“Suggestions for Holiday Gifts… ‘The Wonderful Christmas St. Nicholas’ is a grandly illustrated Holiday book, costing only 30 cents.”––San Francisco Chronicle December 22, 1880
Early Saturday morning, December 11, 1880
“Oh my, Miss Laura, Miss Kitty, it’s like a storybook come to life,” Kathleen exclaimed. “Patrick told me the store windows were decorated for Christmas, but this is beyond everything wonderful.”
“Yes, Kathleen. I saw Macy’s windows in New York City two years ago on a trip with my father over the holidays, and it wasn’t as nice as this,” Miss Blaine said.
Miss Blaine’s coachman had dropped them off right in front of the Silver Strike Bazaar. Made Kathleen feel like royalty. This gave them three hours to shop before going to lunch at the Silver Strike restaurant at eleven. Then the coachman would be back to pick the three of them up and bring them back to the boarding house. She would get back to work and Miss Dawson and Miss Blaine would meet Seth Timmons and Mr. Nate’s friend, Mitchell. The four of them were going down the peninsula to the San Bruno Mountains to cut down a tree. She’d never been in a house before that brought in a real tree for the holidays.
Mrs. O’Rourke said that Mrs. Dawson’s aunt and uncle always had a large fir tree in the parlor and she was glad that the mistress was starting that tradition up again. Although she said it was a nuisance to keep everyone from tracking needles all through the house.
The window in front of her looked like a tiny parlor itself, with a small tree covered all over with red bows, strings of tiny brightly colored balls, and silver strips that Miss Kitty called tinsel. Kathleen got goosebumps picturing what their own parlor would look like by the end of this evening.
Miss Dawson, walking from one window to the next, told Kathleen how each scene was from a famous story about Santa Claus and a carriage pulled by reindeer. She said, “This gives me an idea for a gift for my nephew Frankie. I’ll look for a copy of a picture book with The Night Before Christmas in it. Then maybe I can convince Violet to let Mother and me take a trip back up to the city on the 23rd with him so he can see the store windows. Violet might appreciate the day to finish getting ready for Christmas, and I suspect she doesn’t want to come back to the Silver Strike anytime soon.”
Kathleen thought that was a very nice thing Miss Laura was going to do for the sister-in-law she didn’t like that much. She wondered how much a book like the one she was talking about would cost. She wanted to get Ian, her youngest brother, a book for Christmas. She’d been working for two months on knitting new scarves for him and her other two brothers. But she wanted to give Ian something special. Mrs. Hewitt, Jamie’s mother, said he might be interested in a book called Little Men. So she’d see. Mrs. Hewitt also told her she’d gotten a globe for Ian…like the one she’d gotten Jamie for his birthday. Made Kathleen just want to cry everyone was so nice to her brother.
“Well, we’d better go on in before the crowds get too large,” Miss Dawson said.
As they walked through the front door, Kathleen’s head swam just trying to take in everything in a space that went on and on…farther than a body could see. There was a group of fiddlers up on a small platform, all dressed in black evening clothes, playing Christmas carols. And there was a tree that was so tall that it must have been cut down by a giant. Mirrors and bright gas chandeliers with dangling pieces of glass made the whole place flash and sparkle like sunlight on diamonds. And, oh my…the piles of beautiful cloth. Pretty plaids, soft velvets, and silks and satins with threads of gold and silver woven into them. All of it begging to be touched.
“It is so beautiful,” she sighed. Just the way she imagined a palace must look.
They went to the book shop first and were waited on by the manager, Mr. Brown. He was a skinny young man who wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and whose short hair and small mustache were the same color as his name. Kathleen thought him rather mousey, although very well spoken and polite. Not at all the kind of man she would expect Biddy O’Malley to fancy. But he was kind about showing her books he thought a lively ten-year-old boy would like, including Little Men, which was what she finally decided to buy. The other book with the story about Christmas night seemed too babyish.
She had just enough money budgeted to pay for Little Men and felt proud as she counted out the coins on the counter. She watched carefully as Mr. Brown handed the book to a girl who ran away with it and her money. Miss Dawson whispered that this was one of the cash girls and that she would bring the book back, all wrapped up, and that Kathleen should be careful to put the piece of paper that came with the package in her purse. She said that was her “proof of purchase.”
The girl wasn’t the Cherry that Biddy talked about because she looked no older than her brother, Ian. And Biddy had said Cherry was at least sixteen.
While Miss Dawson and Miss Kitty spent some time getting a number of books for different people, Kathleen wandered over to the notions counter that had everything you might ever want to decorate a dress. Miss Millie was teaching her how to use small strips of material to create ruffles. She hoped to save enough money after the holidays to buy some dark brown velvet that she could use to make some ruffles to decorate her good brown tweed.
She wondered if the elderly gentleman who seemed to dart here, there, and everywhere around the dress goods department was the manager Mr. Jenkins. If so, she didn’t envy Biddy working for him. He seemed awfully fussy.
Once they all had their wrapped purchases, they walked to the back of the store to the toy department. Oh, how she wished she’d had money to buy the toy train set for Ian. But wherever would he put it in the small room he shared with three of his cousins?
That was the one thing that made her think hard about marrying Patrick sooner rather than later. His promise that she could bring Ian to live with them. But there was no way that they could afford room and board for two rooms on just Patrick’s wages, and then Ian wouldn’t be any better off with them than he was now, especially once babies started to arrive.
“Come, Kathleen. It’s time for us to take the elevator. Have you ever been on one before?” Miss Dawson said. “We decided we’re going to go straight up to the third floor first. That way we can do our last bit of shopping on the second floor where the restaurant is located. It’s also where Biddy is working.”
Patrick had told her about the elevator, so she wasn’t surprised it looked like a tiny room. But it still startled a faint gasp out of her when it jerked and then started to push her upwards.
More than an hour later, they were back on the elevator going down to the second floor. This time, Kathleen was more prepared for the jerk when it started, but not for the brief feeling that the floor had dropped out from under her feet. At least she’d not cried out.
They’d had such fun on the third floor. If the front store windows were tiny parlors, the home furnishings department was a whole house put inside another building. And the clerks encouraged them to touch things on this floor. So she and Miss Dawson and Miss Kitty sat down on some of the chairs and sofas. Something that she seldom did at the boarding house…afraid that there would be some smut on her skirt left over from cleaning the fireplaces that would end up staining the upholstery. At the Silver Strike there was even a fully stocked nursery, with a table just high enough for changing nappies, a matching rocking chair, and cradles and cribs. Even a narrow low bed just the right size for a small boy…or girl. It was fun to think about a child of Mrs. Dawson’s sleeping in just such a bed.
The kitchen was the best. Marvelous stoves, and a cunning icebox with a spigot that could be used to drain out the water. It was then that Miss Dawson told her she was to help pick out a present for Mrs. O’Rourke. Kathleen knew that she wanted a new roasting pan. The old one was so dented on the bottom it was hard not to burn the gravy. After examining each of the kinds of pans the store sold, she recommended one that seemed sturdy enough to withstand daily use but wasn’t so heavy that poor little Tilly couldn’t lift it. She was really looking forward to when Mrs. O’Rourke unwrapped it Christmas morning.
Then they’d gone to the men’s furnishings department. And that was when she got a chance to see this Robbie Livingston that Mrs. Dawson had mentioned as someone who Mrs. Fournier might have been seeing on the sly. It made sense to Kathleen that the son of the store’s owner might want to hide he was carrying on with a woman who was one of his father’s employees. And unlike with the bookstore manager, Mr. Brown, she understood why Biddy called this man handsome. He looked like one of those actors you saw in the plays, sleek hair brushed back, thick mustache, bright blue eyes framed by long lashes a woman would envy. He needed some feeding up, but Kathleen knew that not all women found broad shoulders like her Patrick’s to their taste.
He was also not nearly as kind as Mr. Brown had been to her. He’d taken one look at her brown tweed and her simple home-decorated hat and dismissed her. He even ignored Miss Dawson, who was wearing her royal blue polonaise, and instead turned all his charm on Miss Blaine. As if he knew to the penny how much her outfit cost. Or maybe it was just the fur trimming on her coat. But Miss Blaine, a sensible Irish girl at heart, despite her great wealth, just laughed at him behind his back and made him hop getting out every cufflink and tie pin the store stocked for her to see. And then didn’t buy any of them.
While this was going on, Miss Dawson bought new embroidered suspenders for Mr. Nate and her other brother, and a lovely leather wallet for her father. And Kathleen found a spiffy blue striped-tie for Patrick for when he was out of uniform. She had just enough money to buy it and some nice handkerchiefs for Tilly. This took care of everyone on her list, because her present for Mrs. O’Rourke was a shawl she’d spent all fall making. The nice boarder, Mrs. Stein, had bought her some special soft wool in two different shades of dark green and helped her plan the pattern. It turned out beautifully, even though it had been hard to keep it secret.
As they stepped out of the elevator onto the second floor, they were surrounded by the most delicious smell of roast beef, and Kathleen’s stomach began to growl. Five o’clock, when she’d had her breakfast, was a long time ago, and she usually had at least a cup of tea and a roll mid-morning. But Miss Dawson wanted to check on Biddy, who was working in the ladies and children’s clothing department, and finish shopping before they went to have lunch.
Kathleen was the first to catch sight of her friend, looking like she’d been working behind a counter all her life as she handed over a brown paper parcel to a large woman who had two small girls clinging to her skirts.
“Miss, how may I help you?” Biddy said when Miss Dawson walked up to her, the broad grin on her face at odds with the serious tone of her voice.
Miss Dawson played along and said, “I would like to look at your wrappers, please.”
“Yes, miss. Do you have any particular requirements in terms of material or style?” Biddy responded, winking broadly at Kathleen, who was having difficulty stifling a giggle at seeing her friend being so prim and proper.
“Something fairly warm and easy to maintain and preferably something that can accommodate a woman who is increasing.”
Seeing Biddy’s surprised look, Miss Dawson hurriedly said, “My brother Billy has asked me to look for one for his wife. They live down in San Jose.”
Kathleen started breathing again, having thought for a moment, like Biddy, that Miss Dawson was talking about their Mrs. Dawson, not the other one. Silly…of course. Her mistress wouldn’t keep a secret like that from her.
Getting a nod of encouragement from a somberly dressed older woman standing a little way down the counter, Biddy had them follow her to a rack holding dressing gowns and wrappers of all sorts, and Miss Dawson and her friend entered into a spirited discussion of what would be more flattering to a small blond like Violet Dawson who was nearing her eighth month.
Biddy wrote up the order once their choice was made. While they waited for a small baby-faced girl to return with the wrapped package and change, Biddy checked to see that no one would overhear her and said, “You just missed the cash girl Cherry. She’s gone on another one of her breaks. But she should be back in about ten minutes…she’s working for Miss Bischoff today, over near the jewelry and perfumes. She’s wearing a bright red dress.”
Kathleen said, “That won’t be hard to miss. Have you seen anything odd…seen her steal anything?”
“Not yet. But she does spend more time flirting with the male porters and that Rutgers, the floorwalker, than working…which means all the rest of the girls have to work twice as hard. Mrs. Martell, the woman in charge of this department, was quite upset when she saw what Cherry was wearing when she reported for work today. But she was very complimentary of my dress.”
As the young cash girl ran back up, Biddy became very formal and said, “Thank you very much for shopping at the Silver Strike Bazaar. Please come again.”
Miss Dawson then said they should next go to the millinery department, which was on this floor, saying that she wanted to get her mother a new hat for Christmas. “She wears this old bonnet she’s had for years…makes her look so dowdy. I know she won’t like one of the new-fangled ones that look like upside-down clamshells, but surely there is something in between. Kathleen, take off your hat and let me try different ones on you so I can picture what my mother will look like.”
Kathleen spent the next half hour delightedly trying on hat after hat, trying not to laugh at some of the oddities Miss Dawson chose. But several of the hats really did look quite nice. They finally all agreed that the straw hat made of a rough weave the color of autumn leaves was just right. It had a moderate circular crown, with a two-inch brim, and the only decorations were a wide dark brown satin ribbon and three quail feathers stuck through the ribbon’s bow at the side.
Before handing this hat over to the clerk, who was pulling out a box to put it in, Miss Dawson picked up another hat and said, “Kathleen, could you put this one on again, just to make sure? It looked so lovely on you. Didn’t you think so, Kitty?”
Kathleen obediently tried the hat on, having secretly coveted it because it looked like it would match the navy tweed wool material the Moffets were making into a dress for her…the Dawson’s Christmas present. It had a high crown in an oval shape, with a brim that curled up on the back and sides and narrowed to almost a point at the front. A lighter blue ribbon tacked down with dark blue artificial flowers went around the bottom of the crown and ended in a complicated bow on one side.
Miss Dawson reached out and tilted the hat on Kathleen’s head. Putting her face next to hers so they looked into the mirror side-by-side, she said, “See, that brings out the blue in your eyes. But I am afraid that my mother would find it too daring. No, I think we made the right choice.”
As Kathleen put the hat down, she peeked at the price written on a tag affixed to the inside of the hat, and her heart sank. She’d been thinking that she might ask Patrick to buy it for her, but it was much too dear.
“Kathleen, would you mind going to take a look at whether you can see if that girl Cherry has returned?” Miss Dawson asked her. “I’m curious now to see what she looks like, and I think that Biddy said she’d be near jewelry. But if she’s not, we might as well go to lunch first, and then if we have time, we can check out that counter later.”
Kathleen, still thinking wistfully about the hat, went out of the millinery department toward the series of counters and shelves that held all sorts of women’s accessories. There were gloves of dyed cotton, silk, and lace fanned out like the petals of flowers, echoing the vibrant shades of the silk scarves and shawls that were draped appealingly on hooks. There was one whole counter covered with comb and brush sets, with matching button hooks, emery boards, and containers for powders and creams. Another had every possible ornamental clip and comb for decorating a woman’s hair, and she could see piled on the shelves behind that counter stacks of braids and fringes made of hair of different shades to help supplement the hair of those women whose own hair was too thin for the current fashion of fringes and side curls.
She was just feeling grateful that even if she might not be beautiful, she didn’t need to stick someone else’s hair onto her head, when a flash of red and a high pitched giggle caught her attention. Right in front of the counter where the silk hose and garters were sold, a young brunette in a garish red dress had dropped a handful of coins on the floor that went rolling in all directions. The clerk, effusively apologizing to the dignified older gentleman whose change had been dropped, came bustling out from behind the counter to help but was thwarted by Cherry…it had to be the cash girl Cherry…who kept getting in her way, while flirting shamelessly with the old gentleman.
It was so clearly an act that the cash girl was putting on that Kathleen looked around to see if there was anyone else besides herself watching. Two porters were slouched next to a column and laughing at the scene, while other customers and clerks at the counters on either side had stopped to look at the commotion. That was when she noticed a young gentleman casually plucking items from counters and sliding them into some inner pocket of his fashionable overcoat.
Like magic, a gold pocket watch, a couple of earrings, a cameo brooch, a small bottle of perfume, a silver comb and brush set, and one whole fan of expensive silk gloves disappeared, and then he turned and walked steadily to the stairs that led down to the first floor. Tipping his hat and bowing to an elderly lady who was coming up the stairs, he disappeared from view.