Ruby positioned a snuff jar at a particular angle and took a slug of her latte. Her cheeks remained pink, and something in her seemed twitchy. I sensed that my response to whatever she’d done with the Givenchy mattered more than she would let on. She finally looked up. “I have it in the kitchen.”
“Oh, good. Grab it and let me see. Oh, better yet, put it on.”
She looked as if she might argue, but then she lifted a shoulder and slipped into the kitchen. I hurried back to my office and dumped my bag and the detective books Julia Kate had dissed. Maybe I would do a fun display with them. I could use the black velvet dress with the bow just above the kick pleat. Oh, and that adorable hat with the net. I could add an antique magnifying glass, maybe some opera glasses. I lived for a theme.
Ruby appeared in the open doorway, and I gasped.
Yes. I literally gasped, which sort of startled my assistant.
The cream-colored top that had once had sleeves （and a stain） had been cut away to create straps. The bodice curved sweetly just below the rise of Ruby’s breasts. Small tucks created a ruche that nipped her waist. The skirt was black satin that flared out in a sporty peplum before hugging her thighs. At the knee, the skirt opened with a fanned kick pleat. The inside of the skirt was lined with raspberry satin and ended right at Ruby’s ankle. Around her trim waist she’d fashioned a floppy bow out of the raspberry satin. The effect was glamorous, vintage, and somehow very modern. If she’d been on Project Runway, they would have said it was a safe design, but Ruby lived in the real world and knew what suited a woman.
“That’s amazing,” I said, standing and taking her by the hand. Ruby pulled back and made a face. But I tugged her along nonetheless. “Come on. I want to see it in the three-sided mirror.”
Under the lights I had erected for those who wished to try on our vintage offerings, Ruby looked even better. I touched the strap of the gown. “I can’t believe this was the Givenchy.”
Ruby didn’t smile, but I could see the pleasure in her eyes. “I know. I loved the color. The fading made it softer. Like old newspaper, but prettier.”
It was at that moment I caught my mother’s reflection in the mirror.
Her Roger Vivier heels tapped a determined staccato toward us, like a Valkyrie descending.
“Hello, darling,” Marguerite said in her contrived upper-crust southern drawl, her Chanel perfume greeting us before she was even within five feet. She stopped abruptly next to me, her hand raised to no doubt press down one of my errant curls that had escaped to bounce defiantly, but her eyes landed on Ruby. “Oh. Oh, what’s this?”
I smiled at Ruby, who looked somewhat alarmed. Marguerite did that. She had never been the sort to make anyone feel at ease. Like a general in the army or something, she made a person feel as if they should straighten up and worry about the lint on their pants. “You’ve met my assistant, Ruby. She designed this dress for Gritz and Glitz.”
My mother stepped closer to Ruby, peering at the fastidious tucks and pristine edges of the gown. “Well, this is . . . quite stunning. It looks straight off a runway, only better because it’s not hodgepodgy. Some of those designers these days glue things, for heaven’s sake.”
Ruby’s lips twitched. “This gown is pieced from some unsalvageable vintage dresses Cricket had. The top is from a fifties Givenchy, and the bottom was from a Balenciaga, also from the fifties. The ruffle was in pretty bad shape, so I pulled it off and streamlined it and added the lining, which I bought at a fabric store.”
My mother was speechless as she made the finger motion for Ruby to twirl.
Ruby obliged.
“That’s incredible. You have such talent, my dear.”
“I made another dress. For Cricket or whoever. I’m not sure it will fit your shape, Cricket, but I couldn’t stop myself because the skirt was just too pretty to toss. I’ll grab it.” Ruby sort of hurriedly slunk away toward the back of the store. The tight skirt of the stunning creation she wore only allowed for so much stride.
My mother arched a carefully drawn-on eyebrow. “How surprising.”
It was. I’d had no clue that Ruby was so talented. Of course, the younger woman had an eye for style. She always paired pieces creatively or donned sleek ensembles such as the monochromatic one she’d been wearing earlier, but I had had no clue that her skills as a seamstress and, well, designer were so heightened.
Ruby came back with something covered in black garbage bags. “I didn’t have a garment bag.”