A Fitting End: A Magical Dressmaking Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

great-grandmother, or her mother, Cressida? “They’re replicas from the 1800s,” I said. “They’re
supposed
to be old-fashioned.”
    Gracie stood back, her lips pulled to the side. I’d learned over the last few months that this was her deep-in-thought expression. She raised her hand like she was in class. “Why did your great-grandmother lock up the cupboard?” she asked. “Ooo, ooo, ooo! Do you think they could be stolen?”
    I frowned, considering. Stolen from whom? And by whom? And why
would
Meemaw keep these gowns on the down low, hiding them, even from me? Unless they were valuable… I inspected them more closely. They looked like they’d been made around the same time, and the quality—both of the fabrics and the workmanship—was excellent. From the perfect spacing and straight lines, I was sure the backstitching had been done by machine, but I felt sure that on an original 1800s dress, it would have been done by hand. “No, I don’t think they’re originals.”
    Gracie carefully took the pale green silk gown from the satin-covered hanger and held it up to herself.
    Will gave a low whistle. “You’d make a stunning debutante, Daughter.”
    Gracie blushed. “Why thank you, Father.” She fanned out the folds of the skirt and twirled around like a fairy princess.
    Will folded his arms across his chest. “Um, listen, Gracie. I know you said you didn’t want to be part of the pageant, but are you sure?”
    She stopped, gazing up at her father. “You can’t justsay you want to be a Margaret, Dad. It’s, like, invitation only. Holly was invited ages ago. You have to, like,
train
.”
    Will looked at me for confirmation. “Oh?”
    “I heard Mrs. James say the girls have been practicing since last September,” I said with an apologetic shrug.
    Gracie hung the dress over her arm, looking a little disappointed. I cleared my throat. “I’ve got an in with a society member,” I said. “I could ask…”
    They both turned to look at me. Gracie’s eyes opened wide, a grin playing on her lips. “Really? You’d do that? Like, ask one of those society ladies?”
    I nodded. Mrs. James had been part of the Margaret Society since her debut—the same pageant Nana had participated in. Being a central figure in the society must mean you could influence who was chosen as the year’s Margarets.
    Mrs. James had told me that the minute her granddaughter Libby was born, she’d contracted Trudy and Fern Lafayette to make the dress. It was planned sixteen years in advance, but she’d since had a big falling-out with the sisters when the Margaret Society elected her president. The Lafayette sisters had been in charge of the pageant and ball for years and years, and they had not liked having control of the festivities wrested from their hands.
    The last nail in the coffin was when Mrs. James hired me, instead of the Lafayette sisters, to make her granddaughter’s dress. Now Trudy and Fern Lafayette were in a full-on feud with Zinnia James.
    “You don’t think it’s too late?” Will asked me.
    “I don’t know,” I said, although more than a smidgen of doubt had seized me. My business arrangement with Mrs. James didn’t mean she owed me anything—more like I owed her something—but I could ask.
    Gracie’s face lit up and I knew I would promise Mrs. James just about anything if she’d let her be a Margaret.
    As she held the dress back up, an imperfection in the fabric of the bodice caught my eye. I leaned closer, the pad of my finger brushing against it.
    “Maybe I could wear this?” she asked, but she saw my expression and frowned in response. “What’s wrong?”
    “There’s a tear here,” I said, pointing at the inch-and-a-half-long gash in the fabric. “Like someone grabbed hold and ripped it apart, all the way through to the boning.” I leaned closer, noticing something else. “And look, the edges are frayed. This wasn’t a clean tear.”
    Will bent down next to me to get a better look,