After I opened the first box my little voice said to make sure everything listed on the invoice was inside. As I read down the list it kept pointing out mistakes over and over. Many items were missing! Not only that the amounts charged did not add up correctly.
TWINS by Marie Part 8 Emma.3
by Marie C.
The day before she left Emma spent an especially long time in front of the mirror admiring her new skirt and shirtwaist. The blouse was delicate and see-through in places with little rosettes scattered over the yoke. Her new figure, posture, elegant hands and self-assurance made her glow with pride. She was completely at home now in a corset and thoroughly convinced of its necessity for life as a modern woman. She felt supremely confident and very grown up although only a singularly determined fourteen.
Kirk, too, loved his new body and the pretty clothes. He loved the way he could walk with tiny steps as though he was floating across the floor. He was so blended with Emma that there were few thoughts of boy Kirk except as something distant. He wondered why he ever objected to being a girl.
The next day Andy drove me to the ferry on the ranch buckboard. What a long dusty, bouncy ride that was! I mean I shouldn’t have bothered at all getting cleaned up. At the dock I was spitting dust and wiping my face with a kerchief until the boat docked. At first I was scared about taking a ride across San Francisco Bay all by myself, but needn’t have worried because a handsome young deck officer stood there with me all the way across the bay. He kept asking where I lived and did I come this way often and I didn’t know what to say.
I felt better when we landed at the Ferry Building and met Madame LaFarge and a girl my age named Millie. Madame L. looked just as formidable as Miss Carradine, but better dressed. However, by now I was used to ironclads and just curtsied with a smile. Madame talked in a funny way that Millie later said was a French accent.
In the Spring of 1908 the San Francisco waterfront was a beehive of dray horses and their huge wagons, smaller wagons, pushcarts and men with loads on their backs, mostly carrying goods of every imaginable kind taken from the windjammers and steam vessels crowding the docks. The rubble from the earthquake and fire two years before had mostly been carried away although the skeletal remains of a few big buildings still stood. Where no reconstruction had started big piles of broken stones and bent reinforcing bars had been pushed to both sides of the street. The cobblestone pavements were covered with horse and pedestrian traffic all the time it seemed and for the first time I saw one of those new motor cars! How exciting!
We rode up Market Street in a new trolley car passing huge crowds going in and out of the beautiful new stores. I marveled at the kinds of people walking by - families with well dressed children, yellow men with long pigtails in strange baggy garments, dark brown men with tightly curled hair dressed like sailors and grimy men pushing handcarts piled with all sorts of things like fruit, clothes and furniture. After we alighted three dusty men with shovels stopped what they were doing to stare as Millie and I walked by. Madame told us to hold our heads up and ignore them. I couldn’t help blushing.
Madame’s shop was on Market Street next to the biggest stores. While it was much smaller it was more elegant. Exquisite gold letters on the window announced Chez LaFarge, Modes Pour Dames et Filles. I didn’t find out 'til later that all it meant was “LaFarge House, Fashions for Women and Girls.” Millie said the fancy language makes customers feel high class.
Inside the front door I saw five women standing perfectly still in graceful positions and wearing the most beautiful frocks, shirtwaists and skirts. I spoke to one and Millie whispered that the woman was just a dummy. I was mortified. Maybe that’s what I should be is a dummy, not a ladies’ companion!
Elegant hats on racks were decorated with ostrich feathers, gauzy materials and pieces of fur. Drawers full of lace camisoles, corset covers and bloomers covered one large wall. A few drawers could only be reached with a special ladder and I wondered how girls kept from showing when they had to climb to the top.
The counters were glass-covered and displayed fine leather boots, gloves and silk stockings. I was stunned by so many wonderful things. The clerks and fitters I met all seemed to be attractive, poised and self assured. I wondered if I would ever measure up. Millie whispered that Madame L. was a very hard boss but fair. If I watched my p’s and q’s I would be all right.
A large room in back was furnished with upholstered chairs, large mirrors, pale wallpaper and lots of gold trim. Only Madame’s best customers were allowed in there where specially made gowns were brought out for approval. Besides the big room there were three smaller fitting rooms to one side of the big room. The whole shop was lit with lovely electric ceiling lamps and a gorgeous chandelier glittered like diamonds in the main salon.
After I got settled in my attic cubbyhole Madame gave me a quick tour showing me where things went and led me eventually to a dismal gray chamber with a single overhead electric bulb. A shipment from New York arrived the day before and needed to be sorted for storage. Without further ado she set me adrift.
After I opened the first box my little voice said to make sure everything listed on the invoice was inside. As I read down the list it kept pointing out mistakes over and over. Many items were missing! Not only that the amounts charged did not add up correctly.
It took a few minutes to get Madame’s attention and she seemed annoyed to have her jeune fille come pestering so soon. She thanked Emma with a tightlipped smile after she taken a close look at the invoices. I was as good as Miss Carradine had promised. Then she pointed across the room to a bigger stack of boxes. I groaned but it turned out all right. I only had to ask the other girls once or twice where things went - and there weren’t any errors on these invoice lists! By then the day was over and I went to my new room to read a love novel by the light of an electric lamp. Madame LaFarge’s maid brought me a light meal when I really wanted to eat a whole horse!
Each morning Madame insisted on lining us up for inspection. Poor Mary was often scolded because her pinafores weren’t clean or her hair was falling down in clumps. Millie and I made her our special project when we heard how her father always came home drunk at night and beat her mother. We made sure she was neat as a pin whenever Madame came by. At lunch we gossiped about the nice clothes, awful customers and the men who stared at us.
After a week I was running back and forth for the fitters like a veteran and making San Francisco’s refined ladies feel like they were getting the red carpet treatment. So far Madame had not said a word of encouragement except the time when I found the mistakes. To say I was frazzled every night was an understatement.
My little voice was a big help all the time because it kept telling me what all the labels said and which numbers went with which things. And it wasn’t a bother like it used to be. When I first heard it it sounded like it wanted to get out which was really strange. But in the past month it’s like it wasn’t there at all. I guess that’s the way it was with my old aunt. But I wasn’t going to worry. There things that needed doing.
Boys and girls often accompanied their mothers to the store. The boys always have to sit outside the fitting rooms with nothing to do but fidget while the girls are allowed in. When Madame found out I was good with children she assigned me to help the clerks with problem situations. I always talked to the children soothingly whereas the parents were often impatient. My assistance seemed to get more things sold.
One day after I had been there two weeks I noticed a boy being led under protest into one of the small fitting rooms. After the door closed I kept hearing noises although I couldn’t make out what was happening and besides, I had plenty to do. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mary bring in girls’ lingerie and what looked like a corset box. The noises continued and finally a clerk called to see if I could help.
Outside I asked Mary what was going on. She giggled that a boy was being fitted for a corset. Well, I had never heard of anything like that and wondered what they expected me to do. As I entered there was a boy of nine or ten with a small corset partly wrapped around his waist although still undone. A woman, apparently his mother, was explaining to Madame that he was being punished for boisterousness at home. Someone told her that corsets help in such situations.
Apparently the woman was very wealthy and a regular customer of Madame’s so Madame had cautioned Mary not to question such an odd request. The mother seemed to go on forever about the problems she was having while the rest of us stood around smiling paiently. When there was a lull I asked if Mary and I could be left alone with the child (whose name was William). We let William cry for awhile and then I explained that by wearing the corset it would make his mother feel better and would not turn him into a girl. Besides no one would see it under his regular clothes. He eventually calmed down and Mary and I got him into the chemise and tightened the corset. He cried as it squeezed but I praised his bravery and he became quiet. The mother was very pleased and Mary and I retreated rolling our eyes and fanning ourselves. “That was an experience,” I said to Mary who readily agreed.
William and the corset woke up the dormant Kirk. “Boys should not have to wear girls clothes!” He seethed remembering the time his father made him go to Marlene’s party and when Aunt Linda made him wear Marlene’s underwear. He mumbled to himself for a while until a calm settled over him induced by Emma who willed her little voice to be quiet. She had learned how to control it back at the ranch when she was in training with Miss C. It was not going to interfere with her future.
Muttering to himself Kirk thought “Well, like Emma said, nobody will see the corset.” The incident faded from their common memory as Emma resumed her regular store duties.
To Emma’s surprise William was brought in again the following week. Apparently his measurements were taken the first time because she saw Mary walk by with a selection of girls underwear and giggling “It’s him again.”
I was called back to the dressing room and there was poor William in his corset, a pair of silk drawers and girls’ black stockings. Several very pretty frocks hung around the room in blue, red and white. They looked like they might fit. The mother was going on again about how William kept refusing to try on one of the dresses. Why couldn’t he see that she was only trying to help. Once again Mary and I asked to be alone with the boy to see what we cold do.
I knelt by William who was still crying. “It’s really best if you just go along with this,” I said quietly. “I don’t think your mother will stop until she thinks you’re behaving. Just let Mary and I try this nice blue one. It won’t hurt this once. We can always take it off.”
My soft words worked again and eventually William calmed down allowing us to lace on a pair of girls’ high shoes, pull a silk slip over his head and button up the fussy garment. We led him to the mirror saying “See, you look fine.” He looked, blushed and held out the hem with one hand.
“Now stand up tall and turn back and forth. Remember, you’ll still be a boy,” Mary said. “Just barely,” I thought.
When the mother came back she was surprised and pleased and gave Mary and I each a silver dollar tip. I pinned a wide-brimmed beribboned girl’s hat to William’s head and the mother marched the hapless lad out to a waiting limousine.
Mary and I helped with William for the next two weeks as new frocks and lingerie were brought to the changing room. He was accepting his punishment now more or less quietly. This last time his hair looked different. Apparently the maid had curled it. “Mummy took away all my reg’lar clothes too,” he sniffled. “And I’m going to have a special nanny.” Emma wondered if the nanny would be like Miss Carrradine. If so what would happen to William?
I said “Don’t cry now. You look very nice,” and gave him a little kiss on the cheek. “Your mother will tire of this some day. Just concentrate on being good.” I considered saying how pretty he looked but decided that would just add fuel to the fire. When they left that day William was wearing his new white, frothy birthday dress, white stockings and little slippers with Louis Quinze heels.
Every time the boy came to the store Kirk became upset and started to complain. And each time Emma closed her eyes, clenched her fists and willed the voice to be quiet. In defeat Kirk would mutter something like “Well, he’s not me, now is he? Besides he’s still a boy. ” and retreated into the depths of Emma’s mind without further complaint. He was quite used to being Emma.
At the end of three weeks I knew my way around Madame’s store well enough to assist when she or the fitters asked for a particular item. I was now skimming fashion magazines at Madame’s direction with the help of my little voice. Often I came up with suggestions which made the couturiers and clerks look better than usual to the customers. The following week Madame promoted me to the front desk as a sales clerk’s helper.
One afternoon a young man in a homburg, celluloid collar, cravat and dark suit strode up to the counter asking to see a pair of gloves for a lady. The clerk wasn’t there and as much as I searched she wasn’t to be found. After waiting impatiently he stared at me with piercing eyes and said “You’ll do, Miss. Please show me the gloves there, those in the case.” He pointed.
As I nervously fumbled in the display he asked had I been there long? Would I model the gloves for him? After my demonstration he took both of my hands in his saying they were the loveliest he had ever seen. He kept looking straight in my eyes and I stood there hypnotized. Finally I turned my head away because I was blushing. My heart beat frantically.
Ultimately the clerk came, rescued me and rang up the sale. My face was still flushed as I apologized for usurping her job. She only smiled and said “I owe you the apology. I was momentarily indisposed. By the way, that was young Mr. Crocker from the banking family. The girl who gets him will be lucky indeed.”
When Crocker took Emma’s hands she felt his finger pressure like an electric shock. She never had such an experience with such a determined young man and he stayed in her mind for the whole week. Until she started work at the McDougals and Madame’s Emma rarely had any contact with men except her father who was hardly ever home and rarely had time for his daughters. If Emma was flustered by the encounter Kirk was speechless.
Emma’s work with Madame ended after two months. She had been an excellent helper, Madame said, and was welcome back anytime. Her discovery of the overcharge had led to other “errors” made by the same company and saved Madame a considerable sum. Emma returned to Miss Carradine with an outstanding report.
The dual personality of Emma and Kirk felt more self-confident than ever and had completely forgotten about the incidents with William. She was grown up now, she/they thought, and knew what to say in the presence of wealthy families - and remembered the young man at the store.
Shortly after Emma’s return Miss C. announced that she would shortly leave the ranch for San Francisco to work at the Girls’ High School. She had done as much as she could for her charges. Both girls rode to the ferry with her said their farewells right there on the dock with tears and hugs - and not a little relief!
Emma/Kirk took up her duties with Miss McDougal the next day with poise and grace as she carried in the tea tray. The two girls reminisced for hours over their shared agonies and Emma recited every detail about her exciting time with Madame. She didn’t have to curtsey with Abigail since both girls were on a first-name basis although Emma was well aware that Abigail was her employer. Kirk /Emma now had complete charge of Miss McDougal’s wardrobe including intimate wear and was given authority to call on other staff for heavy work. She preferred doing the repair and ironing of delicate pleats, lace and silk frocks herself even when it involved working well into the evening.
For you readers Miss McDougal herself was a dark haired, attractive young woman about the same size as Emma though at least three years older, rather spoiled and sometimes temperamental. She sang and played the piano very well, having graduated from an exclusive school run by the sisters in San Rafael. Increasingly she was sought for social functions attended by eligible young people and was scheduled for presentation at the county Cotillion in less than two years. Emma’s work was cut out well in advance.
Emma made it a point to read up on the latest styles and became the household fashion expert and was even called on to give advice to other girls in the district. Mr. McD. was gracious enough to let Emma charge for giving that advice so that Emma could claim some savings of her own. She now had the total respect of the family and senior household servants and was deferred to in the selection of women’s (and even Mr. McDougal’s) clothing. Neither Emma or Kirk had such an experience before and both had been changed in ways they would never forget.
