“How’re you going to do that?”
“They don’t know,” Sonali filled in. “It’s a harebrained scheme with no execution plan.”
“Have you been reading your mother’s law journals again?” Josh laughed. “God, I love being at home with you guys.”
“Have some faith. We’ll figure it out.” Ash waved her hand. “But first, Seb has to convince Mom.”
“Is she really going to let a bunch of teenagers who know nothing about sewing hack apart one of her favorite dresses?”
“No,” Sonali said.
“Does no one have faith in the system?” Ash gave them both a look.
“What system?” Josh asked.
“My system!” Ash whispered back loudly. They’d started talking again in the other room.
“Then, no.”
Ash did an eye roll. “I know Mom doesn’t. That’s why Seb has to convince her.”
And he was doing a fine job.
“Mrs. M, remember when you were, say, apprehensive about letting me build that computer for Ash? You were convinced it would overheat and burn the house down.” Sebastian’s voice wafted in from the living room. “She sulked for weeks and finally you gave in? Think of this project as that computer but not as useful.”
Ash almost wanted to object, but knew better than to interrupt or let on that she was eavesdropping.
“And now look, that computer—” Ash could practically see him gesturing toward the den where the Franken-computer existed “—still stands. Safe and sound. Six years of abuse by that destructive daughter of yours and it hasn’t exploded. You, yourself, have admitted you have used it for research for your cases on weekends.”
Laila was quiet. The defense lawyer had no defense.
“...and I’m hardly an engineer, Mrs. M. But I was able to do the right research to build that computer. I would never let anything bad happen to something that belonged to you. Not your daughter. Not your dress.”
Ash started to feel her hope returning.
“He’s good,” Ash’s dad whispered. “He should be a lawyer. Taking down your mother is...”
“One condition, and I mean it, Sebastian.”
Ash’s fists squeezed together in excitement.
“Anything.”
Ash could practically see Sebastian opening his hands in that way he did that got anyone to completely trust him. He just had a way of doing that.
“You find a professional to do the work. For the set budget of one hundred dollars. You do not try any stunts of your own. And I want to speak to whoever you find on the phone first to understand their credentials. And you stay in the budget.”
“Mrs. M., I promise you that you will love the lehenga so much you’ll steal it right back from your daughter and wear it to every holiday party this year.”
“Sebastian?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Don’t sell past the close.”
“No, ma’am.”
Both Ash and Josh Montague expelled sighs of relief.
“The defense rests,” Josh murmured, hugging Ash close.
Sonali continued to not look convinced as she sketched in the tiger’s whiskers.
Seven
“Are you sure it’s around here?” Sebastian glanced at the GPS on his phone and the surrounding buildings. “I don’t see anything that looks big enough to be it.”
Ash ignored him as she surveyed the line of eccentric windowed storefronts dotting Pike Street off Broadway.
“There! I’ve passed by it a hundred times.” Ash gestured toward a familiar-looking window. “Park! Park!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sebastian expertly parallel parked his Mazda in front of the colorful doorway with a Some Like It Haute sign over it.
Ash had decided to act before her mother changed her mind. She remembered passing the cute little Capitol Hill storefront that boasted “Designer fabrics for those who can... Couture dressmaking for those who can’t!” on the front window many times on her little scooter. She was sure that with the promises of couture dressmaking the storefront made, a little alteration to the lehenga would be easy-breezy.
Gathering up Sebastian’s sketches, the tiny dress figurine and the garment bag containing the lehenga, Ash practically bounced out of the car, feeling very positive. Everything was going to work out fine. They’d come so far, it had to work out.
Ash giggled at the blush on Sebastian’s cheeks as he noticed what was right next to Some Like It Haute: Babeland, a bright pink-and-white storefront boasting “women-friendly pleasure goods!”
Cap Hill was the artsy, eclectic and fun neighbor to First Hill, Ash’s more subdued ’hood, and Some Like It Haute was no exception. It was practically bursting with bolts of beautiful embroidered fabric, ribbons, skeins of yarn and walls of sewing supplies, like a tiny, brightly colored dollhouse.
“Hello!” A familiar-looking girl about their age looked up as the entry bell dinged Ash and Sebastian’s arrival. “Oh, my God, I love that dress. What a cool print!”
Ash smiled her thanks. The pale yellow dress with the pink skulls-and-roses was her latest vintage store find and was totally unique. She had bought it for the Day of the Dead celebration Sebastian’s family had every year—where they honored those who had passed on.
“I want to steal this! God, look at this construction. Where was this made?” The girl leaned across the counter to get a closer look. “Not to be weird, but can I touch it?”
“Uh, sure.”
The girl wasted no time reaching behind Ash and grabbing the tag from the back of the dress. “It’s vintage! I knew it. No one makes good stuff anymore. We’re going to get along so well!”
“Uh, thanks.” Ash disentangled herself from the girl. Wow, she was enthusiastic. “I have a weird question,” she said as she dropped her pile of stuff on the counter.
The girl picked up the tiny dress figurine. “This is so cute. Did you make this? I’m Lyra Matthew, by the way. This is my shop. Well, it’s my mom’s shop, but I work here more, so I guess it’s more mine than hers.”
Lyra Matthew. The name was so familiar... Ash suddenly remembered where she knew Lyra from. “I know you! You were in Les Misérables last year. With Armstrong Jones?”
Lyra flashed a brilliant smile. She was very pretty. And wearing an amazing pale rose drop-waist dress with a feather fringe at the hem. Her eyes were done up all dark and smoky. She looked like a ’20s movie star. “Yup, I’d just moved up from L.A. and was really surprised the part of Eponine was still open. Armstrong’s cute, but kind of skinny, don’t you think?”
Ash remembered how beautifully Lyra sang. When she finished “A Little Fall of Rain” with a whisper as Eponine had “died” in the middle of the final act, thunderous applause had rung through the school auditorium.
“I’m Ash and this is Sebastian Diaz.” Ash gestured toward Seb, who looked uncomfortable.
Ash noticed Lyra flash her dazzling smile in his direction a second longer than normal, her giant dark eyes lighting up with recognition. Of course she knew Sebastian. Everyone did.
“We