“And Mr. Kells will be there.”
“I’ll wear my best ragged gown.”
Dee shook her head. “You never look ragged.”
“I will at the party,” she said miserably. “If only I could afford some fabric!” she blurted out.
“I have some pretty Christmassy green Qiana you can have. It looks like silk to the uninitiated.”
“There won’t be any uninitiated people at that party.”
Dee rested her chin on her hand. “Well, it’s pretty material. You’ll look great in it. Got a design in mind?”
Ivory nodded. “One of my own,” she said doggedly. “Since you’re kind enough to supply the material, I’ll run up something for you, too, if you like. I’ve got a nice sewing machine at my apartment.”
Dee had arranged to rent an expensive gown. She didn’t want to hurt Ivory’s feelings, so she hesitated.
“Actually, though,” Ivory added quickly, sensing the reluctant refusal, “it will take a lot of time to do two gowns...”
“I’m renting one, and I’ve already put a down payment on it,” Dee confessed. “But next time, I’d love for you to design something for me.”
“Super. Maybe by then I’ll have managed to pay you back for what you’re advancing me!” Ivory laughed.
Dee studied her face and thought how flawless that complexion was, creamy pink and beautiful, with those big pale gray eyes framed by thick curly lashes. If Ivory let her hair grow long, she’d be a knockout. Even with her hair cut short, she was very attractive. And she had a willowy figure that wasn’t too thin or too voluptuous but seemed to mold itself to any sort of clothing. She was what old-timers would call a clotheshorse. She would have looked good in a potato sack.
“You have nice eyes,” Dee said unexpectedly.
Ivory laughed. “I wish I had green eyes,” she confessed. “Lucky you.”
“Thanks. I was just thinking how pretty your gray ones are, and how your hair would look if you let it grow. Then you could wear one of those white Grecian things and wear your hair in rows of tight curls...”
“You should have been a designer,” came the dry reply.
“I’ll drink to that.” Dee lifted her tea and sipped.
Designing the dress became a prime project for Ivory in the two weeks that followed. She threw away many of her sketches before she finally settled on an updated copy of a gown she’d seen in Tudor portraits of the mid-sixteenth century. It had a square neckline with lavish embroidery and puffed sleeves tapering down to tight cuffs. She left the length as it would have been in that period, but cut it down to a formfitting silhouette that stopped at her ankles. It was a striking concept, but it wasn’t suited to slinky Qiana. It needed to be made of white satin and embroidered with colored thread. But how could she afford that sort of fabric when she was hardly able to buy groceries? She’d just have to make do with what Dee was willing to give her, she thought, and resigned herself to the fact.
At work one day she showed the drawings to Dee, who stared at them openmouthed.
“Will it do?” Ivory asked her, uncertain even now.
“Do? My God!”
“I thought I’d start cutting it out tomorrow. It’s Saturday. If you don’t have any other plans...” she began.
“You can’t use a limp fabric on this,” Dee said.
“Yes, I can,” she argued. “The embroidery will...”
“It will pucker,” Dee said.
Ivory hesitated. Dee was right. A light fabric embroidered so heavily probably would pucker. Maybe she could cut down on the embroidery...
“It needs to be white satin,” Dee suggested.
“Well, yes, but you’ve already got the Qiana. I can’t afford...”
“I certainly can.” Dee held up a hand when she started to protest. “It won’t be that expensive,” she said shortly. “You can make me another, in a different color, and I’ll pay you for it. That will cover the cost of materials for yours.”
“You want me to make you one?”
“Is there a parrot in your throat?” Dee chuckled. “Listen, you dolt, that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Of course I want one, and in satin. Everybody will want one when they see you in it. I think it would make a sensational wedding dress, as well! As an evening gown it will be a knockout. I’m just getting my order in first. You’re going to start a riot when you walk in!”
“Well, I liked it, but I never know if something’s quite good enough or not.”
“This is good enough. Is it ever!” Dee shook her head as she studied the drawing. Her fingers traced its lines lovingly. “It’s breathtaking. Just breathtaking!” She put it down. “We’ll buy fabric on our lunch hour. I know just the place to go.”
“Dee, are you sure?” Ivory asked worriedly.
“I’m sure!”
Miss Raines walked by as Ivory was putting the working sketch back into her portfolio. She gave it a haughty glance.
“Overdone!” she pronounced. “You’ll have to do better than that if you expect to get a promotion here,” she added as she swept out of the room.
Ivory bit her lip and didn’t reply, but she was seething inside. One day, she promised herself, she was going to prove to Virginia Raines that she had what it took to become a top designer.
The pattern was complicated, but not so difficult to make. Ivory had learned a number of skills in design school, and pattern-making was one of them. She knew how to adjust one, as well, to ensure a customized fit. She worked with the pattern until she had it exactly the way she wanted it before she ever spread it on the pure white satin.
Then, it was just a matter of careful cutting. She basted it together and was delighted with the end result. It was a dress worthy of royalty, and she felt justifiably proud of her efforts, Miss Raines’s biting comment notwithstanding.
The embroidery took the longest. She had to design that, too, and then choose colored threads to stitch it. She was particularly fond of a delicate ivy and wildflower pattern she had seen in an illuminated Book of Hours. It took up most of her spare time after work and she only hoped that she would be able to finish it in time.
Tim watched her nimble fingers work on the embroidery the Saturday before the party, while he played on the bare floor of the shelter with the wooden toy Mr. Johnson had made for him. Ivory had carried the dress with her to work on because she had so little time left to finish it that she couldn’t waste a minute. Right now, she was babysitting Miriam’s children while Miriam looked for a job again.
“That sure is pretty, Ivory,” he remarked. “Takes a lot
