As Love Blooms (4 page)

Tessa held her breath. If she couldn’t impress this gardener, one of Mr. Nussbaumer’s underlings, how would she ever impress the master gardener himself?

Without a word, Reese moved on to the next page. After what seemed like an hour, he finally turned to the last set of plans. Still, he said nothing.

Tessa couldn’t wait any longer. “Well?”

He rolled up the plans and turned to her. “There’s only one thing I can say, Tessa.”

Like a cactus, disappointment pricked her. Now what would she do?

“These are amazing. You have the ability to look at a garden like a blank canvas, but . . .”

“But?”

“Mr. Nussbaumer still won’t take you seriously. He’s too old-fashioned about what women should do.”

Anger threatened to erupt, but she held it in check. “That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not.” He paused and seemed to study her for a while. “But I’ve got an idea. I said if you had talent, I’d help you, and I will, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Her father always said you could tell if someone was trustworthy by looking in their eyes. The famous detective Allan Pinkerton said that too. She gazed into Reese’s blue eyes and noticed the color matched the faded denim trousers he wore. Mesmerizing. She blinked.
Focus.
Yes, he had pretty eyes, but was he trustworthy? Could she trust this man with her future? What if he had ulterior motives?

If she made the wrong choice, what would her sisters say when she had one more thing to explain?

 4 

Reese was insane. Somehow being around this fiery little redhead had made him completely loco. He looked past her toward the mosaic garden and thought of how many hours he had spent working on the carpet bedding display. Sure, it lacked Tessa’s artistic flair, but Mr. Nussbaumer had expressed pleasure with his work. After that, Reese had been given even more responsibilities, and then finally he’d been offered the chance to prove himself. Some had even started to refer to him as Mr. Nussbaumer’s second in command. So what had possessed him to offer to help Tessa Gregory? He could be risking everything.

While his mind screamed for him to withdraw the offer, his mouth had other ideas. “What do you say, Tessa?”

“I’d like to hear your plan before I fully commit. It seems only sensible.”

He nodded. Smart girl. “All right. Here’s what I’m thinking . . .”

For the next hour, Reese had Tessa walk with him. As he performed his morning duties, they discussed his ideas, which entailed using Tessa’s plans on an area Mr. Nussbaumer had recently assigned him to create a garden of his choosing. When the work was done and Mr. Nussbaumer seemed pleased, he’d give Tessa the credit, thus opening the door for her work to be taken seriously by the German park superintendent.

Tessa agreed to the plan but insisted he allow her to come help plant the garden. Keeping her presence a secret would be quite difficult, but he had to admit having a working companion would be a nice change. Seldom were the other park gardeners assigned to the same area, and when they were, he usually had to work with Nels, a man who seemed intent on making himself look good by pointing out every fault he could find in Reese’s work. But what would Mr. Nussbaumer do if he found out Reese was letting Tessa work at Como?

“Um, Reese, I think that hole is deep enough.” Tessa’s voice broke through his thoughts.

He leaned on the handle of his shovel. Yep, she was right. This little bush didn’t need the crater he’d dug. She reached for a gunny sack filled with soil, and Reese laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t mind if you dig in the dirt and plant things to your heart’s content, but as long as I’m around, you don’t need to be lifting anything heavier than a rosebush. Agreed?”

“I could manage.”

“I’m sure you could, but it doesn’t feel right. Give me that, okay?”

She grinned. “I’ll do my best.”

“Your best not to carry things or your best not to let me catch you doing it?”

She shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see. Can we start now?”

“Not until tomorrow.” He glanced at her fancy outfit. “And I hope you have something more appropriate for a lady gardener.”

“Naturally I have several dresses for that purpose.”

“Dresses?” If the sharp tan jacket and skirt she was wearing were any indication, she’d stick out in an upturned garden like a rosebud in a pigpen. He wouldn’t even start on the lavish hat with a brim wider than her shoulders. And how on earth did she do up all those buttons on the front? There had to be at least thirty of the little things all lined in a straight row from the hem to the—

She cleared her throat. Good grief. Had he been staring?

“I have serviceable skirts and shirtwaists to work in, if you must know.”

“Uh, yeah. That’ll have to do, I suppose.” Many of the girls who worked as teachers, clerks, switchboard operators, and stenographers wore black skirts and white shirts, so the other gardeners might simply look past her and think she was visiting Como on her lunch or a break. “The hardest part will be to keep your role here a secret. If the wrong person sees you working in the garden, they might say something to Mr. Nussbaumer and that will ruin our plans, so you’ll have to be on your guard all the time.”

“I guess I’ll have to work incognito. Mr. Pinkerton said—”

“As in Allan Pinkerton, the famous detective?”

She nodded and placed her hand on her heart. “‘A friend to honesty and a foe to crime.’ Anyway, he said working incognito is a detective’s most difficult challenge.”

“We aren’t solving a train robbery, but I’d agree.” Tessa Gregory certainly had a flare for the dramatic. “We’ll just have to be careful.”

A smile bloomed on her face. “It will be a grand adventure, Reese. I can feel it. You’ll see.”

Somehow he doubted that. “We’ll start at nine sharp. Meet me on the hill I showed you, where the new garden is to be planted.”

“I’ll be there, and I promise, I won’t let anyone see me.” She pulled her enormous hat down until it nearly covered her eyes. “Incognito, see?”

If he had to guess, Tessa Gregory would have a hard time becoming invisible. This idea was doomed. “I wish I knew a better way to keep you hidden, Tessa, but I don’t.”

“Don’t look so glum. I’ll think of something. I always do. A grand adventure, remember?”

He wanted to believe her, and looking at the glint in her hazel eyes, he almost did.

Almost.

Nine times out of ten, Tessa loved shopping at the Golden Rule almost as much as attending a moving picture show, but today her stomach quivered as she entered the unfamiliar boys’ department. Like she’d promised Reese, she’d come up with a better way to hide—to disguise herself completely.

She eyed the trousers neatly stacked in wooden cubby holes. On the other side of the room, knickers were stacked in a similar manner. Which should she get? Only younger boys wore knickers, but they might fit her frame better. How would she figure out what size she wore without tipping off the salesman?

She fingered the fabric on a rack of suits—tweeds, worsteds, serges, and cashmeres. None would work for a serious gardener.

“May I help you, miss?” The salesman straightened a jacket on the hanger.

“I need a pair of heavy trousers.”

He looked down his long narrow nose, where his spectacles balanced. “Not for yourself, of course.”

“No, uh . . . for my brother. My younger brother.” If she had a brother, she would surely purchase clothes for him. It wasn’t her fault God had only blessed her with sisters.

“In that case, I think you’ll want to look over here, where we stock the work pants and overalls.”

She followed him around the corner. He gestured to the wall of dark blue, black, gray, and brown work trousers. “What size is your brother’s waist?”

“His waist?” She bit her lip. What had Madam Dubois measured her waist at last time she’d had a dress made? “Well, he’s about my size.”

“I see.” The salesman seemed to be trying to guess her measurement. “Is he taller than you?”

“No, about the same height too.”

“Truly? That’s unusual.” The salesman took a step back and rubbed his chin. “Then, I’m guessing his inseam would be about twenty-nine inches.”

“Inseam?”

The salesman’s cheeks colored. “Miss, is your mother here? Perhaps shopping in another department? Mothers usually have a good idea about such things as measurements.”

“No. My mother is gone.” There. That was the truth. “She died of influenza.”

“Please accept my condolences.” He moved to the shelf and pulled out three pairs of trousers. He held up the dark blue first. “This is a nine-ounce York denim.”

Tessa took the pants and held them up to her body. She wouldn’t look like a girl in these—except for her top half.

“Are you certain these are for your brother?” The salesman seemed to be studying her. “We don’t sell trousers for young women to wear. It’s simply not appropriate. Our store owner frowns on such sales.”

A prickle of anger nudged her, but she tempered it. This man couldn’t possibly know if the trousers were for her, and besides, what business was it of the department store if she wore the pants or not? Aunt Sam had been wearing bloomers for years and was always praising them for their comfort. As of late, she’d taken to wearing cropped pants, tall boots, and a long jacket for motoring about.

Tessa smoothed the velvet lapels of her fitted jacket. “I’m offended. Do I look like the kind of girl who would go around in a pair of work trousers?”

“Pardon me, miss, but those suffrage girls are everywhere these days.”

Tessa pointed to the black trousers. “What can you tell me about those?”

The man ran his long fingers over the fabric as if trying to decide
if he should continue the sale. “These fine pants are called Texas Ranger Overalls. They are made of ten-ounce duck, and they’re very sturdy. I’m assuming your brother is doing some farm work, so these pants would be perfect. Or he might like a pair of these bibbed overalls. A lot of men like having the bib in the front so there’s no need for suspenders.”

“Yes, those would be perfect.” The bib would hide her most obvious feminine part. “I’ll take two pairs—one blue and one gray. Please charge them to my account.”

“And what’s the name?”

“Tessa Gregory. My name is under my Aunt Sam’s—Mrs. Samantha Phillips. She lives on Summit Avenue.” Tessa would have to pay Aunt Sam back as soon as she could.

“Yes, miss.” Clearly impressed with the address, the salesman grinned and picked up the clothes. “And you’ll probably need some shirts to go with those. May I suggest the blue and white percale over here?”

“Excellent. And I’ll take that white linen one as well.” She pointed to her selection. “In my—I mean his—size.”

The salesman’s brow furled. Oh no. He’d caught her slip. Would he turn her away now?

His furl lessened, and he looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m certain your
brother
will require work boots too. We have a nice selection in the corner. If you’d like, you could go over and select a pair while I write these up.”

So a pair of boots was the price of his silence? She had shoes that would have served her well, but the boots would be a small price to pay. To her great relief, the salesman ignored her while she tried on a few pairs. After she selected a soft kidskin pair, she slipped her own shoes back on, found an appropriate straw hat to buy as well, and carried her purchases to the counter.