Chapter 12 - The Back Seam Held With Velcro
The dressing suite felt smaller with the door shut again. The captain's knock was gone, but his warning was still in the air around my tray on the side table. Marcello stood by the vanity with his jacket buttoned, his hands empty at his sides. The blonde woman sat in the chair by the mirror, her magenta skirt spread wide, both hands resting on top of the round front.
Lily stayed close to my leg. She wasn't pointing anymore. She was watching the fabric.
Marcello looked at me first, then at her. "Will you let Maya check the seam?" he asked. His voice was low. "Just the back. No one else has to come in."
I felt my throat go dry. I wasn't a seamstress. I was catering with a tray parked two feet away and pearl earrings I'd put on that morning in the locker room.
The woman laughed once, short. "You're asking the help to undress me now?"
"No," Marcello said. "I'm asking you to let her look."
She turned in the chair to face the mirror, then back to him. Her hand didn't leave the belly. "There's nothing to look at."
Lily tugged my dress. "The scratchy part," she whispered. "Up high."
I remembered the sound from the service hall, that faint rip I'd heard behind Lily when she described it. I hadn't invented it. I'd heard it with my own ears while I was carrying glasses.
Marcello stepped a half step closer, careful to leave space. "If it's a regular gown, this ends it. We go back downstairs."
She stared up at him. The warm light from the vanity bulbs made the satin shine hard. For a second I thought she would stand and walk out and dare us to stop her. Instead she shifted forward in the chair and lifted her hair off her neck with one hand.
"Back," she said. "Only the back. And she doesn't pull anything."
My hands were shaking when I set my right hand on the chair back to steady myself. I kept my left hand visible. I'd served enough tables to know how to move without crowding someone.
The zipper ran down the center under a covered placket. From the outside it looked normal, the magenta satin smooth to the waist. But near the top, just under her shoulder blades, the fabric overlapped in a way a formal dress shouldn't. I eased the placket aside with my fingertips.
There it was. Not a tear. Construction.
Two flat strips of white velcro held an inner panel to the outer gown. They were sewn in straight lines, about an inch wide, hidden under a ruffle of lining. Below them, a wider elastic strap crossed side to side, stitched to hold weight. The satin over it was cut fuller to make the round shape hang right.
I didn't touch the straps. I just looked long enough to be sure. "There's velcro," I said quietly. "Two strips. And an elastic band underneath."
Marcello didn't move. "Is that part of the design?"
"It has to be secured for the event," she said fast. "Couture does that. You wouldn't understand."
Lily leaned in, her blue bows brushing my arm. I lifted a corner of the lining just enough that it made that soft scratch when it shifted against itself.
Lily's face changed right away. "That," she said. "That's the ruffle I heard."
The woman jerked away from my hand and stood so fast the chair scraped. "She's three. She hears what she wants to hear. You're both—" Her voice cracked up loud, then stopped. She pressed her lips together and put her hand back on the front of the gown like she could hold the whole evening in place.
"Don't," Marcello said. It wasn't loud. "Don't yell in here."
She looked from him to me to Lily. The anger drained out of her shoulders all at once and left something flat. She didn't cry. She didn't explain. She just went silent and sat back down, arms crossed low over the round front.
May you like
I let the placket fall back into place. From the front, the gown looked untouched again, smooth and bright. From the back, I knew where the join was.
No one said pregnant. No one said real or fake. We didn't need to. The dress was built to carry something separate, and she wasn't arguing about the stitching anymore.
