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

his fresh soapy scent overpowered by the mothball smell wafting from the armoire. “No?”
    I took the dress from Gracie, noticing another tear at the armhole. I brought it closer to get a better look and fingered the ripped fabric for a moment, then flipped the bodice down to see the underside.
    A little jolt went through me, and a sudden flash of emotions. Anger. Betrayal. Lies. “No,” I said. “This dress has history.” But what it was, I had no idea.

Chapter 3
    “Hello?” A singsong voice drifted up the stairs, through my bedroom, and into the attic. “Anyone home?”
    “Up here,” I called, pushing my curiosity aside for now.
    A door slammed downstairs and I heard the muffled conversation of two female voices.
    “Harlow Cassidy, where are you? I brought Libby in for her fitting.”
    Speak of the devil. Mrs. Zinnia James. “Coming!” A knot of guilt formed in my gut, like I was keeping a secret. She’d left me a message, asking why I hadn’t shown for our meeting at the golf club, but I’d been a chicken and hadn’t called back yet. I didn’t want to fess up that I’d overheard the ugly argument between her and the golf pro. Another ping of anxiety flitted through me. And now I had to ask her if she could pull some strings so Gracie could be a Margaret. A sudden vision of me on my knees, hands clasped, begging her, flashed through my mind.
    I’d do whatever it took to make it happen. Despite not knowing each other very long, Gracie had a special place in my heart. It might take a year for most girls totrain to be a debutante, but Gracie would be a quick study. I just knew it.
    I left Will and Gracie in the attic and hurried to the landing, throwing down a quick greeting. Mrs. James stood at the base of the staircase, her silvery hair shimmering like a halo.
    “So sorry I wasn’t able to meet you earlier,” I said, the lie heavy on my tongue. I hurried on. “I’m not quite ready to fit Libby again, but I’ll show you the gown.” I skipped down the stairs, meeting them at the bottom. The dresses flitted back into my mind. Considering that she’d been the one to tell me that my grandmother, Coleta Cassidy, had been a Margaret, she’d appreciate the discovery and maybe she’d know something about them. “I was going through some of Meemaw’s things in the attic. You’ll never guess what I found,” I said brightly.
    “In Loretta Mae’s attic?” She held a perfectly French-manicured finger to her lips, thinking. “Knowing your great-grandmother and her penchant for fine fabrics and collecting, I’d say you found her collection of antique lace.”
    Libby looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here. She meandered over to the rack of ready-to-wear clothing at the far end of the room and perused the garments leftover from my stint at Maximilian Designs in New York, along with my own experimental pieces, and the few samples I’d managed to make over the long, hot summer.
    It was true. Meemaw did love fine fabrics, along with her abundant collection of buttons and trims, but I hadn’t rediscovered the lace yet. “No, no fabrics yet, but I’m sure you’re right. There are probably stacks and stacks of them buried in there somewhere. No,” I said,rubbing my hands together excitedly as I led her back into the main room of Buttons & Bows. It had been Meemaw’s living room and still contained her old olive green and gold paisley damask sofa and love seat, her freestanding oval mirror, and a few other pieces from my childhood, but the rest I’d brought in. Together, it worked perfectly, creating a comfortable and warm blend of the past and the present. “There’s an old armoire up there. Inside it, we found three period dresses. I think they might be Margaret dresses.”
    Her brow furrowed. “Three? Well, doesn’t that just take the cake? Being in the pageant was the last thing Coleta wanted to do. I wouldn’t have thought she’d have kept her dress all these years.”
    My thought