Chapter 61 – Tailoring Lessons (2)

“He is out,” the man said.

“Pray, when will he be back?” she asked politely.

The man shrugged. “Can’t say,” he said, “Maybe an hour, or maybe three.”

Anna nodded. “I will wait for him, if you don’t mind,” she said, surprising the young man.

“It might take longer,” he said, “Can’t be sure.”

“It’s alright,” she said levelly, “I can wait.” She walked around the shop admiring the ready-to-wear garments in the glass cases. She thought Mr. Goldman was indeed very talented.

“You can have a seat,” the young man offered, “There are chairs over there.” He indicated a corner where there was a table, and a couple of chairs.

“Don’t worry,” said Anna, “I am going to wait outside till he comes back.”

“Outside?” said the man, “Better you head home since no one knows exactly when he will be back.”

“As I said, I will wait, don’t you worry about that,” Anna said firmly, “I am going to wait at the café across the street so I don’t get in the way of your business here.”

Anna and Annushka left the shop and entered the café. They talked a while about the most trivial things and had some coffee. Anna kept an eye out to not miss Mr. Goldman when he arrived. After two hours, he finally entered the shop and Anna followed with Annushka.

The first thing that stood out of Mr. Goldman was his sharpness. He was tall and thin and somehow pointy. His neat hair was slicked back with wax, and green eyes were visible behind gold-rimmed glasses. The young man at the reception might have already relayed to him about her visit because just as she entered, he asked, “How may I help you, Madam?” His voice was soft and stern, almost verging on rudeness. But his green eyes gazing at you made you think that perhaps he naturally spoke in that manner without insinuating anything rude.

“I have heard a lot about Mr. Goldman’s craftmanship,” said Anna, “I wanted to request lessons in tailoring from you, sir.”

“I am sorry, Madam,” Mr. Goldman said, “I do not plan on starting any lessons as of now.”

“It won’t be in vain, sir,” Annushka chipped in. Mr. Goldman didn’t even spare her a glance.

“This is not a matter of money, if that is what you mean,” he said, “This tailoring shop is managed only by me and this young man here. I have no time to spare, in all honesty. I have yet to get to the clothes that are still unfinished. As a tailor of virtue, I have to finish the orders that have been placed.”

Anna stood there, thinking. She respected Mr. Goldman, not only because of his extraordinary craftmanship but also because of the straightforward way he dealt with flattery. He was neither concerned with superficial politeness, nor praises, he was only concerned about getting his job done. Anna found this admirable.

Perhaps if Anna used her status against him, he probably would have to agree to her request. But even thinking about that left a bad taste in her mouth. She had always hated aristocrats hiding behind their title and status; she was not about to start doing the same. She couldn’t throw Karenin’s name around in vain. Besides, it was rare to see someone so indifferent to the hypocrisy and flattery. Anna would find a way to achieve her goal by her own self.

“In that case, I will take my leave and let you get back to work,” she said with a polite smile. She wished him farewell and walked out of the shop. The tailor looked surprised.

On their way back in the carriage, Annushka couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “I think you were treated very unfairly,” she said.

Anna patted her hand, touched by her concern. “Let’s think of it this way,” she explained, “I requested something from him. He has a full right to deny it if he chooses. Everybody should have a choice of saying ‘no’.”

Annushka didn’t look like she was convinced, but she remained silent. She liked Anna because she was always kind to her and treated her as a friend. So, she felt duty bound to defend her at all times. No other aristocratic lady had ever shown her kindness.

Surprisingly, there was another person who spoke on their behalf, back at the tailoring shop. “The lady seems nice, she didn’t mean any harm,” said the young man at the reception desk.

“Perhaps it would be better for you to open your eyes wider, Mr. Prokhov,” said Mr. Goldman, “That lady is a married woman. Don’t be stupid.” It seemed Mr. Prokhov was unaware of this, because he looked at Mr. Goldman with a slightly startled face.

Mr. Prokhov was accustomed to Mr. Goldman’s rudeness, so he winced a little and scratched his chin and let it go. “How was the meeting?” he asked.

“I told you,” Mr. Goldman said, with a dead-pan face, “That is none of your business. You are here to help me with chores. I ‘employ’ you. I don’t have to start confiding in you like a family.”

Mr. Goldman left through the backdoor towards the backyard, leaving poor Mr. Prokhov, sighing sadly at the counter. Mr. Prokhov took out a small pocket watch and opened the golden lid. Inside was a picture of a girl with red, curly hair and green eyes. He looked at her fondly.