Bead-Dazzled

by Olivia Bennett

  Emma bolted upright.

  “Good morning,” her dad greeted. He ran his finger over the completed cuffs sitting on her desk. “These are beautiful, sweetie. Up late, huh?”

  She nodded. She’d beaded a cuff marathon and finally finished at three o’clock in the morning.

  “Mom decided to let you sleep in and miss first-period gym,” Dad explained. “She went off to school with Will. I am under strict orders to get you there for second period, so move it.”

  “Maybe I don’t have to go—” Emma started. If she could stay home to work on the beading, maybe, just maybe she’d have a chance of finishing some of it.

  “Oh, no! I promised your Mom she would see your smiling face at school today. I’ll take the subway downtown with you then circle back to Laceland. Do not get me in trouble,” he warned. “Quick, quick!”

  Emma pulled on waist-high pants, a nearly-sheer long-sleeved tee, and a denim jacket she’d bought in the kids’ department and cut off the sleeves. She layered several chunky silver chains around her neck and pulled her hair into a fishtail braid, before she hurried out the door with her dad to walk the long blocks to the subway station on Lexington Avenue. Along the way, she told him to her plan to finishing all the sewing this afternoon.

  “Hey, what’s with the detour?” Emma asked when Dad followed the overpowering smell of bacon up Third Avenue into a small storefront called Kitchen Table.

  “Haven’t you ever heard that breakfast is the most important meal of that day?” He pointed to the hand-written menu on the chalkboard on the red-brick wall. The restaurant, with only one table and four stools, was no bigger than their own kitchen. But their kitchen never smelled of delicious, crispy bacon.

  Emma grinned. “I have. Didn’t Mom feed you her famous morning protein shake?”

  “This is not about me. You are a growing girl. You need energy to do well in school.”

  “This could make me late, you know.”

  “I’ll clear it with your mom. We have big days ahead of us. No excuse for hunger. Breakfast burritos to go?”

  “Sounds good. Maybe we could take them to Laceland to eat?” Emma suggested.

  “Good try! Though maybe we could sit here for a bit,” her dad said, as he approached the tiny counter, where a girl with short, spiky black hair took orders. A man who looked like a brother or a cousin worked the grill beside her. “Hey, Noah!” he called.

  Emma wondered how often her dad sneaked in here.

  As Dad gave their order and caught up with the grill guy, Emma’s eyes zeroed in on the bead-embroidered cuff the counter girl wore. Her breath caught in her throat.

  I know that cuff, Emma realized. She recognized the wave design in metallic gold, olive green, and shiny translucent blue.

  “Where’d you buy that?” she asked.

  The counter girl looked up from pouring Dad his coffee. “What?”

  Only then did Emma notice she wore several woven metal bracelets, a long necklace with a clear crystal, and several silver earrings in both ears. “The beaded cuff. Did you buy it on the street?”

  “Yeah, just yesterday morning. Awesome, right? This African woman had mad beaded stuff. Total talent. So much more original than that cookie-cutter stuff they sell at Bloomies. That’s where she was. Right outside the store before they opened.”

  “Dad! Dad!” Emma pulled on his jacket sleeve. “We need the burritos to go!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, sweetie,” her dad cautioned, as he hurried to keep up with her. She sprinted from the restaurant and wove her way through the morning crush of business suits up Third Avenue. She spotted the flags first. The huge department store took up a full city block, and Bloomingdale’s grand entrance was lined with huge display windows and the flags from different countries.

  She scanned the crowded sidewalk. A cart selling big, hot pretzels under a red-and-yellow umbrella. Another cart selling coffee. And then she saw the folding table set up on the opposite corner. A bald man in a black down jacket stood behind the table and read a folded newspaper. No one stopped to look or buy.

  Emma hurried up to the table, dragging her dad with her. “I found it!” she cried. “I knew I would. I just knew I would. Isn’t the beading amazing?”

  Dad tucked the bag of foil-wrapped burritos under his arm and inspected the jewelry. “Good stuff.”

  “You want to buy?” The man put down his newspaper. “Good prices.”

  “Adja made this, right? Adja and her sisters?”

  “You know Adja?” The man raised his brows, causing his bald head to wrinkle.

  “Yeah. Well, kind of. Is she here?” Emma looked around, but the man stood by himself.

  “Not yet. I’m doing the morning shift.” He had the same musical accent as Adja.

  “When is she coming?” Emma said.

  The man shrugged. “I do not know. Her aunt has problems with the landlord this morning. It needs to be sorted. I can help you choose something pretty.”

  “I don’t want to buy,” Emma said, and the man’s smile vanished. “I need to talk to her.”

  “May we leave a note for Adja?” her dad asked.

  The man now eyed them warily, trying to figure out who they were and what they really wanted. “Why?”

  “We just want to ask her about beading. Nothing else. Nothing official,” her dad promised.

  “We should wait,” Emma said. She was so close to Adja, how could she leave?

  “I can’t stay here all day, Em. I have work to do. And you have to get to school.” Her dad pulled out the receipt from the burritos and scribbled their names and telephone numbers on the back. “You’ll give this to her?”

  The bald man pushed the crumpled receipt into his jacket pocket. “Yeah, sure.”

  Emma didn’t believe him. The success of her runway show couldn’t be left up to some guy remembering a receipt in a pocket. She had pieces of paper from months ago still in her jacket pockets.

  “Where does she live?” Emma demanded. “I mean, can I have Adja’s address?” She softened her tone. “I want her to help with some beading—”

  “I can’t tell you that.” The man frowned again. “She’ll be here later.”

  “Dad, I can wait by myself. I’ll stay in the entryway of Bloomies. I’ll be warm and safe until she shows. Please,” Emma begged. She had no idea if Adja would agree to her crazy plea for help, but first she had to find her to ask.

  “Never,” he said. “You’re going to school. End of discussion.”

  “Will you guys be here this afternoon?” Emma asked. She’d make Francesca come back with her.

  The man shrugged. “It’s Adja’s table. Her call.”

  “Dad, I need to stay! What if the table is gone after school? What if she moves to some other random street?”

  “Em, we’re not spending the day here. Thanks for your time,” Dad said to the man then wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulder. “We’re going.” He led her down the street.

  Emma wriggled out from under his arm. She wanted to scream. She’d been so close and now she’d be trapped at school while her chance for help slipped away. As they walked, she obsessed about the beads, about finding Adja, about making all the straps and trims she’d designed.

  “Em, you have only three days left,” her dad reminded her. Not that she needed reminding. The hours ticked by on a big clock imprinted in her brain, bringing the runway show closer and closer. “My advice is to focus on the construction of the clothes. Make them fabulous on their own, without the beads,” he said. “You’re exhausted. Chasing a street vendor throughout the city is a waste of time.”

  Emma began to argue but stopped. He was right, she knew. She was running out of time. Her beautiful clothes had to fit Holly perfectly before Sven filmed her. That was the most important.

  Emma shoved her hands into her parka pockets as they descended the stairs into the subway station. Her fingers found the photo of Audrey Hepburn. She’d be strong. She’d figure this o
ut.

  She just wished she could erase her vision of all the beadwork. She couldn’t imagine her designs without them. She didn’t want to give up on the idea.

  And then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted an emerald, gold, and avocado head wrap on the other side of the banister—heading up the stairs and onto the sidewalk.

  Instantly, she ducked under the metal pole, knocking into the knees of a man who was climbing the concrete stairs. “Sorry!” she cried. “Adja! Adja, wait!” She ran up as fast as she could.

  “Emma!”

  She heard her Dad calling her. Could he squeeze under the banister? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t turn back—not when Adja was so close. She hurried onto the street, turning in every direction for a glimpse of the colorful head wrap.

  She spotted it up ahead. Tall and regal, Adja seemed to glide above the crowd of dark coats.

  “Excuse me,” Emma cried, scooting around a woman balancing two white pastry boxes.

  “Emma, wait! Slow down!” Dad called from the stairwell, his voice muffled.

  “Adja!” Emma refused to slow down. “Adja!”

  Finally, Adja stopped and turned. Emma raced up to her. “I’ve been looking for you!”

  “Excuse me?” She didn’t seem to remember Emma.

  “My friend and I met you outside the movie theater. We were talking about beading and you told us about your sisters and—” The words poured out as Emma tried to catch her breath.

  Slowly, a smile crossed Adja’s wide face. “You had yellow on your skin and in your hair.”

  “Yes!” Emma laughed. “That was me.”

  “You came to find me? You want to buy? My table is over there.” She gestured down the street.

  “I was there already, my dad and me, we wanted to ask you something. I work with a fashion designer. She isn’t very well known, but she will be. I think she will be famous.” Emma tried to explain how the designer she worked for needed help with beading.

  “Me? That is not what I do. And why does she send you?” Adja peered down at Emma, holding her school bag. “No, no. This does not seem correct.”

  “Emma, don’t you ever, ever do that—” Her dad jogged up to them, clearly angry.

  “Dad! I’m sorry, but this is Adja.” Emma spoke in her brightest, happiest voice.

  Her dad’s eyes travelled between her and Adja’s confused expression. People tried to swerve around them, and he sighed and said hello. Emma was thankful he’d decided to hold in his lecture until later.

  Desperately, Emma tried again to describe the beading Adja and her sisters would do. “It’s professional. Allegra’s a real designer, and she needs your help,” Emma begged.

  Adja kept shaking her head.

  “I understand you are confused,” Emma’s dad jumped in. “My name is Noah Rose. Here’s my card. That’s my company, Laceland.” He handed her his business card.

  Adja examined the card as he spoke.

  “Allegra Biscotti rents space from me. I would like to employ you and your sisters. You have sisters who bead, correct?”

  Adja nodded. “Two sisters.”

  “This would be a two-day project. The three of you should be at the address on the card at three o’clock today. This young lady here,”—he nodded to Emma—“will show you what needs to be done.”

  “And who will pay us?” Adja asked, still very unsure.

  Emma quickly tried to calculate how much they’d want. She didn’t have nearly enough money saved from holiday gifts or the pop-up shop to pay three women for two days. Maybe she could afford just Adja?

  “I will,” her dad announced.

  “You will?” Emma was shocked.

  Noah Rose nodded. “I know you. You won’t let go of your vision. You will work all day and all night to try to get the beading done. You will be exhausted and cranky. Your mom will be angry, because your schoolwork will suffer. Between the two of you, life will be miserable for me.” He faced Adja. “Will you and your sisters agree?”

  “For two days?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “Actually, if everything works out, I have a friend in the building who manufactures prom dresses. He may be able to give you a job. We can talk once you are at Laceland. Good?”

  Adja stared at the business card, and Emma held her breath.

  “I will get Malick to sell from my table.” She glanced over at the bald man, who had been watching them intently. “Yes, good. We will come later to help with beading.”

  Emma squealed and moved to wrap Adja in a hug, but the woman’s dark brown eyes widened in shock and Emma pulled back.

  Too much too soon. But Emma didn’t care. She was so happy!

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she repeated to her dad as they ate their burritos on the subway down to school.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I hope she and her sisters show up,” he cautioned. “There’s no way to know.”

  “I know,” Emma said confidently.

  Just in case, she planned to keep her lucky Audrey photo in her hand until Adja and her sisters were in her studio, needle and thread weaving through beads.

  CHAPTER 16

  SHOWTIME!

  Emma tried to slow her thumping heart on Friday afternoon, as she unzipped the official Allegra Biscotti garment bags. Had it only been a half-hour ago that she’d packed her runway-ready clothes inside the waterproof bags and wheeled them on a clothing rack two blocks east? Had she only know Adja and her sisters for three days? They’d spent so much time together working and talking that Adja joked they’d adopt Emma as the fourth sister and bring her back to their village.

  Emma was ready to go. She owed the sisters so much. Their beading was stunning—it gave her chills!

  Allegra really was a team event.

  It was happening. Really happening.

  Emma felt as if she hadn’t taken a breath for days.

  They were all in Sven’s photography studio on the eleventh floor of a building in the city’s flower district. Sven blended into the snow-white walls with his white skinny jeans, white T-shirt, and shaggy blond hair. Paige, in a wool cantaloupe shift dress, talked on her phone and looked out the open window. The sun was out, and although it was early February, the cool air was scented with honeysuckles from the surrounding florists.

  Sven’s studio was a closet compared with the warehouse space used for the Madison fashion shoot, and instead of tables of food from a ritzy caterer, Emma brought her mom’s blueberry muffins. Who cared? She was having her designs filmed and when it was all done it would look totally professional—she hoped. Sven would film each outfit separately and then edit together all Holly’s runway walks, so the final reel appeared to be an uninterrupted fashion show—with the same model over and over. Charlie would add in the music and backgrounds later.

  In a corner, a tiny woman with nut-brown skin and spider-like lashes applied deep, black liner to Holly’s eyelids, which already shimmered with dramatic green and gold eye shadow. Realizing that Emma was a lip gloss-only girl, Paige had brought along Luella, an assistant in Madison’s beauty department, to do makeup. Luella planned to keep Holly’s face fresh and natural, except for her eyes, which were bold Queen-of-the-Nile.

  “You like?” Francesca asked, as Emma steamed out the few small wrinkles in her clothes with a hand-held steamer.

  Emma checked out the shoes Francesca had brought to go with the dresses. Choosing accessories was definitely Francesca’s forte. She had chosen gold strappy sandals that looked like a modern gladiator sandal. Perfection. They drove home the Egyptian theme but didn’t overpower the dresses.

  “I love, love, love,” Emma said. She slipped her feet into the shoes. “I want to keep these.”

  “Oh, no, no! They come from Madison’s accessorizes closet. It is a secret.” Francesca raised a finger to her lips. “No one can know.”

  “I can keep a secret.” She snipped a few stray threads from the hems, as Sven fixed the lighting and rolled out a long, narrow
jade-green carpet that Holly would use as her runway.

  “Si? Okay, I tell you my secret.” Francesca leaned in close. “I wore these shoes last night. Bad, no? Do not tell Paige.”

  Emma giggled. “I won’t. Where’d you go? Someplace fancy?”

  “I wore these shoes on a date.”

  “A date? With who?” Emma asked. Francesca’s life was so exciting.

  “Mr. Billy Perez.”

  “You did not!” Emma couldn’t hide her surprise.

  “Not a date-date. He met up with my friends at a restaurant in a new hotel. A big group,” Francesca explained in a whisper.

  Emma wasn’t sure how she should feel about this. “Does he know about Allegra?”

  “Never!” Francesca widened her eyes sincerely. “He thinks I am her right arm.”

  “Do you mean her right hand? Her assistant?”

  “Si, that is it.” Francesca bobbed her head. “He believes Allegra is traveling in Italy.”

  Emma guessed that was good. It was the story they planned to tell everyone at the benefit.

  “Do you like him?” Emma tried to imagine what he looked like. The name Billy Perez made her think of weird morphed faces.

  “I do not know.” Francesca blushed. “Forse. Perhaps.”

  “You’ll be careful about Allegra? If he finds out—”

  “Do not worry. I even told him that Allegra is scared of the camera, does not like to have her photo taken. He keeps bothering me. Will not stop. But I said ‘No pictures,’ good?”

  Emma nodded. She wondered if she should tell Paige about Francesca and Billy.

  “Do you have a special boy?” Francesca asked.

  Emma thought back over the week. Jackson had stopped staring at her in class. Now he kept his eyes on the teacher or buried in his notebook, drawing comic book characters. She guessed what had never really started between them was officially over.

  “No, not anymore.” They’d never finish their super hero sketch. She’d never made it to his basketball game. They never shared a brownie sundae. “You know, Francesca, I just thought of a way to get Billy to stop asking for a photo—”