Part Two, Chapter Seven

At the jangling of the shop bells, a saleswoman looked up from a long counter of goods and scurried over, practicing her most sympathetic smiles. "How do you do, madame?" Her gaze took in Carina's badly dyed dress and expensive silk wrap, then her eyes flickered to the hovering men. "What is madame interested in today?"

Carina gritted her teeth in annoyance, so Donovan attempted to answer for her. "Just about everything, I think."

"A nice dress for a homecoming ceremony and a funeral," Alvi elaborated. "A couple dresses for everyday, and a few sets of slacks, shirts and sweaters that will be sturdy enough for gardening and animal care. And all the accessories, of course."

"Take off that shawl, dear, and let me get an idea what size you wear." She pretended not to notice the sullen way Carina removed the silk wrap and handed it to Donovan, and she examined Carina with an expert's eye. "What a nice figure you have. We'll have no trouble getting you fitted for some very lovely things." She faked a frown of concern. "Now, tell me who you are wearing this for so I'll have an idea what style will be appropriate for the homecoming dress."

"It's for her husband," Alvi said.

"Oh, you're the widow of one of our courageous heroes." She put an arm around Carina's thin shoulders. "It's sacrifices like yours that help us keep our freedom. You must be so proud." While Carina struggled for a suitable remark that wouldn't also be profane, the saleswoman dragged her toward the back of the shop. "I have just the thing for you."

Alvi and Donovan found some chairs in the waiting area and sat down. "Carina's not going to put up with that for very long," Donovan said.

"Ten minutes at the most," Alvi agreed.

She didn't even last that long. Three minutes later she stormed up the aisle, snatched her wrap out of Donovan's hands and swept out the door. Donovan ducked after her and Alvi, ever liberal with his money, pressed a coin into the perplexed saleswoman's hand. "I'm afraid she's still distraught. Thank you for your time."

He found Carina a few doors down, leaning against a sign post, gasping for air. Donovan had a hand on her back and leaned in close to murmur something to her. Alvi saw her shake her head, and he ran to catch up to them. "Carina, I am so sorry about that. It was a mistake to go in there." He tried to pull her to him, but she waved him off.

"There were two other women back there," she said. "They all started this 'brave war widow' bullshit." Carina's hands trembled, she was so angry. "And then while one of them talked about how she was going to fix me up to look beautiful so people would pity me, the other prattled on about love and honor and sacrifice like she knew the first goddamn thing about it, and the other. . . oh, the other started hinting around about how much money could I spend, and then...dammit, I don't care if I have to wear this one ugly dress for the rest of my life, but I'm doing no more shopping in this town."

"Be reasonable," Alvi said. "I will take you to where I should've taken you from the beginning. A very nice, very dignified lady. She will treat you with the respect you deserve."

Carina shook her head. "I want to go back to the motel."

"Please darling, don't be quarrelsome. Will you not trust your friend Alvi? You will like Margaret."

"Let's give it a try," Donovan said. "And if this doesn't work out..."

"If this doesn't work out, I'm going back to the motel, with or without you."

* * *

Margaret was a private dressmaker and alterations specialist whose young daughters worked for her as errand-girls and personal shoppers. Her business was on the bottom floor of a frame house at the edge of the shopping district where the line of stores met the grander homes of the city's historic Victorian neighborhood. Although the neatly lettered sign in her front window said "By Appointment Only," Alvi was unconcerned. "She owes me a favor."

They let themselves into a pleasant room of patterned rugs, upholstered furniture and tasteful antiques. It was a peaceful place, and plump, graying Margaret was mercifully kind. She took one of Carina's hands between her own and greeted her with genuine pleasure. She asked no personal questions, but merely wanted to know what items they needed. Then she took a few measurements, stood back and pondered. "I think we'll be able to do the dresses out of my stock, but I'll have to send out if you want work clothes."

"That will be fine," Alvi told her.

Margaret went to her desk and pulled twice on a velvet rope. Then she sat down and picked up the phone, but when she put the receiver against her ear, she sighed in annoyance. She pushed the phone away and began writing notes. After a few minutes, two girls, one in her early teens, the other still just a child pattered down the stairs. "Yes, Mother?" the older one asked.

The woman handed her an envelope. "Della, take this order to Tom and see if he can fill it right away. It'll be on account. Tell him if we like the goods we'll pay before he closes shop today."

She handed another envelope to the younger girl. "Joanne, this is for Miss Rachel over at Carter's. Be sure and wait for her to give you the things. Don't run off like last time."

"Is it a lot?" the girl asked. "Should I take my wagon?"

"You should be able to carry it all. If it will make you happy to take the wagon, go ahead, but don’t use it as an excuse to take the puppy with you. The puppy stays here, understand?"

After the girls left, Margaret turned to Carina. "Would you like to look at some dresses now?"

Carina nodded and followed her from the room.

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