After a Fashion (A Class of Their Own #1)(2)
“I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Fienman, but I must inquire as to why you’re not personally seeing to this situation, considering it seems to be of a delicate nature.”
Mrs. Fienman’s expression turned a little shifty. “I thought it was past time we got you out of the back room and mingling with clients.”
“And you believe my ‘mingling’ should begin with the fiancée of one of the wealthiest gentlemen in America?”
“You, Miss Peabody, are made of stern stuff, which is why I’ve chosen you for this unpleasant . . . or rather, delightful task. I cannot send Gladys or Peggy because Miss Birmingham is possessed of a slightly tumultuous personality. She would have those two in tears within minutes. Why, I wouldn’t imagine you’d even cry if your dog died.”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“Well, no matter. I’m certain if you did own a dog and it tragically died, you wouldn’t shed a single tear, would you?”
Harriet forced a smile. “While I certainly appreciate your confidence in me, I must remind you that, when you hired me, you specifically told me I was to keep to the back room and not mingle with our clients. Because of that, I am not being modest when I say I’m not exactly equipped to deal with a member of the quality.”
“My reasoning behind banishing you to the workroom was not because I ever doubted your ability to mingle with clients, Miss Peabody. It stemmed more from the fact that with your all-too-pretty face, unusual violet eyes, and luscious black hair, you’d cast our customers in the shade. However . . .” She released a dramatic breath. “Miss Birmingham is not one of our usual clients. She apparently took issue with my rather large figure, and has specifically requested her hats be delivered by a person possessed of a pleasant and slender appearance.” Mrs. Fienman waved a hand at Harriet. “Since you’re the only person available with those qualifications, you’ll have to make the delivery.”
Alarm began to ooze from Harriet’s every pore. While she was perfectly aware she possessed a slender figure, brought on by a distinct lack of food on a regular basis, she was fairly sure she’d detected a faint trace of glee in Mrs. Fienman’s voice. She had the sneaking suspicion the glee was a direct result of her employer hoping she would cast this Miss Birmingham in the shade, which certainly wasn’t going to help her deal with the lady. Before she could voice a protest, though, Mrs. Fienman leaned forward.
“I must admit I’ve been most curious about where you obtained such stellar good looks. Do you take after your mother or your father?”
“I never met my parents, Mrs. Fienman. My mother died giving birth to me, and my father, well . . .”
Mrs. Fienman’s eyes turned considering. “Do forgive me, Miss Peabody. I should know better than to ask questions of a personal nature, especially from a lady forced to make her own way in the world. But, ancestry aside, you’re a lovely young lady, which is exactly what Miss Birmingham requested and exactly what I’m going to give her.” She wrinkled her nose. “A word of warning, though, before you depart—Miss Birmingham seems to make a habit of throwing things when she’s annoyed, so watch out for flying shoes.”
A droplet of perspiration trickled down Harriet’s back. “While this Miss Birmingham sounds like a charming sort, I honestly don’t believe I’m equipped with the social rules and expected manners to deal with her.”
“Your manners are perfectly adequate for this appointment. It’s not as if you should expect Miss Birmingham to invite you to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea with her.”
“What if she goes beyond shoe chucking and attacks me? Am I allowed to defend myself?”
“Certainly not.” Mrs. Fienman shook a plump finger in Harriet’s direction. “Defending yourself against a society lady would definitely sully the good name of my business. If that were to happen, I would terminate your position immediately.”
“But . . .” Harriet began as she struggled to come up with a plausible reason not to take on what was surely going to be a daunting task. “What about Mrs. Wilhelm’s hat? I’ve only put on ten of the fifty feathers she’s requested, and she’s expecting delivery of that hat tomorrow.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to finish Mrs. Wilhelm’s hat after you get back from dealing with Miss Birmingham.”
Harriet glanced at the clock, saw that it was after two, and felt a sliver of disappointment steal over her. By the time she got back from making the delivery and finished Mrs. Wilhelm’s hat, there would be no time left to celebrate her birthday.
Drawing in a steadying breath, she decided to throw caution to the wind and appeal to what little kindness Mrs. Fienman might actually possess. “I wasn’t going to mention this, not wanting anyone to feel compelled to make a fuss, but today is my birthday. While I normally don’t mind working extra hours, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to work those hours today, since my two best friends have made arrangements to have dinner with me.”
“Ah, your birthday. How marvelous!” Mrs. Fienman exclaimed. “Why, I adore birthdays, and if I’d known today was yours, I would have ordered you a pastry.” She rooted around the papers strewn across her desk and pulled out a crumbly piece of dough that might have, at one time, been a tart. “Here, have what’s left of the pastry I got this morning.”