Isobel shut the outer door of the dress shop more forcefully than she’d intended. No, that wasn’t true. She’d slammed it—on purpose. Leaning back against the door, she shut her eyes. She could forgive herself the unladylike show of emotion after her encounter with Alec.
She wasn’t sure which upset her more, the fact that Whit’s brother was now residing next door or that he planned to run an animal clinic alongside her dress shop. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Alec Russell. She’d always thought he was kind and funny. His casual, fun-loving demeanor had been a welcome and interesting contrast to Whit’s confident, driven personality.
However, the thought of Alec knowing the cause of her broken engagement to Whit brought a renewed feeling of panic to Isobel. She’d naively believed she would never have to face another member of the Russell family or their unwavering emphasis on marriage and children, and now one of them was back in her life.
“Is something wrong, Issy?”
Isobel opened her eyes to find Stella watching her from the doorway of the back room. She hurried to put on a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Did you meet the new owner?”
She swept across the room and slipped past Stella. “I did.” She didn’t want to say more, but it might be best if her assistant heard about her history with Alec from Isobel rather than someone else. “I know him, actually. From back when I still lived in Pittsburgh.”
“Oh?” Stella trailed her. “Is he handsome? Is he a bachelor?”
Alec hadn’t spoken about a wife. “I think he is a bachelor.” Isobel deliberately ignored the other question. Not that she didn’t find Alec handsome, but it didn’t matter what she thought of his good looks. “I thought you were in love with Franklin.”
“I am,” the girl said with an offended sniff. “I was thinking of you and how you haven’t had a suitor since I’ve known you.”
Despite the frustration over her thwarted plans and seeing Alec again, Isobel couldn’t help laughing. Stella’s desire to matchmake was sweet in its intent but entirely pointless. Especially when it came to the Russell brothers.
“What sort of business is he setting up?”
Isobel wrinkled her nose as she took off her hat and coat. “A veterinary practice.”
“A...what?”
“He’s an animal doctor.”
Stella brightened. “A bachelor doctor. Sounds even more promising.” She waggled her eyebrows at Isobel. “Maybe you can get him to take you to the May Day festival.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You’re friends, aren’t you? You wouldn’t have to go as a couple. Just as friends.”
Were she and Alec friends? Isobel had once considered him a friend, and yet, interacting with him now had been more painful than cordial. “We may be friends, but I don’t think we’ll see much of him. Our customers are women in need of high-quality dresses, while his are likely men, looking for advice on caring for livestock and animals.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Stella conceded. “What will you do now about expanding the shop?”
Isobel mulled over the question as her gaze swept the tidy back room. She didn’t want to give up on her dream just yet. Expanding her shop would not only mean her business was successful but that she was successful, too—in spite of not being married.
“I’m going to continue to save,” she answered as she stepped up to the cutting table. “Perhaps I can turn my apartment into useable dress space and find another place to live.” Or if Alec’s business didn’t prove to be the right fit for Sheridan, then she could revert to her original plan.
Stella nodded approval. “You’re sure about the festival? It would be fun to go all together. You, me, Franklin and your friend...”
“You’ll have more fun without us,” Isobel said, giving her an understanding smile. “Besides, if I choose to go, I’m perfectly content to go by myself.”
With a shrug, the girl resumed sewing. Isobel heated an iron on the still-warm stove and began to press the wrinkles from the new dress. She enjoyed the simple task, though it didn’t keep her mind as busy as her hands.
Despite how much she wished to, she wasn’t going to be able to avoid seeing Alec altogether or the reminders of the past that he brought with him. However, she hoped such interaction would be brief and infrequent. Nothing in her carefully constructed life and business had to change simply because Alec Russell was setting up shop next door.
Using his thumb, Alec tested the paint on the sign he’d created. It was dry. Veterinary Clinic, Doctor Alec Russell. Though he’d commissioned an official sign to be made, it wouldn’t be ready until next week. And he didn’t want to wait that long to help passersby identify his business. Not when he planned to open his clinic as soon as possible.
It had been four days since he’d taken ownership of the building, and the main room was beginning to look more like a clinic. The new paint on the counter and walls gave the place a clean, fresh look. This morning the iron bars that would separate the waiting area from his apothecary station had been put into place. Wooden benches for seating now stood along the walls, though Alec had also ordered a set of nice, comfortable chairs from the mercantile for any elderly or female customers.
Picking up his sign, he walked to the large display window and set the placard in the corner. Then he stepped outside to ensure the sign was straight and readable. A thrill of satisfaction as well as trepidation shot through Alec at seeing his name and business clearly identified.
Would his practice be as successful as he needed it to be to get out from under Whit’s shadow and impress their father? Over the past few days, more than one pedestrian had ducked inside, asking what sort of business Alec would be running. Every one of them had looked surprised when he’d explained Sheridan would now have its own veterinarian.
At least they hadn’t looked as appalled as Isobel had. Alec had seen very little of her since that first day. Just a glimpse here and there when they both headed up to their apartments at night or came down in the morning. They’d exchanged a series of nods, but that was all. Alec wasn’t sure if he felt more disappointed about that or relieved.
He shot a glance at her shop. What would Isobel think of his clinic now that it was nearly ready? He caught sight of her dark brown coil of hair in the picture window of her store as she moved a headless mannequin around. The mannequin’s dress seemed as stylish as those worn by women back East. Though that didn’t surprise Alec. He’d never seen Isobel wear anything that wasn’t fashionable.
Before he could retreat inside his own building, the door to the dress shop opened and Isobel stepped onto the sidewalk. “Afternoon,” he said in an effort to be polite.
Her amber eyes widened in surprise when she saw him. “Afternoon.”
“Did you design that dress?” He pointed to the lacy, frilled confection.
Isobel frowned. “I made it, but no, it isn’t my own design. I patterned it from a picture in a magazine.”
“Didn’t you used to design your dresses?” Alec thought he remembered her saying she’d designed the yellow gown he’d complimented her on.
“I haven’t designed a gown in years.” At his questioning look, she faced the window again. “Women want to know their dresses are in keeping with the styles of Paris and back East. They don’t want to spend money for gowns created by an unknown designer.”
Alec eyed the showcased dress again. “I’d think there are people here who’d like to look unique. Besides, I always thought your dresses were pretty.”
Look at that, he thought, smiling smugly to himself. He’d not only been polite and conversational, but complimentary, too.
“While I appreciate the tribute,” she said, her lips curving attractively upward, “I’m afraid you know very little about fashion.”
Alec chuckled. “Can’t say that isn’t true.”
A trio of women approached Isobel and she greeted them by name. “I’ll be with you momentarily,” she told them. “Feel free to look through the new magazines on the table inside.” They entered the shop, leaving him and Isobel alone once more.
Falling back a step, he motioned to the dress shop. “Maybe if I knew something about style, I could have the kind of enthusiastic customers you seem to have on a regular basis.”
Isobel looked in the direction of the clinic window. “You’re welcome to borrow one of my gowns. You know, if you wish to dress up a stuffed cat or dog.”
It had been years since he’d last seen that sparkle in Isobel’s gaze or been the recipient of her witty teasing. But the feeling Alec had experienced back then was no different than the emotion he felt now. It was a feeling of pleasure, of being given a gift.
Not for the first time, he wondered how Whit could have let Isobel slip away.
Alec feigned a thoughtful look, then shook his head. “Given that I’m not runnin’ a taxidermy business, I think a cat or dog in fancy clothes might send the wrong message. I want people to know I’m here to help their animals—not turn them into a tableau.”
She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, though Alec could tell she was fighting a full smile. “If you change your mind, you know where to find a fashionable gown. I’d even throw in some style advice, free of charge.”
“Are you saying I could use some style help and not just my clinic?” he joked, sending a smile her way.
Isobel waved her hand at his work clothes. “Well, you are a doctor, but you dress like a cowboy.”
His smile faded. “That’s because, as you may recall, prior to coming here, I was a cowboy on a ranch in North Dakota.”
“Still, you’re not a cowboy now.” He thought he saw her chin lift a notch. “But how are people to know that if you insist on wearing the attire that you do?”
Alec cocked his head. “So you’re adding my clothes to the list of things that bother you about having a veterinarian as a neighbor?”
“All I’m saying is if you want more customers, you might try dressing the part of a doctor. Such as wearing a suit perhaps.”
His pleasure at talking with her was dissipating faster than a bout of good weather in late October. She’d accused him the other day of running a smelly, noisy establishment, and now, she deemed his current attire unworthy. “I’ll keep the unsolicited feedback in mind.”
“I’m only trying to help.” Her mouth had become a tight line.
He started for the clinic door but stopped short of it to turn back. “If we’re swapping unwelcome advice, then here’s mine. Why don’t you stop worrying about what other people will think and offer them your own designs instead of hiding behind someone else’s?”
Isobel gaped at him, then her expression hardened. “If you’ll excuse me, doctor, I have customers to attend to.” With that she turned away.
Alec marched into his clinic, irritation tensing his jaw, and tossed the door shut with a loud bang. His handmade sign toppled to the floor. A jab of regret stabbed him as he picked it up. He stared down at the lettering, wishing he hadn’t been so bothered by Isobel’s advice. But he was already dealing with enough uncertainty. Her reminders, especially from someone who’d proven successful in business, had only served to fuel his misgivings.
After returning the sign to the window, Alec surveyed the room. He knew he had the medical knowledge and skills to properly care for livestock, fowl, even the occasional lapdog. What he didn’t feel as self-assured about was his ability to establish a prosperous clinic.
You know what opening this place means to me, Lord, he petitioned silently as he lowered his chin and stared at a hard knot in the floorboards. Please help me in my endeavors and guide me to know what to do as I move forward.
He’d keep working as well as praying. Otherwise, he might have to resort to staging that fancy animal tableau Isobel had suggested. And following such misguided counsel wasn’t going to help him achieve what he wanted. Of that, Alec felt confident.
Isobel couldn’t get Alec’s parting remark out of her head as she half-listened to her three customers exclaim over the spring magazines. His words about fearing what others thought and hiding behind someone else’s designs had stung, but only because he’d spoken the truth.
He was likely the only person in Sheridan, save for her aunt, who knew Isobel had once designed her own dresses. If she were honest with herself, she still had a strong yearning to create distinctive gowns from her own imagination. Gowns that showcased each woman’s unique shape and features—not ones she simply refashioned using someone else’s ideas. But when she’d shared her vision with Whit and later with Beau, both men had discouraged her, saying a successful business was built on giving the customers what they thought they wanted. And what they wanted wasn’t a dress designed by Isobel Glasen. They wanted dresses like those on the pages of Harper’s Bazaar or Vogue.
How had Alec, someone she hadn’t seen in years, so astutely identified her fears? It was as unsettling as his compliment had been earlier. Instead of accepting his flattery graciously, though, she’d handed him unsolicited advice.
Isobel’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment at the unbecoming things she’d told him. What was it about Alec’s honest face and dancing blue-gray eyes that got under her skin and made her say the first thing that came into her head?
It was nothing about him, she chided herself. It was his sloppy attire and his plan to create an animal clinic next to her fashionable shop that bothered her. He hadn’t dressed in such a casual fashion the last time she’d seen him. He’d been looking quite handsome in a tailored suit, though she wasn’t sure why she could suddenly recall that detail.
“Miss Glasen?” The oldest of the three women, a Mrs. Maverly, eyed Isobel curiously. “Are you unwell? You look a bit flushed.”
Attempting a smile, Isobel shook her head. “I’m quite all right, thank you. Have you found something you like, ladies?”
Mrs. Maverly and her youngest daughter, Rose, spoke over each other in their eagerness to share their preferences. In contrast, the woman’s eldest daughter continued to wordlessly scrutinize the magazine on her lap.
“What about you, Miss Annabelle?” Isobel asked.
Annabelle’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I like these new elongated bodices.”
Isobel studied the young woman. The girl’s figure would be better enhanced by a gown with a shorter bodice and higher waistline. But did Isobel dare suggest creating something so different? Alec thought her too scared to say something, and yet, she could be brave. After all, she’d weathered two broken engagements and had established a respectable dress shop as a female entrepreneur.
In spite of the hard, rapid thumping of her heart, she scooted forward on her chair and pointed to one of the two dresses on the open page of the magazine. “What if I sewed you a lovely blue one like this, but I shortened the length of the bodice and brought up the waistline?”
“But that isn’t how it is in the picture,” Mrs. Maverly protested, her eyes narrowing with confusion.
Isobel wet her dry lips. “No, it isn’t. However, I think a slight change in the style would better suit—”
“She wouldn’t have the S curve silhouette that’s all the rage.” Rose gave Isobel a dubious look.
Annabelle frowned and glanced between her sister and Isobel. “True, but I like a shorter bodice...”
“I could round the sides of the collar, too,” Isobel said with growing excitement. “That would soften the blunt lines of that collar.”
Mrs. Maverly straightened in her chair. “We want the mauve-colored dress for me, the tan one for Rose and the blue one for Annabelle—all exactly as they appear in the magazines.” She tapped the page with her gloved finger for emphasis.
Isobel’s enthusiasm wilted like a neglected houseplant. She wasn’t the only one, either. Annabelle appeared displeased with the arrangements, too. But what could either she or Isobel do? Mrs. Maverly wasn’t paying for unique designs; she wanted a dress similar to what everyone else would be wearing this spring.
“Of course,” Isobel managed to say with some semblance of cheer. “My assistant and I will get started on those right away. Would it be convenient for you to pick them up next Saturday?”
Once the arrangements had been made and Isobel had seen the women to the door, she sank onto her vacated chair, too weary to even tidy up the discarded magazines. Her throat felt tight and there was unwanted moisture brimming in her eyes.
Why had she said something? Isobel knew the answer at once. She’d wanted to challenge Alec’s opinion, wanted to prove to him that she wasn’t lacking in bravery. All she’d proven, though, was that Alec was wrong. The women of Sheridan did not want individually styled dresses.
Climbing to her feet, Isobel gathered up the magazines and thumped them in place on the low table. The whir of the sewing machine in the back room, where Stella was hard at work, was as soothing to Isobel’s ears as a lullaby.
She would not let herself be influenced by Alec or his opinion again. Her dream of designing dresses was a thing of the past. Her new dream was expanding her shop one day soon. Giving her customers not what they needed but what they thought they wanted.
That was something Isobel felt certain Doctor Alec Russell hadn’t yet figured out about running a successful business.