Chapter 33
Maggie stood on the threshold of the ballroom of the Palmer Mansion on Lake Shore Drive, a house that rivaled Stein’s Folly in New York for its sheer opulence and luxury.
She could hardly believe she was here, and as a guest, but then so much had changed in the last few months, and all for the better. At least, mostly.
To her amazement even now, Maggie’s little shop had become something of a success.
While it hadn’t necessarily taken Chicago society by storm, she’d had a steady stream of women coming through her doors.
Some of them had come, it seemed, from curiosity more than any real desire or need for a hat, while others had insisted on having a hat like Mrs. Wyatt or Deloitte or whoever else they’d seen wearing one of her creations.
All in all, it had been the start she’d hoped for, even if Mrs. Potter Palmer had not come calling, as Mrs. Stein had promised.
She was at the famed woman’s home now, in any case, invited to this ball, and as Theo’s guest. Whether that was as his business colleague or something more, Maggie couldn’t truly say.
The evening of the opening, he’d kissed her quite senseless, before she’d forced herself to push him out the door, less she be compromised further, and laughingly he’d gone.
Maggie had vowed that that would be the end of it, and for a time it was. Theo kept his distance, and so did she. But then he’d shown up again, several weeks later, late at night, with roses and champagne and flowery compliments, and even though Maggie had known she shouldn’t, she’d let him in.
No one will know, she’d told herself, and it’s only this one time.
Once again, he’d kissed her thoroughly, drunk champagne, and left at Maggie’s request before anything had become too serious… and once again she’d promised herself it would be the last time.
It wasn’t.
Half a dozen more times he came to her door, and on each occasion Maggie welcomed him in—and then pushed him out again.
She hated herself for being so weak, but Theo’s attention and flattery soothed her battered spirit.
Her store might be a success, but she still felt so lonely.
She missed Brendan, and when she was with Theo, she was able to forget that she did.
And now she was here with him tonight, if only as his business acquaintance.
Maggie knew better than anyone that their true relationship—whatever it even was—could not be revealed.
And yet some feminine part of her liked to pretend they were here as a couple, that she belonged on his arm, even if it was nothing more than a foolish fantasy.
The only reason she was here, she knew, was because Theo had told her that Mrs. Bertha Palmer wished to discuss a matter of “some importance” with her at the ball tonight, to mark the opening of the Exposition next week.
She wondered if she’d finally be recognized—both as a businesswoman in her own right, and one who had every right to be on Theo Stein’s arm.
“You look beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the room,” Theo murmured in her ear as Maggie glanced down at her dress, the most elegant thing she’d ever worn, beyond even her vague daydreams. Made of ivory satin and embellished with hundreds of tiny crystals, it left her shoulders scandalously bare and shimmered when she moved.
Theo had paid for it himself, a fact that had left Maggie uneasy until he’d reminded her, blithely, that he paid for everything, so what did it matter if he also paid for a dress she wore?
Maggie had had no argument to make in return, but she’d still felt the difference between Theo investing in her shop as a professional and paying for the clothes on her back as her secret suitor, lovely as they were.
Besides, she was making decent money now, thanks to the commissions she’d received.
There was surely no reason to continue to accept Theo’s generosity, save for that he insisted upon it.
She could finally be independent, truly so, and yet she did not even know how to go about it.
Could she pay Theo back? Take on the rent and other expenses herself?
It was, she was ashamed to realized, something of a mystery to her.
“Shall we?” he asked, and taking her elbow, he ushered her into the ballroom.
Maggie kept her head high, her smile in place, as she sailed into the magnificent room on Theo’s arm.
Wasn’t this what she’d dreamed of, back in New York, when she’d gazed up at Vanderbilt mansion and told Brendan how she’d grace its rooms one day?
And now here she was, the whole world sparkling at her fingertips, all of it hers for the taking…
It only took a few suspended seconds, however, for Maggie to realize just how desperate a dream that remained.
She saw a woman whom she’d fitted for a hat press her fingertips to her mouth to hide a titter, and another woman leaned forward and whispered to her partner as they both slid sly glances her way.
For a moment, she simply stood there, her mind spinning. She knew she wasn’t accepted by society, of course, not in that way… but Mrs. Potter Palmer had requested her presence. Why, suddenly, did she feel ridiculous?
She glanced at Theo, but he’d already gone off to fetch them champagne.
It was natural for people to be curious as to why she was here, she told herself.
She was a milliner, not a lady of society, no matter the dress she wore, or that Mrs. Palmer herself had requested her presence.
A few whispers did not a scandal make, and yet she felt a flush rise to her cheeks as Theo disappeared into the crowd, and Maggie looked around a little desperately for someone to talk to.
No one approached or even smiled at her, and she stood alone, her face hot, until he returned with two coupes, handing her one with a flourish.
“Your first ball,” he remarked as he took a sip. “What do you think of it?”
“I think people are wondering why I am here,” she replied tightly. “As am I.”
“I told you, Mrs. Palmer has something important to discuss with you,” Theo replied, unfazed by her agitation. “And, naturally, people are curious as to who the most beautiful woman in the room is.”
Maggie gave a little shake of her head in response.
Sometimes, she thought, Theo’s flattery was nothing but empty words.
In her darker moments, she feared it always was.
Did she really believe a few evenings together, pleasant as they were, actually meant anything to him?
Judging by the looks she was receiving, most of the guests in this ballroom thought the same as she did.
“I’ll introduce you to Mrs. Palmer as soon as I’m able,” he promised her, and numbly Maggie nodded her assent.
As she sipped her champagne, glancing around the elegant room with its many just as elegantly appointed guests, she tried not to feel as if she were on display.
Strange, she reflected, how you could feel so exposed when you were as good as being ignored.
She hadn’t expected to make friends here, but neither had she expected to be made to feel so utterly unimportant.
She found herself thinking of both Brendan and Danny, and missing their company, the way they knew her, as no one here—not even Theo—did.
She had not seen either of them since she’d left back in October, and although she kept meaning to visit them in Englewood, she never had.
The more time passed, the less likely it seemed that she would, and that saddened her.
Brendan and Danny felt like the only family she had, save for her father, who seemed further away than ever.
As for here? Maggie looked around again, at all the people socializing and circulating, none of whom seemed inclined to talk to her.
Theo, even, seemed restless, keeping a slight distance between them, certainly doing his best to play the part of investor rather than lover.
It wasn’t surprising, and, in truth, Maggie knew it should be a relief, and yet somehow it still hurt.
Appearing in public together like this threw up into bold relief how little she actually meant to him.
“Ah, there she is!” Theo exclaimed, and taking her by the fingertips, he led her toward Bertha Palmer, the much younger wife of Chicago millionaire Potter Palmer.
Now in her mid-forties, she looked poised and lovely in a ballgown of pale blue satin encrusted with diamantés, her dark hair, stranded with silver, done up in an elegant bouffant.
She was known for her philanthropy as much as her wealth, and she gave them a cool smile as Theo and Maggie approached.
“Ah, Miss O’Halloran. The woman who has caused quite a stir, taking the fashion world by storm.” She laughed lightly, her gaze friendly but a little shrewd. “I have been meaning to come by your shop and commission one of your fabulous creations. It’s remiss of me that I have not.”
“You are too kind,” Maggie murmured, blushing. Perhaps once everyone saw Mrs. Palmer talking to her, she would not be so ostracized.
“You might know I am president of the Board of Lady Managers,” Mrs. Palmer told her, a fact of which Maggie was well aware.
While fitting ladies for their hats, she’d heard all manner of gossip about Mrs. Palmer’s prominent position—how she controlled every aspect of the Women’s Building of the Exposition and had fired the first architect for not acceding to her wishes.
She’d decided on the artists to create the murals that decorated its walls, and the theme of “Primitive and Modern Woman.” She’d also curated the selection of women’s achievements that the building was meant to host, as well as the Isabella quarter—the commemorative coin created for the exhibition.
“I do,” Maggie replied with a small nod, waiting for more—and what more could there be? Dare she hope…?
“It is quite a marvelous exhibition of women’s achievements in all manner of fields,” Mrs. Palmer continued.
“Art and textiles, glass and pottery, and, of course, fashion.” She paused significantly before continuing, “It occurred to me that it would be quite delightful if one of your hats were to be featured, especially since you take such inspiration from our great city. And while we look back at what women have achieved through the centuries, the Exposition is all about looking forward, as well.” She raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing about her lips.
“Mrs. Wyatt suggested it, and I have to say I was quite taken with the idea. What do you think?”
“I… I would be honored, of course, Mrs. Palmer,” Maggie stammered, overwhelmed by the offer Mrs. Palmer had so graciously—and rather negligently—extended. Never, in all her wildest dreams, had she imagined such an invitation. “Thank you very much.”
“Of course. I’ll send someone over to collect one of your own choosing,” she replied with a small, elegant shrug. “Something striking, of course, and unique.”
“Yes—”
“Excellent.” She angled herself slightly away from Maggie, toward Theo, in what felt like a gentle but firm rebuff. “And, Theo,” she said, her voice filled with a warmth that had not been audible when she’d been addressing Maggie. “How is your lovely fiancée, Miss Winter?”