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The early rays of sunlight had barely pierced the sleepy sky when Flora unlocked the shop.  Stepping inside, she slid on her apron and flipped on the lights, dropping the crusts of her peanut butter sandwich (her idea of the perfect breakfast) in the trash.  Flora never ate the crusts, if she could help it.  It was a quirk that drove her mother nuts.

Of course, everything Flora did drove Heather Oak nuts.  Breathing drove her nuts.  Existing drove her nuts.

Twisting her hair in a bun, Flora pulled out her measuring tape and got to work.  She loved working in the early morning, while the world was still sleeping.  Alone in the quiet, the rising sun peeking through the blinds, a dress that might have seemed like a disaster the night before was now full of possibilities.  Her mind buzzed with ideas, her fingers flying with thread as thin as a silkworm’s across material as delicate as a spider’s web.  In the morning, everything was magic.

Plus, her mother never got up before ten.  It was the best part of Flora’s day.

Sliding her glasses over her nose, Flora pulled out the designs of Astrid’s dress.  Grabbing a bolt of cloth, she began to cut and measure.  As she pinned and sliced through fabric, she thought of the silver butterfly shoes.  She had to know who the shoes had belonged to, who had created them.  There was something about them, something that tugged at her memory, like a dream long forgotten.  Humming softly, Flora reached for a pin and touched something warm and soft instead.  Whirling around, she gasped and leaped back.  An older woman in a suit was standing behind her, eying her work with curiosity.

“Forgive me for scaring you,” the woman said with a smile.  “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.  I tried whistling and calling out, but I’m afraid you were in your own little world.”

Flora stepped back, her hand resting on her throat.  She frowned at the older woman, her eyes traveling over her neat grey chignon, her elegant green silk suit.  Her wrinkled face dimpled at Flora’s confusion.  “Again, I apologize.  I saw you from the window and was just so curious…may I ask what you’re working on?”

“A dress,” Flora answered automatically.  “It’s for an event.”

“The princess’s coronation?”  The woman smiled at Flora’s wide eyes.  “Your reputation proceeds you, dear.  Everyone knows you’re the seamstress for social events.”

Flora shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip.  “So they tell me.”  Fiddling with the needle in her hand, she absently threaded it through the front of her sewing apron.  “We’re not officially open, but may I help you with something?”

“Perhaps.”  The woman stepped over, her eyes raking over the design pages scattered on the table.  They widened and she gasped.  “Did you design this yourself?  Without a pattern?”

“Yes.”  Self conciously, Flora stepped over and grabbed her designs, stacking the pages and sliding them under a folder.

“It seems you inheirited your grandmother’s talent.  She was a brilliant seamstress…”  The woman’s eyes clouded over, and she looked away abrubtly.

“You knew my grandmother?”  Flora automatically fingered the silver butterfly around her neck.  “Wasn’t she wonderful?  I just wish I’d gotten to see more of her gowns…”

“Why aren’t you in New York or Paris?”  The question came out like a shot, the words peppering the air.

Taking a step back, Flora shrugged.  Her fingers twirled the butterfly, brushing her collerbone.  “Several reasons.”  She gave the woman an akward smile.  “But I’m studying at the college, under Proffessor Skippy.”

“Ah, yes.  She made several of my dresses in the past.  She was once quite popular.”  The woman stared at the dummy, one finger tapping her chin.

“I had no idea.”  Flora shifted as her stomach growled.  She glanced at the clock.  10:30.  Her mother would be here any minute.  “Is there any occasion you needed a gown for?”

The woman smiled.  “Perhaps.  I’ll be in touch.  You do wonderful work.  I apologize again for startling you.”  Patting Flora’s shoulder, she slid out the door as Heather Oak, wearing sunglasses and a scowl, stormed inside.

“Who was that?” she demanded, glaring at Flora as she gulped down an industrial size thermos of coffee.

“I’m not sure.”  Flora twisted the butterfly, her shoulders shrinking up.  “She didn’t say.  But she liked my work.”

Heather Oak snorted.  “I doubt that.  She probably was buttering you up for a discount.”  She frowned at her daughter.  “Well, don’t just stand there!  Not only do you have Astrid’s dress and Nate’s tux, but you have to do the final fitting on Jasmine’s prom dress today.  Plus, you’ve got three new client meetings and a whole list of errands to run for me.  Starting with my breakfast.  I want donuts.  I’m starving.”

Flora rolled her eyes and repressed a sigh.  “I have class tonight at six.”

Heather Oak smirked.  “Then you better get moving, shouldn’t you?”  Shoving a ten dollar bill at Flora, she turned and marched into her office.  “Hurry up!  I’m hungry!”

Repressing a second sigh bubbling up within her, Flora hurried out the side door.  The magic of the morning had been broken.  Now, it would just be more hustle and bustle, another day until class.  Stopping to watch a butterfly float over a cluster of honeysuckle, she grinned.

Maybe there was another way.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a new Halloween story tomorrow and more whimsical fun!

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