Cinderella's Dress

by Shonna Slayton

  She pushed aside any remaining guilty feelings she had about swapping places with Josie. The girl was meant to model, anyway. “Let’s watch for a bit,” she whispered. She sat down on the stairs and patted the spot beside her for Aunt Elsie. She didn’t want to get closer and risk being sent back upstairs.

  The man called Mr. G stood off to the side directing the flow of traffic. Behind him, the teen, finished with his sweeping, unpacked umbrellas. Mr. G helped move out the last heavy board from the window before disappearing down the hallway to the back of the store.

  Next, the teen-age boy trotted in holding four pots of silk poinsettias. He walked sideways so he could look around the plants to see where he was going.

  Poinsettias were for winter, not summer. “Wrong flowers,” Kate pointed out to Elsie.

  The boy stopped and stared into the dim light. He looked straight in her direction. “Who’s there?”

  Oh! She leaned back on the stairs. “Aunt Elsie, get down!” she whispered.

  Aunt Elsie chose that moment to give a little cough. And if that weren’t enough to give them away, she adjusted her position, rustling her clothes louder than Kate thought possible. How could she be silent as a sniper one minute and loud as a tank the next?

  “Who’s there?” he repeated, his voice sounding more annoyed than curious.

  Elsie gave her a little poke. “Talk to boy. Is having bad day.”

  What was Aunt Elsie trying to do to her? Get her caught? Before her aunt could make any more noise, Kate leaned forward into the light and intervened. “Sorry, we were only watching for a minute. My mom’s helping run the fashion show.” She waved vaguely in the direction of Women’s Wear.

  “Maybe you should go back up there. Leave the men’s work to us.”

  Kate raised her eyebrow at the poinsettias and gave her own little cough. Obviously, the men didn’t know much about seasons.

  “What are you getting on about?” he asked.

  “Those flowers.”

  “What about ’em? Boss wanted some red flowers.” The boy looked at the poinsettias. “These are perfect. Everything else’ll be tan and gray then we have some red umbrellas and these here flowers.” He held the pots high. “It’ll pop.”

  “But they’re poinsettias.”

  “So?” The boy was definitely getting annoyed. He stepped closer, and the thin light coming from behind Kate shone full on his face. Why, it was the boy from the audition!

  She shrank back into the shadows, hoping he wouldn’t recognize her. What was he doing here?

  She gulped and answered, “C-Christmas flowers? They’d be great for a Christmas display, but not spring. Y-you need something like tulips.”

  Now the boy hesitated. He looked at the poinsettias, then at the corridor where his boss had disappeared. “Aw! This is not my day.” He dashed back toward the storage room.

  “See?” said Aunt Elsie. “You help.”

  Yes. She hoped she didn’t help herself right back upstairs. Kate settled into the shadows again, but not before someone else spotted her.

  “You there, girl. Come here, would ya?” One of the display men, holding a yardstick and a bolt of gray fabric, motioned with his elbow for Kate to come to the window.

  Elsie waved her on. “You go help more. I go to show.” She pointed upstairs.

  “You know the way?” Kate bit her lip. The responsible thing would be to walk Elsie back, but then she’d miss out on getting a close-up view.

  “Yes. I follow music.” Elsie gave her a big grin before walking away, silent as a shadow once again.

  Kate eagerly joined the man on a raised platform inside the window. They had drawn a curtain so the people on the street couldn’t see the changes they were making.

  “Stand right here. Kick your shoes off. You’re the right size for a measurement.”

  She did as she was told, and the man took some string and measured angles from Kate’s shoulder to the back wall; from her waist to the side wall. He pointed to another spot in the window and repeated the measurements. “Thanks doll, you’re a lot easier to move around than those heavy manikins we got lined up.” Straightaway he started in on hammering giant swaths of gray cloth from the sides of the display to the back wall.

  As Kate stepped out of the window, Mr. G walked by and frowned. “Sorry, miss,” he said over the hammering, “but no customers allowed down here. Store is closed. You need to go back upstairs.”

  “But I—” she started to explain when he interrupted her.

  “On second thought. Roy. Whad’ya think if we put in a live model?”

  Her heart began to race. Escape one modeling job only to fall into another. How could she get out of this one?

  The lanky man who had first called her to the window stepped down from his ladder. “Great idea, boss. Looks like she’s all decked out with no place to go anyway. How’s about it, kid? Stand in the window and pose for them swanky folks headed home? We’re lifting the blackout curtains for two shakes. Long enough to get them talking and quick enough to avoid the air raid warden.”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m supposed to be upstairs.”

  The teen-age boy returned, carrying pots of mixed plants. As he joined his boss, he took one look at Kate in the light and recognition dawned on his face. “You’re the girl—”

  Eyes wide, she stepped back up into the window. “Where do you want me to stand?” She’d rather pose in the window for an hour than have her humiliating dance story spread around the store and make it back to her mother’s ears.

  The boy laughed. “We’re putting in a live model? Just don’t ask her to dance.” He winked at her and set the plants down. “You should have see—”

  Quickly, Kate picked up one of her new shoes and flung it at the boy. Whack. It hit him on the chest.

  Just as quickly, the boy retrieved the shoe and with a scowl, marched into the display. Instead of giving it back to her, he grabbed Roy’s hammer, picked up a nail and pounded the shoe firmly onto the display floor. He handed her the hammer and walked off.

  Mouth gaping, Kate watched him disappear into the darkness.

  “Ha!” Roy took the hammer from her and pulled the nail out of the shoe. “He’s got sisters.” With laughing eyes, he gave her the ruined shoe. “Makes for fast retaliation.”

  “That shoe was brand-new!” Kate felt her eyes tear up. The shoes weren’t even hers—she hadn’t earned them. She blinked rapidly. With made-up eyes, she had to be careful, or all that mascara would run down her face. “So what do you want me to do?”

  Mr. G spread his hands out wide. “Become a dream.” He pointed toward the street. “Become their dream. You’re the girl in the rain who is living the possibility.”

  Living the possibility? The possibility of what? “Swell, so I should…” Kate let her voice trail off, hoping Mr. G would give her something specific. But instead he looked at his watch.

  “Get moving, men! Don’t you know there’s a war on?” After spouting the common wartime motivational phrase, Mr. G walked off.

  Within the hour, the new gray backdrop had been erected. A myriad of open umbrellas had been suspended from the ceiling. Huge flat clouds cut from composition board and painted white were hung in the window sky. And from these, lengths of white ribbon streamed at a sharp angle, pulled tight and nailed to the floor, suggesting a rainstorm. The boy from the audition helped with the hammering, but Kate kept her distance until he was finished.

  Then it was time for Kate and the two manikins to take their positions. All three were dressed in tan raincoats with red scarves wrapped around their heads.

  Once the final adjustments to the spotlights were made, the blackout curtains were lifted, and Kate found herself staring at her reflection in the glass. A pretty girl in the rain with a slight smile playing on her lips. She blinked and changed her focus to look through to street level, where she could see dark shapes of the people outside. She quickly blinked again and focused back on the reflection. Much bette
r. She could pretend she was by herself, posing in the mirror.

  The display door closed with a soft click, and Kate was left eerily alone with a manikin on either side. She spoke into the silence. “So, gals, how do we live the dream?” The fabric background muffled her voice, sounding like cotton in her ears. It felt like she was in a snow globe, looking out.

  Her companions gave her no help at all. They held their poses, hard plaster faces staring off into their own manikin dreams. Dreams of wearing diamonds like the manikin hands down the street at Tiffany’s, perhaps.

  Speaking of hands, Kate lifted hers and turned a degree to the right. The window was still. Isolated. So much so that she didn’t feel any probing eyes following her every move. She could live through thirty minutes of this kind of modeling.

  Her thoughts drifted to Elsie’s reaction to the necklace. What if it was part of the treasure they had lost? She might demand it back. A glimmer of gold reflected in the mirror. No. It was hers now. Babcia had given it specifically to her. To be a Keeper, whatever that meant.

  A trickle of women descended to street level. Their chatter drifted through the glass into the display window. The fashion show must have let out.

  Kate held her pose for a slow count to twenty before placing a hand on her hip and turning a degree back to center. She could hear the exclamations of those who caught her movement, and she fought the urge to blink and see through the window.

  Within minutes, a crowd gathered outside. The women laughed at the reaction of any newcomers when they realized there was a live model in the window. Kate allowed herself to look through to street level to see the crowd. When she saw the rows of people, her breath caught. Air. She needed air. She blinked and fought to get her focus back on the glass. Back on her reflection.

  She looked up high, noticing how Roy had hung the clouds. She could hang clouds. In fact, she could arrange a whole window scene like this. It wouldn’t be any different from arranging her living room. Using colors that went together or contrasted like her dad had taught her. In fact, it would be fun. Of all her modeling jobs, this one had been the best. But what was even more interesting to her was what the display men had done.

  The more she concentrated on the display, the more the street sounds faded into the background. The easier her breaths came. Through the ribbons of rain, the manikins were still dreaming diamonds. Kate was dreaming the future. And the audience was seeing possibilities.

  Finally, Mr. G pulled the blackout curtains closed and helped her out of the display. Roy was standing ready with a manikin to fill her spot.

  “Great job, kid,” said Mr. G. “Haven’t seen a window crowd like that since Christmas. Leave me your name, and I’ll cut you a check next payday.”

  “Kate Allen. My mother works in Women’s Wear.”

  “Johnny, did you get that?” Mr. G pointed at the teen-age boy, scribbling on a notepad.

  “Yeah, I got that all right,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Miss. Kate. Allen.”

  …

  Back upstairs, Kate picked her way through the piles of hastily discarded clothes while around her, the models searched for the clothes each came in with. Kate settled into one of the chairs the makeup artists had been using. Makeup compacts and half-empty bottles littered every flat surface. Tone’s Complexion Tint, Azia mascara boxes, and Photo Finish rouge. She picked up a tube of Hollywood Reds lipstick and twisted it up and down.

  “My feet are killing me,” complained Birdy, hopping up and down on one foot while slipping off the silver ankle straps on the shoe of her other foot.

  Kate gave her a sympathetic smile.

  Josie shot out from the curtains. “That was incredible! Thank you so much.” She hugged Kate and whispered in her ear, “Your mom. Not too happy.”

  “Katherine!” Mom’s shrill voice cut through the backroom chatter.

  Cringing, Kate slowly faced her.

  Mom sighed and spoke to Josie first. “You did great tonight, honey. You really came through for us. Go get changed. I’ve got to help tidy this place up and then we can go.” She pointed her finger at Kate. “We’ll talk about your lack of responsibility later, young lady.”

  Josie found an empty changing room and went in with her regular clothes. “You should have seen the show, Kate,” she said, talking through the curtain. “You would have hated it. All those people dressed to the nines—you do have to look good when you’re going to a fashion show, you know.” Josie giggled. “But the Red Cross pulled in buckets of money.”

  “Birdy’s mom kept saying”—and here Josie launched into a high falsetto—“‘There goes my girl’ at the top of her voice. ‘Gets her looks from my side of the family.’ And wouldn’t you know it? That Birdy is even prettier when she blushes. Did you know she had a brother? She said he’s working here tonight. If he’s half as good looking as his sister, ooo-ee. That family is like New York royalty. Hard to imagine them working at all. Birdy said her dad didn’t want them taking their station for granted. He owns a movie studio, a couple of restaurants, and this building. Can you imagine?”

  A movie studio? This building? Holy Toledo, I threw my shoe at Johnny Day!

  Chapter Five

  “Why can’t I come in? We always hang out after school.” Josie let her schoolbag thump on the floor in the hallway.

  “Grounded, remember?” As expected, Kate’s mom wasn’t happy about the switcheroo.

  Josie frowned. “Then bring my scrapbook to school, will ya? I’ve got a new Sinatra picture to add.”

  Kate thought of the boy with the Sinatra eyes. Johnny Day. “Do you have an extra? I wouldn’t mind having one.”

  “You? Why all of the sudden?”

  “Never mind.” Kate hurried to deny her want. “I can always look at your scrapbook since you won’t keep it in your own room.”

  Josie walked backward toward the stairs going up to her apartment. “Remember what my mom did when she found my sister’s movie star scrapbooks? Don’t worry if you forget, I can paste it in this weekend. And don’t forget—we’ve got to make plans for the summer.” She waved good-bye.

  Kate opened the door to find Floyd already at the table and asking Aunt Elsie questions about the aerial attacks in Europe. Aargh. She was hoping to catch Elsie alone.

  “For you,” said Elsie as she ironed a tablecloth, “is exciting to fly. For us on ground, it depends what plane we see.” Aunt Elsie turned her attention to Kate.

  “How was szkota, school?

  Frowning at Floyd, Kate answered, “Fine.” She kicked the door closed and slung her bag on the table. “You don’t have to iron. I’ll get to it tonight.” The delicious smell of warm, yeasty bread wafted out of the kitchen. Her mouth started watering. “Something smells good.”

  “I start supper. Bread rolls. Also the beef kielbasa. Men at Jewish Theological Seminary send Adalbert to good butcher. We celebrate new job.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.” But really, she was grateful. She didn’t know if her cooking was good enough for guests. Floyd never complained. He was usually too busy wolfing down his food before going out again. The extra ration books for buying groceries were nice, too.

  “Is it okay if I go in my room to pick out some things for tomorrow?” asked Kate.

  “Nie, nie. It is always your room,” said Elsie, pressing out wrinkles. “You go any time.”

  Her bedroom was as she left it. Not a thing out of place. Were it not for Elsie’s shoes poking out from under the bed and the steamer trunk beside the dresser, no one would know they had guests.

  It was a curious trunk. So old that it looked like it would fall apart at any minute. With a glance over her shoulder, she reached down to open the lid. Locked. Of course.

  She pulled out a skirt and peasant blouse for school, located Josie’s precious scrapbook, and added her schoolbooks to the pile. Hands on hips, she stood in the middle of her room.

  “We are not in way?” asked Aunt Elsie from the doorway.

  Kate
gave a little jump. “What? No, I’m glad you’re staying here,” she said, turning around. Jeepers! Elsie was always sneaking up on her.

  “I was wondering something. Why did Babcia leave Poland? Mom said there was some sort of disagreement?” Kate caught her breath, surprised that the question had come out of her mouth.

  The light fell from Elsie’s face. “These questions you ask. What did Mama say?”

  She could sense Elsie didn’t want to talk about it, but after giving away their hiding spot on the stairs, her aunt owed her. Kate sat crisscross on her bed and spread her full skirt over her knees. “Only that my grandparents were poor and moved to America to start a new life.” If she said any more, she might hurt Elsie’s feelings. Despite what Mom believed, there had to be another side to the story.

  Elsie sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Kate’s hand. “Once you know these things, the knowledge stays. The informations become part of you.”

  The intense look had returned to Elsie’s gray eyes. An unsettling look.

  “Yes.” It was the only word Kate could get out. She wanted to know very much. There was something mysterious about the couple. Even the amber in her necklace seemed to want to listen in. She could feel the pendant warming up against her skin as sure as if she were lying out at the beach soaking up the sun’s rays.

  Perhaps it was because she missed Babcia, like Mom said. Or maybe it was because they were fresh from Europe in the thick of the war and would know the things she wanted to know. At any rate, she hadn’t taken advantage of the time she’d had with Babcia, and it had ended too soon. Elsie might be able to fill in the gaps.

  Elsie glanced toward the dresser with the eggs and the paper crafts. Her gaze settled on the steamer trunk.

  Had she seen Kate try to open it?

  “In old times, king and queen employ special servant called Keeper of the Wardrobe. You know these histories?”

  Kate blinked. At the fashion show, Elsie had mentioned something about a Keeper. It was related to Babcia’s necklace. She thought back to medieval history lessons: constable, bailiff, minstrel, page, cook, butler, knight. No Keeper of the Wardrobe. She shook her head.