Page 76 of Tempest

“It’s like I hurt her and I’m working on making it up to her,” I say. “As far as definitions go, I did throw out the word girlfriend and she didn’t take off running.”

“Ah, that’s a good start.” She smiles and pats me on the back.

“I thought so.”

“You’re a good man, Dad. Loyal and strong, I’m sure she sees that. She’s brilliant.”

“You’re brilliant,” I mimic.

“No, you’re brilliant.”

“No, you are brilliant,” I repeat, wrinkling my nose.

“You’re a dork,” she says, laughing. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

24

Odette

“Good afternoon, everyone,” I greet as I walk into the workroom. There are eight students here now, making it a busy day. But it’s the Monday before the long weekend for Thanksgiving, I used to get as much done before school breaks, too. Nothing ruins a vacation like stressing over work you didn’t get done.

They all ring out their own greetings while I casually walk the room, looking over what each is working on. A couple of them are still trying to perfect their newly acquired patterning skills, but they’re getting there. It’s one thing to have an eye for fashion, it’s another to be able to execute it yourself with patterns and sewing techniques.

Most of us learned to sew with the basics of hemming up a pair of pants that you loved but were two inches too long. Or a maxi dress that you wanted to turn into a mini. Those are easy enough, but darting, buttonholes, sleeves, zippers, pleats…that shit takes some learning.

Drake, who exclusively made menswear before starting school, is draping a dress on his form. I stop and watch for a few minutes as he adjusts, then steps back, then adjusts again.

“That print is gorgeous,” I tell him.

“I thought so, too,” he says. “I found it in the dollar bin at this fabric shop near my mom’s house in Boise. I’ve been holding on to it for inspiration to strike.”

“Looks like it has.”

“It’s for Tori,” he says, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“Is it a secret?”

“For now.”

“It’s safe with me,” I say, stepping closer. “The dress form doesn’t have the same curves as her. I’d suggest bringing the waistline up.”

Drake cocks his head, then makes a few adjustments to his pins before he smiles and nods.

“Thank you. Something felt off, this falls much better.”

“Anytime. You’ve got this, she’ll look fantastic in it.”

I move to Celine, who sits on her table, scraps of different fabrics strewn around her while she sketches on her pad.

“How’s it going today?”

“I’m frustrated,” she says, sighing.

“What’s up?” I ask, hopping up to sit next to her.

“Another student suggested my designs aren’t commercial enough and I’ll never make money.”

---