Suitor by Design Page 13

  “What if He doesn’t answer?”

  Surprisingly, Pastor Gabe nodded with understanding. “Sometimes it seems like He doesn’t, but that’s usually when we already know what we want and are more or less asking God for confirmation.”

  “Oh.” Peter frowned. “I didn’t think that’s what I wanted.”

  “The mind is a fickle thing. Sometimes we get so lost thinking that we forget what we really wanted in the first place. It feels like we’re going around and around in circles.”

  “That’s it! I want to do what’s right, but doing that will hurt someone else. Then I start wondering if what I think is right is actually wrong.”

  Pastor Gabe looked lost for only a moment. “Why don’t you give me some details?”

  Peter blanched.

  “This is strictly between us, Peter. Not a word goes beyond this conversation.”

  Peter felt a little better. “Remember when I asked you about Vince?”

  “Vince?”

  “Vincent Galbini. He helped out at the orphanage in New York.”

  “Right. Vince.” Pastor Gabe focused in on Peter. “You said he stopped by to fulfill his promise.”

  “Yeah.” Peter shifted in his chair, suddenly uncomfortable. Gabe was a minister, after all, a man of God. He might not understand. “Do you remember him much from New York?”

  Gabe sat back and looked off into the distance. “Stocky build? Boxer’s nose?”

  “Yep. He taught me carpentry.”

  “Right. He fixed a lot of things around the place, too. Good with his hands, but I never worked with him directly. Why do you ask?”

  Peter toyed with the handle of his coffee cup. “Mariah seems to think he had the wrong kind of friends.”

  Pastor Gabe planted his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Go on,” he said in a low voice.

  Peter looked around, afraid someone was listening in, but they were alone. He licked his lips. “Well...” Peter cleared his throat. This was tough to admit. “I think she might be right.”

  “When did you come to this conclusion? Before or after she suggested he kept the wrong company?”

  “After.”

  “Do you think it’s possible her opinion affected yours?”

  Peter had never considered that. “Do you think so?” He felt a little relieved.

  “It’s possible. But tell me why this is bothering you.”

  “He offered me work.”

  Now Pastor Gabe looked surprised. “He wants you to leave Pearlman?”

  Peter shook his head. “I didn’t say that right. I can do the work here. He had me put a luggage compartment in his boss’s car.”

  “I don’t see the problem.”

  Now that he’d said it aloud, Peter wondered if he’d blown this all out of proportion. After all, he did the job. He got paid. The money! Maybe that was it. “He paid a lot, more than it’s worth.”

  “Did he give you a reason?”

  Peter stared into his milky brown coffee. “Wanted to help out Minnie’s folks.”

  “All right. You lost me. How did he even know Minnie’s family needed help?”

  “Well, she helped me with the job, and I kinda told him about her parents and how much she wants her pa to see special doctors but they don’t have the money.”

  “So Mr. Galbini was generous. That’s a good thing, Peter. A man who gives willingly to someone he doesn’t even know has a good heart.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Why?”

  The thoughts tumbled around in Peter’s head. He remembered the way Minnie had looked at Vince, the eager anticipation, the adulation. Was he simply jealous of Vince? Was that why he thought his friend wasn’t telling him the whole story about that luggage compartment? He squeezed the coffee cup between his hands. “I think maybe I have some confessing to do to God.”

  “We all do. Every day. He’ll listen, Peter. Have no doubt.”

  Peter recalled overhearing the conversation between Blake Kensington and the unknown man. The way they talked led him to think they expected bootleg liquor to come out of Pearlman, but Peter had no proof that was even what they meant. He sighed with frustration. “Do you know there’s a speakeasy out back of the drugstore?”

  Pastor Gabe sat a little straighter. “I do. What of it? Have you been in there, Peter?”

  He shook his head.

  “Has Mr. Galbini?”

  “I don’t think so, but I got to wondering how they get the liquor.”

  Pastor Gabe sighed. “Home brew and bootlegging, I’m afraid. Back when I first came to town—the same summer you arrived on the train—I got caught up trying to stop a bootlegging ring. It nearly got Felicity killed.” He sobered. “I came to the wrong conclusions and took matters into my own hands instead of relying on the law.” He looked Peter squarely in the eyes. “If you think Mr. Galbini is involved with that business, steer clear of him and anything to do with it. I was fortunate. No one got hurt from my mistakes, but someone easily could have.”

  Peter swallowed hard. This was the same conclusion he’d come to, except... “But what if steering clear means hurting someone you love?”

  Gabe sat back. “Then, my friend, you have to take this to the only one who can help—God.”

  * * *

  Minnie didn’t catch up to Peter at church the next day. He arrived late and hurried off with Mrs. Simmons before she could get to him. He didn’t even look her way once.

  “Why the frown?” Mother asked after they buttoned up their coats and hurried out into the chilly March morning.

  Minnie stomped her feet to bring a little warmth into them as they waited for Jen, who was chatting with the Hunters. “Nothing.”

  “Hmm. Then you’re pouting for no reason.”

  Minnie scrunched her shoulders against the stiff breeze. “I don’t see why it has to be so cold when the snow is almost gone.”

  “Something tells me that’s not what’s troubling you.”

  Her mother could be relentless. “Peter didn’t look at me once.”

  “I see.” Mother pulled a handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at her nose. “Are you serious about him?”

  “No!” Minnie pulled up her coat collar. “You said I had to give him back the money.”

  “You brought that to church?”

  “No. But I figured I could arrange a time to meet him.”

  Mother wrapped her arm around Minnie’s shoulders. “Don’t fret, dear. You can stop by the garage tomorrow.”

  That was true, but tomorrow came and went without an opportunity to walk down to the motor garage. Jen was busy at the airfield and couldn’t spell Minnie at the shop. Daddy’s coughing got so bad that Mother called in Doc Stevens and wouldn’t leave Daddy’s side. That meant Minnie had to run the dress shop by herself. By the time she closed, the garage was also shut down for the day.

  The next day and the next turned out the same. The shop had never been busier. It seemed half the women who bought a dress at the department store wanted alterations. Minnie took measurements, made notes and carefully labeled each gown. The work orders piled up, and she only had time to work on them after supper. Ruthie could not get home soon enough.

  By Friday, Minnie had completely forgotten about the money. At five o’clock, she ushered out the last customer and flipped the sign to indicate they were closed before turning the lock.

  “Whew.” She leaned her back against the door, exhausted.

  What a week. Dresses hung everywhere. Work orders littered the table. Thread and pencils and pins and tape measures were strewn across every surface. Tonight she wouldn’t work. Tonight she would put her feet in a tub of warm water and Epsom salts.

  Rap, rap, rap.

 
; The knocking from behind startled her. Not another customer! Well, the woman could wait until morning. Minnie spun around and came face-to-face with Peter.

  “You!”

  “Can we talk?” he called through the glass and motioned to the door handle.

  This was the last thing she needed tonight. Her feet ached. Her back ached. Her mind could barely process a thought, except that she still needed to return the four hundred dollars. Which she did not have at the shop. Still, he was giving her such a sorry look that she had to let him in.

  “Thank you.” He stepped just inside the door and tugged off his cap while she locked the door again. “I won’t take much of your time.”

  “Wait right here.” Minnie hurried to the back room and grabbed her coat. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. I need to bring back the money you gave me. Mother says it’s too much and belongs to you.”

  He flushed. “No, it’s not. I got paid up front.”

  “You did?” She stopped buttoning the coat. “You mean all that is just for me?”

  He nodded.

  “Will you tell my mother that? She doesn’t believe me.”

  He smiled. “Sure.”

  Her spirits soared. “Thank you, thank you.” But he didn’t look happy. “What’s wrong?”

  He wouldn’t look at her.

  “Did you hear something from Mr. Galbini? Was there a problem?”

  He licked his lips and shrugged. “No, but I don’t think he’ll bring us any more jobs.”

  “Why? I don’t understand. I thought he was pleased with our work. He promised to bring more work.”

  He still wouldn’t look at her. Something was definitely wrong. “He said maybe.”

  That wasn’t what she remembered, but then Mr. Galbini might not have noticed her repair until he got home. “He was angry about the tear, wasn’t he? I did my best, but it wasn’t good enough.”

  “It was wonderful.” Peter lifted her chin and swiped away the tear that had dropped onto her cheek. “You did great. It’s just over. Take the money. Use it for your pa. Be grateful for that.” He glanced at the worktable. “You look plenty busy anyway.”

  She tried her best to smile, but she could only think of Daddy and how he wasn’t getting any better. Peter didn’t need to know that, though. He’d done his best by asking her to do the upholstery. “I’m being silly.”

  “No, you’re not.” If anything, he looked more distressed than her. “You’re worried about your pa. I would be, too, if...”

  If he had a pa. In all her concern about Daddy, she’d forgotten that Peter had been orphaned. “Do you remember your father?”

  “A little.” He tucked his hands into his coat pockets. “I remember Ma more, even though they died at the same time.”

  She gasped. “Both at once? What happened?”

  “They got sick. People said influenza, just like Aunt Ursula. I just know that one day Ma died, and the next Pa was gone.”

  “I can’t imagine losing every living relative.”

  He hesitated while a mix of emotions played across his face. “There’s still Aunt Ursula’s brother, but he’s a bad sort. A criminal. I don’t want anything to do with him.” Again he looked down at his feet. “Listen, Minnie. I seen some terrible stuff during that time, things no kid should see. There are bad people out there. You don’t see them much in a nice town like this, but they’re everywhere in the city.”

  His stricken expression drove a pang of sympathy deep into her heart. What had he been through? Whatever it was, it still hurt. She reached up and cupped his cheek. “At least you’re here now and with a good family.”

  “The best.” He took her hand and held it, as if she was his lifeline. “Thank you for understanding.”

  She didn’t know what to say. He’d uncovered something deeply painful, something she couldn’t understand. Embarrassed by her deficiencies, she looked over his shoulder and out the window to the darkening street and was surprised to see a man in a dark overcoat approaching the shop.

  “We’re closed,” she called out as the man lifted his hand to knock.

  The man tipped up his hat to reveal his face. It was Mr. Galbini.

  “Hey, kid.” Galbini pointed toward the street, where a black sedan was parked. “Brought you the next job.”

  Minnie stared at Peter. “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any more work.”

  Peter looked distressed.

  Mr. Galbini pounded on the door. “You gonna let me in?”

  Minnie hurried over and unlocked the door.

  Galbini strode in with a rush of icy air. “There you are, kid. Looked all over until some guy said you’d headed here.” He looked around the shop. “Nice place, doll. Can see why you did such a good job. Keep it up, and there’ll be another good payday for ya.”

  “Do you mean it?” Minnie reveled in the turn of events. “Peter, we have more work! Isn’t it wonderful?”

  His shoulders drooped. “Sure.”

  Why didn’t he look happy? This was the answer to prayer. If Mr. Galbini paid like the last time, Daddy could get all the treatments he needed. Peter knew that. The extra work would help him, too. He could help out the orphanage. Maybe he could put together that apprenticeship program for the older kids. He should be thrilled. Instead he looked as if someone had died.

  She would never understand him. Ever.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trapped.

  Vince and Minnie had sandwiched Peter between dazzling promise and desperate need. He couldn’t back out now.

  Even though he’d wired Vince earlier in the week and cut off future business, the man showed up anyway. If Peter had been alone, he would have sent Vince back, but Minnie’s desperate hope sealed the unhappy deal.

  She didn’t know Peter’s suspicions, and he didn’t dare tell her. If Blake Kensington was involved, so was her oldest sister. If Minnie knew, she’d be an accomplice. Peter could take the consequences, but not Minnie. No, he must protect her at all costs.

  He raked a hand through his hair, trying to figure a way out of this.

  Then Vince invited them to supper at the local restaurant. Minnie looked to Peter with such excitement that he couldn’t refuse. He sure couldn’t let her go with Vince unescorted. So the three of them walked down the block to Lily’s.

  The meal was miserable. They sat around a small table in the middle of the room, Minnie between the two men. Peter might not have been there for all the attention she gave him. Minnie focused completely on Vince, who went on and on about fancy nightclubs. Peter tried to point out their seamy underside, but Minnie was so caught up in Vince’s description that she didn’t hear a word he said.

  “We had one swell little songbird in the joint last weekend.” Vince sighed. “Pretty as a peach and no older’n you.”

  Minnie blushed. “I sang in the school choir. Second soprano. I would have been first, but the teacher thought Kate Vanderloo had the best voice.”

  “That so?” Vince’s gaze drifted to the other diners, mostly couples and families, until it landed on the pretty, young waitress who had taken their order. “That gal there, is she a friend of yours?” He nodded toward the counter, where Lucy Billingsley was getting direction from Lillian Mattheson, middle-aged owner of the restaurant, on the proper way to carry the meals to their table.

  Minnie wrinkled her nose. “Lucy? She’s still in high school. Kate is in college.”

  Peter didn’t like the way Vince was looking at the girl, so he changed the subject while Lucy served their meals. “Minnie, is your pa doing better?”

  Minnie blinked at him, as if just realizing he was there, and her excitement deflated. “We had to call in Doc Stevens.”

 
“I’m sorry.” Peter glanced across the table. Vince looked uncomfortable with the change of topic. Now that Lucy had vanished into the kitchen, he focused on shoveling the food into his mouth at a rapid rate. Peter turned back to Minnie. “I hope Doc was able to help.”

  Minnie shrugged. “He says Daddy needs to get a little better before he can make the train trip to the sanitarium.”

  Peter swallowed a gulp of coffee. “I don’t understand. The train should be the most comfortable way to travel.”

  “Daddy would have to change trains in Grand Rapids and again in Kalamazoo. It’s too taxing.” She sighed. “I wish there was a direct route.”

  “I could drive him there.”

  “You could?” Her face lit with eager expectation.

  “Sure.”

  Doubt creased her brow. “In what? I didn’t know you had an automobile.”

  “I’m sure Mariah would loan me hers.” At least he hoped she would. Mariah could usually be talked into any charitable cause.

  Vince interjected, “Take the Lincoln. On me.”

  That drew Minnie’s attention—and appreciation—back to Vince. “The car you drove here? You’d let us use it?”

  “Of course.” Vince grinned smugly. “Just don’t let nothin’ happen to her.” That warning was meant for Peter, even though Vince said it to Minnie.

  “Oh, we wouldn’t, would we, Peter?” She barely glanced at him, her attention entirely focused on Vince. “Peter’s a good driver. I know most people his age can’t drive, but he’s an expert.”

  Peter ought to feel better than he did about the compliment.

  “His age?” Vince laughed. “A man of twenty oughta be able ta drive, especially when he’s a mechanic.”

  Peter sucked in his breath, regretting that he’d shared his true age with Vince years ago. He hoped Minnie hadn’t noticed.

  She had. Her gaze whipped around to meet his. “Twenty?” She turned back to Vince. “Peter’s only eighteen. He doesn’t turn nineteen until summer. I’m four months older than him.”

  Peter put a finger to his lips, but his friend ignored him.