Mr. Bailer had then proceeded to hem and haw about what should be done with Beatrix, finally settling on sending her to the Bargain Basement, stating that Mrs. Sturgis had demanded that she never see Beatrix again. Reassigning Beatrix to the Bargain Basement would evidently assure that never happened because apparently Mrs. Sturgis never stepped foot in the part of the store that offered customers goods at an inexpensive price.
Beatrix had been beyond put out over the notion she was being disciplined because an insufferable customer had all but accosted her. However, she’d been downright dumbfounded to learn she was going to suffer yet another reduction in pay.
In all honesty, she was beginning to think, what with how often she was suffering demotions, that there might come a day when she was paying the store for the privilege of working there.
Her dumbfounded state had only increased when, after Mr. Bailer had informed her of her reduced circumstances, he’d handed her another copy of the Marshall Field & Company handbook, insisting she read it cover to cover right there in his office. That demand had made it impossible to see Norman again because she didn’t finish the book until the store had closed for the day. Norman, unfortunately, was nowhere to be found once she left the store and took to the street.
She’d actually considered taking the train to Prairie Avenue and seeking him out at his house—what with how she’d memorized his address—because she’d felt the strongest urge to tell him all about the grievances she’d suffered that day, until she’d realized it would hardly be acceptable for her to seek out a gentleman at his house, no matter the reason.
That she’d felt compelled to seek Norman out in the first place was telling in and of itself.
“After you finish unpacking that box, Miss Waterbury, you may leave for the day, as may you, Miss Caton.”
Shaking aside her thoughts and sending Mrs. Hartford, the supervisor of the linen department, a smile, Beatrix quickly finished her task. She then walked through the Bargain Basement with Miss Caton and up the stairs to the employee room, where she’d left her coat. After bidding Miss Caton good-bye, she headed for the stairs.
“Miss Waterbury, wait up,” Miss Dixon, her former co-worker from the coat check, called from behind Beatrix, catching up with her a moment later. “I’ve been hoping to run into you. How’s the Bargain Basement? I’ve heard it’s a madhouse down there at times.”
“Oh it is, but the customers who shop in the basement are far more pleasant than the ones who shop on the main floors, so I’m not upset at all about my recent demotion.”
“Mrs. Sturgis was in the store yesterday, probably to make sure you weren’t still manning the coat check counter.” Miss Dixon shook her head. “She’s a nasty piece of work, but that wasn’t why I was hoping to run into you. It’s about Mr. Norman Nesbit. He came looking for you three days ago after you’d been called to Mr. Bailer’s office. He then came to the store yesterday as well and seemed most concerned when I told him you no longer worked in the coat check but had been reassigned.”
“Norman was at the store yesterday?”
Miss Dixon smiled. “Looking for you.” Her smile dimmed. “I’m afraid I was unable to fully explain what had happened to you because Mrs. Goodman came skulking about. But”—she leaned closer to Beatrix—“I heard him tell Miss Robinson, the lady who was accompanying him again, that he wouldn’t be able to track you down after work yesterday because he had a commitment with his niece. I wanted to tell you all that so you would know he’s been asking about you. In my humble opinion, I believe that suggests that Mr. Nesbit is sweet on you.”
Beatrix tripped over the bottom step. Regaining her balance, she headed for the employee exit. “He’s not sweet on me.”
Miss Dixon stepped with Beatrix through the door and began walking down the sidewalk beside her, pulling Beatrix to a stop a few seconds later as she grinned and nodded to something across the street.
“You’re wrong about that because Mr. Nesbit’s right over there. . . . But is he sitting on a donkey?”
Beatrix spun around and peered across the street, blinking when she spotted Norman, who was, indeed, sitting on top of an animal. She turned back to Miss Dixon. “I think that may be a mule.”
“An odd choice to be sure, but he’s waving at you.”
Turning again, Beatrix discovered that Miss Dixon was right, and that Norman was waving at her, although Theodosia, who was standing beside a pony attached to a wagon, was, curiously enough, leafing through a book.
“I should see what Norman wants,” she said, which earned her another grin from Miss Dixon.
“I believe I’ve already stated what he wants—and that would be you.”
Returning the grin even though she was fairly certain Miss Dixon was wrong in her conclusions, Beatrix told her to enjoy her Sunday off, then headed for the street.
Waiting for an open buggy to pass, Beatrix began making her way through traffic, coming to an abrupt stop right before she reached the sidewalk when she saw three men on horses charging directly for Norman.
That they were all wearing kerchiefs over their faces was not an encouraging sight.
“Norman, watch out!” she yelled, charging forward.
Before she could reach him, though, the mule he was sitting on surged into motion, carrying Norman down the street at a most rapid rate of speed, the hat on his head being left behind as he struggled to get control of his mule.
“Whoa, Mort, whoa!” she heard him yell, apparently still unaware that he was coming under attack, two of the riders now in
