Sanitarium for treatment, but they couldn’t afford it. The family had banked on a ready-made clothing manufacturer buying Ruth’s designs. Yesterday’s failure set them back. “What car?”

      Peter looked up hopefully. “The Pierce-Arrow.”

      “But Vin—” She caught herself. She oughtn’t use his Christian name in public. “Mr. Galbini’s car looks new. What would need fixing?”

      “Actually, the Pierce-Arrow belongs to Vince’s boss.”

      “Oh.” Then Vince wasn’t as well-off as he appeared.

      “And I’d only need your help if I rip a seam or have to take the upholstery apart in order to make the luggage compartment he wants.”

      “Oh.” This was getting less and less impressive, but if she just had to restitch something, it shouldn’t be that difficult. She’d just have to use the existing holes and do it by hand. “That doesn’t sound like much of a job. What does it pay?”

      He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’d depend on what needs to be done. Ten dollars?”

      “Ten whole dollars for stitching up some leather?”

      “It would have to look good,” he added.

      That was the problem. “I’m only an apprentice seamstress. You should hire Ruth.” She tossed her head, feeling the swing of her short hair, and started back toward home.

      Again he hurried after her. “I could ask your sister, but she’s so busy with her designs and all that I figured you might have more time.”

      “Is that the only reason you asked me?” She tried hard to shove away the disappointment.

      “No, uh...uh, that’s not it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed above his coat collar. “I think you’d do the best job.”

      That was about the sweetest thing he’d ever said to her. “I wouldn’t, you know. Ruthie is gifted and experienced. I muddle through.”

      His hazel eyes blazed with surprising intensity. “Don’t cut yourself short, Minnie. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

      Her stomach did a crazy little flip-flop. “I suppose I could try.” Then she remembered Ruth’s tears last night. “But my sister would do a better job, and she’s not too busy.” She hesitated, unsure if Ruth would want her defeat known to anyone outside the family, and then decided that Peter was practically family in a convoluted way. His foster brother had married Pastor Gabe’s sister. Minnie’s oldest sister had married the brother of Pastor Gabe’s wife.

      She took a deep breath. “Ruth got bad news from New York last night. The company isn’t going to buy her designs.”

      If anything, Peter looked more crestfallen. “Sorry.”

      Her fingers were getting numb again. “I’ll ask Ruthie if she wants to do it.”

      “I suppose.” But his shoulders drooped.

      She wasn’t waiting around to ask why. “’Bye, then.”

      After he echoed the farewell, she headed for home while he trudged toward the garage. For some reason, having her work on the car mattered to him. If not for Ruth’s tears, Minnie might have snatched at the opportunity, but to keep Vince coming back, the work had to be done right, and Minnie was an amateur next to her sister. Besides, she could always come along whenever Vince was in town. Ruth might need her help. Minnie could carry something for her or hold the leather in place or something.

      The kitchen was steamy hot when Minnie stepped inside. She wiped off the face powder and lipstick with a handkerchief and then tugged off her good gloves and shoved them into her coat pocket before her mother saw them.

      Mother sat at the table mixing flour into milk and yeast to make bread dough. “You were out early this morning.”

      “I had something to do.” Minnie held her numb fingers near the coal stove’s firebox. “Do you want help?”

      “I thought you were working in the shop this morning.”

      Minnie glanced at the clock. “It’s not nine o’clock yet.”

      “You know your sister wants you there before the shop opens.”

      Minnie sighed. Go here. Do this. Take care of that. The duties never seemed to end. Already the excitement of Vince’s arrival had worn off. Though he’d greeted her in the romantic European fashion and called her darling, she didn’t feel the flutter of excitement that she’d expected. It was more like...well, like greeting an uncle or older brother. How disappointing. Worse, the flutter had shown up when she least expected it. Why should Peter’s statement that she could do anything send her stomach flip-flopping? Why then? Why Peter? He was just a friend, wasn’t he?

      “Go now.” Mother motioned toward the door with flour-covered hands.

      Minnie dragged her feet across the room.

      “And put on boots,” Mother chided. “Your good shoes are for Sunday only.” She sighed. “Ask Ruth to trim up that dreadful mop of hair when you get there. It should at least look neat.”

      Minnie picked up her boots, stiff and dry from sitting near the stove overnight, and sat in the nearest chair. This day was going from bad to worse in a hurry.

      She hadn’t finished lacing the boots when Ruth pushed open the door, letting in a blast of icy-cold air. Ruth’s face glowed pink from the cold, and she stomped the snow off her boots.

      “I’m coming,” Minnie said, tying off one lace, “as soon as I get my boots on.”

      Ruth didn’t seem to hear her. “We’ve come to a decision, Mother.” Her eyes shone bright.

      Mother stopped working the dough. “A decision about what?”

      “I promised Sam I’d tell you and Daddy at the same time, but I’ll burst if I can’t tell someone right away.”

      Mother