Chapter 5 #2
The coat did not match her pale green day dress with its thin stripes of darker green, but it was cold outside—colder than she was used to.
She accepted the dark brown coat gratefully and slipped into it, feeling its warmth immediately, despite the fact it was too big. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
The woman shrugged then headed for the dust rag once more. She spoke over her shoulder as she swirled the rag against the polish in the tin. “While you’re out and about, you should stop in at Miss Carmichael’s.”
“Miss Carmichael’s?”
“Aye. She owns a dress shop. Your mother purchased almost all of her clothes from Miss Carmichael. The other girls, too. She might have a winter coat that will fit you better.” Mrs. Gallagher started rubbing the polish on the table to bring out its lustrous shine.
“She knew your mother quite well. You could ask her some of the things you want to know about her.”
“Thank you. I think I will. How do I get to her shop?”
After Mrs. Gallagher supplied the directions to everywhere she needed to go, Sheridan left the house, wrapped in the woman’s warm winter coat.
And it was a good thing, too. It seemed colder than yesterday, colder still than the day before.
Her breath formed mist-like clouds as she walked up the street and found Miss Carmichael’s shop.
The shop wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting though there was a sign next to the door.
It was actually the woman’s home, but it looked like the parlor and dining room had been transformed into one room with big plate-glass windows.
In those windows were dressmakers’ mannequins, all wearing the beautiful clothes Miss Carmichael made.
They may have been last year’s fashions, but they were exquisite.
She strolled up the walkway, climbed the stairs and noticed a little sign hanging from the doorknob that read ‘Come in,’ so she did. There was no little bell like there had been at Sullivan’s to announce her. “Hello?”
“I’ll be right with you,” a feminine voice called out from behind a closed curtain. “Please help yourself to a cup of tea or coffee. There are some pastries, too.”
Sheridan went over to a small cozy sitting area.
On the pot belly stove that exuded much welcomed heat, she found a coffeepot and a teakettle.
Beside the stove was a credenza, which held cups and all the necessary items to make tea or add cream and sugar to one’s coffee.
Sheridan didn’t help herself as she’d been offered.
She did, however, extend her cold hands toward the heat.
“Good afternoon! How can I help—” Her words died as Sheridan turned around, though the woman recovered rather quickly. She moved forward, extending her hand as she did. “You must be Sheridan.”
The simple statement shocked her, but truly, it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t the first time someone recognized her.
“I’d know you anywhere. You look very much like your mother.”
“Thank you, Miss Carmichael.”
“It’s Leslie, please. I was quite fond of Josie.
We were good friends. A sweeter, more giving person you’ll never find.
” She leaned forward and lowered her voice.
“I worked for her for a brief time, but I always wanted to own a dress shop. Josie lent me the money—” She waved her hands to encompass the entire room.
“—for all this when the bank wouldn’t. Mr. Applebaum drew up the contract.
It’s all been paid back now.” She smiled.
“She also steered a lot of customers my way so that my business became a success.”
The admission surprised her, though it shouldn’t. Leslie Carmichael, as she was learning, wasn’t the only one who had been fond of Josie, had been friends with her, and reaped the benefits of her generosity.
“I owe her more than I can say.” Leslie’s warm brown eyes glowed with a watery shine. “I miss her.”
She was beginning to miss the mother she’d never known, too, more so now than ever before.
“I was hoping you had a winter coat I might purchase.” She gestured to the one she wore. “This is Mrs. Gallagher’s. As you can see, it’s too big.”
“Yes, it is. Mrs. Gallagher is a much…rounder woman. Unfortunately, I do not have any winter coats at the moment. It’s been so cold, I haven’t been able to keep up with the demand.
” She gestured to the garments, town dresses and so forth, all hanging from rods suspended from the ceiling, then paused and reached up to rub her earlobe.
“Wait. I think I have something that might fit the bill. I’ll be right back.
” She disappeared once more behind the closed curtain and returned in moments, holding a hunter green wool cape.
“Josie ordered this just before she passed.”
“Oh, it’s lovely.” Sheridan removed Mrs. Gallagher’s coat and laid it over the back of a chair, then slipped on the cape.
She could already feel the heaviness and warmth of the garment’s fine wool.
She also felt a sense of comfort, almost like she was wrapped in her mother’s love.
The sensation was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
She pushed her hands through the slits then moved closer to the mirror against the wall.
“And warm.” She caught Leslie’s reflection in the mirror, then held up her hands to show her the thin, white gloves she wore.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of gloves or mittens?
These aren’t doing much against the cold. ”
“I’m afraid I don’t, but Sullivan’s should. Mrs. Cudahy knits beautiful things that Tresia sells for her.”
Sheridan nodded, then slipped out of the cape and handed it to the dressmaker, still feeling closer to her mother than ever before. She looked at Leslie as she did so, her focus falling on the woman’s beautiful smile. “You said you were friends with my mother.”
“I was. Very good friends. As I said, I miss her. Josie had impeccable taste when it came to fashion and what would look especially wonderful on her. Sometimes, though, we’d just sit and talk over coffee.”
“Did she tell you about me?”
Leslie gestured to one of the chairs. Sheridan sat and gave the woman her complete attention.
“She did.” Leslie smiled though that smile quickly faded.
“She spoke of you often and how much she wished things could have been different. She wished she was stronger and could have stood up to her mother and her sister, but she’d never been able to.
She regretted that more than anything. She always said she’d been cheated, denied the opportunity to know you and love you.
But she also knew you’d have a better life than if you had stayed with her.
She had nothing when Odette forced her to leave the only home she’d ever known.
Just a suitcase and a few dollars in her purse. ”
Sheridan understood, at least about standing up to her grandmother and Aunt Estelle.
She’d never been able to, either, except for this last time when she chose to come to Serenity and claim her inheritance.
They both had preconceived ideas and anything that didn’t conform to those ideas were ignored or soundly defeated by sheer force of will.
She also understood about feeling cheated, as that’s how she felt right now.
“I’ve read my mother’s letters. She wrote a little bit about my father. Did she talk about him?”
The woman nodded. “Robert was the love of her life and a good man, from what Josie said. He was handsome and kind and loving, so different than what she’d come to know.
” Leslie let out a sigh, then poured herself a cup of coffee before she took a seat across from her.
“They met at church. It was the only place Josie was allowed to go without a chaperone since it was a short walk down the street from her house.”
Sheridan didn’t interrupt. She was familiar with the church though she’d never stepped foot inside. Apparently, Odette blamed the church as well as Father Arnaud for what happened to Josie.
“She went every morning to pray, she told me, for guidance, for patience, for a mother who wasn’t so cold and unforgiving.
She prayed for a sister who wasn’t cruel and competitive.
She prayed for forgiveness for feeling that way, too.
And she prayed for love.” She took a sip of her coffee, then just held the cup cradled in her hands.
“Robert went to church every morning as well, but not for the same reasons. Josie thought he came from a good family, a loving family. She said he had excellent prospects for his future. She was so in love with him.”
“If they were so in love, why didn’t they marry?
” Sheridan was more than curious. It was the first time she’d heard her father’s name.
Her grandmother and Aunt Estelle never spoke about any of it, the topic strictly forbidden.
In their eyes, Josie and Robert never met, even though she was proof that they had.
“Your mother was only fifteen, Sheridan.” She shook her head.
“Josie knew Odette would never give her permission, never condone her marriage. I don’t know if Robert’s family would, but that didn’t matter.
She and Robert were making plans to run away together.
Oh, she was so happy, so excited. They both were. ”
“What happened? She mentioned losing him.”
Sadness flashed in Leslie’s eyes. “Yes, she did lose him. To Yellow Fever. It was really bad that year. A lot of people passed away from it. Robert was one of them, though Josie didn’t know that for the longest time.
All she knew was that he stopped coming to the church.
It wasn’t until Father Arnaud asked the congregation for prayers for those who were ill that she realized why he hadn’t been coming.
She prayed extra hard that he would recover, but it didn’t happen.
She was devastated to learn of his death, but she still had hope. You.”