“Hold still, Kate,” Mom mumbled through the metal stickpins clenched between her teeth. Her heavily made-up eyes narrowed while she strategically pinned the pale-blue sundress. “We’ve only got forty minutes until the show starts.”
Kate stopped wiggling but poked at her itchy scalp trapped under the extra-wide brim of the designer cartwheel hat her mother wanted her to wear. Forty minutes to worry herself into a tizzy.
“Leave the hat alone. It’s darling. ” Her mother arranged the lines of the sundress, noting where the waistline hit Kate’s slender middle.
Mom stepped back to examine the look. “This dress is a Mainbocher. Man. Bou. Shey.” She said it as if the designer name explained everything. “Most girls have to sign up for the WAVES and join the war to be blessed enough to wear one of his designs.”
Kate rolled her eyes at the thought of women across the great U.S. of A. signing up for the navy so they could wear designer uniforms. Honestly.
Air. She needed air. The room was too stuffy, and she was feeling light-headed. A thousand different perfumes mixed into a dangerous concoction. She began to sway a little.
“I’m almost done.” Mom looked up and down the designer outfit. She smiled. “Perfect.” She pulled the pins from between her lips and poked them into a round pincushion that looked like a tomato. A tall model gliding by on the way to makeup bumped into her.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Allen.”
Mom pointed to a trash can. “Gum goes in there, Birdy.”
The girl pinched the gum out of her mouth and plopped it into the trash can. She grimaced prettily before spinning away.
Birdy was always breaking a rule. Not only did her father own the store, but her family was part of the Four Hundred, the wealthy elite of New York. She could easily buy every dress in the fashion show. But tonight was a Red Cross fund-raiser in conjunction with Harmon-Craig Department Store’s Fashion Show and Benefit. Even the Four Hundred were doing their part for the war effort.
Decorators had been busy all day decking out the special events room with flowers, candles, cut crystal, and a bandstand. Not to mention the plates of hors d’oeuvres and the sparkly red punch. Nothing like the refugee camp Aunt Elsie had come from. Kate wondered how her aunt and Josie were getting along while they waited for the show to start.
Mom turned away from watching Birdy and sighed. She helped Kate out of the dress. “I wish I could afford to buy you all these clothes. One day, when this war is over and your father comes home…”
Kate frowned as Mom carefully lifted the blue dress over her head, protecting her slip and skin from the pins. They’d had a thousand conversations like this before.
“My clothes are fine. And we don’t go anywhere fancy anyway.” She had no high hopes for expensive clothes. She reached for her A-line skirt and blouse. “Besides, ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without!’” she said in a singsongy voice, quoting the government conservation program. It was the patriotic thing to do.
“But we could go places, darling.” Mom laid a hand on Kate’s cheek. “You are such a pretty girl.” She gently shook out the fancy sundress. “Smile tonight. I need you to make a good impression on Mrs. Reynolds. She’s the one in the white turban with a purple feather. I’d love an invitation to her tea next month. It’s exclusive, held at the St. Regis.”
Kate pulled her clothes back on, biting her lip to keep from saying anything. For the duration.
“Mrs. Allen, Mrs. Allen,” called a flustered model, breaking the moment. “The hem fell out of my dress.”
Mom looked around the partition where Uncle Adalbert had set up a discreet workstation. The head of alterations had hired him on the spot when he applied earlier in the day, they were in so much need.
“Looks like he’s busy, too,” she said. She turned back to the model. “Okay, come here, and I’ll sew you up.” Mom picked up her small sewing kit and dismissed Kate with a wave of her hand.
Finally. Kate slipped into her shoes, determined to get a quick breath outside. She put her dress on an empty hanger on a clothes rack.
Just then, Kate’s best friend, Josie, snuck up from behind. “Psst!” Her face stuck out from another clothes rack, her dark Italian eyes bright with excitement.
Kate looked around to make sure no one had noticed her sneaking in. “What are you doing back here?”
“I couldn’t wait,” she hissed. “I thought you’d give me a quick look.” She stepped out from her hiding place, ogling the Mainbocher. “Is that what I think it is?”
Kate slapped Josie’s hand away before she could touch the gray-blue sundress.
“Wallis blue! Like the Duchess of Windsor wears. How did you get this? Mainbocher is made to order.”
“You sound as excited about it as my mom.”
“I can’t believe you get to see the latest fashions before I do, and you don’t even care.” Josie threw her hands into the air. “Well? Show me the new colors. Skirts above the knees yet?” She flipped through the clothes on the racks, clinking the hangers together until she found a skirt she liked and held it to her waist. “Jeepers, with all this rationing, there’ll be nothing left of our skirts by summer.” The words spilled out of Josie like a tipped bottle of nail polish. She stopped analyzing the clothes. “Sorry for babbling. You know I can’t help myself.”
“Honestly, they’re only clothes,” said Kate, a little annoyed. Despite having a mother in fashion, Kate always felt a disadvantage around Josie. The girl had a knack for putting together an outfit. Even now she looked darling in her satin tea gown.
“Just clothes!” Josie threw her arms protectively around the racks. “Don’t let them hear you say that.”
Kate laughed. “Sorry, but the clothes are the least of my worries. I’m trying not to think about all those people watching. I tripped twice in practice today. I’m sure Miss Lassiter would send me packing if it weren’t for my mother.”
“You’re so lucky, Kate.”
Kate snorted, very un-model-like. “Yeah. I get to make a fool of myself in front of New York’s high society. Lucky me.” Josie, on the other hand, would give up her last silk stocking to be a model. But her parents were against her working, let alone being a model or worse, an actress.
Josie put her arm around Kate. “You put too much pressure on yourself. You should relax.” She pulled away and looked around at the scurrying models, drinking in the activity like a starving refugee. “Hey, do you think afterward I could come back here with you and try on some of your things?”
“I don’t know. My mom…”
“Please, please, please,” she begged. “You know you want me to.” She batted her eyelashes.
“All right!” Kate threw her hands in the air, mimicking Josie. “Mom’s so busy she probably won’t even notice. Come on back now. We’ve got a few minutes.” Kate led the way to the back rooms. She never could say no to Josie. “Wait. Where did you leave my aunt?”
“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s talking to some lady in a white turban with this huge feather. They were getting along famously.”
“Mrs. Reynolds!” Kate’s stomach gave a spasm.
“There you are,” said Miss Lassiter, head of Women’s Wear. She waltzed over dangling a pair of strappy white heels from her finger. Dressed to the nines in the latest designer outfit, she was the epitome of elegance. Miss Lassiter was older than Mother, but as regal as any countess on the night’s invitation list. She had never married, although the rumor among the models was she’d had her heart broken as a young woman and had shunned romance ever since. Miss Lassiter handed Kate the leather shoes.
“High heels?” she squeaked. “Are you sure these are for me?” She looked down at her sturdy Mary Janes.
Miss Lassiter gave a hint of a smile. “Don’t worry, Kate. The heels are government regulation inch and a half. You’ll be fine.” She started to walk away, then stopped. “And you may keep them, if you like. A thank-you for volunteering for tonight’s benefit.”
>
The girls grinned at each other. Rationing had recently been cut back to only two pairs of leather shoes a year. And here she was with an extra pair!
Kate slipped on the pretty white shoes and wobbled over to the closest mirror. Surprisingly, her legs looked long and graceful. That is, when she wasn’t walking.
Just then, Fran Marshall stopped by, and it seemed like she’d watched the exchange. Kate steeled herself, waiting for the punch.
“Ha! I’d like to see you dance in those,” she said and walked on. “Rube.”
Kate looked away, pretending she hadn’t heard, and hoping no one else noticed.
But Josie’s mouth dropped open. “Isn’t that the girl who did the Cow Brand baking soda advertisement?” she whispered. “Is she still mad that your mom gives you all the best clothes to model? Because that’s silly, you know. She’s your mom, she’s supposed to favor you.”
“Mom thinks we should be chums.”
“That girl’s just jealous.” She turned to Fran and said loudly, “Moo.”
Kate clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Good ol’ Josie. “Come on, I’ll show you what I’m wearing tonight.” Kate led the way to the first set of clothes racks by the changing area.
“I hate girls like that,” said Josie. She started flipping through the colorful summer outfits. “And I hate it even more that she gets to be in the fashion show, and I don’t.”
“You should take my place.” As she tossed the words out, she realized that Josie really could do the job. It was only for one show, and it was for charity. She grabbed Josie’s arm. “We’re the same size.”
Josie laughed. “You don’t have the moxie.” She put her hand on her hip, showing her confidence that Kate wouldn’t do it.
Kate’s heart began to race. What if she did? What if she walked out the door and never looked back? “Watch me,” Kate blurted out.
Josie’s grin spread across her face. “Duckie, you’re serious. What about your mom? Or Miss Lassiter? Shouldn’t we ask first?”
“Miss Lassiter would gladly take you over me. This could be your big break.” Kate faltered. “And, well, my mom…she loves you, so she won’t be mad at you.” Kate rubbed the back of her neck, thinking about how angry her mother would be. “Livid” was the word that came to mind.
“What would I have to do?”
“No runway. It’s more of a mix-and-mingle event. Walk around for ten minutes so everyone can see the dress, then come back and change into the next outfit.” She found the gingham dress. “This is the first one— ”
Josie gasped and snatched up the dress. “Ooo, this is dreamy. I’ve got to try it on.” She slipped behind a screen and came out seconds later, posing with her hands behind her head like a pinup girl.
Kate’s eyes widened. The checked dress fit her to a T.
Josie paraded back and forth, swishing her hips as she went.
“Does that mean you’ll take my place?” Kate’s resolve began to falter as she hung up Josie’s discarded clothes. “You’ll be doing everyone a favor.” Kate continued to talk herself into the switcheroo. Josie really would wow the crowd. She wouldn’t trip into the table of finger sandwiches or accidentally knock over the punchbowl.
Josie didn’t hesitate. “This is a dream come true. Honestly, you are the best best-friend ever.” She clapped her hands. “This is going to be a grand night!”
Kate pushed her out the doorway. “Go see Bev. She’ll do your hair and makeup.”
Josie marched right up to Beverly, a boisterous redheaded woman who nodded and patted the chair. Josie bounced into the seat as Mom walked by.
“Beverly, please finish with the models first. Josie here is only a guest.”
“Sorry, Mrs. A. I thought she was one of ’em.” She took off the cape she was about to fasten around Josie’s neck.
Mom stopped walking, her attention full on Josie now. “Is that Kate’s dress?”
Kate was half hidden behind the clothes rack, her heart pounding. What had she done? No matter how many times she had wanted to, she’d never walked away from an event before.
“Actually,” piped up Josie, “Kate wasn’t up to modeling tonight, so she asked me to take her place.”
“What?” said Mom with a shrill voice. She looked past Josie at the models gathering near makeup. Her eyes narrowed. “Where is she?”
Uh-oh. Kate bolted out of Women’s Wear. She squeezed between the tightly packed racks that had been shoved together to make room for the fashion show. A security guard walked by, and she dove behind a rack of “Cuddle for Victory” housecoats.
Her mother’s high heels still click-clacked after her. No turning back now.
With the skill of a soldier, Kate stealth-walked past the Hat Bar, through Juniors, then double-timed it down the stairs and lost her mother near Home Furnishings, thanks to the dim lights providing plenty of shadows. As cowardly as running away seemed, it might have been the bravest thing she’d ever done.
Chapter Four
Her heart beat as loudly as the display of Big Ben alarm clocks she ducked behind. She should go back before her mother got too angry. It was stupid to leave like that, even if Josie was perfect for the job. But the thought of doing the show made colors swirl behind her eyes.
Moxie. She didn’t have it. She was a big scaredy-cat. Couldn’t even hold her position on the home front. What would she do if she were ever faced with a real enemy?
Finally, the band upstairs launched into a swing tune. The show was under way, and the sound of Mom’s high heels faded as she returned to Women’s Wear.
That was it, then. She’d lie low for the show and face the consequences at home. One of Babcia’s sayings came to mind. “If the goat didn’t jump, she wouldn’t have broken her leg,” she whispered, a sense of dread creeping into her heart.
“But if goat did not jump, she would be having a miserable life,” added a voice behind her.
Kate’s arm jerked, accidentally hitting one of the Big Ben clocks. Aunt Elsie! She fumbled and caught the clock before it could crash against the glass shelf.
Elsie reached to help with the clock. “I am being sorry.”
“You scared me. You should be upstairs watching the fashion show.” Kate peeked around the display to see if anyone else was coming.
“I look for friend Josie and see you walk out. I follow.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Why are we hiding?”
Kate looked away. “Josie is taking my place tonight.” Now she needed to get Elsie back without someone spotting them.
Aunt Elsie nodded thoughtfully. “The goat jumped. We wait to see if she breaks leg or changes life?”
“Sure.” Already looks like it’s a leg-breaker. “Let me show you the way back.” As Kate rose from her crouched position, her necklace slipped free of her shirt and glimmered in the dim light. The piece of jewelry felt so natural to wear she had forgotten to take it off.
Elsie’s gaze darted to the necklace with a yearning look, again, like she wanted to touch it but couldn’t.
Kate tucked it back under her blouse and started back to Women’s Wear.
Instead of following, Elsie began to pace. “My sister ever talk about me?”
Kate shook her head.
Elsie closed her eyes. “Our family has secrets. Katja gave you one.” Her eyes opened. “She wants you to be next Keeper.” The old woman leaned in. “You know this meaning?”
Kate raised her eyebrows, shaking her head. She’d never heard the term before.
There was a long pause while Elsie thought. “Is secret. Our family serves the Kolodenko royal family. Job passed down from daughter to daughter.” She shrugged. “I have no daughters. No sons. Is great burden. Is dangerous. Is lonely.”
Is this what Mom meant when she said Elsie was different? She was talking nonsense. Maybe she didn’t know the correct English words. However, Kate didn’t remember enough Polish to question her. She made a downward motion with her hands to signal Els
ie to be quieter. All they needed was for a security guard to hear them and kick them out.
A tinkling crash broke into their conversation, followed by a man’s angry voice giving someone a chewing-out. The sound carried up through the open mezzanine.
Elsie pointed downstairs and began to follow the noise before Kate could stop her.
Street level—Fine Jewelry, Shoe Salon, Umbrellas, Men’s Shop, Hosiery, and Handbags. By the time they got to the final set of stairs, the commotion was over. Elsie stopped at the top where it was still dark, but they could see what was happening.
The door to the main window display was open, and a crew of men poured out carrying manikins and props from the current display. Rolls of gray fabric leaned against the wall, along with big white clouds for the new display.
Kate sucked in a breath. Window night.
“Careful of the glass, kid,” said a man with a curly mustache to a teen-age boy who was bent down, sweeping up with a hand broom. The man pointed out some broken pieces scattered on the floor before walking off with the night watchman.
“Yes, Mr. G. Sorry, sir,” said the flustered boy.
Holy Toledo! It was the expensive crystal vase she had admired in the store window on her way in that afternoon. Smashed all over the marble floor. Would they take it out of his paycheck? She didn’t envy him that.
Kate felt a nudge on her arm.
“They are thieves?” whispered Elsie as she pulled Kate into a darker shadow. “We see much stealing during war.”
“No, they’re the window dressers.” She couldn’t keep the awe out of her voice. “I’ve never seen them. They usually work overnight, changing the displays. It’s like magic.”
One day, a window would hold a showcase of women’s handbags and scarves. The next, a set of fancy silverware for the discerning housewife. And all the scenes were as beautiful and creative and artistic as any of Dad’s beloved paintings. The stores on Fifth Avenue were famous for their displays, and the windows at Harmon-Craig were the best. Kate sometimes pretended to be a window dresser at home when she rearranged the apartment. Although Mom would never let her drape fabric along the walls like they did at Harmon-Craig.
Cinderella's Dress Page 3