The Dressmaker by Kate Alcott Read Free Book Online

to be watching them with you.” He glanced back in the direction of the dining room. “It’s all very stuffy in there, you know. I left after the duck breasts; don’t like figs. Or oyster martinis.It looks beautiful from out here, but nothing glitters quite as much when you get close up.”
    “You know I can’t go in there, don’t you?”
    “So they say.” He seemed to be thinking it over. “Do we agree?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “That a coterie of snobs can deny you entry into this stiff-backed saloon?”
    “They can make the rules they want to make; it’s not for me to decide.”
    “Well, I disagree.”
    She shivered. Was there a way to tell him that in her heart, tucked away quite privately, she had the same rebellious thought?
    He held out his arm, his eyes watchful but revealing nothing. Before she knew it, he was guiding her through the glass doors and right into the magical dining room. With one careless hand, he swept the room. “Here you are, Miss Collins. Shall I signal a waiter for two glasses of champagne?”
    Oh, the carpet was soft. And now she could reach out and actually touch one of the velvet chairs. She could inhale the aroma of many perfumes, see the gold-crusted dining plates filled with exotic food, hear the light talk and laughter that rippled across the well-behaved room, laughter as sparkling as the sea. So much, all at once. White-clad waiters moving solicitously among the tables; diamond rings flashing each time a glass was hoisted; men hovering close to women in low-cut gowns. She didn’t recognize the music the orchestra was playing, but she loved it and knew she would never forget it.
    And then she spied Cosmo and Madame.
What if they saw her?
    She turned quickly and walked back toward the door. “I can’t stay here,” she said, a flush burning deep into her cheeks.
    Bremerton made no objection, just followed her back out to the deck. “I’m a betting man, Miss Collins,” he said quietly as they stood again beneath the stars. “After watching you stand up to that oaf tonight, may I make a prediction? Once you get to America, you won’t be closed out of any dining rooms again. And you won’t be carrying a serving tray for very long.”
    “Maybe I’ll be busy learning how to play squash,” she said, suddenly encouraged.
    He laughed. “Well, it’s not so popular in my country. I’m certainly glad to be going back. No offense, but I get tired of Europe. Too stodgy. Moves too slow.”
    “What sort of work do you do?” she ventured tentatively.
    “Right now I’m setting up branches to sell the Model T.”
    He saw her puzzlement. A motor car, he explained. But, more than that, it was
the
automobile in America. A masterpiece for the masses, actually, and Henry Ford, the man who thought of it, was a genius. He had plans for an assembly line, and soon he would be producing an automobile every ninety minutes.
    “Amazing.” She knew she should leave soon, but she didn’t want to go.
    “You’ve got me talking tonight,” he said reflectively, looking into the black sea. “Maybe it’s the stars. Is there a young man waiting for you in New York?”
    She shook her head. “No, I don’t need that. Madame will help me get work.”
    “My money is on you. By the way, I don’t play squash, either. Have a nice evening, and I think we should find the opportunity to chat again.” He reached out a hand and touched hers lightly, briefly. Then he gave her a salute and walked off.
    She headed back to her cabin, stopping, turning, looking back. Jack had also stopped.
    “Good night again,” he said.
    “Good night.” She could think of nothing else to say. Taking one more deep breath of the crisp night air, she headed for her cabin. She had actually carried off a conversation with a gentleman who wasn’t snapping his fingers for service or groping up her skirts. Someone with polish and manners who treated her as if she were an equal. Surely rich. What would it be like to be