Author's Note

Because the last chapter was kind of crap (excuse my French) I decided to delete it and start new with it next chapter. Hopefully this will satisfy those who are still with us, and bring new peeps into the fold.

As always, please R&R, you can inbox me too with specific suggestions, I tend to pay for attention to those, and we can all be friends!

Capeesh? Allons-y!

Megan

I bend over my little sewing table, concentrating on making tiny, even stitches along the hem of Courtney's wedding dress. I still can't believe she is getting married, or that she asked me to make her gown. It seems so adult, that she thinks my work is good enough for such an important task. I promised her that it would be the best gown she has ever seen, and I promised myself that I would put all my energy into this design. When my mother saw how much I was working on this, she (of course) started to worry about how this would affect my status as a teen designer at Flashlite. She had me call Wolfgang to explain my absence, and lack of "motivation". One would expect him to be angry at the very least, but he ecstatic as I explained what I was working on instead. When I hung up the phone, I heard some scattered words of that sounded suspiciously like "prom" and "perfect", so ever since I've been trying not to get my hopes up. After all, prom season isn't for a while, so right now I need to fulfill my promise to myself and finish this dress.

The dress Courtney had settled on was a deep plum-colored, shoulder less taffeta gown that gathered at the waist, pinching to one side, and then slopes gracefully down to the ground. The skirt's back billowed down in layers of fabric, with a slight train. It's the most complicated design I've ever made, but already I can picture Courtney walking down the aisle, looking ravishing as we all admire the magnificence of it. Even now I barely contain my excitement, and goose bumps quickly creep up my arms.

When Courtney first approached me, asking if I would be able to do this for her, I was confused with the color. Didn't she want the traditional white gown like most brides get? I was shy to ask, thinking it might come off as rude, but Courtney just smiled.

"I don't want my life to be just like everyone else's." She explains. She's quick to add, "Not that it is anyway, with Cassidy as a sister." We laugh, because really it's true, and then she goes to explain that her father always pushed her to be herself, just like he encouraged Cassidy in sports.

"He used to quote Henry David Thoreau, saying, "'If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it's because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured and far away,"' Courtney explained, looking off into the distance nostalgically.

Later, I thought about how I always assumed that Courtney missed her father some, but never as much as Cassidy does. But now I find that I think Courtney misses him as much as Cassidy, if not more. It's not fair to say it either way, but now I feel I can understand Courtney much better. She isn't some scary college student that I could never talk to. As Emma Hawthorne would say, the buds of friendship were pushing against the boundaries of the leaves, trying to blossom in to the beautiful rose it was destined to be.

I work continuously for 2 hours, the calming sounds of Enya pouring from my speakers both keeping me relaxed and concentrated. I'm done just In the nick of time too, because as I finish the last stitch of the hem and shake the finished gown out to see the end result, my mother's voice bleeps through the intercom, telling me Courtney and Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid are here to preview the dress. I carefully bundle it up in one of those white gown bags, making sure to not get any piece of fabric caught in the zipper. If the gown got a tear just after it was about to be shown… I shudder to even think of it. If I hope to be a professional designer someday, I need to start thinking like it now.

When I reach the entrance to the living room, four sets of eyes turn toward me, zeroing in on the object in my hands. As I settle the dress on the spotless couch, I wonder who the fourth person could be. It can't be Courtney's fiancé, because from Cassidy's description of him he is tall, and athletic. This man is kind of odd looking, with a short neck, long arms, and hunched shoulders and a flop of blonde hair that is carefully combed over to cover one lens of his glasses. He reminds me off a monkey that tried to turn civilian.

I unwrap the dress, and step back so Courtney can come forward at inspect it. She does, her eyes shining, and quickly whisks it up and carrying it with her to the little dressing room I set up in my bedroom, with a faint, "oh my gosh, Megan… its perfect" drifting away with her.

"You've outdone yourself Megan, it's gorgeous. We can't thank you enough" says Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid, tears gleaming in her eye. With a gentle squeeze of my arm, she leaves to help Courtney put it on. Satisfied with my work, I turn to face my mom and whatever criticisms she might have, but for once she is speechless and nothing but proud. Grinning broadly at this point, I glance at the little man standing there, who hasn't said anything, but just stood there with an impassive expression on his face. My mother, who is usually all over strangers with talk of vegan S'mores or something or another, hasn't said much of anything to him, so I'm a little intrigued. No one has ever been able to shut up my mom.

He must know what I'm waiting for an introduction of some kind, but he doesn't offer one, just stares at the door that Courtney went through with a blank expression. Just when I'm about to buck up the courage to ask what his name it (I'm adventuresome, I know) Courtney comes out looking like a princess from a ball. The purple rebounds off her buttery blonde hair, making it stand out like a lighthouse in a storm. Twists in the fabric hug her curves like it was just meant to be, which of course it kind of was, and the artful drape at the waist that I fretted over looks so wonderful, I can't believe I lost sleep over it.

"You look perfect," I gush, breaking the silence that had come over the room. Courtney smiles at me, the happiest smile I have ever seen on a human being, and pivots for us, making the skirt billow in the movement. We all sigh, except for the man, who just clears his throat awkwardly. When Courtney bounces out of the room to change, Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid introduces me to the spindly man. I barely hear what she is saying. Something about "top of fashion industry" and "me"… and then it clicks. This is Adam Herchcovitch, a well-known fashion designer from Portugal that she modeled for back in the day. He specializes in wedding gowns, and is apparently interested in a few sketches of mine that Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid had shown him a while back. And he wants me for design for him.

First of all ,what? Wedding gowns aren't in my area of expertise, everyday clothes are. And this is only my first gown I've designed for Pete's sake! How could he want me after one sketch. Then It dawns on me. I modeled a dress off of Clementine for the fashion show in the 7th grade. If was so long ago I barely remembered that I had. If she had shown him that, along with this one… he must have really liked them. Most designers request a dozen sketches at least. This could be a big shot for me.

"So, vhut do you say, Mezz Megan Wong?" Adam Herchcovitch says, "Are you ready to become zhe fresh fashion dezinger that everye one vants too become?" He had a slight German/French accent that is quite appealing. "You can still work vith ze- uh vhut vas it? Flashlite, oui?- copany that ze alveady has contract vith. You vill be infamously famous."

Famous? Wedding dresses? Me?!

That was my last thought before I fainted.

YAY! I like it :) Hopefully you do too, my beautiful earthlings!