Page 37 of Hank and Elsie
Elizabeth laughed. “I hardly need another dress. Living on a ranch does circumscribe one’s need for pretty apparel. But—” she tapped her cheek “—sometimes I need to remind myself that I’m not just a ranch wife.”
“We’ll look through the fashion magazines, and you can pick the style you’d like.”
“No need. Remember the gown you wore to church three weeks ago?”
Miss Taylor nodded.
“That style, only with lace trim, will suit me just fine. You have my measurements.” She turned to face Elsie and held out a handkerchief. “Can you copy this style of initials, although with an S instead of an H?”
Feeling nervous, Elsie accepted the delicate fabric, the lace edge fraying, and studied the design.Looks fanciful but really is simple.“May I keep this to use as a pattern?”
Mrs. Sanders gave a graceful wave. “I have plenty. But it seemed wasteful to buy too many new ones initialed with my married name. I’ve been waiting until the old ones havefinallystarted to wear out. So, I’ll take ten.”
She picked up a small, white dress from the countertop. “I’ve also been making this for my daughter. But since I’m not a dressmaker, it’s taken me forever. And, of course, by the time I finished, Carol hadgrown, the disobliging girl, and then I had to let out the seams.” Mrs. Sanders’s fond expression belied her words. “I should have thought to place rocks on her head to stop her from shooting up.”
“That’s what my ma says!” Elsie exclaimed.
Miss Taylor chuckled. “I don’t think that works, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Sanders let out a sigh. “I know. But I so enjoy being a mother, and Carol’s growing up too fast. I can’t believe she’s three and a half.” She tapped the dress. “Now, I want a row of violets along the hem, sleeves, and collar. What do you think, Elsie?”
Elsie laughed. “I can do the dress before the handkerchiefs, to finish before Carol grows more.”
“Oh, good. No need for rocks,” Mrs. Sanders teased. She spaced her thumb and forefinger on the hem of the little dress. “This far apart, I think.”
Elsie reached for the fabric measurer. “An inch and a half,” she murmured. “Let me see how many violets.” She measured and counted. “Twenty-four.” She touched the dress’s narrowcuffs. “I presume you’ll want them smaller and closer together?” She measured to show what she thought would work best. “Four or five?” She glanced up at Mrs. Sanders.
The woman’s blue eyes sparkled. “Five. And now that I think of it, I’d like a row across the front on the sash. Same size as the hem.”
Elsie had to clench her jaw to keep her mouth from falling open at the amount of money the woman was freely tossing out.
“And, how about for the collar, three on each side in gradual sizes,” Elsie pointed as she spoke. “The biggest one being on this part of the collar.”
Girlishly, Mrs. Sanders clapped her hands together in front of her. “Oh, this dress will be so unique and beautiful. Not that unique fashion matters in Sweetwater Springs. But I’ll write and describe the dress to my sister-in-law. Fashion is one of the few areas we can amiably discuss.”
“Elizabeth.” Miss Taylor’s tone held disbelief. “That’s fifty violets, which will be five dollars! And another dollar for the handkerchiefs.”
Mrs. Sanders’s gaze flicked down to Elsie’s worn shoes and back up to her face. She glanced at the dressmaker. “Constance, you did tell me that you are splitting that sum with Elsie?”
Miss Taylor huffed. “I wouldn’t have the time or patience for that kind of embroidery. By the time I finished the project, you’d need to resort to those rocks.”
Elizabeth cast Miss Taylor a triumphant smile. “Then five dollars is perfect.”
Her mind boggled. Elsie couldn’t reconcile a woman who used old handkerchiefs so as not to be wasteful, but then would spendfive dollarson embroidery for achild’sdress—a child who lived on a ranch, no less, and would soon outgrow the outfit. “I could finish these in two weeks,” she stammered.
Mrs. Sanders patted Elsie’s shoulder. “I’ll pick them up the Sunday after that time.” She reached to tap the bolt of blue silk. “And this, whenever you finish it.” With a gay wave, Mrs. Sanders sailed out of the shop.
Miss Taylor and Elsie stared at each other, and then started to laugh.
“Ow.” Elsie put a hand on her stomach. “This corset makes laughinghurt.” Quickly, she lowered her hand, lest Miss Taylor remind her the gesture wasn’t ladylike.
“Remember what I told you about wealthy customers? Mrs. Sanders is as kind as she is wealthy.”
“She noticed my old shoes.”
“I think your shoes were as much a selling factor as your pretty violets. Mrs. Sanders wanted a way to help you without denting your pride.” She touched Elsie’s arm. “I suggest, as a quiet way to please her, you move buying new shoes to the top of your list.”
“Two and a half weeks should make me close to paying you back.” Elsie had to hold herself still, lest she start bouncing from excitement. “With the embroidery money, I can buy new shoes.”
