Love on the Line - Deeanne Gist [114]
Georgie had collapsed against her chair. “Good heavens.”
With such a momentous show of support, and knowing he’d been wrongfully maligned, she could not stay away. “I’d like to buy a hat, please.”
“Why?” he asked.
She swallowed. The truth was, she couldn’t afford a hat. Especially not one from a place as fine as his. But sometimes, doing the right thing was more important than worrying over the financial implications. “I feel you’ve been treated unjustly and I’m partly to blame.”
He blinked. Clearly, he’d not expected her response. It didn’t take long, however, for his expression to sour. “You’re entirely to blame.”
“Not entirely.” She was willing to call a truce, but she wasn’t willing to shoulder all the responsibility. “Before now, the majority of your products held bird parts. Still, we live in a country where one is innocent until proven guilty. I know you weren’t one of the men who broke into my home. And though I don’t know who instructed them to destroy the hats, I find I can’t condemn you simply because it’s convenient.”
His jaw tightened. “A little late, wouldn’t you say?”
“I hope not.”
He swept his arm to encompass the room. “Do you see how empty this is? It’s been this way since Maifest. Since those men burned your hats.” He looked her up and down. “I have to admit, I’ve wondered if you weren’t the one who hired them simply to tilt the scales in your favor.”
She sucked in her breath. “I assure you, I did not.”
“No?” He crossed his arms. “Not very pleasant to be wrongly accused, is it, Miss Gail?”
“No, it’s not.” She cleared her throat. “If you have time, I was hoping to look at some of your toques or maybe something with a straw foundation.”
His eyes took on a smug quality. “I understand you place great store on Nellie Bly.”
Lips parting, she quickly scanned the shop. “Do you have her hat?”
“Matter of fact, I do. It just came in this week.” Opening a cupboard, he removed a Panama hat on a handsome stand and plunked it on the counter. “Here you are, Miss Gail. A genuine Nellie Bly hat on a straw foundation. Would you like me to point out its features?”
She stepped up to it. A miniature bird poised on its crown. Its body was of pure white, its wings a glossy, radiant purple and black. She didn’t know what it was, only that it was tropical. Had Nellie seen the species during her travels around the world?
A wave of sickness swept through her as another idol fell from the pedestal she’d placed it on. First Frank Comer, now Nellie Bly. It wasn’t a fair comparison, of course. Comer was a criminal. Bly was a suffragette.
But to Georgie, they’d both been idols. And by their very nature, at some point or another, they always, always disappoint.
Taking a deep breath, she placed her coins on the counter. “Even without the bird, I’m afraid her hat would be out of my range. This is all I have.”
He glanced at her money. Without a word, he turned around, opened a drawer, pulled out a bare straw hat, and slapped it on the counter. “Here you are, Miss Gail. Thank you for your business.”
Her lips parted. She’d given him seven dollars. A fortune, especially for her. She knew as well as he the frame of a hat didn’t cost seven dollars. More like fifty cents.
She opened her mouth to argue, when a spurt of compassion stopped her. She took another moment before deciding to listen to the prompting of her heart. “Thank you. Would you mind wrapping it for me?”
For the second time, he looked nonplussed before remembering all the ignominy he’d suffered and placed upon her doorstep. With righteous indignation, he wrapped the hat in tissue, then brown paper, and tied it with a string.
Scooping it into her arms, she offered a quiet thank-you and left the building.
The children clamored around Georgie’s window, each trying to peek inside the nest.
“I don’t see what all the fuss is.” Eugene crossed his arms over his overall bib. “She’s just sittin’ there.”
“She has eggs under her, dummy,” Bettina snapped.