Chapter 35 Amy-Rose
Chapter 35
Amy-Rose
“Oh! Can I be the one to say stop fidgeting?” asked Helen.
Amy-Rose looked at her, jaw set, and slowly folded her hands atop the table, where they sat with Olivia and Ruby in the tearoom at Marshall Field & Company.
Amy-Rose joined the young women today in “peak confectionary,” as Helen put it. Of course, Amy-Rose had been here before, but something about today felt different. This outing, planned on a Tuesday to accommodate her business hours, seemed more like a quiet introduction to society. Amy-Rose had been so focused on work and avoiding John that she had denied herself the pleasures of her independence. We make a pretty fine quartet, she thought.
“So here,” said Ruby, pointing to an accomplished rendering of her family’s garden, “is where the arbor will be.”
Olivia nodded. “Right. The chairs will form the aisle. Jessie will prepare the meal with the staff Harrison hired. Flowers will be delivered tomorrow. Harrison assured me he picked up his tuxedo, so all that’s left is you.” Olivia looked at Ruby with a sparkle in her eyes.
“And leave your hair to me,” said Amy-Rose. She and Ruby exchanged a warm look that a season ago neither would have thought possible. Amy-Rose sipped her tea now and, indeed, stopped fidgeting. She was fine, right here, with her friends. “And Helen? Your contribution?”
“Ummm, I will be in one of Ruby’s dresses again,” said Helen. Olivia’s eyes narrowed at her sister, who quickly added, “And I will be escorted by Mr.Lawrence.” Helen blushed as her sister cooed. “Livy,” Helen said. “Calm down.”
“I can’t help it,” she said. “I’m so happy for you.”
Amy-Rose squeezed Helen’s hand under the table. It had been a rough journey for the young Miss Davenport, but here they all were.
Helen’s smile dimmed. “What of Mr.Stone?” she asked her sister. “He was supposed to escort you.”
Now it was Olivia’s turn to shift in her seat. “We have yet to speak, but he has not given any indication he won’t attend. Let’s continue to plan as though he’ll be there.”
Ruby nodded. “He is a gentleman. I doubt he will cancel.”
With the attendees and the table arrangements settled, the conversation moved on to the menu. Amy-Rose let her mind wander. She looked forward to accompanying John to Ruby’s nuptials. After they’d danced at Helen’s party, he’d remained at her side, dancing several more numbers with her, as if making up for lost time. They’d attended the theater, followed Helen and Mr.Lawrence around the Field Museum, and dined with the Andrewses. She couldn’t count the afternoons she spent on the patio with him and his family, enjoying the high heat of the summer’s end in the shade. By the time he asked her to accompany him to the wedding, yes, was her only answer.
After lunch, the Davenports returned Amy-Rose to the salon, and she was surprised to find their father standing at her doorstep. “Mr.Davenport, you’re early.”
Mr.Davenport waved the carriage carrying his daughters on, and said, “Forgive me, Miss Shepherd. I had hoped to witness Clara’s Beauty Salon in action. It seems I have scheduled for the wrong day.”
Amy-Rose looked at her mother’s name on the window, tracing each letter with her eyes. “It’s difficult to talk during business hours,” she said. “Shall we?” She climbed the steps and ushered Mr.Davenport through the door. The inside of the salon never ceased to steal her breath. Even empty, it vibrated with cozy, happy energy. When she turned back, she saw Mr.Davenport admiring her salon, taking the space in with a smile .
“I remember the early days,” he started. “Chaotic. And invigorating. Learning as you go, especially from your mistakes.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “You have built a wonderful thing here.”
“I have.” Amy-Rose was proud of the work she and Mrs.Davis had done. “I’m glad you accepted my invitation. You missed the grand opening, and if you do wish to see how it looks on an average day, you are more than welcome.”
“Thank you,” he said. His expression was one she could not place. Undeterred, Amy-Rose gave him a tour of the actual salon. Upstairs, she introduced him to the stylists packing completed orders for shipment. “I’ve saved enough to begin placing ads in the papers,” she said. “I’m afraid that demand will soon outpace production.”
Mr.Davenport acknowledged her fear with a nod. “It’s a difficult balance to find.”
“I haven’t decided what my next steps ought to be, but I know for sure that I will not accept any that would result in losing part of my ownership.”
“To own something is special. To have built it yourself is…there are no words. I suppose it depends on how you want your product to be perceived, how far you want your influence to go. Adjustments can be made.” His voice dropped to a lower volume. “As long as you’re not too stubborn to see them. And as long as you’re willing to amend your errors.” Amy-Rose was sure he was talking about himself. John and Helen had said they’d need to convince him about the car, but perhaps he was more open to change than they believed.
He picked up a jar of one of the treatments, releasing the sweet smell of honey into the air. “My son wants to build wonderful things too.”
Amy-Rose’s throat tightened. Her heart raced as she braced herself for what he might say next.
Mr.Davenport locked eyes with her, his face tender. “One of the wonderful things he wants to build is a life with you.”
He paused. Amy-Rose took the opening. “He does. I didn’t, couldn’t, quite believe him when I returned, but I do now.” She thought of John’s letter and the way he carefully saw her mother’s past—her family’s past—restored to her. She saw it in the way he looked at her, dimple deepening every time his eyes found her. “I hope we will be happy together, like you and Mrs.Davenport.”
“I suspect you will be.”
As if summoned by his father’s words, John came up the stairs. “Amy-Rose,” he said with a grin. “Afternoon, ladies,” he said to the stylists. It wasn’t until he removed his hat that he saw his father. “Daddy? Pardon, I don’t mean to interrupt.”
“Not at all,” said Mr.Davenport, shifting his weight off his cane. “Miss Shepherd was kind enough to invite me over for a short tour.” He turned to her then. “I’m sorry to have missed the grand opening. Congratulations, and I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” He smiled at the honey jar once more. “Wonderful. John, I’ll be waiting in that contraption I’m sure you’ve parked outside.
Amy-Rose and John watched him leave in a mix of confusion and disbelief. When she finally found her voice, she said, “I believe your father just handed me his olive branch.”