Chapter 5: A Letter from Home
Ada of Ada's Atelier's was a tiny, bird-like lady with round-rimmed spectacles and a pair of scissors hanging by a string at her waist. Her dove-gray hair was coiled into a little nest at the top of her head, and her hands were wizened and bent like little beige-colored claws that were constantly moving.
Her shop, too, was an avian-like collection of bits and bobs. In the retail section, hat racks laden with everything from a gentleman's bowler to a child's toque crowded up against displays full of leather goods and accessories. There was a section for scarves and a section for hosiery, and even a little case with a selection of watches. All of it was clustered around the room in a slightly catawampus jumble, so different from the idiosyncratic-but-orderly aesthetic of the town's other establishments, and Abby couldn't help but feel a little more at ease in a place that felt more like Manhattan than anything else she'd encountered in Cherin Cove.
The back of the shop served as Ada's workroom for alterations and fittings, and it was to this chamber that the seamstress beckoned Abby, leading the way around a maze of storage bins and boxes.
"You'll have to pardon the mess," she said, a slight rasp in her voice. "I've only been here for three months, and I'm still unpacking."
In contrast to the front of the shop, the fitting area was neat and spacious. There was a large work table holding Ada's sewing machine that was flanked by several racks of garments in every imaginable color, and over in the corner, an elegant trifold mirror stood with its wings outstretched.
"So, you need a dress for the Confetti Countdown." Ada bustled over to her racks of clothes, disappearing behind them. "I've had several folks stop by to get fitted for the festivities. It's a shame we don't have more time, or I'd sew you something new, but I do have a few ready-made frocks on hand that you may like…"
After rummaging through the racks for several moments, she emerged with several colorful dresses draped over her arm.
"Here are three options I have that would require only minimal alterations to fit you," she said. "First off, this scalloped three-tiered dress. Tiers are all the rage right now, and this one will show off your figure nicely."
After showing both sides of the skirt, she hung the garment on an empty clothes rack nearby, then unfurled the second option, a pretty carnation-colored dress with a rounded collar and shirred cuffs.
"Then we have this beauty. It's made of taffeta and Georgette crepe, and it will twirl like a dream when you dance."
She gave Abby a moment to admire the fabric, then set the carnation-colored dress on the rack next to the first one.
"And finally, I have this elegant number in olive green. The skirt has these box pleats to add depth, and the vestee is made of chiffon, which drapes beautifully on the arm." Setting the final choice on the rack next to the others, she asked, "Which one appeals to you most?"
Abby eyed the dresses one by one. Indecision was something that she rarely felt, but when it came to these festive frocks and their eye-catching colors, she was a bit at a loss. She preferred simpler styles in less striking hues, and trying to settle on a dress for the Countdown was like trying to choose a favorite ice cream flavor when up until that point you'd only ever tasted milk.
She didn't have all day to make a decision, however, so she might as well get on with it.
"I don't care for the scalloped one," she began, thinking it made sense to eliminate at least one option, "but I'm torn between the other two."
"Well, try them both on and see," Ada suggested. "You can change behind the ornamental screen next to the mirror."
She went to hook the dresses behind the partition, then beckoned Abby over, showing her the stool that she could place her garments on, and then leaving her to change in privacy.
Abby undressed, then picked up the carnation-colored taffeta. It rustled softly as she unhooked it from its hanger, and she put it on carefully, her fingers fastening the many buttons on the bodice and the sleeves. The dress hung a bit loosely and was wide in the shoulders, but it seemed to fit everywhere else, and even though Abby hadn't looked in the mirror yet, she could see why Ada had recommended the crepe and taffeta combination as ideal for dancing.
After she'd finished securing the last button, she walked out from behind the screen.
"Ah, lovely!" Ada exclaimed, clapping her little claw-like hands. "A bit large on the top, but that's fixable. Will you do a twirl for me, dear?"
Abby obliged, enjoying the feel of the fabric against her legs.
"That's the Georgette crepe," Ada told her. "It's wonderfully light and has a good bounce to it, perfect for dancing the night away. I can bring in the shoulders and make a few minor adjustments for you, and it will be all ready to go in time for the Countdown! Let me show you what it would look like with the alterations."
She began affixing pins to the garment as Abby considered her reflection in the mirror. She did like this dress with its stylish details, and she had no doubt that it would work perfectly for its intended purpose, but something about it didn't feel right. The cheerful carnation-pink color, the twirly crepe skirt, and the rustling taffeta with its shirrs and and tucks felt fit for a woman full of hope, a woman with a blissful, quiet sort of joy bubbling in her heart.
Months ago, Abby might have been able to imagine herself that woman…but now, with the grayness constantly at hand, she couldn't bring herself to do it.
"There!" Ada pushed the last pin into place. "What do you think?"
"It's beautiful," Abby admitted. "I do like the fabric combination and the way that the skirt moves…but I'm not sure it's the right one for me."
"Well, let's give our second option a try," the seamstress suggested agreeably.
Abby went back behind the screen, taking off the carnation-colored dress and slipping on the green one in its place. Unlike the taffeta, this one barely whispered as she moved, and her fingers were thankful that there were far less buttons to fasten this time on account of the simpler design.
After making sure everything had been properly secured, she stepped out from behind the screen for a second time.
Ada gasped.
"Miss Abby, you simply must see for yourself," she said, beckoning Abby over to the mirror. "Come, look!"
Abby gazed into the glass.
The olive green dress fit her like a glove. From shoulder to hem, its box pleats fell in elegant lines, drawn in at the waist by a bit of subtle runching, and the chiffon sleeves draped over her arms in soft curves, adding an elegant touch. Dainty white snowdrop-shaped* buttons studded the collar and cuffs, appearing like the first buds of spring, and the vestee's golden brown trim was nearly identical to the shade of Abby's hair.
It was a striking dress, but unlike the pink taffeta, its appeal was understated and gentle.
"You'll have to pardon me for saying so…" Ada voice broke in softly, "...but this dress looks like it was made for you."
"I agree." Abby was unable to tear her eyes away from the mirror. "It's perfect."
"And no alterations would be required, which means you could take it with you this afternoon."
Abby nodded, feeling a smile begin to grow on her face. "I'll do that."
(If the whimsical hand of fate that seemed to rule Cherin Cove had seen fit to make everything work out so perfectly, she wasn't going to complain about it).
After another moment of allowing herself to admire her reflection, Abby retreated behind the screen to take off the green dress, carefully returning it to its hanger.
She had just begun to fasten the buttons on her own dress, when a knock sounded at the back door of the shop, making her jump.
"Hello, Miss Ada!" called a voice. "It's Skip - the front door was locked, but I've got the rest of the order you asked for."
"Just a moment, dear!" Ada called out, bustling over as she muttered in Abby's direction, "I apologize; this will only take a minute."
There was the scraping sound of a bolt being drawn back, and then the squeak of hinges as she opened the door.
"Come in, Skip, come in! I didn't expect you to be back so soon!"
"Well, I figured if I got these done in time, you might be able to make a few more sales on account of folks stoppin' by to get their outfits all squared away for the Countdown," came a familiar voice.
Abby peeked in between the gaps of the screen. Her vantage point wasn't great, but even so, she could easily make out Sherwin standing not fifteen feet away, opening a box as Ada eagerly peered inside.
"Why, Skip, these are beautiful!" the seamstress exclaimed. "And such a large selection - twice as many as last time! You brought more of the beveled wallets, too."
"Yep. I remember you told me they sold real well, so I figured I'd throw in a few more to see if you'd keep havin' good luck with 'em."
"Everything in this batch is lovely," Ada enthused, and Abby could see her running her fingers over the contents of the box. "But…I'm afraid I can only afford half of this right now. Rent was due this week, and until payments come in from the garments that I'm working on for the Countdown, I won't have the surplus that I need…"
"Take it all," Sherwin said, closing up the box. "You can pay for the rest when you sell 'em."
The seamstress shook her head. "Oh, no. I'm an old woman, Skip - an old woman trying to get her business off the ground and barely managing as it is. You know I might accidentally forget, and then you'd be out of some hard-earned cash unless you reminded me."
He shrugged. "My memory ain't so good either, Miss Ada," and Abby could hear the smile in his voice. "Keep 'em. If you remember to pay me, fine; if you don't, it's no problem. Makin' these has kept me busy at night when I'd just be putterin' around otherwise, so we'll call it even."
The woman tsked. "If you keep being this generous, young man, you'll always be poor."
"Well, I ain't got nobody to provide for but myself. You have two little ones at home - helpin' out by throwin' in a few extra goods is the least I can do. Anyway…" he set the box down on Ada's work table, "I've gotta get back to the dock yard. Have a good rest of your mornin', Miss Ada, and I'll see you at the Countdown."
Abby peeked through the crack of the screen again just in time to see the back of his red Shetland sweater disappear as the seamstress bid him goodbye and then shut the door behind him.
"My apologies again," she said as Abby stepped out from behind the screen. "That young man is my leather goods vendor. He works down at the docks, but he's got a wonderful flair for making handcrafted goods, and he's just brought me a set of the most beautiful embellished belts and wallets. It always helps my business tremendously, since he charges hardly anything for the workmanship and only gets compensated for the cost of the materials."
"That's generous of him."
Ada nodded. "It's been a struggle for me to make ends meet, and he knows it. My daughter and her two babies just moved in with me, and between supporting them and trying to keep my shop afloat, I don't have much financial leeway." She paused for a moment, looking a little misty-eyed, but soon after she shook off her dejection, saying, "But anyway, I was going to wrap up the green dress for you and put the pink one back on the rack."
"I actually think I've changed my mind," Abby said, finding herself inspired by the act of generosity that she'd just witnessed. "I'll take both of them. The green one I'll wear to the Countdown, and the pink one I'll save to take home. It really is pretty, and I'm sure I can find an occasion to wear it to at a later time."
Ada looked surprised. "That's very kind of you, Miss Abby, but wouldn't you like to know the price of the dresses, first?"
"If you'd like to tell me," Abby conceded, "but I'm planning to purchase both of them regardless."
Ada bobbed a little bow. "Well, that's very good of you. I'll write up the receipt and be back in a jiffy!"
She hurried away, noticeably heartened by the pending sale, and Abby was left alone to dig into her handbag for her money. It wasn't her practice to be extravagant, but she'd come into an inheritance after her father's death, and aside from the money that she'd spent for her room at Lottie's Lookout (and, of course, the funds set aside for books), she'd hardly touched any of it. Her intention was to eventually invest the bulk of the assets, but in the meantime, splurging to buy a couple of dresses would not go amiss, especially when she could help someone out by doing so.
Whenever we're in a position to help a neighbor in need, we should take the opportunity.
Her father's familiar voice echoed in her mind, and Abby let the words of his oft-spoken exhortation linger for a moment before pushing them away. Philip Becker had come from impoverished beginnings and had often cited the generosity of others during those lean years as something that had stuck with him. As such, he'd made it a point to be generous to others who were down on their luck whenever he could, and he had remained a generous man 'till the end.
Before the grayness could settle in any further, Ada returned with a receipt for the dresses. After going over the costs with Abby and making arrangements for the carnation-colored taffeta to be picked up a few days later after the alterations to the shoulders had been finished, the seamstress carefully wrapped the olive green dress in paper and handed it to Abby to take home.
"I'll see you at the Countdown, Miss Abby," she said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll look absolutely stunning!"
Thanking the seamstress and bidding her goodbye, Abby left the shop and headed up the street in the direction of Lottie's Lookout, the paper-wrapped dress in her arms. To her surprise, the uphill trek didn't seem quite so disagreeable this time, and the breathtaking view of the cove down below made the walk almost pleasant. A part of her wondered what the town would look like in springtime, with the hillside all in bloom. It wasn't likely that she'd ever find out, unless business somehow incited a return during a more temperate time of year, but the thought of sitting on a picnic blanket amidst a field of wildflowers while reading a book and savoring a piece of the Rudder and Relish's carrot cake was not an unwelcome prospect.
She hoped that the weather would remain clear for the Confetti Countdown. The storm that the locals had been bracing for had taken an unexpected turn away from Long Island, sparing Cherin Cove from a downpour, but another nor'easter could roll through any time, and though Samantha had said that it was customary for the celebration to proceed under any conditions short of a blizzard, Abby was hoping for something considerably less frigid, especially since she'd just purchased a very nice but very expensive dress to wear for the occasion. She'd have to bundle up somewhat, of course, but thankfully the coat and hat that she'd brought from Manhattan would match her outfit just fine. They were rather plain and sensible-looking on the whole, but their simplicity would only serve to highlight the dress' loveliness, so it really wasn't much of a loss.
Hurrying the rest of the way up the hill in high spirits, Abby breezed into the lobby of the bed and breakfast, bidding hello to Lottie, who was sitting at the front desk and knitting.
"You look positively radiant, Miss Becker!" she exclaimed, putting down her needles and yarn. "Did you do a little shopping downtown, or is it just the invigorating Long Island air that's got your cheeks so rosy?"
"The former," Abby replied. "I went to buy a dress for the Confetti Countdown and found something that fit perfectly."
"A cause for happiness, to be sure!" Lottie beamed. "Oh, and guess what? I have something here that's sure to make your day even better." Reaching into her desk, she pulled out a letter. "This just arrived in the mail."
Abby took the missive in her hand, recognizing the sender's handwriting immediately and feeling a wave of fear wash over her.
"Thank you, Lottie," she said, attempting to give the proprietor a polite smile. "I think I'll go upstairs now."
Before the other woman could ask any questions, she hurried towards the stairs and up them to her room on the second floor. After closing the door behind her, she set her dress down on the vanity, then sank down on the stool in front of it, tearing open the letter with shaking hands.
The last time her sister Judith had written, the news had been terrible.
Dear Abby, the missive read, I hope this finds you fully settled in Cherin Cove and enjoying a change of scene amidst the anonymity of Long Island life. Rest assured that everyone here is well –
Abby let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
They're all right. Nothing's happened.
Taking a moment to steady herself, she got up and walked over to the bed, sitting down and nestling among the pillows before she raised her eyes to the next few lines of the letter.
Rest assured that everyone here is well, it continued. Lilly is completely over her cold now, and the rest of us were spared. Mama is very tired, but seems to be holding up, and the preparations for the tenement party have proceeded without incident, thanks to Sadie's ample experience hosting it over the past several years. I can tell that she is nervous about giving the welcoming toast in Papa's place, but I know that she will discharge his former responsibility beautifully, and will honor him well with her words. She has been scribbling away on her speech these last few nights with David at her side for moral support, and though she claims to be a poor orator and utterly unfit to carry off such an important duty, he has privately assured me that the endeavor is coming along fine, and that her speech is perfectly suitable, self-doubt aside.
(Speaking of David, he wishes for me to record his hopes that you are enjoying your time away, and has asked me to pass along two additional admissions: First, that after a thorough re-read, he considers The Clockwinder's Apprentice to be more a bildungsroman than a true memoir, and second, that Fanshaw was most definitely right. These disclosures mean nothing to me, but I assume that you fully understand his meaning**).
Sadie, too, sends her greetings. She says that there will be a bag of the confectionery's best malt balls waiting for you when you return (the jumbo-sized ones recently came back in stock for a limited time), and that she managed to repair the rip in your favorite shawl.
The younger ones have been impatiently awaiting the next snowfall, as it's been surprisingly temperate in Manhattan these last few days. It was flurrying in Boston when we left, and Caleb especially was sad to miss it, even though he's no longer a little boy. Speaking of the weather, John read in the paper this morning that Long Island has been expecting storms, and he wishes for me to remind you to stay indoors should one happen to strike, as the winds whip up far worse on Long Island than they do in Manhattan.
Mama, of course, sends her love and regrets that she isn't feeling up to express-mailing you a batch of your favorite chocolate-dipped gingersnaps, but I've done my best to assure her that you're amply supplied with food. Lilly says hello, and asked me to add that she misses you. We all do, as I'm sure you're well aware, but we understand why you feel the draw of solitude during this time.
Please make sure to stay warm and to eat well, dear. If you feel inclined to write, we will certainly be happy to hear anything you wish to tell us of your time in Cherin Cove, but if not, we look forward to seeing you and hearing about your adventures when you return. Until then, I remain,
Your devoted sister,
Judith
Abby read the letter a second time, allowing herself to soak in the affection twined through her family's words and her sister's relaying of them. Judith had always been the one to maintain correspondence, and it was just like her to write, even when Abby was only a short distance away from Manhattan.
A part of her honestly hadn't expected to hear from her family. She'd announced her intent to depart for Long Island rather suddenly and had left just as the preparations for the tenement party had begun. It would have been right for them to fault her for shirking her responsibilities at such an inconvenient time, but nobody seemed to harbor any ill will, and this realization stirred up a mixture of relief and gnawing guilt in Abby.
Sliding off of the bed, she walked over to where she'd left her dress on the vanity. Freeing the chiffon from its paper wrappings, she hung it in the closet next to the coat and hat that she planned to wear to the Confetti Countdown, then tidied up the room a bit before heading downstairs to the dining room, impatient to find something to distract herself from the uneasiness that had descended.
The next several hours were filled with scattered but productive activity. Abby made herself a sandwich in the communal kitchen, helped Lottie bake a batch of biscuits, and set out dinner for the cats who lived on the premises. They were a rather friendly bunch and seemed grateful for the meal, mewing their appreciation and butting up against Abby to be petted, and their antics made her feel a bit better.
After the cats had eaten their fill and wandered away, she cleaned their bowls and put them away, then went outside for a walk around the yard. The sun was setting by this time, and she climbed to the highest point of the property to watch the last of the daylight sink slowly in the distance.
Soon, all color had faded from sight, and everything was awash in gray.
The wind blowing up from the sound was bitterly cold, whipping Abby's hair every which way, and she shrunk from its chill as it numbed her cheeks and nose and fingertips, seeping in like the melancholy that was always there, pressing in from all sides. She'd managed to evade its grasp thanks to the afternoon's many activities, but now, in the stillness, it had returned again.
Shivering, she made her way down the hill in the dark and returned to the bed and breakfast. The lobby lights welcomed her with their golden glow, and to her surprise, Lottie was waiting at the door with a knitted blanket, a cup of tea, and a slightly scolding look.
"You shouldn't be going out in all that wind, Miss Becker," she chided. "I know you're a big city girl and you can make your own decisions, but it would be a crying shame if you caught a cold now with the Countdown only a day away."
And with a little shake of her head and a tsk for good measure, she hustled Abby over to the window seat, where she set the cup of hot tea into her hands and the blanket in her lap, then ordered her not to stir from the spot until she'd gotten thoroughly warm again.
Abby settled into a comfortable position, a little bemused and a little touched as she pulled the blanket around her and let the cup of tea drive the chill from her fingers. She was used to being fussed over - being the youngest of four sisters had made her well acquainted with that sort of thing - but it felt oddly warming to have this lady, who was really no more than a stranger, express such concern.
She's a little like Sadie and a little like Judith. Personable and friendly, but protective and a little bit meddlesome, too.
Taking a sip of tea, Abby stared out of the window, her thoughts drifting back to her family in Manhattan. They would be sitting down to eat dinner around this time, and she could easily imagine the cheerful but noisy bustle as everyone came together to partake of her mother's delicious food. The conversation around the table would no doubt be dominated by updates regarding the approaching tenement party, for Abby knew from experience that everything revolved around the celebration in the days leading up to its completion. There would be recipes to plan and food to prepare and decorations to make and all manner of unexpected last-minute snags that would require attention and would eat up every last moment available.
Of course, under the direction of Sadie and Judith, everything was bound to come together perfectly. They were an ideal team, the former a consummate hostess and the latter an impeccable coordinator, one naturally adept at welcoming people and bringing them in, then other gifted in making sure that everything was in place for their ease and comfort. Abby's role had always been to carry refreshments down to the yard or set up chairs or wipe down tables and basically do whatever else she was told. She could be domestic enough if the situation called for it, but true hospitality was not a gift that she possessed, and she'd always willingly deferred to her older sisters' expertise, content to be the manual labor and nothing else.
This year, however, she hadn't even deigned to make that contribution, all because she couldn't bear to face the consequences of her actions.
Papa would be so disappointed, Abby thought, leaning against the window and listening to the wind gust and howl on the other side of the pane. He was always the first to lend a hand, and here I am, running away when my family needs me most.
Letting the dull roar of the wind drown out her brooding reflections, she finished the rest of her tea, trying to find comfort in its soothing warmth.
I need to do some reading, she thought as she walked over to the kitchen to set her empty cup in the sink. Maybe a few more chapters of that aviation adventure tale…
Anything was preferable to sitting in silence with her thoughts.
Having made her decision, Abby went upstairs, located the book in question, and settled down to read, fully expecting the vibrant, fast-paced narrative to pull her up into adventure, away from the grayish reality of her persistently-troubling reflections and the memories that came along with them...
But to her dismay, the story's magic was dulled that night, and even after an hour and a half of determined reading, she couldn't quite get her feet to leave the ground.
A/N: These chapters are getting longer each time, sorry. To quote one (92sies) Jack Kelly, "I guess I can't be somethin' I'm not" (in this case, brief/concise/to-the-point). Anyway, thanks for hanging in there with me, gracious readers! Even though this is still pretty raw and I've officially failed to meet the challenge deadline, I'm going to do my best to see this through, so I hope you'll stick around to see what happens next for our leading lady as she heads to Cherin Cove's Confetti Countdown. :)
Thank you so much to those of you who have been reviewing - I've loved reading your reactions, theories, and remarks!
General chapter notes:
*The snowdrop is a symbol of resilience, hope, new beginnings, and a sign of coming spring.
Chapter notes for Something Worth Winning readers:
**Davey's remarks refer to the ongoing conversation that he and Abby maintain about the books that they've been reading (something established not long after they'd become acquainted in SWW). Basically, they're a couple of literary analysis nerds, and no one else in the family understands - or goes anywhere near - their cerebral discussions. ;)