Suitor by Design. Christine Johnson

she could see it parked half a block ahead in front of Simmons Motor Garage. The driver leaned against it, his back to her, as he talked to Peter. The man wore a slick wool suit in the latest fashion. The cold didn’t seem to bother him. No overcoat. No gloves. No scarf. Just a black fedora. His cuff links flashed in the sun. Could they be gold?

      Her pulse quickened. Had her unspoken prayer been answered that quickly? A wealthy stranger in Pearlman. In February. That simply didn’t happen. Now, if he was a bachelor who happened to be looking for a wife...

      “I wonder who he is,” she mused.

      Jen paused at the dress-shop door. “Who are you talking about?”

      “The man driving that fancy car. He’s talking to Peter. Either they know each other or the man has car trouble. Must be the car. How would someone like that know Peter?”

      “I don’t know.” Jen opened the door. “Are you coming?”

      “In a minute.” Minnie couldn’t let this opportunity pass. “Will you start closing up? I promise to be back just as soon as I find out who he is. Please?”

      Jen relented. “All right, but hurry.”

      “I will,” Minnie called over her shoulder as she hurried toward the garage.

      When she reached the end of the block, she lingered on the corner, pretending to wait for an opportunity to cross Main Street. A quick glance revealed nothing had changed. The man still stood with his back to her. He gestured with his arms as he talked. A few heavily accented words drifted her way. To her disappointment, he was shorter and stockier than Peter. But that suit! Even Hutton’s Department Store didn’t carry one that fine.

      A cloud of steam rose above his head, and he lifted a cupped hand to his lips. Oh, dear. That wasn’t steam. He was smoking a cigarette. A wave of nausea rolled over her. She hated their stench, but they were growing more and more popular thanks to the movies.

      Peter looked her way, and she darted behind a nearby maple. Peeking around the trunk, she noted that the two men continued their conversation. Neatly trimmed dark hair peeked from under the brim of the driver’s hat. From the way the hair gleamed, he must use a treatment. One of those nice-smelling ones, she imagined. She hugged her gloved hands to her chest, torn between wishing he would turn around so she could see his face and terrified that he’d turn around and see her spying on him.

      She chewed on the fingertip of her glove.

      The man acted as if he knew Peter. The two laughed, and then the man clapped Peter on the back. They shook hands, and the man climbed into his car. He was leaving? Then he couldn’t have car trouble, at least not bad enough to leave the vehicle at the garage.

      As the man backed the car away from the building, the sun reflected off a thick gold band on his finger. Minnie squinted. A ring! Oh, no. Worse, it was his left hand. The car turned, and she saw his hand clearly. What a relief. The ring was on the pinkie, not the ring finger.

      Minnie slid around the tree as the man drove down the side street. She didn’t get a good look at his face, so she couldn’t tell if he was handsome or not, but he didn’t seem terribly old. The car turned left on State Road and headed out of town. He was leaving, and she would never know who he was or why he’d come to Pearlman.

      She pressed a cheek to the prickly bark. Why did every opportunity elude her? For ages she’d pined after Reggie Landers, although he not only wasn’t interested in her, but he’d also gone and gotten engaged to that nasty Sally Neidecker, who bossed Minnie around as if she was the mistress of the house. Mrs. Neidecker was much kinder and even gave Minnie a little extra money at Christmastime. Still, Minnie longed for the day when she wouldn’t have to clean houses.

      This man could have been her chance.

      She bit her lip. Maybe he still could be. If he knew Peter, he might come back. Moreover, Peter could tell her if he was married or not. A smile settled in place. Peter liked her. With a little encouragement, she could get him to tell her anything.

      She flounced across the street, passed by the fueling pump and stepped into the office of the motor garage. The nasty smell nearly sent her right back out. Grease. Exhaust. She fought the urge to press a handkerchief over her nose.

      No one was in the office area, if it could be called that. The tiny room had lots of shelves and hooks filled with automobile parts, like belts and hoses and stuff that Jen would love but Minnie didn’t recognize. A single desk with a small cash register and a messy pile of papers dominated the room. To the left, an open doorway led to the work area. A couple of cars filled the dirty space, but Minnie couldn’t see Peter. He must be underneath or inside a car.

      Should she wait or call out for him? As she nibbled on the glove and debated what to do, she happened to notice that the papers on the desk were work orders and bills. If the man needed work on his car, then one of these might have his name on it. She turned the top piece of paper around. No, that wasn’t it. Mr. Kensington’s name was at the top.

      “Can I help you?” Peter said.

      “Oh!” Minnie jumped away from the desk, paper still in hand. “I was just...” She didn’t have a good explanation, but maybe a smile would distract him from the fact she’d been snooping. She slipped the paper behind her skirt and gave him her biggest smile. “I thought maybe we could talk.”

      “About what?” Peter stood in the open doorway between the office and the work area, rubbing his hands on a filthy old rag.

      “That rag must be putting more dirt on your hands than taking it off.”

      “You came all the way here to tell me that?”

      “No.” She gave him another smile, swished in front of the desk and covertly replaced the invoice on the desktop. “I wondered what kind of car that was.”

      “What car?”

      “The one your friend just drove away in.”

      “A Pierce-Arrow.”

      “Ah.” Minnie noted that he didn’t contradict her assumption that the driver was a friend of his. “It looks expensive.”

      “It is.”

      “Your friend owns it?”

      Peter looked suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”

      “No particular reason. Just making conversation.” Out of the corner of her eye, Minnie saw the invoice slip off the stack. Before it slid to the floor, she nudged it toward the center of the desk. Though Peter hadn’t answered her question, he hadn’t contradicted her assumption, either. That was good enough for her. Now all she needed to know was his marital status. “Is your friend staying long?”

      “Just the night. Why?”

      “I just figured you would want to talk with him. You know, catch up on family and all.”

      Peter didn’t bite. “What are you getting at?”

      This time Minnie couldn’t explain away the heat in her cheeks, so she stared at her feet. “Just wondered who the stranger was. We don’t get many newcomers in Pearlman, especially someone with such a fancy car.”

      “Vince is an old friend from New York. He used to help out at the—” he hesitated, and his neck flushed red “—at the orphanage.”

      “Like volunteer work?” Maybe this Vince was like Pastor Gabe and his sister. They did a lot of work for the orphan society that had sent Peter and a handful of other orphans to Pearlman almost four years ago.

      “I suppose he volunteered, but I don’t really know. It didn’t matter to the kids if a person was paid or not.”

      “Oh.” Embarrassed, Minnie struggled to turn the conversation back in the right direction. “But he became your friend.”

      Peter smiled at that. “He taught me carpentry.”

      Relieved, Minnie seized