For Keeps (Aggie's Inheritance)

by Havig, Chautona

  Vannie nodded as Luke interjected, “You know, if you need help, Mom sews nearly everything for her, the girls, and their girls.”

  “She does?” Aggie tried to remember what she’d seen Libby wear. Whatever it was, it hadn’t screamed “homemade,” so that had to be a good sign-- she hoped.

  “Yep. She’s pretty handy with a machine. Whenever she wants to go somewhere or buy something special, she takes in a little sewing--usually around school formal times. Those girls always want something unique. I guess it’s social suicide to arrive at a prom wearing a dress that some other girl at the prom is wearing.”

  “Well, duh!” Tina insisted. “That’s a cardinal rule of surviving the American educational system. Be individual or die.”

  “Just make sure you’re individually exactly the same as everyone else,” Aggie added.

  Laird’s voice, laced with disgust, interrupted the social commentary around him. “I’m so glad I am not a girl.”

  “Why is that, Laird?” Luke was sure the boy would comment on the pressures of modern society on young women, the expectations regarding beauty, or something equally lofty.

  He laughed with the rest of them, mostly at his own folly in expecting so much out of an eleven-year-old boy, when Laird said, “Because we just go to a store, buy jeans, a few shirts, and we’re done. Girls have to get all fussy with their clothes.”

  “Spoken like a man,” Aggie said, disgustedly.

  Luke punched a fist in Laird’s direction, and nodded. “Welcome to manhood, son.”

  ~*~*~*~

  As Tina soaked in the tub, resting her aching feet, Vannie and Aggie flipped through boxes of patterns that Vannie carried down from her closet. The boxes were full of everything from basic tops, skirts, and dresses, to vintage classics and more recent trendy options. At one time, they seemed to have been sorted by size, but now several odd sizes were tucked into groups, requiring a resorting of the lot. As they sorted, Aggie watched Vannie pull a few favorites out of the stacks.

  By the time Tina joined them, the living and dining room seemed carpeted in patterns. Aggie stacked patterns by age and then by degree of perceived difficulty. Her mind was engrossed in trying to plan wardrobes for her five girls. So focused was she on her task that the idea of being able to purchase something appropriate for the younger girls didn’t even occur to her. Instead, she plowed through her ideas, making lists as she went.

  “So, do I keep the Boho information, or…”

  “Can you call tomorrow and order four outfits? I’m not confident that this will all look ok. Knowing that something is coming would help keep me from freaking out when I sew a sleeve to a skirt or something.”

  “Remember your half inside-out pillow with the seams on the outside?”

  “Don’t remind me. Ms. Slade hung it in her class all week as a ‘testimony to the futility of some people trying to learn anything of practical use.’”

  When Tina’s cell phone rang, she waved goodnight and closed herself into the library, talking to her father about plans and developments at the Milliken-Stuart household. Vannie yawned and said goodnight as well, but Aggie returned to her stacks of patterns and tried to find reasonably cute options that looked the least work- intensive. Lost in her own world of fabric, notion, and trim requirements, she jumped when hands closed over her eyes, and a voice said, “Working hard?”

  “Aaak! William! You scared me!”

  A glance over the back of the couch proved that he wasn’t in the least bit contrite. “What are you doing now, Naggie Aggie?”

  “Learning to sew. Want to teach me?” She whacked him with a pattern for emphasis.

  “I think I’ll pass.” He moved a stack of patterns from one section of the couch and sank into the cushions. “Um, Aggie, on second thought, do you think it’s safe?”

  “Do I think what is safe?” Confusion made her nose wrinkle.

  “You and a sewing machine.”

  “Very funny, Mr. Markenson. If you’re not nice to me, I’ll sic a nice social worker I know on you.”

  William widened his eyes in mock despair. “Oh, save me from the evil neighbor who, by the way, is having a very difficult time living down your nickname for her.”

  “She earned it,” Aggie retorted dryly. “Anyway, I bet she could teach you some manners.”

  He didn’t respond other than to smile at her silliness. Aggie watched as he leaned back against the back of the couch, ankle resting on his knee, and his hands laced together behind his head. As each second passed, she saw him visibly relax until he looked as at home and comfortable as any man could desire, and she wondered how long it would be before he no longer had to work to feel comfortable in her home without painful memories of his past intruding into his present.

  “You’ve done a good job with this house, Aggie,” he said at last. “I mean, I know it’s not done, but from here, it looks better than I’ve ever seen it. That kitchen is amazing! Well, I’d want something that matched better--cherry wood and dark granite or something, but--”

  “Hey, no knocking my cool cabinets. They’re exactly what I’ve always dreamed of.” Her eyes roamed over the outline of her new kitchen. The lights were off, but she could still see the island, the upper cabinets, and the corner of her favorite piece, the hoosier. “I still can’t believe that Luke spent all that time making each cabinet so unique! You’d never know they were all one piece and made at the same time.”

  Changing the subject, she held up two patterns and asked, “Button holes or zipper? Which is easier? Do you know?”

  “Well, you should ask someone who has actual experience with a machine, but look at the picture. The zipper has two long rows of straight stitches. Just up and down. The buttonhole one has about five. That’s like five mini zippers, and you have to be sure they’re equally spaced. Zippers look easier to me.” He studied the pattern jackets closely again. “Yeah, I’d go for the zippers. There’s less mending with them too. You don’t have buttons to lose and replace.”

  “It sounds like someone has problems keeping his buttons on his shirts.”

  “It’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it,” he admitted with a smirk.

  Aggie flipped through the pile of patterns on her lap, while occasionally pulling one out and stacking it in a new pile next to her. One dress with a row of tiny buttons down the front caught her eye. She stared wistfully at it for a few seconds, and then dropped it in the reject pile. “Well, I guess this one is definitely out.”

  William grabbed a small box of patterns near him and flipped through them. From time to time, he pulled one out and piled it next to him, before continuing his perusal. Curious, she reached over him and snagged his pile. Almost every single one was one of the vintage patterns that Aggie had been warned to avoid. Vannie insisted that the sizing was “off” and she didn’t know how to fix it.

  “Oh, you have excellent taste! I think they’re just beautiful. All those full skirts and fitted bodices. They remind me of the party dresses that are in that Madeline movie.”

  “After that one dress, I had you pegged as a prairie muffin type.” William’s statement was nearly a question.

  “I don’t think I have a type. I’m no Alexa Hartfield, but I love pretty, feminine clothes that accent a person rather than overpowering them. I’d look like a freak in most of what she wears, but I love how beautiful they are!” The pensive tone in her voice wasn’t lost on him.

  As he listened, it occurred to William that Aggie hadn’t had many opportunities to dress up in her nicer clothes. She practically lived in denim and t-shirts, and most of what she wore was stained, holey, and almost threadbare in spots. “Actually, that’s almost what I came here about. I thought you might like a change of clothing for a while.”

  Her brow furrowed. “My clothes aren’t feminine enough for you or they’re too feminine? And,” she added with a frown, “since when is it any of your business what I wear?”

  “I didn’t say your clothes weren�
��t perfect for what you’re doing around here, but then I’m no expert on women’s clothing.” He winked before he continued. “I just thought--” He shrugged. “Well, we’d talked about getting to know each other. You know, see if there was any chance for a relationship. I thought maybe Friday…”

  Something in William’s tone made Aggie wonder if he was more attracted to the idea of a relationship, a relationship with her specifically, or if it had more to do with some fascination with her family or her home. Whatever it was, she was nearly as determined as he to discover what it was. “I think I’d like that.”

  “Good.”

  “Since clothes brought up the subject, what do I wear? Casual? Dressy? White House Formal style dressy?” She grinned. “Pick your fashion poison.”

  As he stood, William passed her the stack of patterns he’d been holding. “Wear something special. I promise it won’t be another dinner of despair.”

  “I’ll be ready. It’ll be nice to eat without having to refill plates, cups, wipe up spills, and replace dropped forks every one point nine seconds.”

  She listened to the screen door shut with a whoosh, the sound of his footsteps on the porch, and the gentle whack of his car door as he prepared to drive home. How had she missed his arrival? The sounds of night seemed to press around her as she listened to see what else she might have missed.

  As time passed, the realization that she was going on yet another date with William washed over her. Tina would be excited that she was going out at all. For a moment, she grew nervous as memories of the last fiasco, otherwise known as her first date, flooded her mind. She shook herself. Surely, nothing could be as truly horrifying as their last attempt.

  Luke says: You’re up late, Aggie.

  Aggie says: Well, I was hoping to get your mom. I made a list of girls, patterns for each, and stuff to buy, but I was curious about buttonholes vs. zippers.

  Luke says: What about them?

  Aggie says: Well, which one is easier? A buttonhole or a zipper. William says zippers. What are your thoughts? If your mom was online, I’d ask, but…

  Luke says: Well, I can only tell you what I think I remember, but I’m pretty sure that my sister hates zippers with an unparalleled passion.

  Aggie says: Oh, great! I remade my lists only to include zippers. That was a waste of time.

  Luke says: Don’t worry about it. Mom will tell you which is easier and then show you how to cut whatever you want out for either thing.

  Aggie says: She can DO THAT?

  Luke says: *chuckles* Aggie, Mom doesn’t use patterns half the time. She knows what she’s doing, and, fortunately for Vannie, she’s fast.

  Aggie says: WOW! Ok, well do you think she can help me find affordable fabric? I spent a while on Google looking, but so much of it is over eight dollars a yard!

  Luke says: I think she has favorite sites bookmarked.

  Aggie says: Oh good! These patterns seem to take two to three yards of fabric. That’s eighteen to twenty-seven dollars just in fabric for one outfit. Who knows what buttons and zippers and thread and…

  Aggie says: *looks at pattern jacket* elastic and bias tape--what is bias tape?

  Luke says: Strips of fabric, cut on the diagonal, and then sewn together and pressed. I don’t remember what it’s FOR, but I’ve bought enough of that stuff and ironed enough of it when my “fingers needed employment” to keep me out of trouble, that I’ll never forget WHAT it is.

  Aggie says: Well good. You’ll be the official bias man. Hey, does that make you biased?

  Luke says: Probably.

  Aggie says: Anyway, I have to find fabric. The stuff Vannie has… it seems so juvenile for a girl going into the eighth grade.

  Luke says: Um, Mom probably has that covered. She loaded my truck with two totes of fabric, her button box, zipper basket, thread and bobbin boxes, notions basket, both sewing machines, and her serger. Interfacing blew off the notions basket, so she’s digging more of that out now. It was across the road and in a gutter before we could save it.

  Aggie says: Hmm…

  Luke says? What?

  Aggie says: Does what you just said make sense to you?

  Luke says: LOL Yep!

  Aggie says: Well, I got sewing machine, thread, buttons, zippers, and fabric, but the rest… scary.

  Luke says: Scary how?

  Aggie says: Did you ever take Home Ec. in school?

  Luke says: In school, no.

  Aggie says: That’s how scary. I did. Those things should mean something to me, I assume. They don’t. I know what lath is now,

  thanks to yesterday’s project, but I have no idea what…

  Aggie says: Sorry, had to scroll up to find the right word. Interfacing is and why you’d want a face on your inters in the first place.

  Luke says: LOL. Well, it doesn’t have anything to do with faces…

  Aggie says: Luke?

  Luke says: Yes, Mibs?

  Luke says: Oh, sorry.

  Aggie says: For what?

  Luke says: You don’t like that nickname.

  Aggie says: I don’t?

  Luke says: You told me to stop calling you that.

  Aggie says: I did?

  Luke says: *chuckles* Just before Tavish derailed your room’s paint job.

  Aggie says: Oh, during my emotional collapse. Ignore me.

  Luke says: Now, or then.

  Aggie says: Smart question. Then. I don’t hate it. It’s nice to have a nickname again. Well, one other than Naggie Aggie. How did William pick the exact thing that Doug used to call me? It stings every time he says it.

  Luke says: If you told him, he’d stop.

  Aggie says: And feel bad for something that isn’t his fault. I just have to hope he finds a better one.

  Aggie says: Well, it’s really late, and if I don’t beat the kids up in the morning, I have to beat them when I get up in the morning.

  Luke says: LOL

  Aggie says: JUST KIDDING. I think. No, seriously…

  Luke says: You can pretend all you like, but no one would believe for a second that you’d do it.

  Aggie says: Shh! Don’t let the kids hear you. They’ll revolt en masse.

  Luke says: Nah, just Cari… and on a bad day, Kenzie.

  Luke says: You were amazing with her today. I was impressed. Mom says you have a natural way with children when you don’t second-guess yourself. She says you’re your own worst enemy.

  Aggie says: Probably. I can’t think about it right now, or I’ll never get

  to sleep for wondering.

  Luke says: Goodnight, Mibs

  Aggie says:  Goodnight, Luke. Thanks.

  Twists of Life

  Chapter 3

  Wednesday, August 6th

  Aggie’s library looked like a scraggly yard sale by the time Luke and Libby were done dragging in all of the supplies the scout-like woman brought with her. To make room for what Tina called “the sweatshop,” Aggie’s bed, otherwise known as the couch, was shoved to one end of the room. Long banquet tables, obviously borrowed from their church, were set up in the center of the room, and piled with sewing machines, fabric totes, boxes of notions, and things that looked too technical for Aggie’s blood.

  While Luke ran power strips to the table for the machines and Libby’s “killer iron,” Libby and Vannie unpacked the fabric, stacking it in piles by amount. Curious about the impending clothing factory in her home, Ellie crept in, climbed up into the window seat with her sketchbook, and watched everyone with an interested eye. Baby Ian was already proving to be a problem. Every item placed within reach became a temptation he found impossible to ignore. Much to Aggie’s surprise, Kenzie, Cari, and Lorna stepped into the room, wrinkled their foreheads at the strange contraptions, and went in search of their “babies.”

  Once Aggie, Libby, and Vannie set up shop in the library, Tina grabbed Laird and Tavish and took off for Rockland on a masculine clothing-finding mission. They were instructed not to return without church cl
othes, jeans, shorts, shirts, underclothes, and two pairs of new shoes. The boys looked terrified, but Tina took it in stride. “No worries, guys. I know right where to go, and with any luck, we’ll be done in time to check out the batting cages before we come home.”

  The moment the screen door shut with its soft “whap,” Libby rubbed her hands together as if hatching a diabolical plot to ruin Aggie’s life. “All right. Vannie comes first, is that right?”

  “I think so. I don’t know what Tina will find for Ellie or the little girls, but we know there wasn’t anything for Vannie.”

  “Ok, well I’m going to give you a list of stores to try when you need something for her. There are places that sell exactly what I think Vannie likes, based upon the patterns she’s hoarding, but you have to know what they are and how to find them. Boho isn’t the only place in Rockland to buy decent clothes for young teens.”

  Aggie sank to the couch in relief. “Really? You mean, we don’t have to do this! Oh, Libby! That is the best--” The crestfallen look on Vannie’s face changed her words. “--news I’ve heard in a long time. It’s good to know that if we need to buy something, we can.”

  “The list is in my purse. I can get it now--”

  “Well, I was hoping you’d still be willing to do some sewing with us. I know how Vannie has been looking forward to it, and it’s probably a good thing for me to learn…”

  Libby glanced at Vannie as the girl shuffled through her stack of patterns. A look of frustration clouded her face until it looked as if she’d like to throw them at something. “Is something wrong, Vannie?”

  “Well, it’s just that patterns are always almost what I want, but not quite. I wish someone could see into my head and make patterns from that.”

  “Show me, Vannie.” Ellie’s quiet voice from the window seat made all three of them jump with surprise.

  While Aggie and Libby discussed needs, Vannie tried to explain to Ellie what was wrong with each pattern and what she’d like changed. The child sketched, erased, sketched some more, listened, erased, made a few more adjustments, and then handed over the sketchpad. “Is that what you wanted?”