Silk Stalkings Read Online Free PDF

stood.
    She idled by the register, picking up flyers I’d printed with coupons and craft ideas, then setting them back down. The last thing she picked up was an announcement about the Midnight in Paris party at Tea Totalers and the afterparty at the Waverly House.
    â€œMay we sit?” she asked.
    â€œSure. Follow me.” I led her to the front corner of the store where I had set up sewing tables and sewing machines. There were twelve in all. Initially, I had hoped to fill the space with women who were eager to learn how to sew, but I had yet to figure out the right time slot to try to draw in a crowd.
    I sat in one of the chairs and swiveled to the side until I faced Nolene. She tapped her square-cut fingernail against the side of the sewing machine—
tap tap tap
pause,
tap tap tap
pause—through several cycles, until finally she dropped her hands into her lap and faced me.
    â€œYou indicated that you’re not familiar with the beauty pageant circuit, so I’ll apologize now if I tell you things you already know.”
    â€œI don’t think an apology is going to be necessary,” I said.
    â€œI’ve been involved in the planning and management of the Miss Tangorli pageant for the last twenty years. What I’ve seen appalls me. Every year the competition to outdo each other becomes more and more fierce, to the point where the young ladies who should enter the pageant don’t because they can’t afford to.”
    â€œHow much does it cost?”
    â€œThere are entry fees, of course, that run about five hundred dollars. That’s to be expected. But when you add on gowns, costumes, salon services, coaches, well, that number gets well into the thousands.”
    â€œThousands of dollars?”
    â€œYes. And that’s just the opening figure. Frankly, it’s gotten out of control.”
    I started to get the uncomfortable feeling that Nolene Kelly was inching her way around to asking me for something, though I couldn’t figure out what. She’d already said she had her judges, and Duke said something about my dress.
    â€œNolene, I’m not sure how I can help you with your pageant,” I said.
    â€œYour fabric store is new to the area, and from what I saw last night, I can tell you’re interested in gaining exposure and trying things that are outside the box. Would you consider making dresses for the contestants?”
    â€œHow many are we talking about?”
    â€œWe usually get about a hundred entrants, but by the time the screening is over, we’re down to about twenty.”
    â€œI can’t make twenty dresses myself. Not to the level the contestants would want.” I’d left the pageant dress business behind when I quit my job at To the Nines, a cheap dress shop in downtown Los Angeles. To the Nines’ business had depended on moving inexpensive gowns quickly in order to make payroll. What Nolene suggested would have been a snap if I had the ladies of the To the Nines workroom at my disposal. My job as senior concept designer had been to do just that. My great-aunt Millie had taught me about fabric at an early age. Soon after that she taught me to frequent thrift shops for damaged dresses that could be used to create patterns. It was that skill that had gotten me a scholarship to the Fashion Institute of Design + Merchandising, known as FIDM, and ultimately landed me the job at To the Nines.
    â€œNolene, some people have a natural aptitude for design and others don’t. I can oversee the sewing and I can make sure a garment is crafted properly, but the dress design will be limited to the imagination of the contestant. Would that be fair?”
    â€œIt will be more fair than allowing a contestant in a five-thousand-dollar dress go head to head with a contestant in ahundred-dollar dress. These young women are competing for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It is my job to make sure they each feel like they have a chance