Marching after Mr. G, Kate raised her voice so he could hear her. “He didn’t even go overseas! He’s got amblyopia. He’s been working as a medical artist drawing plastic procedures and painting fake eyes.”
The room went silent. Johnny stopped shaking hands and stared at Kate. He tilted his head and looked at her in disbelief. His eyes, those pretty blue eyes that she was planning on staring into all lunch hour, lowered and turned away.
Good heavens! She didn’t mean for it to come out like it did. Like he didn’t do anything brave or worthwhile because he didn’t risk his life on the front lines. When she examined his profile, her heart squeezed. Twenty minutes ago, she had been floating on air at the thought of going out to eat with him. Now, her stomach was sinking in humiliation, knowing she had stomped on their friendship and embarrassed him in front of his old gang.
She didn’t mean anything against Johnny. Truly she didn’t. She was only mad that she was kicked out of Windows. Mr. G didn’t even acknowledge all the work she’d done for him all this time. Good work.
Besides, Johnny had been gone for longer than the war. He chose to stay away, which meant he had chosen to give up his job.
Kate was so flustered she didn’t know how to backtrack. Thoughts swirled in her mind, and the only ones she could pin down got stuck in her throat.
When Johnny turned away, his wounded expression pierced her. If anything, she admired him for painting eyes and helping soldiers, but that’s not how it had come out. It wasn’t what she had said.
Roy broke the silence in a much-deserved reprimand. “He may not have gone overseas, but he would have if ordered to. Respect the uniform, Kate. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He stepped forward and slugged Johnny’s arm. “Painting eyes, eh? Good for you. You’ve made life a little more normal for some poor GI.” He shook Johnny’s hand again. “We sure hope you join back up with us. One of the girls could use some painting.”
There was awkward laughter.
Johnny nodded his head but didn’t say anything.
Kate fled upstairs, too humiliated to apologize. Her dad, her brother, Johnny—she did respect the uniform.
Johnny would never forgive her. And he wouldn’t be taking her to the Automat today. Not ever.
Chapter Twenty
The employees’ locker room was empty, the perfect place for Kate to hide out. She blinked the tears from her eyes as she yanked open her locker, then pressed her forehead to the cool metal. What they must think of her! She’d once told Mom she wasn’t a country bumpkin. Well, maybe she was.
She dived into her locker to get her purse. There was a Wrigley’s in there somewhere. When she yanked it out, the clasp caught on Uncle Adalbert’s package, tearing open the brown paper. She had gotten so used to it being in her locker. He never did ask for it back.
What was it Babcia used to say? Don’t praise the day before sunset.
White silk bulged out of the tear, shimmering despite the low lighting in the room. Great. Just great. Now she might have torn Adalbert’s work. She pulled the package out and set it on the bench. She examined the fabric near the rip in the paper. It looked fine, but to be sure, she decided to check out the whole thing. She slipped off the twine and unwrapped the coarse brown paper. Inside were two individually wrapped packages. One thin and the other thick and torn open to reveal the white—and blue—fabric.
Kate felt a chill of excitement. It couldn’t be! Her fingers tingled as she traced the rip.
She’d open the thin one first. She was scared to open the thick one. Scared she’d be disappointed in what it actually contained. Scared it really might be what she thought it was. Oh, Aunt Elsie, are you ready to turn this over to me?
The thin package was so light it felt almost empty. The tape peeled back easily to reveal a little slip of a dress, various shades of brown, old and worn, with faded patches and tiny, neat stitches holding it together. The rag dress cast off a light lavender scent mixed with cedar, as if it had been protected, cherished even. Cinderella’s work dress.
Kate swallowed. Holy Toledo.
She carefully refolded the dress, wrapped it, and taped everything back the way she had found it. The tape had lost some of its stickiness, but mostly held together. She didn’t know why, but it seemed important to put everything back the way she found it.
Now for the thick bundle.
You have not yet seen the dress.
Her heart was beating so fast it was as if she were being chased by the stepsisters themselves.
She flipped the package upside down to access the tape and quickly pulled back the layers. “Oh!” she gasped, pressing her hand to her heart. Her fingers brushed against her amber necklace. It was hot to the touch.
The ball gown was opposite the first dress in every way. It was a dress she knew well. Tiny crystals were strewn over the periwinkle-blue bodice and down into the folded skirt. These crystals, maybe even diamonds, reflected prisms onto Kate’s arms. She closed her eyes and relived the dream of the girl in the mountains twirling in this dress.
She ran her hand over the bodice. Silk. The finest she had ever felt. Her hands trembled with excitement. She had to see the whole dress, to see if it matched her dream. But folding it to fit back inside would be near impossible. How had Elsie fit such a dress into so small a bundle?
Kate set the package down before checking the hallway. Deserted. Everyone was working, as should she. She lifted the dress from the shoulders, carefully freeing the delicate material from the paper. Out fell a matching pair of elbow gloves and a lace-covered shawl.
“Look at you!” she said to the dress. “Now I have seen you, and I understand.”
Seeing the dress in person was like seeing the Unicorn Tapestries for the first time when her dad took her to the grand opening of the Cloisters museum when she was a child. She didn’t think anything could be so amazing. Until now.
The dress had a crisscross bodice with a skirt that flared outward, supported by layers of crinoline underneath. Though the dress was somewhat misshapen from being folded so tightly, she could tell, with a little bit of steam, it would flow out into a spectacular ball gown. A gown fit for a princess. The details were mesmerizing. She could only guess at the value of this dress.
Other treasures were smuggled out of Europe besides paintings.
That’s what Gillespie said. But this wasn’t a smuggled treasure. It was the real Kopciuszek dress. She could feel it deep inside. Elsie had told her the truth.
Kate held the dress up to her body, and it skimmed her calves. It was made for someone shorter than herself. Looking now at the wrap, Kate smiled. She’d seen that lace pattern before. It was the pattern Aunt Elsie had Kate mend. That sly woman.
The Oberlins had finally entrusted the dress to her. At least temporarily. Elsie didn’t know what she was doing, but Adalbert did. He was getting the dress out of the house before the agents came. But he had never intended for her to keep the dress, had he? That meant he would ask for it back.
Chapter Twenty-one
The click of high heels and tittering laughter warned Kate that two ladies were approaching the door. With clumsy hands, she folded the dress as fast as she could. She made a terrible mess of it. The door opened as she was stuffing the dress into her locker. The room echoed with the bang of the metal door slamming shut.
The two ladies smirked at each other as if to say, Teen-agers!
Kate tried to dawdle until they were gone, but they were apparently settling in for a while. Besides, since Mr. G was in early and all a dither, he’d be wanting to look over the dresses Miss Lassiter had finalized for the next window. She couldn’t hide from him forever.
Ever so reluctantly, Kate slipped out the door, leaving her future stuffed in a metal locker.
…
The door to the design room was ajar, and Kate stood outside with the dress cart, gathering up her courage. How could she face any of them again? Maybe she should quit. Find a place down in Sewing with Josie
.
“Kate,” Roy said gruffly from behind her.
She jumped, her heart skipping a beat, and turned at his voice.
He placed a hand on the cart. “You’re still on the team. Johnny isn’t coming back to our department right away. But better watch what you say around these men. You ain’t in anyone’s good book right now.”
Kate nodded, her eyes fixed on her saddle shoes. Roy was the only one on the design team who treated her like more than a bobby-soxer. She hated to have disappointed him.
“Best go in. Mr. G needs to see these dresses. He’s got to come up with a whole new theme for next month.” Roy pushed open the door and held it for her.
She swallowed. She was so nervous even her fingers were shaking.
But no one noticed her slip in. They were all focused on an oversize piece of paper taped to the wall. On it were several words like “county fair,” “road trip,” and “picnic,” along with quick sketches illustrating the possibilities of each theme. The air was already thick with cigarette smoke.
No one paid her any mind when she sat down, either, her distracted thoughts still wandering back to Cinderella’s dresses in her locker. She had held a piece of fantasy and history all wrapped up in one. Josie would never believe it. And what Mom would give to wear a dress like that. All her society dreams would come true if she had that dress. And what about Babcia? If she had known the family guarded Cinderella’s ball gown, why did she leave?
“Come on, men. Think spring. What happens in the spring?” Mr. G’s voice broke into Kate’s thoughts and drew her back into the workroom.
“Baseball.”
“Golf.”
“Car racing.”
Kate smiled. A baseball-themed window was no way to sell dresses to the ladies. Her thoughts drifted back to the dresses hidden in her locker. The dress. Where would she wear such a dress? A benefit. The prom.
“A wedding,” Kate said aloud without thinking. “A storybook wedding.” There was silence in the room. It was quiet enough that she could hear the watch ticking on the man’s arm beside her.
Mr. G looked at her for the first time. Instead of a scowl, his face registered thoughtfulness.
“Weddings, you say. Hmm.” He looked around the room. “She’s got something there. With the boys home from war, there are lots of weddings going on.”
Kate ventured again, “Excuse me, not just weddings, but storybook weddings.” As she spoke, the ideas formed in her mind. “Like Cinderella. What wedding is more grand than that?”
The men focused their attention on Kate.
“Go on,” said Mr. G.
Kate thought quickly. She had no idea where her courage was coming from. “W-we could do a series outlining the story.” She imagined the dresses in her locker set in scenes. “The first could be the before, like Cinderella’s regular, everyday life. Then, the next scene is the ball, and then the wedding.”
More silence. Tick, tick, tick went the wristwatch. Oh, he had to agree! Her idea was good.
Everyone looked to Mr. G. He slowly nodded his head. “Yes, yes, it could work. I remember my nieces enjoyed that story very much. They made me read it over and over again.” He paced back and forth across the room. “And I hear that Disney’s considering Cinderella for his next feature film. If it’s good enough for Disney, it’s good enough for me.”
He slapped his hands together and rubbed them with enthusiasm. “That’s it! We’ll show two children off to the side looking at a thick storybook, opened to the page of Cinderella. Chuck, get me that storybook. The bigger the better. If you can’t find it, add it to the prop list for Cecilia Staples.” He splayed his arms out in the air. “The main window shows the scene unfolding. A lone manikin in a simple housedress. They sell those here, don’t they?”
Someone answered, “Yes.”
Another man spoke up, “What about the fairy godmother? She needs to be in the scene. Maybe in one of the ball gowns?”
Kate cleared her throat. “A fairy is too small for one of the ball gowns, so why don’t we make her a dress out of handkerchiefs? It could be really soft and flowy. I’m sure my uncle Adalbert can whip one up in a jiffy.”
“Yes, yes. Can you take care of that, um, what is your name?” asked Mr. G.
“Kate.”
“Right, Kate.” Not that girl or bobby-soxer.
The meeting continued with Mr. G quickly assigning jobs. As the men filtered out, Kate hung back, waiting for Mr. G to be alone.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Ah, Kate, is it?”
“Yes. May I stay for window night? I’ve been studying and watching. I’ve answered every question you’ve thrown at me. I won’t get in the way, but I think if I’m there, I’ll be better able to help with those little details. After all, the Cinderella story is a girl’s dream. I could help set the possibilities in our customer’s minds.” She held her breath, hoping that Mr. G’s own words given back to him would be the added touch. That and his drive to beat Bonwit’s might make him lift his old-fashioned ban on women helping during window night.
He slowly nodded. “Some of the men won’t like it, but yes. You may stay until ten o’clock. Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin. Ha!” He laughed at his joke.
“Ten o’clock! After all the shift work women did during the war, surely the law has changed on that.”
He spread his hands out wide. “Look, I’m an old-fashioned guy. Take it or leave it.”
“Take it,” Kate quickly replied, smiling.
Roy came back in the room, holding a small book. “Who knows what trouble you’d get yourself into staying up past your bedtime, anyway.” He winked as he handed it to her. “I thought it would take me a while to find, but it was right there on top. Guess it wants you as much as you want it.”
Cora Scovil’s Lady’s Book. The woman who created window displays.
She flipped through the pages. Sure enough, plenty of articles a man would have no interest in. But the photographs! All window designs.
Where imagination will help you read the title under one photo of a display of flowers.
“You’re a gem, Roy.”
He shrugged. “So is Johnny. You might want to make it up to him real soon.”
Johnny. Her heart sank, and with it, her smile. “I know.”
“He’s still here, up in the executive offices with his dad. Don’t wait too long. You’ll regret it.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Kate wasn’t ready to see Johnny yet. Especially up in the executive offices. She’d never been there, for one. But, good heavens! The things that come out of my mouth sometimes. It was a wonder she had any friends at all. How was she going to make it up to him?
The sales floor in Women’s Wear was quiet, but excited voices were coming from Miss Lassiter’s office. All the sales girls, Mom included, crowded around Miss Lassiter’s desk.
What were they ogling? Kate squirmed her way into the circle until she could see the fashion magazine laid out on the desk. It was opened to a photograph of a model wearing a long, outrageously full skirt, a tight-fitting jacket, and an oversize hat. Kate gasped at the sheer amount of material.
“Is all that fabric allowed?” she asked. Even with rationing lifted, women’s clothing still resembled plain wartime outfits with square shoulders. Feminized versions of military uniforms.
“They’re calling it the New Look,” said Miss Lassiter. “Isn’t it simply marvelous? Such a change from these drab military styles. Oh, to look like a woman again.” She spun around the room like she was walking a runway and made the salesgirls giggle.
Miss Martin whispered in Kate’s ear, “Did you know she and Mr. G used to be an item? But he spent more time in his studio than with her, so she called it off. Been a spinster ever since.”
Miss Lassiter and Mr. G? He was her long-lost love? They were complete opposites—no wonder it never worked out. Too bad she didn’t find someone else. She would make an elegant wife for some gentleman.
Miss Lassiter ran a hand down her figure and sighed. “But the effort it would take for me to fit into one of those gowns! It’s back to the days of the girdle—cinched in at the waist and padded out everywhere else. I declare, this designer is taking postwar excess to extremes.” She waltzed back to the cluster of girls. “What is his name again?”
“Christian Dior,” said Mom. “From Paris. They’re hoping he’s going to revive French fashion now that the war is over. He calls it the Corolla collection, which means flowerlike.” She pointed to a two-layered dress. “See? This pattern is an inverted flower. Same as this one with a jacket and full skirt. And these ones over here are based on a figure eight.”
“Corolla,” repeated Miss Lassiter. “Flower-like indeed.” She placed a hand on Kate’s cheek. “Young girls like you will blossom into beauties in these clothes. I’m already picturing our fashion shows.”
“The British girls can’t buy these yet, but we sure can,” said Miss Martin. Her engagement ring sparkled as she patted her hair. Her Robert had returned and proposed after all.
“All right girls, back to work.” Mom shooed the salesgirls back to the floor.
They left the office in a huddle. “I don’t think it’s very patriotic. Look at all that waste,” said the girl who worked in Millinery. “Besides, I like showing my legs.”
Miss Martin piped up, “I don’t mind it one bit. I’m tired of these short, dull skirts. I want something to swish when I walk.”
“Oh, but what about the underpinnings?” The hat girl placed her hands on her hips. “Not only do we have to cinch in our waists to a handspan, but add padding to round out the shoulders and stick a little sausage resting on our hips. How’s a girl to breathe or even walk under all that mess?” She waved her hands in front of her and walked away. “Not me. I’ll take my knee-length skirts and pedal pushers over the New Look any day.”
The hat girl had it figured out. The dress certainly was pretty, but not at the cost of having to wear the underpinnings. Kate was all for comfort. Although there was a certain dress stashed in her locker that was as opulent as this New Look. More so, even. And she couldn’t stop thinking about it.
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