Kate dropped her gaze to her almost-finished sandwich. She had been rather quiet at home lately. But with Elsie and Babcia and the dresses, there was so much on her mind. She picked at the crust. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Your window is pretty. Seems to be popular.” She lifted a scoop of potatoes but set them down again without eating.
“Thanks.”
“Was it so terrible that I encouraged your career? That I took you to all those auditions?”
Kate bit into her sandwich to bide her time. What was Mom fishing for? Kate chewed until the food practically dissolved in her mouth. She swallowed. “I wasn’t very good.”
“You were good, just not confident. I thought, if I brought you to enough shows, you would learn to relax and your true beauty would shine through. You are a lovely model, but you hold yourself back. If you would only—” Mom took a big bite of the potatoes. The din of the people eating at the tables around them overtook their silence. Silverware clattered against a plate. Nickels clinked into the wall of vending machines.
“Mr. G says I should go to art school in the fall.”
Mom opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Finally, she said, “Your father would approve.” She smiled, a tentative line, like she was trying out a new idea about Kate, and it was okay. She reached into her purse and pulled out a battered package the size of a book. She set it on the table. It was addressed to Kate. In Dad’s handwriting.
“What is this?”
“It came today. I’m assuming it’s your birthday package that never showed up. Look at the date.”
“What am I supposed to do with it?”
Mom frowned. “Open it.”
Kate was almost afraid to touch it. “I can’t,” she whispered. “It’s so strange.” But she picked it up anyway. Once it was in her hands, she couldn’t stop herself from opening it. The gift was a framed watercolor painting, with a note that fell out onto the table. Love, Dad.
She showed Mom. “Pretty, isn’t it?” A stone cottage on the side of a mountain. “Italy?”
Mother shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“It looks familiar,” said Kate. Where had she seen that building before? “Johnny’s drawn it. For Elsie. She described it to him.”
“Maybe it was near where he was staying.” She stroked the frame, a thoughtful expression on her face. “So many things we’ll never know about him.”
…
Roy was in the storage room getting lights organized. “Hiya, Kate. Looks like we’ve got a hit, eh? Boss is extending the theme.”
Kate froze. After what happened this week, she didn’t know if that should make her happy or not. “Swell, Roy. What’s the plan?”
He started counting on his fingers: “He’s added tonight’s window of Cinderella helping her stepsisters get ready—wait until you see the boss’s sketch; it’s a hoot. The third window is Cinderella getting her fancy dress. Fourth will be the ball, and the final and fanciest window will be the wedding, timed perfectly to kick off wedding season.”
Roy’s words faded away as their meaning struck Kate fully on. If tonight was not going to be the ball, that meant Marge-Cinderella would be dressed in the real Cinderella rag dress for another week.
Seven more days of daily trips to the store to check up on it. Seven more days of staying up late worrying over the dress. She never expected to be so anxious. It was a mistake for her to put it out in the first place.
“Why the look?” asked Roy. His voice called her out of her musings. “I thought you’d be excited seeing as how this was your idea. Not that any of these guys are giving you credit.” He flicked his thumb at the construction crew.
“A success has many fathers, but failure is an orphan,” quoted Kate. “That’s my grandmother for you.”
“Wise woman,” said Roy.
He returned to his lights, and Kate went to get the dresses from Women’s Wear. Seven more days. She’d take one day at a time and get through it. For the duration.
The moment the lock on the front door clicked into place, the window curtains dropped. The entire crew streamed in like carpenter ants set to work on the main window. Marge-Cinderella was pulled out of the window and set aside so the men could change the dining room into a bedroom.
The kid-sized manikins remained as they were, but a new Cinderella page was added to their book.
Mr. G also planned to keep the gauzy and sparkly curtain-frame to unite the theme throughout the weeks. The crew slid the stone fireplace to the side of the room and replaced some accessories resting on the mantel.
How clever. The same fireplace, but with the rearranged room, it looked so different.
A dressing room was created before her eyes. An oval rug was rolled out on the floor, and a folding partition stretched out across the length of the room.
“Where’s that girl?” asked Mr. G, looking past all the props. “Kate? We need the gowns.”
She wheeled in a clothes rack filled with the fancy gowns Miss Lassiter had chosen for the window. There were at least twenty dresses in all the bright colors of the season.
Besides Marge-Cinderella, there were three other manikins for Kate to dress and accessorize. Mr. G picked the dresses based on colors to highlight the scene.
His right hand held the yellow tulle dress. “Put this one on Trudy and the other”—he held up an emerald silk knit jersey—“on Monique.” He handed the gowns to Kate.
Muttering as he rifled through the rack, he pulled out a red satin dress. “This one for the stepmother. Give her lots of gunk—necklaces, bracelets, a broach, a hat, load her down.”
“And what about Marge?” she asked, hoping Mr. G had changed his mind again.
“She’s lovely as she is. The old rag dress. No gunk or sparkle for her yet. Let’s let everyone feel sorry for her for another week.”
Kate tried to think of an alternative. Some neat trick to steer Mr. G in another direction. She had nothing.
“Have you seen that crowd? We’re going to stretch this out.” He rubbed his hands. “It’s a winner.”
“Yes, Mr. G,” she said quietly. She hung the gowns back on the rack and started to wheel the collection away.
“Wait.” Mr. G scooped up the remainder of the gowns. “Off you go.” He took the dresses into the window.
Kate quickly dressed the three manikins. She had finally mastered the art of dressing their awkward arms. Next she dug into the box of accessories. She draped one, two, three necklaces on Fran, the stepmother, before topping her head with a wide-brimmed hat decked out in feathers. It was fitting that the manikin Mr. G chose for the stepmother had the same name as Fran Marshall, the girl whose rising star and matching rising uppitiness ended up going nowhere. She was still stuck at the store with all the regular models.
Mr. G and one of the new boys he was training hopped out of the window and grabbed the two stepsisters. “More gunk on Fran,” said Mr. G.
Kate raised her eyebrows.
“She is not a modest woman,” he replied.
Obliging, Kate pulled out all the remaining necklaces and tossed them around the manikin’s neck. To say she looked tacky was an understatement.
“That’s it,” he said. “Roy, need a hand over here.”
Roy grabbed the stepmother and carted her off under his arm. Kate followed the parade of manikins into the window. The room was getting crowded, so she watched from the side.
“Curtains up!” called Mr. G.
Someone quickly pulled the cords, and the theatrical window curtains rose. The reflection in the windowpane revealed the scene.
Kate giggled when she saw what Mr. G was doing. He had flung the extra gowns on the floor, draped them over the top of the folding screen, and piled them up on the chair near the dressing table. The two stepsisters flanked the dressing screen. One set up as if peeking around the corner, the other stepping halfway out and pointing at Cinderella. And poor Cinderella, her back to the audience, was loaded down with a
pile of dresses in her arms, a string of pearls dangling off her fingertips, and a stack of hats on her head. In the background stood the gaudy stepmother, loaded down with jewels, watching the proceedings.
The display also carried an array of cosmetics and perfumes from the cosmetic counter. The whole scene reminded Kate of the dreaded fashion show so many summers ago when she had ditched the rush and the heavy perfumes for the excitement of Windows. She sighed. Would every window night bring back memories of that night and Johnny?
She thought it looked fabulous. Another winner. If only she could guarantee the safety of the dress for another week.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Is that the cow-girl?” Josie narrowed her eyes as she looked into the latest Cinderella window. She had been called in to work that Saturday, too. With the popularity of the windows, the store was hopping.
Kate stared openmouthed at the window. She couldn’t find her voice. Fran Marshall was a live model in her window. If anyone should be a live model in the Cinderella window, it should be her.
“Why is she in there?” Josie demanded.
“I don’t know.” She should be relieved she didn’t have to model for such a popular window. But this kind of modeling would have been different. This was her window. Her idea. Her special dress. Why hadn’t Mr. G asked her? He should have asked.
At least Fran wasn’t playing the part of Cinderella. She was one of the stepsisters wearing a royal-blue crepe.
Josie nudged her again. “Isn’t that boy over there Johnny Day? Back from the service?” She crossed her arms. “He better have a good reason for not calling you.” Josie made like she was going to wave to get his attention.
Back in uniform, Johnny stood on the edge of the crowd, looking at the window.
“No!” Kate said, grabbing her arm. “I’ve already talked to him since he got back. I just didn’t tell you. Couldn’t tell you.”
Josie put her hands on her hips. “Well, why not? He hasn’t got another girl, has he?”
Kate shrugged. She wanted to let Josie go on believing it was Johnny being a heel, but she couldn’t. She had to get over the shame of what she’d said. It was time she made it right. “I said something.”
Josie’s eyes got big. “You didn’t… You did? Why do you do that? Blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind? I mean, I talk a lot, but you…” Josie waved her hand like she was shaking off water, or Kate’s impulsive nature. “You stay all bottled up like a Dr Pepper and then when someone gives you a shake, pow!” She lowered her voice. “Please tell me you smoothed it over right away?”
Kate shook her head. “I didn’t know what to say or when to say it. The timing was never right.” She gave a sheepish grin. “I spied on him for days, trying to catch him alone, but there were always people around, welcoming him back.”
Josie gave a low whistle. “Well, now’s not the time. Lookit that.”
Fran had also seen Johnny admiring the window. She broke her pose to blow him a kiss and give a big wave. Johnny grinned and waved back. The crowd around the window laughed and gave Johnny some good-natured elbow jabs.
“Let’s go.” Kate was beginning to feel sick. She steered Josie the long way around Johnny and to the door. “Meet you during lunch break?”
A man wearing a dark raincoat stood at the back of the crowd. As the girls walked by, he stepped forward, blocking their path. Kate’s arms turned to gooseflesh.
“You know girl in window?” His voice was deep and thick, with a European accent. When they didn’t answer, he kept on. “You work here?”
Josie, eyes wide, nodded.
“That servant dress. Where can I buy?”
“You can’t buy that dress.” Kate’s voice came out sharp and protective. “It’s only a prop. The store doesn’t sell it.”
“Where did store get it?” A muscle in his jaw twitched.
Something wasn’t right about this man. His intense eyes, the way he was asking them questions… He made Kate want to escape into the building.
“Nice amber necklace. Where American girl get Baltic amber?”
“Hmm.” Kate’s mouth was dry. A strange man with a European accent was asking about one of Cinderella’s dresses. And he knew about Baltic amber. She tried to think positively. Maybe he was one of the Kolodenkos trying to make contact now that the war was over. Adalbert did say he was trying to get in touch with them.
Kate self-consciously touched her grandmother’s necklace. She pulled Josie away. “Excuse us, we need to go.”
“That was weird,” said Josie once they were safely in the store. “What would he want with that rag dress?” She laughed. “He’s got pretty bad taste if he wants to buy it for his wife. Though, he would do better to give her your necklace. At least he recognizes good jewelry.”
Kate shivered. She hoped all the Kolodenkos weren’t so creepy. She had pictured Cinderella’s descendants being kind and sweet like their ancestor. Although the man could be a representative, hired to find the dresses after the family lost touch with Elsie.
Or he could be what the chill in her spine was warning her about. A Burgosov.
Until she knew if he was a Kolodenko or a Burgosov, she would have to be extra cautious and vigilant. If a Burgosov, avoidance was the answer. If a Kolodenko, she would have some explaining to do. She almost hoped he was a Burgosov.
With the odd-stranger question settled for now in her mind, Kate’s thoughts couldn’t stay away from the other problem with the display window. Fran Marshall. Whenever she thought of the Getting-Ready-for-the-Ball window, she would always think of Fran acting all cute and blowing kisses at Johnny. Her whole mood was ruined. Not only that, the new girl who had taken over clothing prep had called in sick, so she was stuck in the humid room all day, her blood boiling in tune with the water in the steamer.
Countless clothing racks later, the day was over, and she could head downstairs to meet Josie. One last delivery to the Jewelry Department for Miss Lassiter and she could leave.
She was so lost in her thoughts that by the time she noticed Johnny walking across her path, it was too late to pretend she didn’t see him.
“Oh, Johnny.” Kate tried to think of an excuse to get away. “I didn’t expect to run into you today.” When she looked at him, all she could think was that she still hadn’t made up with him, or thanked him properly for helping with Aunt Elsie. He was so easy to write letters to, but when she was face-to-face with him, she couldn’t put two proper thoughts together.
He put his hands in his pockets. “Giving someone a lift.”
“Right.”
“Listen, about the other day,” he said.
“Thank you. For calming Elsie down.” Kate rushed on. “And I’m so sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean what I said before. About you and the war. I was upset that I had to give up my job.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t know what it is about you. Normally, I’m kind of quiet, but around you, I tend to blurt out a thought even before I finish thinking it.”
“Sparky,” he murmured. He took a deep breath. “You meant what you said, just not how it came out,” he said. He looked out the window. “I’ve felt the same way myself. Glad that I didn’t have to risk my life, but also ashamed that I had it so easy. Instead, I did my best to help where I could.”
“That’s not at all what I thought,” Kate whispered, horrified about what he thought she meant. “Will you forgive me? I really think it’s amazing what you did for the soldiers. Honest, I do.”
“Already done.” He clapped his hands, smiling. “You know what? What’s nice about you is you aren’t going around acting like you’re all grown up or like you’re trying to be a movie star.”
Terrific. Now he’s going back to when we first met. Thinking I’m only a kid trying to land a movie role.
He studied her face and said, “No, really, that’s a good thing. You know, with the business my dad is in, people tend to schmooze up to us.”
Worse.
�
��Not that you’re not nice to me.” He grinned. “See, I can blurt out things, too.”
He slapped his hand on his thigh. “You remember that summer we met, and you had to do one of the in-store fashion shows?” He started laughing and couldn’t catch his breath.
She did remember the show he was talking about, and it wasn’t a funny memory. She had been steaming clothes all morning when she was called up to be a last-minute replacement. Her hair was a frizzy mess, and her skin was as sticky as if she were on a trip to the beach. “You made fun of me.”
He laughed harder. “I know, the look on your face! Your eyes were as wide as a bobby-soxer at her first Sinatra concert.”
Kate grinned, watching him tell back the story. Now this was how she expected it would be like when Johnny came home. It would be like talking in their letters, only better. She could watch his facial expressions, see how his hands gestured. Get lost in his morning-blue eyes.
“Actually, you helped me out,” she said. “I spent the rest of the show so mad at you I didn’t have a chance to be nervous.”
His laughing eased off. “Well, you won’t have to worry about me giving you a hard time anymore. Dad’s putting me to work on a film this summer in Europe, then next year I’m going to school full-time.”
“That’s good.” She quickly backtracked. “I mean, that you’ve decided what you are going to do.” Not that you are going away for the summer. That’s bad.
“Hey, listen, the new ballroom upstairs is finished, and my dad’s having a grand opening Friday night. There’s a bunch of us younger folks going. Do you want to come along? He’s getting Benny Goodman to play, so it should be a swell time.”
Was he asking her out on a date? Maybe he was just letting her know about a good time. She smiled and waited. Couldn’t go wrong with a smile.
“I could pick you up at seven thirty.”
It was a date! He was going to pick her up. That meant date.
“Sure,” she choked out, her face. “That would be great.”
Across the room, Fran, released from the window, was headed their way. Gone was the royal party dress, but her hair was still in the pretty upsweep. As she crossed the room, the man who wanted to buy Cinderella’s dress approached her.
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