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the gown would not be needed. By all accounts, Darcy had had a miscarriage, her second. Marie had heard the churchwomen whispering about it at the last bake sale, and reported it to me at once. I couldn’t help but flick my gaze to Darcy’s stomach, but looked away and mentally chastised myself. She stood stiff as an oak.
    “I’ve come for the order my mother placed.” Her voice was icy, and held a challenge. It almost sounded as if she dared me to ask why she still needed it. Her strength in coming to pick it up impressed me. I had planned on eating the cost and putting the little ivory dress away for a future customer. Darcy did not usually evoke my pity, but as someone who had succeeded at everything she’d ever set out to do in life, she must have found her failed pregnancies particularly hard to bear.
    “Certainly,” I said, hurrying to the storage closet to get the gown.
    I brought the small box to the counter and placed it in front of her.
    “No charge,” I said, quietly.
    Something flickered in Darcy’s eyes, but then she narrowed them to slits, and her cheeks blazed red. I suddenly felt terrible for acknowledging something I should not have known.
    She stared at me until I had to look down, and she reached into her pocketbook. Darcy slammed a five-dollar bill on the counter, picked up the box, and stormed out of the shop, passing Marie on her way in.
    “Hello, Darcy,” Marie said. She met no response and widened her eyes when the door closed.
    “She wanted the christening gown,” I said. “I told her there was no charge. It must have made her angry.”
    “Oh,” said Marie. “I don’t imagine Darcy wants anyone’s pity, though she deserves it. A sad thing to lose a baby.”
    We watched Darcy as she hurried out of view, and then Marie turned back to me, her face transformed with delight.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “I think he wants to marry me!”
    I passed the rest of the evening listening to Marie’s speculations about why Everette had winked at her when he said he’d be spending the weekend in New York City. I tried to caution her: They hadn’t been dating long, and shouldn’t rush into anything, but my words fell on deaf ears and made me feel guilty because I knew they came more from the dark jealousy inside me than from my concern for Marie, though that was abundant.
    Everette was a politician. His manners and dress were impeccable, his words always perfect but his sincerity somewhat lacking, his handshake too firm. I personally never trusted a man who took that much care with his hair, but Marie had laughed that off as nonsense. I might have sounded silly, but I didn’t like the importance he placed on appearances. I could imagine it would be hard to be married to a man like that. But Marie wouldn’t hear a dark word against him, so I had stopped uttering them. She had made up her mind, and I would have to accept it.
    That night while I finished washing dinner dishes with Marie, my father sat on the front porch smoking his pipe. He came inside and went up to bed earlier than usual, and Marie and I exchanged troubled glances.
    “He’s really holding on to this grudge,” she said.
    “I’ve apologized and haven’t been out of his sight since that night. I don’t get the impression he wants to talk any more about it, and I wouldn’t know what to say even if he did.”
    “Just give it time,” said Marie. “He’s upset because he sees we’re growing up, and eventually, he’ll be alone. It’s a hard thing to have to face.”
    My thoughts returned to the design school brochures. Marie chattered along as we cleaned our way upstairs and I daydreamed about the Follies. When she finally went to bed and fell asleep, I crept downstairs, lit a candle, and completed the application for the school. My fantasies had included Marie coming with me, but now it seemed that I’d be alone. All of the flutters of excitement I’d felt about my idea became anxiety. I told myself that was