Hattie Glover’s Millinery

important or wealthy he was, I simply refused to have him. You would have been proud of how calm I remained.” The young lady picked up a length of ribbon lying on the table and absently wound it round and round her finger. “For a moment, I thought there was hope. Mother seemed to understand and said she would speak to Father about the matter.”
“But he would not concede,” Hattie guessed.
“No. In fact, he called me to his study and informed me that if I was having a nervous fit I should be treated at a sanitarium!” Tears welled again as Miss Pruett clung to the balled-up ribbon in her hand. “I have heard what goes on in those places. Ice baths and hot steam to bring the elements back into balance. Sometimes even shock treatments.”
She slammed her fist on the table, making Hattie start. “I must run away. I will talk to Randall again, and if he does not ask me to elope, I will ask him. I haven’t any time to waste.”
It sounded as if the poor girl was jumping from the proverbial frying pan into an unknown blaze. Who was this Randall James? A man truly in love, or a fortune hunter hoping to compromise and trap an heiress? Hattie needed time to look into the fellow, although she was no detective and had no clear idea how. She must prevent Miss Pruett from making a rash move.
“If you will hold off on doing anything drastic, perhaps I could intercede with your parents. I have an idea of how I might dissuade them from forcing you. Will you give me the opportunity to try?”
Uncertain hope kindled in the depths of those doe eyes. “What will you say, Mrs. Glover? I can’t imagine how you could convince them.”
Hattie replied with what she prayed was a reassuring smile, “Just leave that to me. On the pretext of delivering a hat, I will create the opportunity to speak with your mother.”
“But neither mother nor I have ordered anything other than the hat I already picked up.”
“Choose one now to offer to your mother as a conciliatory gift, a demonstration that you are trying to be amenable.”
Miss Pruett gasped. “Subterfuge! You will enter the house as a spy, and I your accomplice. How thrilling! That is just the thing. And while you keep Mother occupied, I will arrange to speak with Randall about our future.”
“You should delay on that score. You need not hurry into an elopement once no unwanted engagement is imminent.” Hattie added an argument she guessed might slow down Miss Pruett’s plan, “A man prefers to be the one to present the offer of marriage, don’t you think?”
“Yes. Of course, you’re right. I wouldn’t want to frighten off Randall if he is not ready to commit to our love. You give such good advice, Mrs. Glover.” Miss Pruett abruptly dropped the crumpled ball of ribbon and lunged from her seat to hug Hattie. “You have been such a friend to me. I am ever in your debt.”
Hattie patted Jennifer’s back before gently disengaging herself from those slender arms. “There, there. Don’t thank me yet. I will do what I can, but make no promises of success.”
The flushed young woman plopped back into her seat. “I understand, but simply knowing I may count on you to speak on my behalf is…” She shook her head as tears overcame her once more. “I cannot express my gratitude.”
Rose appeared in the doorway. “The customers have all gone. What has happened? Tell me the latest, Miss Pruett.”
Hattie left the two young women talking and returned to the shop. How young they seemed. She was no crone herself at twenty-six. But the difficulties she had endured made her feel as ancient as dirt.
The ringing of the bell drew her attention to the imposing sight of Guy Hardy’s figure filling her doorway once more. He was here for the hat and for that luncheon date. Jennifer Pruett’s visit had completely distracted Hattie from dwelling on him. Now, here he was and his damnable hat wasn’t quite finished.
With no other customers keeping her from speaking openly, Hattie propelled herself toward him. “Mr. Hardy. I fear you’ve come too soon. I haven’t quite completed work on your hat.”
“No worry. I will return for it another day. But it is nearly midday. Have you considered my offer of lunch? I know a place where we would not be seen by anyone in society.”
“I’m afraid I simply cannot, Mr. Hardy,” Hattie said firmly. “I have far too much work to do. Remember, you promised if I walked with you yesterday, you would not bother me again.”
He remained silent for a moment, his expression crestfallen. “Then I must stay true to my word. But I thought we had a good conversation yesterday, Mrs. Glover, and you seemed to enjoy yourself.”
“I did,” she admitted. “But that does not mean I wish to further our acquaintance. Nothing can come of it.” Disappointment welled in her even as she spoke with determination. How nice it would be to chat with him at length over a meal someplace private, no worries or wondering about his motivation, simply whiling away an afternoon.
Hardy studied her face and Hattie thought he could read her thoughts, but he nodded as if the matter was settled. “All right. I will not bother you again. Let me provide you with my address so you may send the hat when it is ready.”
As she got a pen and paper to write the information, Hattie felt a pleasant daydream drifting away. It would be gone and forgotten soon, and she would be the better for that.
Before Hattie could jot down Hardy’s address, Jennifer Pruett emerged from the workroom, seeming more composed and controlled as she bid Hattie good day. “I will leave the selection of a hat to your discretion. Thank you, Mrs. Glover. You are doing me a great service.” When she was out of Hardy’s line of sight, Jennifer