Cinderella's Dress

by Shonna Slayton

  “Okay, well. It was good seeing you.” He swallowed. “Maybe next time we can see a movie or something?” He wiped at his brow. “You sure have grown up since I last saw you.”

  Was Johnny Day nervous?

  “Have I?” She eyed him curiously. “I actually feel like time has stopped because of this war. Like we are stuck inside a snow globe, and we can’t move on or change until the war is over. We get shaken up and watch the snow fall, and when it all settles, we get shaken up again. I guess I’m waiting for the glass to break.”

  They stared at each other for a moment. Johnny was about to say something when his sister, Birdy, called his attention.

  “There you are!” She stepped out the door with Fran Marshall at her heels. “We’ve been up in Dad’s office, waiting for you. Come on, Mom wants to beat the crowd.”

  Johnny held up his hand to signal he heard. He looked back at Kate. “Keep writing me, okay, Sparky? Your letters sure help a fella through the war.” He slipped something into her hand before walking past his sister and into the store.

  She started to follow him in and was close enough to overhear Birdy and Fran talking.

  “Don’t worry, that’s just some girl he writes to,” said Birdy to Fran. “He doesn’t like her or anything. Besides, you’re coming out to lunch with us. I’ll make sure you sit next to him.”

  Kate stopped walking to let the girls get farther ahead. She didn’t want to know what else they had planned. It only brought up feelings of jealousy she didn’t need to feel.

  She looked down at what Johnny had pressed into her hand. It was a bald eagle holding a pearl. “Remember Pearl Harbor” was printed across the pin, and the pearl was where the word “pearl” would be in the phrase. It was a sweetheart pin. Johnny gave me a sweetheart pin.

  She walked in a daze down to Sewing, wondering what Johnny’s intention was in giving her the pin. But when she reached Adalbert’s station, there was a cross-looking woman working feverishly on an alteration who refused to let Kate leave the package. Kate turned around and brought the package up to her locker. Adalbert would have to ask her for it later.

  …

  That night, Kate was still trying to figure out what her meeting with Johnny meant. Did he like her or not? If he did, why didn’t he ask her out? Was he planning on giving the pin to Fran but changed his mind at the last minute? Did he have a pocketful of pins and was handing them out to every wide-eyed girl in sight? She set her pin on her dresser, next to the sketch she had picked up off the floor at Harmon-Craig.

  She’d have to tell Josie. Together they’d figure out his deal.

  As if on cue, someone knocked on the door. But instead of Josie, a uniformed teen stood awkwardly in the hallway, looking every which way but directly at Kate. He cleared his throat.

  “Mrs. David Allen, please.” He cleared his throat again. The boy held his brimmed hat in one hand and a yellow envelope in the other. A Western Union telegram. Kate’s eyes were drawn to it. She couldn’t speak. She stood, staring, not even reaching out to receive the note. A yellow envelope was bad news.

  A plate shattered on the kitchen floor. Kate blinked and turned back into the apartment. “Mom?”

  “I’ll take it,” she said quietly as she took Kate’s place at the door. She didn’t say a word to the boy. He sprinted away as soon as he handed her the note. Mom took the telegram to the kitchen table and set it down, leaning it against the salt and pepper. For such a quiet piece of paper, it gave off the loudest sound in the room.

  Instead of opening the envelope, she tossed the broken pieces of the plate she dropped, and put the coffee percolator on the stove. She stood nearby, waiting until the water boiled and the coffee was made. Then she poured herself a cup and even used the last teaspoon of their precious sugar rations for it.

  Kate’s heart would not stop fluttering. She bit her thumbnail while watching her mother drag out the inevitable. Hurry up and open the envelope. Surely the worst was not knowing what the telegram said?

  Mom sat down and stared at the telegram.

  “Mother?” Kate asked, her voice taut. “Aren’t you going to look?”

  Tears formed in her mother’s eyes. “Right now, I have hope. When I read the telegram, all that might be taken away from me. I’m not ready yet.” She slowly sipped her coffee.

  Drumming her fingers on the table, Kate continued staring at the envelope. It must be about Dad; Floyd was still in the country.

  Finally, Mom reached for the message. Her sigh was a gasp for air. She slipped her thumb under the envelope flap and tore the paper inch by inch. Sliding out the telegram, she scanned the typeset. She double-blinked once and swallowed, but her face remained blank when she handed Kate the note.

  The white telegraph tape had been pasted on crooked. They should have taken the time to make the tape straight. Wouldn’t they know loved ones would want straight tape?

  WASHINGTON DC

  DEBORAH ALLEN

  NEW YORK CITY, NY

  THE SECRETARY OF WAR DESIRES ME TO EXPRESS HIS REGRET THAT YOUR HUSBAND, DAVID FLOYD ALLEN, HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION IN ITALY IF FURTHER DETAILS OR OTHER INFORMATION ARE RECEIVED YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY NOTIFIED

  DUNLOP ACTING THE ADJ GENERAL

  7:46 AM

  Kate breathed in slowly. She read the telegram twice more before looking up and giving her mother a tentative smile. “He’s missing. That’s all. Maybe he got separated from the rest of his troop. There’s still hope, right? I mean, Mrs. Muir’s son went missing, but they found him a few months later in a hospital. Right?”

  Mom nodded and silently brought her coffee cup over to the sink and exchanged it for her cigarette package. The early-morning light from the window highlighted the wrinkles around her eyes and at the edges of her lips. She would hate knowing Kate was looking at her wrinkles. She slipped out a cigarette and lit it. Mom hadn’t smoked in months.

  “We should tell Floyd.”

  Mom shook her head. “He doesn’t need to hear this now.” She choked up. “He may never need to hear about his missing father. The next telegram might be for Floyd, and then we’ll never need to tell him.” Her voice cracked, and she turned away.

  “But what if Floyd could help? Find out something?” Kate’s voice came out all squeaky. They, the powers that be, might tell things to a soldier they won’t tell to family.

  “No, and that’s final.” Mom took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I’ll go freshen up. Won’t be but a minute. The Carusos are expecting us.”

  Swell. All she wanted to do was crawl back in bed and never answer the door again. Please God, let them find Daddy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Johnny,

  Holy Toledo! A plane crashed into the Empire State Building. Josie and I tried to take the Riverside bus, but we could only go so far because the streets were blocked off. Finally, when everyone was so relaxed about the war, we thought we were being attacked. Turns out it was one of our own lost in the fog. I know what that feels like.

  -Kate

  P.S. I think I’ll take your advice and go on to art school when I graduate. Here’s one for you. Do you think the women should give up their jobs when the soldiers return?

  Sparky,

  I’m picturing you and Josie running wild around Times Square celebrating VJ day. But make sure you save your kisses for boys you know (like yours truly) and not some strange soldier who is lucky enough to be standing next to you.

  Everyone’s talking about going home now, but my work will go on for a bit longer. Lots of eyes and ears and noses need repairing. I’ve got lots to do. I suppose your brother will get to come home soon. Have you heard anything else about your dad? I’m praying for his safe return.

  -Johnny

  P.S. I guess it depends on the job, but sure, the soldiers need work. It’s the least we can do for them for risking their lives. Plus, many of them will be getting married, so they’ll need the jobs to support their families. Let’s go back to
an easier one: How many lumps of sugar in your coffee?

  Washington DC

  Deborah Allen

  New York City, NY

  The Secretary of War desires me to express his DEEP regret that your husband, David Floyd Allen, PREVIOUSLY reported missing in action, HAS BEEN declared PRESUMED DEAD. CONFIRMING letter followS.

  Dunlop Acting The ADJ General

  10:32 am

  Floyd!

  Mother got another telegram. They’ve given up on finding Dad. They changed his status to presumed dead. The letter said he was last seen securing some artwork in Rome. Can you do anything?!

  Kate

  Dear Johnny,

  Terrible news today. It’s hard for me to write this. I don’t know what to do with myself. My mother has shut herself up in her room.

  Dear Floyd,

  Honestly, when are you coming home? You should see Mom after she reads your letters. She stares and stares at the calendar. Do you really have to go overseas? I mean, we’re proud of you that you are a pilot. Mom even knows the names of your planes. She’s gone back to working at Harmon-Craig. No more making gyrocompasses for her. I almost think Mom might have stayed on if so many of the old workers hadn’t returned and gotten their jobs back. Plus, the factory doesn’t need to make so many anymore.

  -Kate

  Dear Kate,

  I had a grand time visiting you all at Christmas. I think Mom understands why I’m staying a little longer, doesn’t she? It’s looking good for Italy. Maybe I’ll be able to find out what happened to Dad. I don’t like not knowing, you know? One of my buddies had a brother go missing at the beginning of the war, and they never have found him. He said it took him three years to finally accept that his brother wasn’t coming home. I want proof.

  On a lighter note…too bad Mary was all dated up when I was visiting. I guess she’s not the girl for me after all. I’m sure I’ll find a cute young thing in Italy.

  Love,

  Floyd, pilot extraordinaire

  Dear Johnny,

  I can’t believe I missed your visit. We never go anywhere, but Mom needed a change of scenery and thought a week at the beach would do it, even thought it was still cold. We practically had the place to ourselves

  Floyd left for Italy. To do what, I wouldn’t know since the war is long over. I guess there’s still something to be done.

  Back to Harmon-Craig I go. Mr. G still doesn’t know my name. He calls me “that girl” and sometimes a bobby-soxer. Lately he says “that debutante.” I guess that means I’m making headway?

  - Kate

  P.S. What’s on my mind? Today it’s my aunt. She’s giving us all fits. She has a great memory for the past and an active imagination, but can’t remember a thing she did an hour ago. The doctors are calling it dementia. What about you? What’s on your mind?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Now that the war was over, the store was open on Saturdays, and Kate worked every one. Josie’s dad let her continue working after the war, too, but she was only on a call-in basis for Sewing and Alterations. In fact, Mr. Caruso had come around so much he encouraged Josie to enroll at Central High School of Needle Trades. The girls figured that was his way of steering Josie away from running off to Hollywood after graduation.

  On a normal workday, Kate would arrive early so she could compare windows before starting work. But today, another visitor asking for the Oberlins delayed her. This time it was a young man, probably in his twenties. He spoke in a hushed voice, twisting his hat over and over in his hands. When she told him the Oberlins didn’t live there, he seemed at a loss for what to do next. He left in a hurry, still wringing his hat.

  Kate was still wondering about the visitor while she took the necklaces used in the last window back to Jewelry. She felt she was being watched and turned around to see where the feeling was coming from. Leaning against the men’s hat bar, looking handsome as ever, was none other than Johnny Day, watching her with a big grin on his face.

  “Johnny!” She ran over to him, and he pulled her into a hug.

  “Oh!” She almost disappeared in his arms. “When did you get back?”

  “A few days ago. And I’m back for good. I’ve got a couple things to wrap up, and then I’m a free man.” He held Kate out at arm’s length and looked her up and down.

  She was suddenly glad she had done up her hair that morning and put on a little lipstick.

  He whistled. “You are a sight for sore eyes.” He ran his hand through his short dark-brown hair, keeping his gaze locked on hers. They stood staring at each other while customers walked around them.

  “Well, I—” Kate started to say she needed to get to work when he interrupted.

  “Hey, you’d find this interesting.” He broadened his stance to block her way. “I was talking to Mr. Lee. He did the windows over at Bonwit’s before the war. Dad’s got him working on the upstairs ballroom right now. Anyway, he was telling me that when they made it to Paris, all the shop windows were decked out, even if the stores were empty. He said the Germans made the French keep those windows looking real luxurious. Trying to make everyone think a war wasn’t going on, I guess.” He grinned. “That would have been something I’d put in a letter, but nowadays, I guess I’ll be able to come right out and tell you.”

  “I guess you can.” Kate tried to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going. She so wanted to keep talking to him, but every time she looked at him, her stomach tumbled and every thought in her head flew away. Something had changed since they last met. Something that made her feel awkward.

  Johnny cleared his throat. “Can I take you out to lunch? I think I owe you a trip to the Automat.”

  Breathless, Kate took a minute to find her voice. “Sure. That’d be swell.”

  She finally walked backward toward the jewelry counter, waving good-bye to Johnny. Johnny Day was home for good and looking dreamier than ever. All their letter writing had made them comfortable pen pals, but it was different to see him face-to-face. It made her all jittery inside.

  When she bumped into a customer, she let out an embarrassed giggle and turned back around. She dropped off the jewelry, wearing a smile as big and permanent as Daphne’s. She ran up to Women’s Wear. The morning was going to drag along, waiting for lunch to come. Oh, but Johnny didn’t set a time to meet!

  She zipped back downstairs in time to see Mr. G march by. The breeze he left in his wake blew a loose piece of hair into her face. But he didn’t even notice her. He looked to be in a foul mood.

  Roy, the lighting expert for the windows, came in from another direction, moving just as fast. His face was in a grimace.

  Kate stopped him. “Why is Mr. G here so early?”

  With his eyes pinned on Mr. G, Roy leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Bonwit’s department store. Didn’t you see their window? Circus theme. Same thing we were planning for the whole of next month. The boss is all in a dither because he has to change up the window. He’d already ordered the props from Cecilia Staples and everything.”

  “Did you say Cecilia? A woman creating windows?”

  Roy nodded. “She’s got a company that makes the manikins and props. Mr. G orders the special items from her. They cost a bundle.”

  A woman with her own company in window design. Imagine that.

  “Are there any others? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “What, women? I reckon there’s a few.” He pushed his hands out in front, waving them like someone trying to stop traffic. “Now, don’t get yourself all excited. Mr. G’s one of the last holdouts. During the war, a bunch of dames got their foot in the door at Macy’s, Lord & Taylor, even Gimbels. But the gals Mr. G works with do all the creatin’ behind the scenes. They don’t come near the windows.” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, there’s that other gal, too. The one who started the trend for real-lookin’ manikins. Cora Scovil—she’s a legend. I’ve got her book, and you can have it. Some kind of lady’s book. I only picked it up for he
r window designs. I’m not into that poetry and household hints you gals like.” He jerked his thumb toward the workroom. “It’s in my piles there somewhere. It’s yours if you can find it.”

  “Thanks, Roy!” The day was getting better and better. First Johnny, and then come to find out about all the women in window design.

  Mr. G barreled onto the floor again and this time noticed Kate.

  Roy straightened. “Uh-oh, here he comes. See ya, kid.” He strutted off in the direction of the workroom.

  Mr. G held out his hand, signaling Kate to wait for him. He got straight to the point. “Johnny’s come home—you know what that means. I’m giving him his job back. Miss Lassiter can have you all to herself again.”

  Kate took a step back. Did she hear him correctly? He wanted her to return to Women’s Wear? Right when she’d found out about other women designers, her own window dreams hit the floor, shattering into tiny pieces. He had been training her. Testing her. Giving her more responsibility. How could she go back to dressing the manikins with no hope of anything else?

  Her mouth opened in protest, but as she tried to form an argument in her mind, no words came out. Lots of the girls she knew had lost their jobs to returning servicemen. Even Mom. She hadn’t thought she’d lose ground in Windows, not with the way Mr. G was teaching her. He was going to let her do the Teen Shop displays next week. Did that mean Johnny would do them? Johnny, who hadn’t been here in years?

  “Now don’t get all emotional on me. You should go to design school. Come back to me when you’re done. You’re a natural.”

  “But…”

  Mr. G strode off toward the workroom, and Kate followed. She watched as the other workers gathered around Johnny, welcoming him back.

  Over the initial shock, she was suddenly mad. Mad that so many other men were coming home when her father and brother were still gone, mad at her boss for giving her job away without so much as a how-do-you-do.