Page 4 of That Next Moment

Then a detail of my own popped into my head. My best friend, Madeline, was getting married in August, and I obviously needed to be there for that. I was the maid of honor, after all.

“What does the timeline look like?” I asked, interrupting JoAnn as she kept talking about the color scheme she saw in her head.

JoAnn furrowed her brow and shuffled a few papers around on the desk in front of her. “If all goes according to plan and the paperwork and logistics go without a hitch, I’d say about ten to twelve months.”

I nodded. “That’s manageable.” Very, very manageable, actually.

“Is that a yes?” JoAnn leaned forward.

I took a deep breath. “I won’t be in New York for the summer. Is that an issue? My best friend is getting married.”

“Are you designing the wedding gown?” JoAnn lit up, her chin tilting up, making her smile seem wider than it really was.

“Yes, custom. I need to be there from start to finish. I’m leaving in a few days for Portland—”

“Oh!” JoAnn shouted, as if a light bulb went off. “That’s perfect. I have a social media guru who would love to travel with you and record the process of the dress. It would be great publicity for your boutique.”

I mean,yes,but the dress was supposed to be secretive. Madeline’s fiancé, Milo, didn't know I was custom-making the gown. He just thought I was going to be helping her with the picking and alterations of the dress. Perhaps, there wouldn’t be a problem if Milo was blocked from my social media feed?

“Yes, that should be okay, but let me check with the bride first, since she will have to be on some of the posts, and I know she doesn't want her fiancé to see the dress.”

JoAnn nodded. “I’m sure we can manage that. This is the perfect thing to get your boutique off the ground, and with this kind of presence on social media, we may be able to jump the timeline.” She shuffled more papers. They seemed to be appearing out of thin air. “When’s the wedding?”

“End of August.”

JoAnn smiled. Then with a sigh, her eyes met mine. She was excited. Something sparked, and she was rolling with it.

“I can make that happen.” She nodded, determination in her voice.

“Three months?” I choked. “You think we would be able to secure a spot and open a boutique—complete with the clothing—in three months?”

JoAnn narrowed her eyes and nodded, at least pretending to consider my words. She waved her long fingers in the air and finally said, “Six months. November, just in time for the holidays. You can design a winter line, right?”

“Well yes but—”

My head was beginning to spin. I was still on cloud nine hearing that I was getting my own boutique and that they wanted to document my wedding gown adventure with Madeline, but now I had to finish a winter line up, manufacture it, and have the storefront ready in six months.

“I don't know if I can have it ready in six months,” I admitted.

JoAnn heaved a sigh and tilted her head at me. “I’ll provide a team.”

“To design?” I stumbled.

JoAnn shook her head. “Oh no, to manufacture. You provide the designs, and we will make them.”

“I’m very picky about the quality of my work.” I held out a palm, stopping her from thinking she could whip out my designs in no time.

“Ophelia, we will be selling them on 5thAve. I assure you the quality will be the same—if not better—than your previous lines. All we would need is the designs. You could pick the fabrics from Portland, and then we will produce them in time for the shop to open. You’ll be in Portland designing the perfect wedding gown, and when you return, we will have a grand opening party. Ophelia Fuller on 5thAve.” JoAnn’s face lit up as she seemed to watch her vision unfold.

On paper it sounded nice, I’ll give her that. During my summer in Portland, I would have someone following me around to document the making of Madeline’s dress. I would give them designs and pick the fabrics and watch my dream come to fruition. This could work. This could work really well.

I narrowed my eyes and looked at JoAnn, whose smile was still so wide I could make out a hint of green spinach in between her teeth. That’s what you notice when your best friend is a dental hygienist.Damnit Madeline, always mentioning teeth.

“What do you say?” JoAnn asked, standing tall from her seat and stretching out her hand across the table.

I stood and repositioned my blouse. Taking a deep breath, I grasped her hand. “Let’s open a boutique.”

One thing I loved about New York, especially living in Manhattan, was the fact I didn’t have a car. I lived not far from my office and had to walk across Central Park to get home. I was never worried about the walk, even in the dark. Being a Black woman in the heart of Manhattan, I had had my fair share of scary encounters, but that only added to my tough skin. New York was where I belonged, and it was always where I would stay.

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