As they ate, their conversation turned to sights Beatrix wanted to see around Chicago, which was a surprisingly pleasant way to spend a meal, and before Norman knew it, dessert was being brought to the table—chocolate cake for him and Beatrix and apple pie for Theo.
“Would you look at all those women walking past the window,” Theo said, setting down her fork. “They’re wearing turbans on their heads, all of them in different colors.”
Beatrix swiveled around in her chair. “Oh dear. That’s Aunt Gladys and some of the women who live at her house. I completely forgot I was supposed to meet her after work because I’m attending a meeting with her this evening. I’ll be right back.” With that, Beatrix dashed away, still clutching her napkin in her hand.
“Have you ever met Miss Gladys Huttleston before?” Norman asked.
Theo took another bite of pie and shook her head. “Haven’t had the pleasure, but . . .” She lowered her fork. “I think that’s about to change, because if I’m not mistaken, Beatrix seems to be bringing her aunt to join us.”
Chapter 17
Norman rose to his feet as Gladys Huttleston bustled into the restaurant. She immediately took charge of the situation by telling the server the women with her would sit at the table adjacent to where Norman was sitting, while she would be joining her niece at Norman’s table.
Giving her turban a pat, Gladys settled her gaze on him and smiled. “Ah, Norman, fancy running into you again, and in the company of my niece.”
Clearly Edgar had not been the only one to witness his sprints past the Huttleston house.
Taking the hand Gladys thrust at him, he placed a kiss on it, then helped her into a chair. After she was settled, he moved to the table where five other turban-wearing women were standing, helping each of them into their respective chairs, which earned him smiles all around, and a batting of eyelashes from Mamie, the woman who’d flirted outrageously with him when he’d delivered Beatrix to Gladys’s house what seemed like a lifetime ago.
He didn’t hesitate to return to his seat beside Gladys, who barely waited until he sat down before she began peppering him with questions.
“How is it, Mr. Nesbit, that you’re currently enjoying a meal with my niece? Did you just happen upon her as she left Marshall Field & Company?”
Norman wasn’t certain, but he thought Gladys might have sent him the merest hint of a wink.
He resisted a groan, but before he could answer her question, Theo sat forward, setting aside her fork.
“Norman and I were shopping at Marshall Field & Company because I needed new gloves,” Theo surprised him by saying, although she might have immediately regretted speaking up when Miss Huttleston raised a monocle that was dangling on a chain around her neck, taking a moment to look Theo up and down before she nodded.
“Miss Theodosia Robinson, I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced.” Gladys sent him a pointed look.
“Quite right,” he hurried to say. “Miss Huttleston, this is an associate—”
“Friend,” Beatrix corrected under her breath.
“Quite right again,” he muttered. “As I was saying, this is my friend Miss Theo—or rather, Theodosia Robinson.” He turned to Theo. “Theodosia, this is Miss Gladys Huttleston, Beatrix’s aunt.”
“You must call me Gladys, my dear,” Gladys all but boomed, leaning over Norman to thrust a hand at Theo, who took it somewhat warily, giving it a bit of a shake, which seemed to satisfy Gladys because she withdrew her hand and set her gaze on him. “You must call me Gladys as well, Norman. No sense keeping it formal, what with how you seem to be friends—or at least I hope so—with my niece.” She smiled fondly at Beatrix. “Poor Beatrix needs some friends here in the city, and I’d be much obliged if you’d step into that role.” She nodded to Theo. “You too, Theodosia, but tell me, dear, what happened to your hair?”
Theo raised a hand to the hair in question. “I’m afraid an experiment Norman and I were trying went horribly wrong, as in it blew up and singed off half my hair in the process.”
To Norman’s confusion, Gladys’s eyes began to sparkle right before she turned and waved to one of the women sitting nearby. “Did you hear that, Blanche? Theodosia has burned off part of her hair. That will make her an excellent candidate for your new product.”
Blanche, a woman wearing a turquoise turban, jumped out of her chair and hurried toward them, a distinct bounce in her step. She stopped directly in front of Theo, reached out a hand without a by-your-leave, and began inspecting Theo’s chopped-off hair, smiling in satisfaction a moment later.
“I’ve never seen hair in this state before.” Blanche bit her lip. “It’ll be tricky, but I believe I can fix it. Might have to shape it up a touch to get rid of the worst of the brittle parts, but I shouldn’t have to take more than an inch off.”
Theo blinked. “I don’t know if I’m willing to cut off any more of my hair, not with how much I’ve already parted with, and—”
“Best leave this to an expert,” Gladys interrupted before she turned and nodded to a woman wearing a purple turban. “Della, do we have any available time this week
