Chapter 31
“I think the blue, don’t you?”
Maggie twitched the swatch of velvet she was considering for the showroom’s drapes.
“It’s brighter, as well as more feminine, and this must be a welcoming and feminine space for all my customers.
” She gave the decorator a firm smile as she rose from her seat, sweeping her skirts away from the dusty floor.
For the last three months, the work on her millinery shop had been going apace, with Theo Stein bankrolling it all.
Just three days after she’d had that upsetting confrontation with both Brendan and Danny, she’d moved into the apartment upstairs…
alone. Maggie had tried not to let it hurt that Danny had chosen to live with Brendan.
She’d told herself it made sense, after all, for him to live with a man, and he knew Brendan well, saw him as a father, or at least an older brother figure.
They’d lived together before, so there was no reason to chafe against his choice now, and yet she did, perhaps because of the way it had all happened, with Brendan so quietly, coldly condemning, and Danny defying her at every turn.
She’d felt rejected by both men as she’d made her arrangements to leave Englewood, barely speaking to either Brendan or her brother.
Every time she’d caught Brendan’s gaze, she’d felt his disappointment as well as his contempt for her choice, and it infuriated her.
Did he really think so little of her, to assume she’d compromise herself with Theo Stein?
Because she wouldn’t; she was determined not to.
In the three months since she’d agreed to accept his investment, Theo had conducted himself as a perfect gentleman, and Maggie had made sure to keep a respectable distance between them.
No one could fault her, not even Brendan…
or Mrs. Stein. She’d made sure of it. She’d also asked Theo to make the nature of their relationship plain to anyone who asked, and he’d assured her that everyone knew he was nothing more than an investor.
“You worry far too much about such things,” he’d laughed, and Maggie had kept herself from tartly pointing it out that it was always women who had to.
Theo, predictably, had been delighted that she was moving into the apartment he’d chosen for her so soon.
Without telling her, he’d gone to Field’s furniture department and bought up what seemed like half the store, filling the little apartment with all manner of comforts—for the bedroom a double bed with a feather mattress, a chest of drawers, a dressing table and chair, a velvet chaise.
For the parlor, there were two settees, a comfortable armchair, and several bookcases.
He’d outfitted the kitchen as well, with a brand-new cookstove, a table and chairs.
Maggie had protested the expense, alarmed by how much effort Theo was going to, and how uncomfortable it made her feel, but as with everything, Theo simply waved her protests aside.
“You can hardly live in empty rooms, and it’s all part of the investment,” he’d told her. “Besides, it isn’t all that much, Maggie. A few modest rooms! Enjoy it.”
And Maggie did enjoy it—or try to—for the rooms, modest as Theo claimed they were, were the most luxurious she’d ever lived in.
She felt as if she’d stumbled into a dream, and yet the expense still made her uneasy, especially when she considered what people might think about her accepting such largesse, from a prominent and eligible bachelor, no less.
And there was so much largesse—besides her private apartment, Theo spared no luxury for her shop below—polished floors, Turkish carpets, handcrafted display cases, a sumptuous velvet sofa for waiting customers, a floor-length cheval mirror. It was all incredibly elegant—and expensive.
Now, as Maggie looked around, several workmen bustled about her, completing the last touches before “Margaret O’Halloran, Milliner” opened its doors in just a few weeks, three months before the opening of the Columbian Exposition, and enough time for every woman in the city to have an O’Halloran hat before the big day, should she want one.
“And,” Theo had assured her, “she will.”
He’d taken advertisements out every day in the Chicago Tribune, taking a page from Mr. Selfridge’s book when it came to brazen marketing.
The amount of advertising had led to a raft of speculation in certain quarters, some of it unkind, suggesting that the “shopgirl from Field’s” might be getting ahead of herself, according to one blistering remark in the women’s pages Maggie had had the misfortune to read.
When she’d said as much to Theo, he had been undeterred.
“They’re just jealous,” he’d told her with a shrug. “You’ve got to spend money to make money, Maggie. Every good businessman knows that.”
Maggie was sometimes undecided as to whether Theo, at a mere twenty-three years old, was a good businessman.
Over the last three months, he’d exhibited a self-assurance that was both comforting and alarming in turns.
He’d urged her to spare no extravagance while setting up her shop, despite Maggie’s innate caution, and carelessly stuffed the bills into his suitcoat pocket without so much as a thought for the amounts written on them.
Maggie had no idea how much money he’d invested in her fledgling business, or even where he’d got it from. Was it his father’s? His personal allowance? Was he going into debt on her behalf? She had no idea, and anytime she questioned it, Theo batted her questions away.
“It’s my job to worry about money,” he’d told her, “and yours to design beautiful hats.”
Working on her spring collection was, Maggie knew, a top priority.
Although she intended to design bespoke hats for each woman who walked through her door, she needed to have at least a dozen on display when that door opened for business.
As she’d dreamed and sketched, she’d become beset by doubts once more.
How could she, with so little practical experience, design an entire collection?
It seemed absurd, as well as arrogant, and with all the advertising and publicity, she feared she might fall flat on her face, both professionally and personally.
She’d left everything behind to pursue this dream—her job at Field’s, her friendship with Brendan, her family.
What if it all ended disastrously? It was a question that pressed down on her like a weight, occupying far more of her thoughts and emotions than she wished.
And in just a few weeks, she would have her answer, for better or for worse.
Back in October, Maggie had written to Tovah again, and had plenty of cheerful advice in return, which had bolstered her spirits.
At Theo’s urging, she’d also hired an apprentice milliner, a brisk and no-nonsense young Irishwoman named Molly, who had been working her fingers to the bone in one of Field’s workrooms for a few dollars a week and was willing to take the risk to work for the as yet untested O’Halloran Millinery.
Maggie appreciated the young woman’s calm demeanor and ready cheerfulness, and she suspected Molly knew more about hat making than she did—or maybe ever would.
She looked forward to learning from her.
The shop was due to open in just a few weeks, and so far she and Molly had half a dozen hats they were working on for the display cases.
Maggie had taken her inspiration from the Exposition again, and made sure the hats were striking both in color and style—some small and pert, others wide-brimmed and extravagant.
One had a high, rounded crown inspired by the huge wheel that was being constructed in the middle of the park—a Ferris wheel, it was to be called, after its inventor.
It was said it was going to be as high as a skyscraper and bedecked with benches so people could soar out over the city.
Most people seemed to think it was a dangerous folly, but it was part of the Exposition and so part of Maggie’s designs.
The whole city, it seemed, was readying itself for the Columbian Exposition.
Field’s had completed its addition, Daley’s Restaurant had expanded for a new raft of customers, and every street and store was preparing to showcase something innovative and interesting, in light of the fair.
When her shop opened, Maggie hoped women would flock to it, looking for a hat that suited the spectacle of the occasion.
Theo had assured her, quite grandly, that they would certainly do so, and Maggie wanted to believe him. When she’d first moved into the apartment above the shop on Washington Street, she’d asked him if he’d told his mother about his investment and he assured her he had.
“She’s thrilled, as I knew she would be,” he’d replied carelessly, but Maggie hadn’t known whether to believe him.
She wanted to, desperately, but in all her busyness with getting ready to open, she hadn’t seen Mrs. Stein once, and while she’d considered paying her a visit to make sure what Theo had said was true, she simply wasn’t brave enough.
At least Mrs. Stein hadn’t paid a visit to her, to register her displeasure, and Maggie decided that had to be good enough.
She knew she was taking a risk in allowing Theo to bankroll her business, but all she could do was make sure her own behavior could not be faulted.
The door to the shop opened, and Maggie turned to see Theo walk jauntily in.
“Ah, my favorite milliner,” he exclaimed, taking her by the hands and kissing her on both cheeks.
Maggie stepped back quickly. “To think we open in just a few weeks!” he exclaimed.
“I’m taking a full-page advert out in the Tribune to trumpet the opening. ”