A Perfect Silhouette Read online

  “I like being near you and Clara, but the noise is deafening. My head already aches.”

  “Snip a couple of small pieces from an old handkerchief and stuff them in your ears. It helps a little. After a while, you’ll get used to it.” Cora looped arms with the two of them. “Did either of you give any more thought to the dance lessons or attending the ball? I truly want to go, but I want at least one of you to go with me.”

  Clara sighed. “I suppose if it’s that important to you, I’ll go to one dance lesson, but only if you use your money to pay for both of us.”

  Cora laughed aloud. “I’ll be happy to pay for you. Abigail said there’s a class tonight, so we can begin this evening.”

  While Clara didn’t appear nearly as happy as her sister, Mellie was certain they’d both have fun. She’d always enjoyed dancing classes when away at school. Perhaps she’d walk into town with them and visit the photography shop. She’d enjoyed viewing the display of artwork, and perhaps she’d gather her courage and speak to the owner about a part-time position. At the very least, there would be peace and quiet.

  Nowadays, anything that would still the incessant drumming in her head was a welcome relief.

  Chapter

  seven

  September

  WHEN MELLIE AND THE OTHER GIRLS ARRIVED HOME FOR supper that evening, Mrs. Richards poked her head around the door and called to Mellie, “You have a letter on the side table in the parlor. There’s one for Abigail, too.” That said, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Mellie stepped into the parlor and spotted her name on one of the letters. Seeing her sister’s familiar script, the noise and chaos of the day faded from her memory. She longed to run upstairs and devour every word, but if she didn’t sit down for supper, she’d hear about it from Mrs. Richards. After only a week in the mill, Mellie had ceased any attempts to use proper manners at the dining table. There simply wasn’t time—not if she was going to fill her stomach and be back to work before the gates closed. While none of them ate with the power-driven speed used at breakfast and noonday meals, supper was still devoured with more haste than at a typical family dinner table.

  This evening she put her newly acquired eating skills to use and was the first to finish her bowl of stew plus a thick slice of bread and butter. She gulped down the final swallow of milk and pushed away from the table. “Please excuse me. I’m going upstairs to read my letter.”

  Taking the first flight of steps as fast as she could, she hurried down the hallway. After drawing in two cleansing breaths, she continued upward and finally dropped onto the bed and tore open the letter. Margaret’s flawless handwriting was like a balm to her soul. Mellie pressed the creases from the page while quickly scanning the contents.

  Her breath caught.

  She must have misread. She began again, this time reading each well-formed word at a slower pace. But as she continued, her stomach knotted around the mutton stew she’d eaten only minutes ago. The first few sentences were pleasing. The children’s health had been good; Margaret continued to tutor the banker’s children along with her own. They were most thankful for the funds Mellie sent each week. Then from that point forward, Margaret’s letter described one difficult situation after another: more creditors had appeared, either sending letters or arriving at the front door; the banker had lowered her wages, since her children were present and learning while she was tutoring his children; the house had been advertised for sale; she wasn’t certain where they would live after it was sold, but there was an old farmhouse they might be able to secure—still, she wasn’t certain if the banker would be willing to bring the children out there each morning; she was now doing alterations and some dressmaking at night to help bolster their income. The final paragraph asked for her prayers and advised Mellie she shouldn’t worry. God would see them through these difficult circumstances. Mellie’s thoughts swirled. Certainly she would pray and ask God to provide for her sister, yet pushing aside her concerns would be impossible.

  Chattering voices and the sound of footsteps in the downstairs hallway pulled her from her thoughts. She folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket as Cora and Clara appeared. Cora plopped down beside her on the bed. “You look as though you’ve received sad news. Is there a problem at home?”

  Mellie forced a smile. “The same news most of us receive from home—not enough money.”

  Sympathy shone in Cora’s eyes, and she patted Mellie’s hand. “Come with us to the dance lessons. It will take your mind off your problems. I’ll pay your two cents.” Her bow-shaped lips curved in a beseeching smile. “Please?”

  Cora’s pleading voice reminded Mellie of her young niece when she wanted Mellie to play a game with her. “No dance lessons for me, but I will walk into town with you. I believe I’ll stop at the photography shop. I enjoyed viewing the artwork.”

  On the walk into town, laughter and excitement filled the evening air. During supper, Cora had enlisted several other girls to come along, but she’d still insisted that Clara attend. Her reasoning had been quite simple: They always did everything together and this should be no different.

  When they neared the photography shop, Mellie bid them good-bye and squeezed Clara’s hand. “Try to enjoy yourself. I think you’ll discover the lessons are an entertaining distraction from our work at the mills.”

  Cora dropped back and looped arms with her sister. “Come on, Clara. I’m not going to let you disappear into the photography shop with Mellie.”

  The bell over the shop door jingled when Mellie stepped inside. She recognized the owner of the shop when he turned and glanced over his shoulder. He was sitting at a canvas with a paintbrush in hand. She stepped closer and stood behind him, watching as he continued to paint.

  “May I assist you with something special?” He brushed a fine line of blue paint on the canvas before looking up.

  “Not at the moment. I was going to admire some of your paintings.”

  “Ah, these aren’t my paintings. I exhibit them for others.” He pointed the tip of his brush at the canvas. “As you can see, I’m merely an amateur. I’m much more skilled with a camera than with paints.” He narrowed his eyes. “I remember you. You were in here with another young lady. You looked at the paintings, and she inquired about the cost of a photograph. Am I right?”

  “Yes. You have a good memory.”

  He ran a palm over his bald head and then drew his fingers through the fringe of graying brown hair that rested on his collar. Muttonchop sideburns masked a fair portion of his thin face, but his blue eyes revealed kindness. “I’m afraid you’ll not find any new paintings, but you’re welcome to examine any of the current renderings for as long as you’d like.”

  Mellie thanked him and slowly circled the shop, examining each painting as she proceeded. She attempted to gather her courage to ask if he needed any help in the shop, except the words caught in her throat.

  He leaned across the counter and arched his brows. “Do you paint?”

  His question startled her. “No, I’m merely an admirer. One of my teachers thought I possessed some artistic talent. I soon proved her wrong, however.”

  “I believe art is like beauty—it’s in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps your teacher saw a raw, hidden ability in your work.” He smiled. “Is that possible?”

  Mellie laughed. “No, I’m afraid not. I can produce a decent sketch, and I believe I’m good at paper cutting, but that’s the extent of my ability.”

  He arched a brow. “Paper cutting?”

  “Yes. Scherenschnitte. Are you familiar with it? It’s the art of German paper cutting. In truth, that’s why I came here this evening.”

  “To talk about paper cutting?” He chuckled. “You’ve come to the wrong place, miss. I know nothing about the art of paper cutting.” He glanced about the shop as if to emphasize there weren’t any paper cuttings on display. “Why did you think I could be of help?”

  Mellie offered a silent prayer of thanks. He had ju
st given her the opening she prayed for only a few minutes ago. “I don’t need assistance with my cutting. I need to earn additional money to help my family. I work in the mills.”

  He nodded. “I assumed as much. And how can I help you earn this extra income, Miss . . . ?”

  “Blanchard. Mellicent Blanchard—from Concord, although now I live at Mrs. Richards’s boardinghouse.”

  “And I am Mr. Asa Harrison. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Blanchard.”

  She smiled and inhaled a deep breath. “I thought perhaps you would permit me to cut portraits here in the shop—and other cuttings of scenes or whatever customers might request. Usually, though, folks want portraits more than anything else. I’m really quite good at portraits, and I work quickly.”

  Mr. Harrison gave her a lopsided grin. “So you want me to offer you space to work in my shop, and in turn you will compete for my photography business by cutting portraits of customers?”

  Before stepping inside the shop, she’d considered what she would say if he posed such a question, but her thoughts now twisted and turned like tangled fishing line. She drew another breath and slowly exhaled. “I know there are folks, like my friend, who can’t afford a photograph. I can provide paper cuttings at a lesser cost than a photograph, and I would be willing to pay you two cents for each cutting I make.”

  “And what will you charge for your cuttings?” He appeared somewhat amused by her answer.

  “A small cutting would cost five cents. They don’t take long.” She was suddenly struck by an idea. She gestured to the picture frames at the far end of the room. “I would encourage them to purchase a frame for their portrait. You would make a profit from those sales, as well. And you wouldn’t be required to provide me with anything other than a small space where I can sit and do the cutting.”

  For a moment, he didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped toward the front of the shop. “Perhaps we could have you sit in front of the window so that you could be seen while cutting the portraits. It would create curiosity and bring shoppers inside.”

  Her enthusiasm mounted, and she bobbed her head. “I agree.” She hesitated for only a moment. “Shall I begin tomorrow evening?” She didn’t want to appear presumptuous, yet she didn’t want him to overthink the idea and turn her down, either.

  “Let’s not move too quickly.” He stroked one of his broad sideburns.

  Her heart thudded in her chest. At first, she had thought he was going to agree.

  He cleared his throat. “While I’m certain you’re a very honest and talented young woman, I’ve not seen any of your work. If you can’t create what customers expect, then your work will shine a poor light on my business, and that wouldn’t be good for me.”

  Mellie brightened. “You’re right—it wouldn’t. But I have cuttings I brought with me to Manchester. I’ll bring them to the shop and you can see what you think of my work.” She glanced toward the door. “I’d be pleased to go and get them right now, if you’d like.”

  “I would very much like to see them. I’d also like to see you cut a silhouette. In fact, you can use me as your subject. Seeing what you can create and how long it takes will serve as the best proof of your ability.” He cocked a brow. “Don’t you agree?”

  She nodded. “I do. I have special scissors and a paper used only for my paper cutting. It won’t take long for me to go back to the boardinghouse and get them.” She’d completed the sentence with a question in her voice, then awaited his response.

  He looked at the clock. “If two hours is enough time for you to fetch what you need, get back here, and complete my silhouette, you go right ahead. I’m eager to see what you can do.”

  Mellie prayed while hurrying to the boardinghouse, and she continued to pray as she rushed back to Asa Harrison’s photography shop. If he didn’t like her cuttings, perhaps he’d hire her to assist customers in the shop. For now, she needed to remain positive about her paper cuttings.

  During her absence, Mr. Harrison had returned to his painting. When the bell rang, he swiveled around on his stool. His gaze settled on the small case in her hand. “I see you have your supplies. You should remove your cape and bonnet, so you are comfortable while you work.” He moved a chair closer to the stool where he’d been sitting. “Will this arrangement work for you?”

  She nodded. “That’s fine.” He obviously wanted her to complete his silhouette before he looked at any of her other work. Removing a piece of black paper and her scissors from her case, she sat down opposite him. “Please turn to the side so I have a good view of your profile.”

  He turned and remained still while she quickly snipped tiny cuts to reveal the fringe of hair at his collar, then continued in a circular fashion to form his bald head before a slight outward protrusion of the forehead and then turning inward before cutting his slightly crooked nose. Beneath his lips, she cut an indention before creating his chin and the edge of his collar.

  Once finished, she extended the cutting to him. He held it at a distance and narrowed his eyes. “Hmm.” His lips made a downward turn before he looked at her. “I was hoping to see myself portrayed as much more handsome, but I see you’ve captured my true likeness.” He laughed and shook his head. “That is amazing, Miss Blanchard. I must say, I didn’t expect such fine work and in such little time. I do believe it would be beneficial to have you here in the shop.”

  “Would you like to see my other cuttings? I don’t have many portraits, just ones of my family members, but I do have a number of scenes and some snowflakes. The children always enjoy the snowflakes. Of course, I do those using white paper.” She didn’t wait for his response before removing a worn scrapbook from her case. “I keep them in here so they won’t get wrinkled.”

  “I’d say that’s sound thinking.” He extended his hand to accept a cutting of two doves encircled by a decorative heart while she placed several other cuttings on the counter. He declared the work exquisite and marveled at the intricate cutting. “These are superb, beyond anything I imagined. They’re works of art that must be exhibited, not hidden away in your scrapbook.”

  “Thank you.” His kind words struck a chord, and she swallowed hard to keep her emotions in check. “Then you’re willing to have me begin tomorrow evening?”

  “I am. If you’ll leave a few of your cuttings with me, I’ll frame them and place them on display in the window. You’ll need to put a price on each one, so I’ll know what to charge if a buyer should come in when you’re not here.”

  Together they looked through her cuttings and decided upon several to be framed and a price for each. He made a list of what she’d left with him and the prices they’d decided upon, including a frame. When a cutting sold, Mr. Harrison would be reimbursed for the cost of the frame, and when she offered a percentage of the displayed cuttings, he refused. “Your offer is very kind, but such a charge would be unfair, Miss Blanchard. I’m pleased with our arrangement. I believe that having you create your cuttings in the shop will prove beneficial to both of us.”

  They’d chosen frames for Mellie’s paper cuttings and she was tying her bonnet when Cora burst into the shop like a gust of wind. “Mellie! I’m glad you’re still here. We had such a wonderful time. You must come with us next time. The lessons weren’t overly difficult, and there were enough fellows for each of us to have a partner. Mine was quite nice, although Clara’s was better looking. And the music was good, too. Some of the men who play in Mr. Dignam’s band played for us. Not the whole group, of course, but enough to offer fine dancing music.” Her attention shifted to Mr. Harrison and the cuttings displayed on the counter once she’d stopped long enough to take a breath. “Those are lovely.” She drew closer and traced her finger down one of the cuttings. “Were these on display when we were here before?”

  Mr. Harrison shook his head. “No. These are the work of your friend Miss Blanchard. She’s agreed to have me place them for sale in the shop.”

  Cora’s mouth gaped. “Really, Mellie? You made these?”
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  Before she could respond, Mr. Harrison answered for her. “Indeed, she did. And look at this.” He held up the silhouette Mellie had cut only a few minutes ago. “A fine representation, don’t you think? And it took her only a short time. She’s going to begin work in my shop tomorrow evening. What do you think of that?”

  Cora appeared dumb struck. She stepped closer and examined Mr. Harrison’s silhouette. “Are you going to cut silhouettes like these, Mellie? Could you cut one of Clara and me? What would it cost? Less than a photograph? We could send it to our folks for Christmas.” She beamed at Mellie.

  Mellie wished she’d have thought of cutting their silhouettes before she’d agreed to work for Mr. Harrison. The girls had been so kind to her, cutting their likenesses was the least she could do in return. Mellie gathered her belongings, then edged Cora toward the door. “We can talk on the way home. It’s getting late and we want to be back before curfew. Where are the others?”

  “They’re over at Pittney’s, all of them looking at ribbon and lace. Now that they’re enjoying the dance lessons, they’re hoping for invites to the ball.”

  Mr. Harrison followed behind them. “Be sure you mention your new position here at the store to your friends, Miss Blanchard. I’m hopeful many of them will want to purchase one of your cuttings as a gift.”

  Cora remained close by her side as they walked toward Pittney’s. “How’d you learn to do that? Make those cuttings, I mean? I’ve never known anyone who could make something so pretty.”

  “When I was in boarding school, one of the housekeepers was an old German lady. The other girls didn’t like her much, but she was kind to me—almost like a grandmother. We spent a great deal of time together. One day when I was around seven or eight years old, I saw her doing paper cutting and asked if she would teach me.”

  Cora stopped in her tracks. “You’ve been able to make those since you were eight years old?”

  Mellie chuckled. “No, not like the ones you’ve seen. My first cuttings were horrible. I’ve kept a few of them all these years just to remind me how much I learned from her. Paper cutting is like most everything else—the more you practice, the better you become at it. And it helped that I enjoyed creating with scissors and paper. Now it’s providing a way for me to increase my income and help my family a little more.”