Yesterday's Stardust by Becky Melby

Author:Becky Melby [MELBY, BECKY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-60742-870-1
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2012-06-19T07:00:00+00:00

March 29, 1927

Opening her desk drawer just enough to see the mirror on her compact, Francie retouched her lipstick. With lips the color of maraschino cherries, she went back to typing invoices.

When Tag had made her apply for the job, she’d assumed she’d only be here a few weeks, but nothing had happened yet. She wasn’t complaining. Her evenings were free to watch Franky.

She’d started as a clerk, learned to type at night school, and worked her way up to secretary. Tag had already told her to set her sights higher.

He’d also promised he wouldn’t make her steal anything and said she’d be out of the way when something went down. She believed him. Tag had a distorted code of honor when it came to women. “I may own you, babe, but you’ll never end up behind bars.”

After each invoice, she allowed a moment to look around the room and out the window. As the light changed throughout the day, it caught new facets of the pieces on display. Emeralds set in gold, pearls surrounded by silver. Rubies, sapphires, diamonds. She paired each one with an outfit that walked past the window.

Wabash Street was a never-ending source of couture inspiration. The warmer it got, the more color was displayed. The thermometer outside the break room window hovered in the low sixties today, and the stick-thin woman walking past the storefront wore only a fur scarf over a champagne-colored dress that appeared to be silk. The skirt had godet inserts of deep, rich brown.

“Swanky.” Doris, the other front desk secretary, chewed on the end of her pen as she stared, starry eyed, at the dress.

“I could make it for you.”

“For how much?”

“For nothing.” Though he disapproved, Tag kept her well supplied with fabric for her “little hobby.” “I think blue looks best on you.”

Doris put her hand to her collarbone. “You’d do that?”

“Of course.” Francie picked up a pencil and sketched on the pad next to her typewriter. “But I’d make the neckline like this and make a scarf out of the same fabric as the skirt inserts. That is, unless you want mink like she has.”

“You slay me,” Doris deadpanned. “You got a sugar daddy or something?”

Her phone rang, giving her a reason not to answer. “Good afternoon. Walbrecht Jewelers. This is Francine, may I help you?”

“You do that so, so well.” Tag’s laugh filtered through the receiver. “You just say what you gotta say to make it look good, okay?”

“Yes, sir, I believe I can do that for you.”

“I heard a rumor today.” He laughed. “Actually, I started the rumor. Mr. Walbrecht’s personal secretary is giving her notice soon. She doesn’t know it yet, but she is.”

Francie’s hand went to her throat. Harriet Jones was the sweetest person. If Tag did anything to that woman— “Yes, sir.”

“You’re going to take her place. But first you gotta make yourself known a little bit. So here’s the deal—the big guy has lunch at Berghoff’s every day. I want you to bump into him and ask his advice about something.

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