Page 67 of Powerless

Millie chuckles. “You’re beautiful and elegant, so I highly doubt that’ll ever happen. I’m more worried that my dress may malfunction and embarrass you.”

She unzips the concealed side zipper, leans down and holds the dress open so I can step into it. “There’s no chance that’s going to happen.” As daintily as possible, I step into the dress, being extra careful not to step on the material. “The Smithsonian will likely be contacting me and ask if I’d like to donate an article of clothing for their First Lady exhibit. I’m wondering if you’d be okay with me donating this dress?”

Millie slowly stands to her feet and helps me with the dress. “You’d do that, ma’am?” There’s a tremble in her voice, but I can’t see her because she’s standing behind me.

I whip my head around to see Millie has tears in her eyes. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

“Oh my gosh!” She places her hand to her chest. “I was honored when you asked me to design this dress, but right now, I could hug you so hard. You have no idea what an honor this is for me!”

“Just so we’re clear, I’ll be donating this very dress.”

Millie’s eyes redden as she slowly nods with a knowing smile. “You know, when I told my mom I was designing this dress for you, she cried with happiness.”

“Aww, how beautiful. Did she?”

“Would you mind if I took a photo of you in it? I know I shouldn’t ask, but I promise I won’t share it with anyone. I just want to show Mom when I get back home.”

I know there’s protocol and I should say no, but the happiness bouncing off her makes it near impossible for me to decline her request. “I tell you what,” I say. “Why don’t you FaceTime with your mom, and I’ll show her in person?”

Millie’s chin quivers. “You’d do that?”

“Absolutely.” I smile as I rub my hands up and down her arms.

“Ma’am, I’d be eternally grateful to you. You have no idea what you’ve done, not only for my career, but also what this means to Mom.”

“It’s fairly clear to me you’re close with your mom.”

“I am.” She pulls in a deep breath. “Mom has been my biggest supporter.” She lowers her chin and looks down for a split second before raising her gaze to me. “I wanted to go to one of the top fashion schools, but Mom didn’t have the money. She tried, but it wasn’t meant to be.” Millie lifts her left shoulder. “I cried when I found out, but Mom told me I didn’t need a fancy school to design beautiful gowns.”

“Look where you are today. Standing in Blair House with me.”

“The First Lady.”

“I really hope you’re proud of this amazing dress. You know, no one will be looking at me, the entire world will be talking about this remarkable dress.” I run my hands down over my stomach and hips. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re too kind, ma’am. But trust me when I say you make the dress, not the other way around. I don’t think anyone would be able to wear this dress anywhere near as beautifully as you do. And we haven’t even accessorized it yet,” she says in a small voice.

I hope Millie’s career explodes from here, because she’s talented, modest, and humble. It’s one of the reasons I chose her to design my inauguration dress. “Millie, you deserve the world, and I hope this helps propel you toward getting everything you want.”

“I can’t thank you enough. This has been an amazing opportunity for me and my mom.”

I give Millie a small hug and suck in a deep breath. “Let’s finish getting ready, and you can FaceTime with your mom.”

I know we’re short on time, and I expect Bennett will be in the library, sitting in front of the roaring fire reading a legislative memo, trying to get a head start on the massive job we have in front of us.

It takes another half hour before we’re ready for the FaceTime call with Millie’s mom. “You look perfect, Mrs. Adams.” Millie stands back and admires her gorgeous ball gown. “If I may, ma’am?” Her brows crinkle as she stares at me.

“Of course, what is it?” A slight panic bubbles in my chest. Is everything okay?

“I’m so in love with you in my dress,” she says as tears prickle her eyes again. I love how proud she is of what she’s created.

“I’m so in love with your dress, I’m seriously reconsidering gifting it to the Smithsonian, because I want to wear it again.” I smooth the dress down once more.

“I’ll make you another one,” she says without missing a beat. “Anything you want, I’ll make it.” She takes a breath and steps back. “You’re ready, ma’am.”

“No, I’m not. We still need to call your mom.”

“Really?” she asks with surprise. “I thought you only said that to be nice.”

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