The Last Honest Seamstress (2 page)

"Who is that woman?" The madam spoke loudly enough for Fayth to hear her from across the room. Probably intentional.

Coral looked down and mumbled something.

"Louder, Coral. So I can hear you."

"I don't know, ma'am. Her name is Fayth. She claims she really is a seamstress." Coral looked embarrassed.

Lou leveled her gaze on Fayth. "Interesting. A seamstress in my pocket. How will I ever call back this favor?"

Fayth turned away from the madam and whispered defiantly. "You won't." Then Fayth walked out the door, past the waiting carriage, and down the street.

Chapter 1

Seattle

May 1889

Fayth Sheridan sat opposite Mr. Sylvester Hoage, regarding him sympathetically as he stammered and struggled to order from a menu written mostly in French. Large of girth, bald, with eyes too small for his sprawling face, he looked like a toad all dressed up in a new suit. His poorly knotted tie sat slightly askew of his collar. Fayth would have straightened it for him, but the gesture seemed too intimate and would have given the poor man false hope of winning her affection.

The Occidental Hotel had a reputation for serving fine cuisine and providing an atmosphere pleasant and respectable enough to impress a lady. Guests of social prominence were given tables with pleasant ambiance where they could see and be seen. The table Fayth occupied in the rear corner of the dining room was just far enough away from the kitchen to avoid being the worst in the house. Mr. Hoage seemed unaware of the slight. He finished ordering. The waiter turned to Fayth.
 

"What will you have tonight, Miss Sheridan?"
 

"The salmon."

"Excellent choice." The waiter nodded and disappeared.

"The waiter knows you by name?" Mr. Hoage's voice rang with insecurity.

"I dine here often." Too often. But how could she turn down these lonely men? The handsome, arrogant ones were easy, but men like Mr. Hoage elicited her sympathy. They looked so eager and pleading when they asked, and so dejected when she turned them down. And because she was not attracted to them, they were not a threat to her. One evening was a small sacrifice to make them happy. But only one. She seldom accompanied them twice.

Mr. Hoage didn't appear entirely satisfied with her answer, but dropped the matter and inched his chair closer to hers for the second time since their arrival. "You look lovely tonight, Miss Sheridan."

"Thank you, sir." Fayth forced a smile. She wore a simple gray gown with a small bustle and jet buttons up the front. Her hair was pulled back into a severe chignon with no suggestion of softness or curls. Since the death of her parents and
his
defection, she dressed without regard to pleasing the masculine eye.

"How has the tailoring business been lately?" As Mr. Hoage made a stiff attempt at conversation, he leaned even closer.

"It's been fine, Mr. Hoage."

"Ah." He nodded in what Fayth thought was a vain attempt to look informed and cleared his throat.

Her customers, like Mr. Hoage, were working-class men. Lumberjacks, mill hands, sailors and fishermen, all willing to pay more for her clothes than ready-made ones because of the attention she gave her clients. Taking precise measurements, running her hands over shoulders to ensure a smooth line, snapping pant legs taut during fittings, recommending fabric and styles, and telling her clients how fine they looked in their new attire were all part of her job. Fayth realized they flocked to her shop mostly because she was a single woman in a town with a dire shortage of women, and giving her their business gave them an opportunity to court her.

"I was just thinking, you know, it isn't right for a lady as pretty as you to have to work and worry about business. Wouldn't it be easier if you had a husband?"

She stiffened. Poor, desperate man. Here came the inevitable marriage proposal. She had to cut him off before he could issue it. "I love my work, Mr. Hoage. I have no desire to marry."

He looked abashed, but recovered quickly. "I hear you have a fine hand for drawing and sketching. Maybe you'd let me take you out on a nature walk? I know of a little knoll with a fine view of the mountains and the Sound. It'd make a pretty picture."

He was persistent, she gave him that. Barely half an hour into their evening and he had already nearly attempted a marriage proposal, and once turned away, angled for another social call.
 

"No, thank you, Mr. Hoage." From his determined look, he wouldn't be dropping the matter easily. Fortunately, she noticed her cousins waiting near the
maître d'
for a table. "Look! There are the Kelleys." She caught their attention and gave them a discreet wave.

A look of disappointment quickly clouded Mr. Hoage's face as her cousins made their way toward them.

"Fayth!" Her cousin Elizabeth was tall and spare, with shiny black hair fashionably styled. Elizabeth, past thirty and unhappily childless, always looked for someone to mother. Her expression warned Fayth to expect one of Elizabeth's motherly lectures.

"Mr. Hoage, do you know the Kelleys, Sterling and Elizabeth?" Fayth always thought Sterling looked exactly like his name. Tonight, wearing a gray suit she'd recently made for him, more than ever. He, like his wife, was lean and long. But his hair was a distinguished silver.

Mr. Hoage reluctantly stood to greet them.

"Won't you join us?" Fayth asked.

"Just until our table's ready," Elizabeth said.
 

Sterling held a chair out for her.

"Mr. Hoage works at a dry goods store down the street from my shop."

"Really?" Fayth felt rebuke in Elizabeth's tone. "Near Fayth's shop?"

"Oh, yes. Very near." Mr. Hoage fell haplessly into Elizabeth's trap.

"Sterling and I regret her dubious location." Elizabeth's voice dripped disdain. Fayth watched her give him the up and down, saw her expression harden, and knew her cousin had formed a low opinion of the man. "We worry daily about her safety. We'd be so much happier knowing the
right
man was looking out for her."

"Elizabeth doesn't like my shop being so close to Billy the Mug's Saloon."

"And other establishments I won't name," Elizabeth interjected.

"Elizabeth is referring to Lou Gramm's parlor house. I have a friend there." Mr. Hoage didn't give Fayth the disapproving look she expected. Few men approved of a decent woman going near a brothel.

"Fayth!"

"You brought it up, Elizabeth. Mr. Hoage might as well hear it from me so he doesn't get the wrong impression." Fayth looked directly at her dinner companion. "I've made an acquaintance, hoping to steer her away from the immoral, degrading life she currently lives."

"She's actually been inside Lou's house," Elizabeth said in a jovial, scandalized tone. She lowered her voice. "I won't let her describe to me what she's seen."

"As if I would force such debauchery on her!" For the first time all evening Fayth was enjoying herself. "Many of Elizabeth's close friends have been scheming for months, trying to find a way to get into Miss Gramm's house." She spoke in a confiding tone, addressing her comments to Mr. Hoage. "They want to form a Christian Committee to visit all parlor houses and talk the girls out of the business. I've just beaten them to it."

"If it weren't for Fayth's well-known good intentions, her reputation would be in shreds," Elizabeth said. "Fayth, dear, you've gotten way out of hand, visiting that creature at Miss Gramm's whenever the mood strikes you. The idea was to visit each house once. To expound upon the evils and leave."

"You can't win a person over that way. True redemption only comes through love and friendship. Why should those girls trust someone they don't know? What guarantee will they have of help when they need it? It's not so easy to cast off one's former self, especially when society already pegs you for shame."

"You see what comes of women having too much time on their hands, Mr. Hoage?" Sterling's tone was jovial as he broke his silence. "Last time the good women of our town got this worked up over an issue they shut the parlor houses down. We lost so much revenue from prostitution fines everyone thought Seattle would go bankrupt. We had to repeal the women's right to vote just to keep the city afloat." He chuckled good-naturedly.

Sterling teased mercilessly; otherwise, Fayth would have lit into him about suffrage. "I'm a working girl, Sterling, and Elizabeth is busy with her charities. Neither one of us has time to get into trouble."

"Oh, look, Miss Siren has just arrived." Elizabeth waved to a matronly woman entering the dining area.
 

Fayth looked up in time to catch Miss Siren's disapproving look at her escort.
 

"Come with me, Fayth. We must greet her. Gentlemen, you will excuse us for a moment?"

Sterling stood immediately and pulled his wife's chair out. Mr. Hoage was somewhat slower on Fayth's behalf. Fayth had already wiggled out of the chair before he was fully standing. Elizabeth took her arm and guided her. They were barely out of earshot of the men when Elizabeth leaned in and whispered in her ear. "What in heaven's name are you doing out with that buffoon? And when your good reputation is already in danger? Even the
maître d'
recognizes a lowlife when he sees it. You're seated in a worse location than the last time you dined here escorted. It's positively embarrassing."

"He pestered me for weeks. He looked so pitiful, I finally accepted." Fayth's returning whisper was a frustrated hiss.

"And how is letting him escort you out going to rid you of him? You must be firm with these men. Turn them down cold. You've been seen out too often lately and with such men! Did you see the look Miss Siren gave you?"

Fayth opened her mouth to speak, but Elizabeth cut her off before she could form a word.

"If you turned enough men down, word would get out that you are not courting. Though I must say, you should be courting. You need to forget Drew and move on. But you must see the right sort of gentlemen. And I emphasize,
gentlemen
."

"I've tried Elizabeth. Goodness knows how many offers I turn down a day. But the men in this town are so transient, and the city is growing so fast, that a new crop of men arrives daily. Word does not get out."

Elizabeth frowned. "You must try harder."

Fayth gave her a light smile. "I thought Seattle society was supposed to be tolerant. I came west because you assured me that people here aren't easily scandalized." She gave Elizabeth's arm a little tug. "Thank you for worrying about me."

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled back. Her tone was soft. "What would you do if Sterling and I weren't around to watch out for you? Do you want us to stay long enough to save Mr. Hoage the trouble of seeing you home?"

"I would appreciate it."

Elizabeth gave her a quick hug as they reached Miss Siren. Elizabeth called out an enthusiastic greeting. A pleasant commotion coming from the entrance caught Fayth's attention. Two uniformed ship captains were just arriving, laughing and joking with each other.
 

Fayth's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the taller of the two as one of her customers, Captain O'Neill. Of good height, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he was a tailor's dream. And if she were honest—a woman's. Anything looked good on him. Too bad she’d written off good-looking men as disloyal, unfaithful, untrustworthy . . .
 

Well, enough of that. She wouldn't trust a handsome man again, not ever. But she could enjoy the sight of one. Besides his broad shoulders, the Captain had snapping hazel eyes and a glorious head of luscious, thick auburn hair, the kind of hair a woman could run her fingers through. If she were, of course, the type of woman who lusted after a man like him. Which Fayth absolutely wasn’t. After Drew, she’d written the male persuasion off completely. Except for pity dates with men like Mr. Hoage. Real courting was simply out of the question.

She watched the
maître d'
seat the Captain and his friend in a prime location, letting her gaze linger a moment too long. He looked in her direction, caught her eye, and smiled. Though he was across the room, she knew his eyes danced with good humor. They always did. And beneath his auburn beard, dimples pleated his cheeks. Why was that enigmatic smile of his etched in her mind?
 

She looked away guiltily, glad to be standing next to Elizabeth and Miss Siren, instead of seated with Mr. Hoage. Suddenly embarrassed about keeping Mr. Hoage's company, she wondered if a convenient headache would get her home early.
 

“Elizabeth, I’m suddenly not feeling well.”

Her cousin looked at her, followed her line of sight to the Captain, arched a brow, and took her arm. “Well, really, darling, then we’ll have to get you home, won’t we? I’ll get Sterling and have him bring the carriage around.”

Weeks later, Fayth kneeled on her skirts at the feet of a tall, strapping man, her mouth full of pins. She measured his inseam with care, paying particular attention to avoid touching the bulge evident between his legs. She hated pinning for the final hem as much as she hated taking the original measurements, but there was no way to avoid either.