me.”
Flossie touched her fingers to her lips.
Mrs. Driscoll gave a small smile of approval. “That would be extremely generous of you, but even more than that, they would like to maintain their positions as Tiffany Girls even after the chapel is complete—even after the men return. My suggestion would be to award them permanent positions if they complete the windows in a timely manner.”
“All of them?” He widened his eyes.
“All of them.”
“Impossible.” He pursed his lips. “But I could probably keep two of them.”
“Two of them get to stay on and two go to the fair, then?”
A slow smile grew on his face. “I’d forgotten what a negotiator you are, Mrs. Driscoll. All right, then, two will remain in the Women’s Department permanently and two will go to the fair.”
The girls squealed with delight, clapping their hands and talking all at once. Flossie, however, had a stirring of unease. Certainly, she was thankful to Mrs. Driscoll for being their champion, but, at school, these girls had been her classmates. Now they would be her competition.
Flicking her fingernail and thumbnail against each other, she glanced about the studio. She wasn’t overly worried about Louise. Their instructor at school was in love with her and it wouldn’t surprise Flossie if a marriage proposal would soon be forthcoming. Theresa, a typewriter girl, had painted nude figures in Paris and done quite a good job of it. Though Flossie was the first to appreciate good art, the very idea of having a nude woman stand at the front of the room made her cheeks warm. Lulu had studied in Boston at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts. Elizabeth’s designs had been published in this year’s The Art Amateur .
Aggie, however, was more like Flossie. Neither of them had any distinguishing recommendations in the art world, but they were both hard workers, they both loved to learn, and they both loved to paint. At the beginning of the school year, they’d made a pact. One day their paintings would hang in the Metropolitan Museum of Art right next to all those men’s.
Now, perhaps, they could make another pact. One day they would attend the World’s Columbian Exposition and they would become permanent additions to the Women’s Department of Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company.
She caught Aggie’s eye from across the room. The giant Swede gave her a conspiratorial wink and their pact was made.
CHAPTER
17
R eeve hovered at the door to Mrs. Dinwiddie’s room, unsure of whether or not he’d be welcome for tea.
“Sit,” she said, pouring the brew into his cup.
He hated tea. Would have much preferred coffee, but he’d never, ever said so. He lowered himself into the upholstered chair next to hers, its fabric a fancy swirl of maroons, greens, and gold.
“You behaved very poorly yesterday.”
Stretching out his legs, he crossed his ankles and studied the tips of his shoes. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
“No.”
She remained silent so long, he finally braved a look.
The slightest hint of amused tolerance softened the lines of her mouth. “What in the world possessed you? I’ve never seen you act like that. Good heavens, Mr. Wilder, it was as if you were two and ten.”
“Miss Jayne started it.”
She laughed, actually laughed. “Are you listening to yourself?”
He scowled. “You’ve seen her. She’s disrupted the entire house. Has everybody scrambling to do her bidding. Did you know she has Mr. Holliday repairing the legs of the dining roomchairs so they no longer wobble? That Mr. Nettels is using his music connections to have the upright in the parlor tuned? That Miss Love borrowed Miss Jayne’s paints to add color to some sort of fading flowers on the parlor’s wallpaper? And that Miss Jayne herself installed two of her own oil paintings in the dining room?”
Mrs. Dinwiddie put two lumps of sugar into her cup, none in his. “She’s been a breath of fresh air.”
“She’s been a stench
Flossie touched her fingers to her lips.
Mrs. Driscoll gave a small smile of approval. “That would be extremely generous of you, but even more than that, they would like to maintain their positions as Tiffany Girls even after the chapel is complete—even after the men return. My suggestion would be to award them permanent positions if they complete the windows in a timely manner.”
“All of them?” He widened his eyes.
“All of them.”
“Impossible.” He pursed his lips. “But I could probably keep two of them.”
“Two of them get to stay on and two go to the fair, then?”
A slow smile grew on his face. “I’d forgotten what a negotiator you are, Mrs. Driscoll. All right, then, two will remain in the Women’s Department permanently and two will go to the fair.”
The girls squealed with delight, clapping their hands and talking all at once. Flossie, however, had a stirring of unease. Certainly, she was thankful to Mrs. Driscoll for being their champion, but, at school, these girls had been her classmates. Now they would be her competition.
Flicking her fingernail and thumbnail against each other, she glanced about the studio. She wasn’t overly worried about Louise. Their instructor at school was in love with her and it wouldn’t surprise Flossie if a marriage proposal would soon be forthcoming. Theresa, a typewriter girl, had painted nude figures in Paris and done quite a good job of it. Though Flossie was the first to appreciate good art, the very idea of having a nude woman stand at the front of the room made her cheeks warm. Lulu had studied in Boston at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts. Elizabeth’s designs had been published in this year’s The Art Amateur .
Aggie, however, was more like Flossie. Neither of them had any distinguishing recommendations in the art world, but they were both hard workers, they both loved to learn, and they both loved to paint. At the beginning of the school year, they’d made a pact. One day their paintings would hang in the Metropolitan Museum of Art right next to all those men’s.
Now, perhaps, they could make another pact. One day they would attend the World’s Columbian Exposition and they would become permanent additions to the Women’s Department of Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company.
She caught Aggie’s eye from across the room. The giant Swede gave her a conspiratorial wink and their pact was made.
CHAPTER
17
R eeve hovered at the door to Mrs. Dinwiddie’s room, unsure of whether or not he’d be welcome for tea.
“Sit,” she said, pouring the brew into his cup.
He hated tea. Would have much preferred coffee, but he’d never, ever said so. He lowered himself into the upholstered chair next to hers, its fabric a fancy swirl of maroons, greens, and gold.
“You behaved very poorly yesterday.”
Stretching out his legs, he crossed his ankles and studied the tips of his shoes. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you really?”
“No.”
She remained silent so long, he finally braved a look.
The slightest hint of amused tolerance softened the lines of her mouth. “What in the world possessed you? I’ve never seen you act like that. Good heavens, Mr. Wilder, it was as if you were two and ten.”
“Miss Jayne started it.”
She laughed, actually laughed. “Are you listening to yourself?”
He scowled. “You’ve seen her. She’s disrupted the entire house. Has everybody scrambling to do her bidding. Did you know she has Mr. Holliday repairing the legs of the dining roomchairs so they no longer wobble? That Mr. Nettels is using his music connections to have the upright in the parlor tuned? That Miss Love borrowed Miss Jayne’s paints to add color to some sort of fading flowers on the parlor’s wallpaper? And that Miss Jayne herself installed two of her own oil paintings in the dining room?”
Mrs. Dinwiddie put two lumps of sugar into her cup, none in his. “She’s been a breath of fresh air.”
“She’s been a stench
Similar Books
