Kravitz looked up from noting Lucy’s measurements and frowned. “A bit larger? That won’t do, Mrs. Holland. I need exact measurements. Particularly in her case.”
“That’s not how we’re going to do it,” she said pleasantly but firmly. “If the new shoes don’t fit correctly, I’ll bring them back and we’ll continue making adjustments until they do fit properly.”
Kravitz held her gaze for a full minute, then threw up his hands. Angie knew capitulation when she saw it.
“Now then. What will the charge be for two pairs of good shoes and two pairs of everyday shoes?”
He studied the odd-shaped, scarred shoe in her hand. “The special-made shoes will be five dollars a pair. This young lady’s shoes will be two dollars and fifty cents a pair.” His stony expression dared her to object.
“That’s robbery,” she snapped, scowling. “Come along, girls.” At the door she glared back with eyes as hard as black rock. “And when will the shoes be ready?”
“A week from tomorrow.”
“That is not acceptable,” she said. “The shoes will be ready the day after tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t possibly—”
“For the price I’m paying, you will have them ready when I say they should be ready. And that’s the day after tomorrow!” Her eyes narrowed and flashed, and her earrings swung in indignation. “I’m giving you a day longer than I would like to.” Her stubborn expression added an unspoken addendum: Meet the deadline or there will be hell to pay.
Chin in the air, she sailed outside onto the boardwalk and turned toward the notions emporium.
“This is so embarrassing,” Lucy murmured, her head down. “First you argued with the seamstress, then with Mr. Kravitz, and now Daisy is walking down Bennet in her stocking feet. Is she going barefoot to school tomorrow? I’ll just die.”
“Daisy has an old pair of shoes that she can wear to school.” She glared at Lucy, out of patience. “I’m sorry it embarrasses you to see someone refuse to be trampled by shop people. I’d think you especially would understand standing up for oneself.”
Lucy’s head lifted and her mouth formed into a pout. “You still had to pay Mrs. Hooten in advance, and you had to pay Mr. Kravitz’s price.”
“But Mrs. Hooten agreed to include buttons and trim, and Mr. Kravitz will have your shoes ready the day after tomorrow. I expect and will by heaven receive service for my money. If that embarrasses you, then I hope you marry a wealthy man.” She’d cut her shopping teeth on Chicago merchants, and she’d learned a few universal truths. Timidity and politeness got one exactly nowhere with shopkeepers.
And long ago she had run out of a room instead of standing up for herself and what she wanted. She’d had ten endless years to think about that.
She watched Lucy while they shopped for gloves, bags, stockings, and new handkerchiefs. If Angie approved or suggested a particular item, Lucy immediately rejected that choice. If Angie gravitated toward one display, Lucy headed in the other direction. Worse, they seemed to wage a subtle tug-of-war for Daisy’s attention. Doubtful and confused, Daisy followed after Angie and then responded to Lucy’s call, then she returned to Angie before Lucy pulled her away again. Finally she covered her eyes and burst into tears.
Lucy shot a gaze down the aisle that said: Now look what you’ve caused.
“We’re finished here,” Angie announced grimly. She gathered the items she thought they needed, making the choices for them, and carried her selections to the counter. She left Lucy to comfort Daisy, not knowing if that was a wise decision or simply the quickest way to get out of here.
No one spoke a word until they arrived home.
Angie placed their parcels on the kitchen table. “I’d hoped this would be a pleasant and enjoyable excursion. I’m sorry it wasn’t.” Worse, she didn’t know why the outing had turned sour. What had she done or said?
“Put on your old shoes, then we’ll go outside,” Lucy instructed Daisy. While she waited, she watched Angie remove her hat and gloves, then fold her summer cape. “Daddy loved my mama,” she said suddenly.
Angie glanced at her out-thrust chin and angry mouth, then untied the string on the packages. “I’m sure he did.”
“I saw them kiss. Lots of times.”
Her fingers fumbled in the string, then steadied. “That’s nice.”
“He doesn’t kiss you.” Turning away, she shouted toward the bedroom door. “Are you ready yet?”
Daisy ran out of the bedroom toward the front door, lurching from side to side in her awkward dipping gait. “Wait a minute,” she called to Lucy.