Page 52 of Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye

Thirteen

LEIA

The next day

Leia stifled another yawn and tilted her head, studying the cerise pink chiffon draped over the curves of her dress form. Showcasing a gathered bodice with a plunging V-shaped neckline, the floor-length gown was elegant and glamorous, temporarily sleeveless, and held together with an army of pins. Is it too much boob? Shantelle wants a killer ass, but I think she can pull off both. Twisting her lips, Leia fussed with the silk again and stepped back, glancing over her shoulder. “Simon, what do you think? Was the heart-shaped neckline better?” She stared at her work in progress and nibbled her fingernail. “I’m torn.”

Mid-sketch, Simon set down his stylus pen and looked up from his drawing tablet, a jumpsuit sketch destined for a video conference call with a New York store nicely taking shape on his laptop screen. “Oh, I like this one”—he nodded enthusiastically, the pitter-patter of cold rain on the windows filling his pause—“a lot!” He leaned over the work table, littered with pins, splayed scissors, and two nearly empty bottles of cola—Leia’s pick-me-up of choice. He scratched his beard. “Is this the dead stock you found in Reading?”

“No, the other place you told me about—in Nottingham? Feel it!” Leia handed him a piece and stuck her hands in the pockets of her old University of Pittsburgh hoodie. Paired with her favorite pair of faded boyfriend jeans and her chunky-soled combat boots, the cozy zip-up from her alma mater was the perfect outfit for a damp, blustery day. It also didn’t hurt that it kept Tarquin’s fading hickey a secret. Each day, the love bite paled a little more, along with her hopes of hearing from him again. “They had tons of it, no dyeing required.”

“It was already this color? That’s a time-saver.” Simon’s forehead creased as his thumb sailed along the fabric. “It’s great quality. Soft and light, will cling in all the right places. Shantelle will feel and look amazing in it.”

“Yeah, I totally lucked out. I showed it to her last night over FaceTime and she signed off on the color and heart-shaped neckline, but”—Leia’s hands burrowed farther into her hoodie’s pockets as her stomach let out a long, snarly growl—“I’m having second thoughts. This design feels…too safe, maybe? You only debut on the red carpet once. I think she should make more of a splash, be the actress everyone’s talking about.”

Simon set the fabric sample on the table and stood up, joining Leia in front of her rough design. He crossed his arms, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. “The deep neckline will draw lots of attention. Can Shantelle carry it off? What’s she like—is she shy or outgoing?”

“She’s quiet one on one, but get her to a party and she lights up like the Vegas strip.” Leia laughed, removing her hands from her hoodie. “She becomes another person. It’s kinda scary. Actresses, right?” She pulled out a pin and deepened the neckline. “Shantelle doesn’t usually wear anything low-cut, but her body is curvy and athletic, so beautiful. If anyone could pull this off…” She squinted at the fabric and stuck the pin in again.

Simon spun the form around, examining the back of the pinned garment. A panel of pink lace covered the upper back, offering a discreet glimpse of the mannequin’s ‘skin’ beneath. Leia had salvaged the intricate needlework from a damaged vintage dress and had it dyed to match the rest of Shantelle’s gown. Simon twirled the dress form again, admiring the elegant material accentuating the figure’s décolletage. “I’d go with your gut. Keep the plunging V.” He nodded. “Sexy but tasteful. Bit of boob tape on the day and she won’t feel like everything is on display.”

I’ve missed this, having someone to bounce ideas around with. Leia smiled as he returned to his chair. “That’s what I thought. Thanks!”

“Any time.” His eyes trailed down the draped cerise fabric as Leia fussed with it, a smoothing of a crease here, a pinch with a pin there. “I can’t get enough of that color. Really pops.” He picked up his ‘energizer juice’, a concoction of apple, orange, carrot, and ginger purchased from the café on the corner.

“That’s what sold me.” Leia swept her misbehaving hair off her forehead. Wild and temperamental, it kept falling into her face. She yanked a hair tie from her wrist and corralled her blonde locks. “I hope I have some left over. I’d love to make a skirt for myself.”

“If you have time.” He sipped slowly, savoring his healthy drink.

Huh? Leia twisted, her perky ponytail playing catch-up, landing on her shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Lowering his beverage, Simon pulled his chair closer to the table. “You might be swamped with orders after Shantelle slays in your gown. You know, like the Kate Middleton effect.”

“Oh, I’d gladly give up my skirt to have that problem!” Leia scooped up two smaller pieces of lace from the table. “If only, eh?”

“A boy can dream,” said Simon, picking up his stylus. He sailed it across his drawing pad, the flourish creating the beginnings of a sleeve on his laptop screen.

“Yeah.” Her fingers dipped into the holes stitched into the lace’s flower pattern. “But I have to be realistic. I’ve only ever planned on winning one customer at a time. I know there are smart shoppers out there who want limited-edition dresses that look good and help the planet. I just have to find them.”

“How’s it going finding a financial backer?”

Leia’s smile wavered. “It’s not. The words ‘limited-edition’ and ‘custom-made’ send them running for the hills. They worry I won’t earn as much as someone with a large production run, so apparently, I’m not a good ‘return on investment’. Sustainability might be buzz-worthy, but when it comes down to it, backers would rather fund designers who swerve green initiatives and flood the market with clothes. But I don’t want that for Frill-Seekers. Upcycling is about quality, not quantity. I need someone who understands that and believes in repurposing old things as much as I do.” She pressed her lips together. Shit. I literally just described Tarquin…

Leaving the lace on the table, she dug into her hoodie pocket and pulled out her phone. Still not a peep. The text-free screen felt like a kick to her gut. Did my rules scare him off? Is he one of those guys after all, the kind who insist on ‘being in charge’? Well, whatever. I’m not changing who I am just so I can get laid. Her forehead creased. If it’s not my rules, maybe he met someone. I wouldn’t be surprised—a guy like him won’t stay single for long.

She tucked her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and revisited the lace, laying a swath over each shoulder of the dress form, making flirty, albeit temporary, short pink sleeves. Her stomach grumbled again, loud enough to earn a concerned squint from Simon.

“Feel free to tell me to mind my own business, Leia, but how are you supporting yourself? A part-time job can’t put food on the table, let alone fund a fashion line.”

Simon kills me. He’s like Sarah, comes right out and says what other people only think. Letting out a sigh, she stopped fiddling with the lace. “It doesn’t. That’s why I need that full-time position.” And? She bit her cheek. Go on, tell him. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about, remember? “But I have some help, too…from my divorce settlement.”

“Oh, really?!” Simon’s face lit up above his drawing tablet and laptop screen. “Hey, you go, girl! I hope you took him for everything.”

Leia laughed. “Well, not everything. I gave some of the cash to a friend who needed it more than I did. What’s left covers rent on my one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, which doubles as my workroom. It also funds some Frill-Seekers costs, but my other expenses are paid out of what I earn. I have a side hustle, too—I mend vintage clothing and do alterations.”

“With what time? When do you sleep?”

“You sound like my dad!” Leia scoffed. “He says I put him to shame, but honestly, no one works harder than he does. He runs two businesses, oversees my mom’s literacy charity, helps out with the NHL alumni association, and does commentary on Saturday night hockey broadcasts.”