Page 16 of Smuggler's Cove
“Yes. You can do whatever you want.”
Madison rubbed her hands together and went to work. The next thing she picked was an apricot bow-blouse with a matching pleated skirt. Then she came upon a photo of Princess Diana wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, boots, and a baseball cap. “Look, Mommy. You have the same hair!” It was true. Every woman in their neighborhood donned the style and the color. Next, she found a cherry-red jacket with shoulder pads, which went to mid-thigh, over a short, tight black skirt. The outfit included a wide black belt and red patent leather pumps. But what stopped Madison was a photo of Iman, a stunning Black woman wearing a thigh-length white satin jacket, and a matching long white skirt. Several strings of pearls finished the outfit. “Ooh. She is beautiful.” Madison stared at the Somali-born supermodel.
“Yes, she is. It’s been said that she inspired Calvin Klein and Yves Saint Laurent. You have one of his outfits there.” She pointed to a blue peplum jacket over a black pencil skirt.
“So do men make clothes for ladies?” Madison asked.
“Lots of men. I think there are more men than women. In fact, I am almost certain of it.”
“But why?” Madison asked innocently.
Gwen remembered her first chat with Sandra in the ladies’ room a decade before.“It’s a man’s world.”But she was not about to feed that information to her daughter. She wanted Madison to approach life with an “I can do anything” attitude.
“Maybe they can sew better?” Gwen offered. Madison giggled, and the two continued to cut out slacks, dresses, shoes, and accessories.
Gwen continued the conversation. “There are a few very influential female designers, though. Coco Chanel for one. She was a pioneer for women in fashion.” She pointed to one of Madison’s choices. “This is one of her classic suits.”
“You have a bunch of them,” Madison said as a matter of fact.
Gwen chuckled. “I suppose I do.” She could count over a dozen in her head.
Once they finished cutting up the magazines, Gwen helped Madison begin to glue the pieces on the board. The first one was the photo of Iman, all in white. Then she began to place a pair of jeans with a peplum jacket. She then went on to create her own combination of tops, bottoms, shoes, scarves, and dresses.
When they finished, Gwen spotted another talent in her daughter. She had a good eye for color and style. Gwen checked the time. Jackson would be home soon. “Why don’t you go practice piano for a little bit while I clean up here?” Gwen didn’t want Jackson to think they had been dawdling and wasting time while Madison could be honing her skills on the subjects he was most concerned about. Madison was long past “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” and “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.” She was determined to master “Für Elise” before she left for school. Maybe then her father would be proud of her. But more importantly, she could be proud of herself.
* * *
A month before the school term began, Gwen and Madison took a quick trip to Tarrytown. It took about an hour along the scenic route of the Henry Hudson Parkway. Gwen explained that Madison would come home on the weekends, which eased some of Madison’s angst. Gwen’s, as well.
The car turned into the long, beautifully landscaped driveway of the three-hundred-acre campus. Madison smushed her face against the window. “It looks like a castle!” Gwen could tell Madison’s mood was a little more promising than it had been most of the summer. Ever since her father’s announcement, Madison had become pensive. Reticent. The unknown filled her with fear, but she dared not complain or pout.
When they arrived at the school, the headmaster, Nelson Bridwell, took them on a tour of the sprawling compound. They were shown the lower-grade classrooms, the physical education center, art classrooms, and the performing arts center. Madison was in awe. “I can play the piano, but will I be able to take art?” she asked, looking up at Mr. Bridwell.
He leaned over and said, “Yes, of course. And there is an art show at the end of the year. It’s all part of the curriculum.”
Madison nodded and repeated the wordcurriculum.
“Do you know what that means?” Mr. Bridwell asked kindly.
Madison was not sure how to answer. If she said she didn’t, would they not allow her into the school? She decided honesty was the best avenue. “No, sir. I do not.”
He smiled. “It’s a combination of all the classes you will be taking. Math, science, art, music, and physical education.”
“All at once?” Her eyes grew wide.
“Not exactly,” he explained. “You’ll have a few different classes every day with different teachers.”
Madison bit her lower lip. “I only had one teacher every day.”
“Yes, and now you’ll have a bunch,” Gwen chimed in. She placed her hands on Madison’s shoulders. “Won’t that be fun?”
Again, Madison wasn’t sure how to answer. Instead, she simply nodded, not necessarily in agreement, but in understanding.
“You’ll also have a ‘Buddy’,” Mr. Bridwell explained. “Someone from the fourth grade will be your friend. A partner. This way, if you need any help with anything, they’ll be someone you can talk to besides a grown-up, because we know sometimes grown-ups don’t understand.”
Madison became increasingly more interested in this new way of life. “Where will we live?”
“Come. I’ll show you.”
