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

exactly. Waltzes at a debutante ball weren’t my grandmother’s style. She loved her farm and her goats. Right now, she was fully entrenched in a new venture: making body butter with goat milk. “Why
did
she do the pageant?” I asked.
    “Dalton, of course,” Mrs. James said without even a nanosecond of hesitation.
    I sank down onto the red velvet settee and stared. “My grandfather?”
    “No other reason. His family goes back nearly as far as the Kincaids in Hood County, you know. He was to be a beau, whether he wanted to be one or not.”
    “A beau?” Not having been part of the festival when I was a teenager meant I was ignorant about the finer details.
    “That’s what the escorts are called,” she explained.
    “So if Nana hadn’t participated in the pageant and been a Margaret, Granddaddy would have been someone else’s beau?”
    Mrs. James glanced at Libby, who was holding up a white and navy yacht dress reminiscent of Debbie Reynolds in
Singing in the Rain
. A faint smile played on her lips. She saw us looking, the tiniest dimple in her cheek quickly vanished, and she whirled around, hanging it back up on the rack. Her shoulders curled in on themselves. It looked to me like Libby Allen wished she could be invisible and I suddenly knew what her deepest desire was. Not for the first time, I thanked Butch Cassidy for wishing upon that Argentinean fountain and bestowing his descendants with charms. As I continued to work on Libby’s Margaret dress, I’d stitch confidence into the seams and trim it with hopes for poise. By the time Elizabeth Allen, aka Libby, came out to Hood County society, she’d succeed in any situation with aplomb.
    “Not just someone else’s,” Mrs. James said quietly after she turned back to me. “Mine.”
    “Ohhh,” I said. “So she decided to be in the pageant to woo my grandfather?”
    Mrs. James nodded. “Exactly. Coleta is nobody’s fool.”
    I suddenly understood why Meemaw had tried to keep me out of the armoire. She knew I’d ask questions and root out the complicated love story of my own grandparents. And yet all that mattered to me was that Nana had ended up with Dalton Massie, my granddaddy, and Mrs. James had married Senator Jebediah James, a distant relation of Etta Place, the woman the Sundance Kid had loved. I found it ironic that our family stories intersected, but it all seemed to have worked out.
    The sound of footsteps descending from upstairs interrupted us. We turned just as Will and Gracie roundedthe corner into the main room of Buttons & Bows. “Mrs. James,” Will said, taking her offered hand.
    “Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Flores.” She nodded at Gracie. “Miss Flores,” she said to Gracie. “Do you know my granddaughter, Libby? You look to be about the same age.”
    Gracie met Libby’s eyes. “Sure.” She lifted her hand in a casual greeting. “Hey.”
    Libby kept her chin angled down, but flipped her hand up in a half wave. “Hey,” she said, her voice so soft I could hardly hear it. I had a feeling even the mere idea of being a Margaret was taking a huge toll on the shy girl.
    “I love that one, but it doesn’t fit me,” Gracie said to Libby, pointing to a vintage-inspired swing dress. Stretch poplin, a gathered halter bodice with a back tie, side zipper, and a full circle skirt made it fun and flirty. The design had come to me one night and I’d been compelled to make it. It hadn’t been for me, but I hadn’t been willing to sell it.
    Libby held it up, fanning the full skirt out. Her voice came out a little soft and breathy. “It’s pretty.”
    “It’s totally you. Try it on!” Gracie pushed her toward the privacy screen in the workroom.
    A splash of pink colored Libby’s cheeks. “Really? You think so?”
    “Oh yeah. Wait a sec—you can wear it to the parade! Go ahead. See if it fits.”
    Libby reappeared a minute later. An image of her shot like a bullet into my mind. In the vision her hair was pulled back, a