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Flora had always wondered what fashion designers felt like around models.  Now she knew: short, dumpy and fat.  Lowering her eyes from Astrid’s gorgeous features, she squeaked, “Me?  You want me to make your coronation dress?”

The girl laughed, low and throaty, and tossed a shimmering cascade of golden curls causally over a perfectly tan shoulder.  “Flora, surely you know you’re the seamstress.  Your name is a carefully guarded secret around the s0ciety set around here.   If I wasn’t going to cornation, I doubt I’d get in.”

“Huh?” Flora grabbed the back of a chair.  Her head was spinning faster than the pizza dough she and Jackie had watched the restaurant owner twirl a few minutes ago.  “Are you sure you’ve got the right girl?  I’m just a seamstress.”

Astrid arched a manicured eyebrow.  “Did you design and sew Candace Green’s debutante debut ballgown in a week?  The white one with all the beads and sequins?”

“Yes, but”–

“Tabatha Mercy’s pink prom gown?”

“Yes, but”–

“Danielle Wellington’s wedding dress?”  Astrid’s lips curled.  “They say the train lasted longer than her marriage did.”

“She’s divorced?”  As much as she worked with the ladies of society, Flora scarcely listened to the gossip.  Her mother did enough of that for both of them.

Astrid gave Flora the smile that had won her Princess.  “So you see, you’re the only one that can make my coronation dress.”

“Yes, but…”  Flora gripped the chair harder, her chest tight with panic.  “This is coronation. This is the event.  Why don’t you go to New York or Paris and get a couture gown?”  Every breath took effort as her mind raced.  Coronation was the biggest event of the year for the city.   Tourists would pile in from miles around to watch the princess be crowned.  Then there were the parades, the parties and festivals and the Ball.  The Coronation Ball was the event for miles around.  Many ladies spent months searching for perfect designer dresses to suit whatever the theme was, and even more time dieting and primping for the occasion.  To the people of her city, Coronation was bigger than Christmas.

And now the Coronation Princess, the woman in the center of it all, wanted her, Flora Oak, to make her dress.

The room began to spin as Astrid’s musical voice washed over her.

“Flora, I know what I want.  I want you to make the dress.  I know it’ll be perfect.”  The blue eyes blinked, the rosy cheeks blooming.  “It’s a masquerade ball, so I’ll want something dramatic, enchanting, elegant. Magical.”  She glanced at her slim wrist and pouted.  “Oh dear, I’m late for an appointment.  Shall we meet next week to go over your sketches?  Say Tuesday at two?”  Without waiting for an answer, she picked up her bag and breezed through the doorway.  “I’m looking forward to it!” she called, a small bell tinkling as she pushed through the door.

Flora stared at the spot where Astrid had stood, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.

“Flora!” her mother screeched from across the building.  “Flora, did Astrid leave?”  Before Flora could reply, another scream blasted towards her.  “Flora, if Astrid left, you better get in here!  Not only did you bring me a big pile of lettuce instead of my pizza, but there’s a whole list of things that need to be done around here!”

Flora glanced at the dress on her worktable, then at her mother’s door.  Checking her watch, she sucked in her breath.  Ten till four.  She wouldn’t be late to class after all, if she hurried.  And being spared Proffessor Skippy’s wrath was almost as good as being spared her mother’s.

“FLORA!”

It didn’t take long to make her decision.  Grabbing her workbag, Flora rushed out of the office still wearing her sewing apron.  Alone in the office, her mother’s exasperated screeches went unheard.

***

“Now, when you cut on the bias, be sure you do so carefully…”

Flora scribbled in her workbook, her eyes flickering up furiously in order to barely miss a second.  Much to her delight, Professor Skippy was out today.  Instead, Miss Tulip Tuttlesworth had taken over. And other than Jackie, there was no one in the world Flora loved more than Miss Tulip Tuttlesworth.  Leaning forward in her seat, she watched as the older woman’s hands expertly sliced the fabric.

Miss Tulip looked up at the class and smiled.  “I believe that’s enough for today.  Professor Skippy will be out for this week and the next, so I’m afraid you’ll have me for awhile.”  The students sighed with relief as they packed up their bags.  Professor Skippy could terrify a armed crocodile.   Jotting down the last bit of notes in her notebook, Flora stretched and stood as the last dregs of students dribbled out of the room.

“How are you, Flora?”  Miss Tulip asked, peering at her through thick glasses.  Her drab brown hair was pulled back in a messy bun, her make up free skin shiny under the harsh florescent lights.  Picking up the bright green fabric, she held it against her grey dress and smiled.  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?  It’d be a lovely evening gown.”

“Or cocktail dress.”  Flora made her way towards her as the teacher smiled.

“Yes, yes, you have a good eye for these things.”  She patted Flora’s shoulder and set the fabric on the table.  “My dear, I know you’re very busy, but there’s a project I’d adore your help on.”

Flora beamed.  “Really?  There’s actually a project I wanted your advice on.”

The teacher slid the fabric into her workbag and pointed out the window.  “There’s a 24 hour cafe across the street.  Shall we have some pie and a chat?”

Flora’s thoughts flickered to the pizza she’d devoured earlier with Jackie.  Her stomach growled and her mouth watered.

“There’s nothing more in the world I would want more,” she said honestly.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a new Comfort and Whimsy tomorrow and more whimsical fun!  Stay tuned!

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