As I dashed up the cockeyed concrete steps to my front porch, I could hear the heavy bass beat of the band coming from the basement. Aileen and the Twisted Armpits must be in full swing. Poor Fiona; I’d forgotten to warn her about the noise. I hurried into my fitting room, the formal dining room of my nineteenth-century three-story house.
I paused on the threshold. Despite the muffled booms from beneath the floorboards, Fiona had fallen fast asleep in one of my comfy chairs, her book open on her chest. During a pause in the band’s clamor I could hear Fiona’s soft breathing. With her smooth brown curls swept back from a broad forehead and her mouth slightly open in sleep, she looked far too young and innocent to be an honors law student, much less a bride-to-be. She exuded peace and serenity. Not wanting to catch her in such a vulnerable state, I backed out of the doorway and stepped right onto the tail of my long-suffering cat. Mohair yowled and streaked off into the kitchen in an orange blur, and I jumped and dropped my shoulder bag with a clatter. No worries about having to wake Fiona now! I gathered up the spilled contents of my bag and entered the room with a cheery hello.
Fiona got to her feet and greeted me with a smile. “I must have dozed off there. So much for catching up on my reading.”
“So sorry for forgetting about you.” I rummaged through the rack of wedding gowns hanging in the corner, and pulled out the plastic-wrapped hanger labeled “Fiona Tuckerman.” “It’s a big day—you get to put this on for the first time.” I pointed her to the curtained-off corner reserved for changing. “Don’t worry about the back—I’ll fit it for the buttons today.”
While Fiona changed I took a minute to set some hot cider to bubbling on the sideboard, breathing in its spicy aroma. In my experience, brides-to-be were happier with my work when they felt relaxed, a neat trick to achieve between the normal stresses of wedding preparations combined with a metal band rehearsing in the basement. I hoped to scale back on my wedding gowns as the historical sewing increased, but I had yet to achieve that level of specialization.
Fiona emerged from the changing area, clutching the bodice of her dress so the whole thing wouldn’t fall right off her. I quickly pinned up the back and steered her to the three-way mirror. She turned and swayed and admired the shining folds of her wedding gown. She’d chosen a custom-made design based on drawings I’d done from her specifications. The gown featured a striking strapless neckline with diagonal shirring through the bodice to provide the only ornamentation. The wide, flowing skirt trailed on the floor in just a hint of a train. The heavy satin glowed with a luster of its own, needing no adornment of lace or sequins. It was a sophisticated, lovely look that well suited this professional young woman.
I gave Fiona a few minutes to admire the possibilities, and then instructed her to stand still while I marked the back for the line of satin-covered buttons. When she winced, I nearly dropped the whole pincushion.
“Oh, no, did I poke you?”
She gave me a puzzled glance over her shoulder. “No, I’m good.”
A second later she flinched again. I wasn’t even touching her. “Is everything all right, Fiona?”
“It’s just, that noise. How can you stand it?”
It was my turn to look puzzled, until I registered the howling emanating from the basement where the Twisted Armpits held sway. The unrelenting bass of the band had become such a backdrop to my daily life that it didn’t bother me anymore. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it. I’ll ask Aileen to knock it off for a few minutes.”
“No, no, it’s okay. We’re just about done, right?” She checked her watch. “I’m meeting Randy in half an hour for dinner.” She held her arms out obediently for me to finish with the back. “I hope you’ll get a chance to meet Randy soon. He’s starting work for a client here in Laurel Springs, so we’ll be able to see each other every day instead of just on the weekends.” She checked her watch again, and I instinctively tried to speed up my work. So much for the relaxing effect of the cider aroma.
“He lives out of town, then?”
“Philly. You wouldn’t think that would be too far, but between my studies and his caseload, we can only get together on the weekends. I usually go into the city, so it’s a treat to have him come live with me for a bit. He used to live here, so it won’t be such a shock for him to hang out in the backwoods for a while.”
Fiona jumped as the basement door slammed against the wall, letting loose the cacophony of a truly colossal drum solo. Aileen appeared in the doorway, having characteristically neglected to shut the basement door behind her. Her skintight purple leather short-shorts and red lace-covered corset suited the sultry August day. Her ever-changing pixie hairdo sported streaks of fluorescent red, yellow, and purple today, on a base of jet black. Brass chains looped over her shoulder, snaked around her waist, and twined down her right thigh. A pair of black cracked-leather platform boots added a good seven inches to her over-six-foot frame. If you wanted to sum up Aileen in one word, “intimidating” would work nicely.
“We’re calling out for pizza, Daria. Do you want to go in on it?”
After the peanut butter incident, in which Aileen slathered a perfectly good pepperoni pizza with crunchy peanut butter topped with hot sauce and dried mango slices, I’d learned to never, never share food with her, of any description. Whatever she was planning to top her pizza with today, I wanted no part of it. “No, thanks, I’ll pass.”
She shrugged and said, “Your loss,” before clomping into the kitchen.
I turned back to Fiona, who was checking her watch yet again. “Two more pins and we’re done.” I set the pins, marked the center back line with dressmaking chalk, and quickly unpinned her.
While Fiona changed, I flipped through my planner, taking stock of my projects. With Fiona’s wedding in a little over two weeks, I needed to have her in for another fitting to pin up the hem, and then one final time when she would collect her gown and make her last payment. Just in time, with my mortgage payment coming due at the end of the month. For the umpteenth time I prayed for success with my historical sewing business, so I could gain some financial security after all these years. I had also assured Priscilla that her gown would be hemmed by tomorrow—looked like a long night for me. But I still needed to eat, right? My finger ran down the page for today, coming to rest on the entry “Sean M—dinner (?).” I didn’t know where he planned to take me, but it had been three weeks since I’d seen McCarthy and I wasn’t about to forgo that date in favor of an endless hem!
I sent Fiona on her way with an appointment for the following week for the final fitting of her gown, then ran upstairs to change for dinner.
My bedroom was on the second floor of my Federal-style house, the only thing left of my failed relationship with my former fiancé. It boasted three stories and a total of six bedrooms complete with fireplaces in every one. Despite my bitter memories of Randall, I loved the house with my whole heart. Its quirky closets, unexpected stained-glass window in the sole bathroom, and promise of hidey-holes behind the eaves gave it a charm that new construction could never offer. The price for charm was felt in the exorbitant heating bills needed to keep the high-ceilinged rooms livable in the winter. I’d solved this problem by taking in Aileen as a renter, and then welcoming my brother Pete to the mix when he returned to Laurel Springs after his disastrous attempt to make it big in Hollywood. Pete got the big third-floor