If At First

Part 17 - Chapter 16

16

Nana and I walked into Michelle's shop, passing Mira Landon on the threshold. I smiled at her, the beginning of the word "hello" on my lips, when her dark stare halted me. Dumbfound, I looked to my grandmother with a gaping mouth, never having quite gotten the whole "hello" out.

Nana waved her hand as if to brush her off. "Don't worry, she'll get over it."

"Get over what?" I frowned.

Before she could answer, Michelle jubilantly greeted us in the sitting room. "Aah! Just who I was expecting!"

"You were?" My grandmother looked momentarily taken aback but recovered quickly, feigning, "Oh Michelle, of course you were."

"Darling mentioned you might come to see me, and I've turned positively everyone else away for you, so don't you dare say that you haven't come for your gowns! Nothing will make me happy until I've created a work of art worthy of this Angel." Michelle directed me in front of a narrow mirror and began drawing lines in the air around me. "Now! What are we thinking? A-line? Empire? Ooh, should we do tiers? I know! We'll go Hepburn. Audrey of course, not Katharine with this figure. Lace? Organza? No! Black taffeta and white lace! Here, and here. How do you feel about a very low cut? Do you prefer more traditional? An overlay! Embroidery? Hmmm..." She crossed her arms and tapped a finger against her elbow, studying me. "Yes! I have it! Girls! Take Miss Bridian in the back for her measurements. Do them twice to make sure they're correct, and then check them against the last time she was here to gauge fluctuation. And for you, Madame," I heard her say to Nana before being whisked away, "I know exactly what you want."

Once again I was amid flurried hands; measuring, stretching, holding up swatches. My hair up, my hair down; jewelry, no jewelry; heels? Platforms? No, definitely heels. Sydney, the slender one, said knowingly, "I have a feeling Michelle's gonna want her to wear one of Mr. Radcliffe's shoes. I heard her on the phone with him this morning."

There was even a lively debate among two of the dressers over the merits of diamonds versus pearls. They eventually agreed that it had to depend on the circumstances, but that only diamonds could prevail for what I would wear.

"I was actually thinking I might wear emeralds," I mentioned, caught up in their enthusiasm and remembering the necklace my father gave me. And suddenly I was very aware of my lack of fashion know­how and feared I may have spoken unwisely.

"Emeralds!" The short one clapped, "Yes, of course! Because of your eyes!"

"How are we doing, ladies?" Michelle asked, opening the doors that divided her shop.

"We were wondering about shoes," Sydney announced.

"Oh, I know the exact shoes for you," she said expressively, and disappeared again through a curtain draped on one side of the room. She reappeared seconds later with a sketch on a scrap of paper. "I've just been on a call with my friend Stuart, and he's approved my request to co-design your shoes, as long as you agree to model them for the auction that night. So remember to take a spare. Never mind, I'll get you those too."

"I can't model anything." I said seriously, "People will laugh. They'll think it's a joke."

Michelle chuckled, sweeping a pudgy hand at me. "Oh, dear, the things you say!"

"I will literally kill myself in those shoes, Nana." I told her when we were on our way back to the house. "And I don't see why I even need a gown."

"Don't you?" she mocked, "I suppose you'd rather show up looking like a backwoods hillbilly? Well, let me explain to you then, that when you're invited to the Black and White Gala, which is the social event, and you show up in your jeans, you're bound to be laughed at. And those shoes? It is an enormous honor, and a favor Michelle is doing for me, so I don't want to hear one more word about it."