I drove back to the cottage as the afternoon sun began to dip behind the pine trees, casting long, purple shadows across the road.
By eight o’clock that evening, the dining room table was covered in pieces of ivory satin, the heavy-duty needle from the hardware store already installed in the vintage Singer. The lamp in the corner cast a warm, circular glow over the sewing workspace.
Emily stood in the center of the room, her feet bare on the hardwood floor. She was wearing the basic structure of the gown, the heavy satin skirt draping down around her ankles.
Clara stood behind her, pins held between her lips, carefully draping the Brussels silk lace across Emily’s shoulders.
“Do not move, Em,” Clara muttered through the pins. “I need to get this angle exactly right so the lace frames your collarbone.”
Emily turned her head slightly, her silver promise ring catching the light as she twisted it around her finger. “Rosemary, does it look alright? Be honest.”
I walked around her, my eyes cataloging the lines of the bodice, the way the rare lace softened the heavy, stiff edges of the satin. The lace seemed to bring the whole dress to life, making the simple fabric look like something created in a high-end salon in Atlanta.
“It is more than alright, Emily,” I said, my voice thick. “It is beautiful.”
Emily looked at herself in the oval standing mirror in the corner, her eyes bright and wide. “I did not think it could look like this. I thought after what happened at the boutique, we would have to settle for something plain.”
I reached out and adjusted the fold of the lace sleeve near her wrist, feeling the coolness of the silk against my warm skin.
“We have everything we need right here in this room to make her beautiful,” I said, looking at Clara.
Clara took the remaining pins out of her mouth and stuck them into the cushion on her wrist. “We certainly do. And Margaret is not going to have a single thing to say about it.”
I stood back, watching my granddaughter turn slowly in the soft light of the dining room. For a brief moment, the worry that had been sitting on my shoulders since the phone call from Margaret seemed to lift.
I leaned against the doorframe, smoothing down the elegant silk lace sleeves on Emily’s arms, feeling a momentary sense of victory.
