Chapter 10
Margaret ran her fingers along the torn sleeve.
“Something this old can be beautiful again,” she told Katherine. “But you have to be careful about what you change.”
Katherine smiled uncertainly.
“Does that mean you can fix it?”
“It means I need to know what your mother wants.”
Patricia looked surprised.
“Me?”
Margaret nodded.
“It's your dress to wear.”
Patricia touched the yellowed fabric.
“My mother kept it wrapped in a sheet for fifty years.”
“Was she a seamstress?” Margaret asked.
“No. She worked at a grocery store.”
Margaret smiled.
“Then she probably understood how to take care of things.”
Patricia laughed softly.
“She certainly did.”
Vanessa leaned closer.
“We could replace the damaged sleeves and add new lace.”
Margaret looked at her.
“Maybe.”
Vanessa immediately stopped.
“Sorry. I didn't mean to take over.”
Margaret touched her daughter's hand.
“I know.”
Then she looked back at Patricia.
“Would you be comfortable changing your mother's dress?”
Patricia hesitated.
For the first time, I noticed tears gathering in her eyes.
“I don't know.”
Katherine frowned.
“Mom?”
Patricia gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
“I suppose I've been afraid to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I don't think I want to wear the dress.”
Katherine stared.
“But you said—”
“I know what I said.”
Patricia looked at the gown.
“I loved my mother. She was a wonderful woman. But I was always afraid of disappointing her.”
Margaret listened quietly.
“Even after she passed,” Patricia continued, “I kept thinking I needed to do everything exactly the way she would have.”
Katherine slowly sat down.
“I thought wearing her dress would make you happy.”
“It does make me happy that you remembered it.”
“But you don't want to wear it?”
Patricia shook her head.
“I want to renew my vows wearing something I've chosen for myself.”
For several seconds, Katherine looked hurt.
Then she reached for her mother's hand.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Patricia smiled sadly.
“Because I didn't want to hurt your feelings.”
Margaret gave a soft laugh.
“Families do an awful lot of damage trying to avoid a little disappointment.”
I looked toward Vanessa.
She was staring at her mother.
I knew she understood.
Katherine wiped her cheeks.
“Then don't wear it, Mom.”
Patricia squeezed her hand.
“Thank you.”
Margaret carefully lifted one sleeve.
“What if we restored the gown enough to preserve it properly? And made a small matching piece you could wear with a dress of your own choosing?”
Patricia smiled.
“A shawl?”
“Perhaps. Something that honors your mother without asking you to become her.”
Katherine nodded enthusiastically.
“I love that.”
Vanessa looked toward Margaret.
“Would you let me help?”
Margaret studied her daughter.
“Can you still do the little rolled hems I taught you?”
Vanessa smiled through tears.
“Probably not as neatly.”
“Then I guess we'd better practice.”
Everyone laughed.
For once, the laughter felt comfortable.
Not cruel.
Not nervous.
Just warm.
That evening, when the guests had gone, Luca found me gathering the remaining glasses.
“Claire?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Did you enjoy Christmas dinner?”
I nodded.
“Very much.”
He looked toward the table where Margaret and Vanessa had been sitting.
“You were right to bring her upstairs that first night.”
I swallowed.
“I was afraid you'd be angry.”
“With you?”
“With someone.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“Sometimes people with money make it difficult for anyone to tell them they're wrong.”
I looked at him.
He smiled faintly.
“I don't want to be one of those people.”
Then he added something unexpected.
“Have you thought about what you want to do next?”
I frowned.
“With dinner service?”
“With your life.”
I laughed nervously.
“Not much lately.”
He nodded.
“Margaret says you're good at keeping people organized. The seamstresses may need someone who can handle appointments and customers.”
I stared.
“Sir, I'm a housemaid.”
“And a good one. That doesn't mean it's the only thing you can be.”
He didn't offer me a job on anyone else's behalf.
He simply told me that if I wanted to explore the opportunity, he'd make sure my current work schedule didn't prevent it.
I thought about that conversation for days.
After Christmas, Margaret and the women began discussing whether their temporary arrangement should become permanent.
They'd completed the holiday orders.
Several customers had asked for alterations.
Others wanted new dresses designed by the women whose names they'd finally learned.
For the first time, the seamstresses were being approached directly.
Not through Eleanor.
Not through Charles.
Margaret's blue notebook was filling with new measurements.
But success brought another problem.
The Moretti restaurant needed its private meeting room back for January reservations.
The women couldn't keep working there indefinitely.
One afternoon, I joined Margaret, Vanessa, Eleanor, and the other seamstresses around the same dining table where everything had begun.
Helen placed several pages in front of Margaret.
“I found a storefront on Taylor Street.”
Margaret looked up.
“The old alterations shop?”
Helen nodded.
“It's been empty since the owner retired.”
Mrs. Ortiz smiled.
“It has good windows.”
“And a proper fitting room,” another woman added.
Vanessa studied the information.
“This could work.”
Margaret looked uncertain.
“What about the rent?”
Helen hesitated.
“That's the difficult part.”
The women became quiet.
They had been paid what they were owed.
But none of them wanted to gamble the little money they'd finally recovered.
Luca had offered temporary help, but Margaret didn't want their new business to depend on another wealthy person's generosity.
She looked at the other women.
“If we do this, we do it together.”
Helen nodded.
“That's what we want.”
Then she pointed to the amount at the bottom of the listing.
“The landlord needs six months paid upfront.”
“How much?” I asked.
May you like
Helen looked around the table.
“Twelve thousand dollars. And we have until Friday.”
