Page 19 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
“Would you like the other one with a V-neck, then?” Elaine asks.
“No.” Karen shakes her head. “That one is too long, and I don’t like the color so much.”
Elaine thinks for a moment and says, “If you’re sure you want it, we can alter it for you.”
“Yes, I do,” Karen says with a firm nod. “That’ll be great.”
“The only thing is the in-store tailor is off over the weekend. But we’ll work on it the first thing Monday.”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” Karen says with a regretful look. “The party is tomorrow.”
Elaine suggests alternatives right away, showing her a handful of other dresses, but Karen’s mind is fixed on the Prada. “I don’t understand why they keep making these high collars. To hide old ladies’ wrinkled necks? It only makes us look older!”
I chuckle at her frustration and humor. She’s got a point. I have a problem with high necklines, too.
Suddenly she turns toward me, “Wait a minute! Vivian, can you do it for me?”
My mouth falls open when I realize what she’s asking. “Yeah, I can sew, b-but I’m not sure I can alter this.” This is a three-thousand-dollar dress, for God’s sake!
“Vivian has a degree in fashion design,” Karen says to Elaine, “I’m pretty sure you can. Didn’t you say you made the shirt you wore yesterday?”
Oops. Alex mentioned it when he bragged about my talent at dinner yesterday.
I rack my brain for an excuse to refuse the responsibility because I’m afraid I’ll ruin the dress instead, but Karen smiles at me encouragingly. “Give it a try, honey!”
Seeing there isn’t much hope to escape from the ordeal, I stammer. “S-sure. Do you have a sewing machine at home?”
“No, but they have it right here in the shop. You’ll let us use it, right, Elaine?”
“No problem,” Elaine says. “But are you sure you want this?”
“I am,” Karen says. “I’ll pay for it first, and I won’t return it even if I’m not happy with the result.”
Elaine’s smile broadens. “Oh, that’s not what I’m worried about,” she says while moving towards the cash register.
A minute later, after charging Karen’s credit card, Elaine leads us into a small room in the back of the shop where a sewing machine sits on top of a large work table.
After making sure I know how to use the machine, Elaine leaves us alone in the work room and goes out to tend her other customers.
I take Karen’s dress from the shopping bag in trembling hands. Gosh. Am I really going to do it?
“So, how low would you like the neckline?” I hold up the dress in front of Karen and ask.
“Let me see,” Karen looks herself in the mirror and draws a line on the dress below her neck. “Like this.”
“Okay,” I say, taking up a piece of chalk from the table and mark the V carefully.
“I’m going to browse these catalogs. Take your time, Honey,” Karen says to me and plops down onto a couch a few feet away.
I bend over to the tailor’s table and start working. I take a moment to imagine the steps before taking apart the collar, and I pause again before I reach for the scissor. I have often changed crew necks to V necks when I recycled my old clothes, so the task is a piece of cake to me, but I’m nervous because the dress is expensive. I take a few deep breaths before I cut the fabric, cringing as I go. That’s it—no turning back. After I cut the V shape, I’m less nervous. The sewing takes less than five minutes. My skills are not bad, the stitches are professional, but the dress looks less stylish and plain.
Karen tries it on with enthusiasm, but I can tell she, too, isn’t as satisfied even though she compliments my skill.
When she looks up at herself in the mirror, an idea strikes me. “Would you mind if I trim the dress a few inches shorter and make it knee-length?”
“I wouldn’t mind, but it isn’t necessary, honey. I’m happy the way it is.”
“What I’m trying to say is, I could use the fabric to make a ruffled neck for you, and it would make the dress more feminine.”
