Read An Unlikely Suitor Online
Authors: Nancy Moser
“He’s a bit curt, but his ideas are brilliant. To allow the function of a space to determine its form is revolutionary. That we Americans have been stuck copying European design instead of creating our own . . .”
The enthusiasm in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes told Lucy their move to Chicago was well worth it.
Not that they’d had much choice. After the scandal of choosing Lucy over Rowena, Edward’s parents had cut him off financially. He’d assured Lucy the loss of the money was of little concern, but she knew he hoped to one day mend the familial ties.
Amor tutti fa uguali
—love may make all men equal, but pride definitely came before a fall, and Edward was willing to forsake his pride to make amends. Someday. After he’d proven himself.
Their wedding day was bittersweet, with only her family, Morrie, and Rowena in attendance, but he’d done his best to assure her that all he needed was her love.
“Now, then,” he said, concentrating on the menu. “Shall it be duck à l’orange, chicken cordon bleu, or lobster thermidor?”
Lucy didn’t know what any of these dishes were, and actually, would have been content with a simple soup. She was tempted to tell him the reason for her distaste for anything too rich but was determined to wait.
Until she was sure . . .
The third weekend after moving to Chicago, Lucy and Edward walked the sidewalks of Michigan Avenue, enjoying the cool of the autumn day.
“But where will we live?” she asked him, not for the first time. “We can’t stay in the hotel much longer. Surely the expense—”
He patted her hand upon his arm. “I’ve told you I’ll take care of everything. Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Explicitly?”
“I do.”
He craned his neck to see something ahead of them, then stopped. “I need you to close your eyes.”
“Close—?”
“Lucia . . . trust. Remember?”
She chided herself for having her trust be so short-lived. But she wasn’t used to letting someone else take care of things. Surrender was a struggle. She closed her eyes. “There. See how I trust you?”
He put his arm behind her waist and held her close. “Now walk.”
“Walk? But I can’t—”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
Why was this so hard? She forced herself to take a step, and then one more.
“You fight me,” he said. “Relax.”
With a sigh she tried to ease her muscles.
“There. That’s better. One step, now another . . .”
“Where are you taking me?”
“It’s obviously a surprise.”
“I know, but—”
“Shush.”
They walked for what seemed like forever, but what was more likely less than a block. Then he turned her sideways. “Keep your eyes closed. Just a little longer. A little . . .” When he had her set exactly as he wanted her, he said, “Now! Open your eyes!”
She opened them to see a storefront with a large glass window for display. On the window was painted—
“No, Edward . . . it isn’t . . .”
“It is, my darling. Lucia’s Dress Shop. Just for you.”
She stared at the lovely gold lettering, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is mine?”
“It’s what you’ve always dreamed of, isn’t it?”
She faced him and bowed her head upon his shoulder. “
You
are what I’ve always dreamed of.”
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “Come inside,” he said. “The surprise isn’t over.” He moved her to the door, letting her do the honors.
“Surprise!”
“Mamma?”
“Your first employee,” Edward said.
Lucy ran into her mother’s arms.
“But there’s still more.”
He led Lucy to a door that opened to a stairway. He went up first. “There’s a two-bedroom living quarters above the store. Enough for three.”
For a moment Lucy wondered how he knew, but then she realized he counted Mamma as the third. Once they reached the apartment and he showed them around, she lingered in an alcove off the kitchen.
“This space could be a guest room for Sofia when she comes to visit.”
Lucy shook her head. “Only if she’s willing to share it.”
Edward walked the length of the alcove. “There’s no need for her to share it. Your mother has her own room.”
Suddenly, Mamma stared at Lucy. Then she put a hand to her mouth. “Lucia? Really?”
Lucy nodded and began to cry.
Mamma took her in her arms and they rocked back and forth.
“Excuse me,” Edward said. “What did I miss?”
Mamma let go and Lucy went to Edward, taking his hands in hers. “We’re going to have a baby.”
She would never forget the look of surprise upon his face, nor forget the way he swirled her around in utter joy—before gingerly placing her on the ground, afraid for her condition.
“I’m fine,” she said. “We’re fine.”
“Il Dio è buono,”
Mamma said.
She was so right.
God was very, very good.
I
grew up in a sewing household. My mother made clothes for herself and three daughters. I didn’t have a store-bought dress until I was in high school. Prom dresses, wool coats, and even our wedding dresses were sewn by my mother. My sister remembers her prom date having to wait while Mom finished sewing her a matching wrap for her dress. Mom is the one who taught us to do our own designing too. It wasn’t unusual to take the sleeves from one pattern, the skirt from another, and the collar from a third. My first two jobs were as a clerk in a fabric store, and my first big purchase was a Pfaff sewing machine—which I am still using forty years later.
That background explains my interest in dressmakers of the Gilded Age. Yet sewing a dress nowadays is nothing compared to creating one of the intricate dresses of that era. It’s the difference between making a cake from a boxed mix and adding a canister of ready-made frosting, and creating a four-tier wedding cake from scratch, with fondant frosting, lacework, marzipan flowers, and edible pearls and beads.
Yet the seamstresses of 1895 were not that different from seamstresses today. Both learned from experience and were taught by doing—my preferred way of learning anything. I admire the Scarpelli women for their work ethic, and I reveled in being able to move them from a dingy sweatshop, to a fancy dress Emporium, to the halls of Newport’s finest homes, where they were set free to fully use their talents.
I love stories about immigrants to America. Their pluck, courage, and determination inspire me. Where did your ancestors come from? What made them leave their homeland behind, to take a chance, to start over? What are their stories of failure and success? Of dreams abandoned and achieved?
Fortunes were made in America, lost, and made again. Some were huge and boggled the mind. Consider the “cottages” of the rich in Newport. The Breakers, which is the location for the climax of this book, has 65,000 square feet of living space. The average size of an American home today is 2,300 square feet, which means twenty-eight houses could fit into this single-family “cottage.”
What an exciting place for two poor seamstresses and a crippled heiress to find love. And friendship. And purpose. And yet, the grand mansions in Newport weren’t the real setting for Lucy, Sofia, and Rowena to experience their revelations and growth. The Cliff Walk and the spectacle of God’s sea, sky, and sun inspired like no creation of man could ever do.
Go ask the sunrise . . .
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
Psalm 139:7–10
NIV
Today I urge you to take a few minutes from your busy life and go outside. Seek a place of
the
Creator’s design, where His hand will hold you fast and guide you toward love, friendship, and
your
unique purpose.
Blessings,
Nancy Moser
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 18
Chapter 20
Epilogue