Chapter 7
Sindy
It could have been the party on the brain, but the guy who’d wandered in off the street made me feel hotter than usual. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he might have been a little impressed. I hated Clarabella for calling me away.
For now, though, the party was the thing. It was the next day, and already Ethel and Myrtle had taken the rest of the afternoon off and left me on my own with the shop. Clarabella followed them shortly, and that left me completely alone. I was so excited.
Mrs. Brand called to make sure all our plans were still on. “Absolutely! I can’t wait.”
“Good. Well, I’ll be there an hour before the party to get you, so be ready, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am, I promise.” I locked the door early, turning the sign on the door, and went back to begin working on my nails. They needed a good soaking and moisturizing today so they’d be ready for polishing the day of the party.
I was slow in getting home. I couldn’t stand the clatter that came from the mouths of the other three females in the house. Clarabella had ordered a photographer so the girls could have portraits done before they left. They were to do one another’s hair. I’d offered, but they’d looked at me with horror. Fine, I though, let them screw each other up.
They were doing a dress rehearsal. I was supposed to sit on the sofa and admire them as each one descended the staircase, in stockings, heels and dress. Notice I say that I was supposed to admire them.
Ethel was first. Her dress had been made for her by a well-known local seamstress with an eye to the charms of southern belles of eras gone by. Ethel was as flat-chested as an ironing board, so the dress, which was sleeveless, struggled to find something to which to mold. The color was a wine red, far too dark for her complexion, and the ruffles that ran in rows around her broad hips accented her hideous red Mohawk hair. She was wearing five-inch stilettos that caused her to weave about on spindly ankles, making her look every bit a rooster. I had to pinch the flesh inside my hand to keep from laughing aloud. “I don’t think you could have found a dress that enhances your style more,” I said as kindly as I could.
Then it was Myrtle’s turn. She’d gone for an entirely different look. Wanting to look more youthful, she’d chosen a mid-calf dress with burgundy polka dots. Her pizza-pocked complexion seemed to carry the pattern right up to her black hair, which was now cut into a shaggy punk style. To accessorize, she carried a teacup poodle whose coat had been temporarily dyed a matching burgundy. Its poofy cut around the head, paws and tail added more polka dots, and the dog hated it. You could tell by its constant yipping as well as nipping at anyone who came close, including Myrtle. She kept slapping it lightly about the snout and barking, “Stop it! Stop it!”
“Myrtle, you look great, but you might want to muzzle that dog? People could get hurt.”
“Oh, what do you know? She’ll calm down; she’s just excited,” she argued, slapping the dog again.
I frowned and got up, crossing the room and taking the dog from her arms. “You’re not going to make a good impression slapping that poor puppy all night. I’ll keep her here,” I told her adamantly. I didn’t care what Clarabella had to say about that—dog abuse was just not taking place under my watch.
Myrtle turned around and nearly lost her balance as she stomped back up the stairs. “Mother! Sindy won’t let me take the puppy. That’s an important part of my presentation. I just know it will get me the attention I need.” Clarabella pounded down the stairs and grabbed the puppy from my arms. “Mind your own business.”
“But she’s slapping the poor thing.”
Clarabella turned around and handed the puppy back to Myrtle, telling her, “Don’t slap the damned puppy. It’s liable to bite you!” Myrtle pouted, but she retreated to put away her dress and get ready for bed. The next day was going to be a big one.
***
I left the house early the next morning, knowing that neither of my stepsisters would be coming into the salon and most likely my stepmother would stay home as well. I was so excited I could hardly stand it. There were very few customers on the books that day, although the phone rang off the hook with people wanting last-minute appointments. Every eligible girl in the city who had received an invitation was anxious to look her very best. I knew my stepmother would kill me, but I told the callers there were no available appointments and hung up.
As the day drew to a close, I locked the front door, turned out the lights and headed toward the back to begin my own hair and then nails. I was lucky that there was a tiny apartment left over from the remodel and there happened to be a shower where I could bathe properly.
I was wearing a robe when I heard the knock at the back door. I opened the door an inch and saw Mrs. Brand waiting to come in. She swept past me.
“Oh, my dear, wait until you see what I brought you,” she told me. Behind her came her driver, bearing a garment bag and a suitcase. “Douglas, you may go out to the street and wait for me. Tell Timothy to pull up to the back door and wait.” Douglas disappeared at her bidding, and she pointed to the garment bag. “Go ahead, open it,” she told me.
I pulled the long zipper and parted the fold slowly. Mrs. Brand was impatient, though, and pushed me aside, whipping off the bag and holding the dress up for me to see. It was stunning, and she could not have chosen a color any more appropriate for me. It was the color of a late summer sky when the clouds barely filtered the sun, leaving a light, misty blue. The dress was unadorned; a simple, one-shouldered sheath that hugged my figure. The neckline was open all the way to my ribcage, allowing my breasts to hug one another like the petals of a flower just before it bloomed. Its open neckline allowed it to be simply slipped over my head without any buttons or zippers to clutter the smooth fabric. I gasped as I took it from her, turning it around. “Mrs. Brand, I’ve never seen a more perfect dress. How can I ever thank you?”
“You could try opening that suitcase. There are a few more goodies in there to go with it,” she instructed me.
I re-hung the dress and stooped to open the suitcase. Inside, I found a pair of shoes that fit perfectly and matched the fabric of the dress. There was a square velvet box hiding behind the shoes. I pulled it out and slowly opened the lid. Inside lay a pendant: an emerald-cut, large aquamarine on a silver chain. The stone reflected the blue of the dress, and its facets reflected the lights from the room. I was speechless. Mrs. Brand nodded, understanding my excitement.
“Well, put it on,” she encouraged me. I went into the small apartment area where I could lay the things out on the bed. She had been thoughtful enough to bring satin underthings and hosiery. The dress’s skirt was slit nearly up to my hip. I let it slide down over my body and adjusted the neckline. It fit me like another layer of skin. Mrs. Brand came up behind me and fastened the aquamarine necklace. As she watched, I turned and looked into the full-length mirror. We gasped in unison.
I had French braided my long hair and wound it above my head into a sort of coronet. From her suitcase she produced a small tiara and I placed it within the braided hair. I’d kept my makeup minimal, not knowing what to anticipate. As it turned out, I looked quite virginal, and I believe that was exactly the impression that Mrs. Brand was after. She looked at her watch. “We’ve got to get going,” she told me, handing me a satin wrap to put about my shoulders. A small clutch completed the outfit. Before we left, she turned me around to face her.
“I need you to listen to me a moment,” she said. “There’s a car waiting outside with the driver. The party begins at eight this evening and is supposed to be over at midnight. At midnight, the driver will be at the party entrance. If you are not there, he will leave. I will take that as a sign that you decided to go home with Mr. Royal. You are not, under any circumstances, to flirt or leave with anyone else, most particularly a man. Do you understand?”
“Of course, that’s no problem. I had no intentions of flirting with anyone, if that’s what you mean. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your sponsorship. There was no way I could have done this on my own.”
“There’s one more thing, Sindy.” From behind her back she brought a blue lace mask. “I want you to put this on and not remove it under any circumstances until you have left the party.”
I was puzzled, but I nodded and accepted her terms. She gave me a quick kiss on one cheek and opened the door. There waited a white limousine, the driver standing next to the opened back door, waiting to hand me in. I gave Mrs. Brand a quick little wave and got into the limo. “Have fun!” she called out to me as we pulled down the alley and out into the traffic.