For those who are new, The Butterfly Dress is a story about Flora, a girl trapped in dismal job as a seamstress and dressmaker to her cruel mother. Although she dreams of designing gowns in New York or Paris, she is forced to settle for creating prom dresses for local girls while attending class at the local college. When she receives the chance to design the Coronation Queen’s gown for a local ball, magical things begin to happen. As she dives deeper into the ball’s mysterious past and its handsome prince, it’s a pair of shoes that might lead her to her final destiny.

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“And see, I’ve got the beadwork on the bodice done.”  Miss Tuttlesworth pulled out the tiny bit of fabric that would barely wrap around Flora’s arm and held it flat against the back of the booth.  Shimmering under the diner lights, Flora didn’t know if she was more impressed by the tiny size of whatever girl could wear that or the craftsmanship.  Microscopic beads sparkled like stars around a delicate clasp in the center of the sweetheart neckline, a crystal butterfly glimmering demurely.   It managed to be young and whimsical without looking like infantile or cheap. Flora’s mind drifted, thinking of what Proffessor Skippy and Eleanor had said.  Who was the girl who had worn the butterfly dress her grandmother had designed?  And what ever happened to it? Flora poked listlessly at her pancakes, her bacon flailing helplessly in a sea of syrup.

“And then I was thinking for the skirt, tiered organza, like a flower…”  She stopped, waving a French Fry in front of Flora’s face.  “Flora?  Flora!”

Flora jumped, her fork clattering to the table.  “I’m sorry.”  She pressed her fluttering fingers to her red cheeks.  “I guess I was just thinking about the butterfly dress design I found in my grandmother’s journal.”  She picked up her fork, jamming it into the stack of soggy pancakes.  “Everyone’s so mysterious about it.”

“It’s a sore subject with Professor Skippy.”  Miss Tuttlesworth tucked her bodice back into her sewing bag.  “She used to be a model you know.”

Flora snorted.  “Is that why she’s always running around with the head of the photography department?  Even though he’s more gay than”–

“Precisely.”  Miss Tuttlesworth giggled.  “She used to brag she’d be the first model to design her own dresses.  And after she was Cornation queen at 18, everyone thought she would go off to New York to be a model.”

“What happened?”  Flora flicked her fork, drooping slowly towards the mushy pancakes.

“Well, she left, for a week.”  A satisfied smile crept over Miss Tuttlesworth’s plump cheeks.  “Then she came crawling back and would never tell anyone what happened.  She went here for college and never really left, becoming a professor.”    She leaned forward, her eyes glittering.  “She’s obsessed with those butterfly shoes though.  She hasn’t quit asking about them since I gave them to you.”

Flora stopped flicking her fork and raised her head.  “Wait a minute.  She’s got all sorts of dresses in the college store room, right?”

Miss Tuttlesworth rolled her eyes.  “Hundreds.  Thousands.  It’s ridiculous.”

“What if the original butterfly dress is in there?”  Flora sucked in her breath.  “What if she stole it?”

Miss Tuttlesworth quickly returned to her plate, raising her burger to her lips.  Ketchup dripped off her fingers, splattering against her plate. “What if it is?”

“Well if it is, it’d be the greatest gown ever!”  Flora nearly knocked over her orange juice as she flung her arms in the arm.  “Better than the one I’m making for Astrid, that’s for sure!  Imagine how grand it was.  Imagine…my grandmother spent hours on it.  At least if we find it, I can give it a better home than the back of dusty storeroom in some small town college.”

Miss Tuttlesworth shook her head, her eyes wide.  “No, Flora.”

“Why not?”  Flora reached for her teacher’s arm.  “Miss Tuttlesworth…”

“No, no.”  The older woman paled, the burger trembling in her stained fingers.  “Flora, don’t ask that.  The shoes were bad enough.”  She took a huge bite, swallowing hard.  “Why are you so obsessed with this butterfly dress?”

“Because if it wasn’t a big deal, people would have talked about it.”  Flora leaned forward.  “Don’t you see, Miss Tuttlesworth?  There’s some kind of history here.  Something that is off.  And it’s all got to do with the coronation and the butterfly dress.”

Miss Tuttlesworth shoved the rest of the burger in her mouth, her cheeks bulging out.  She slapped a bill on the table and gathered up her sewing bag, staining the fabric with her greasy fingertips.

“I thought you were coming over!”  Flora reached for her.  “Wait, we were going to work on your dress!”

“Tomorrow.”  Miss Tuttlesworth wheezed, thumping her chest.  “Tough bun.”  She gulped down her coke.

“I’ve got to work tomorrow and then go to Eleanor’s.”  Flora tried to catch her eye.  “Miss Tuttlesworth, wait.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

Clutching her bag to her chest, Miss Tuttlesworth shook her head.  “Flora, don’t mess with Professor Skippy.  It’s not worth it.  And don’t ask Eleanor anymore questions.”

“Why not?”  Flora raised an eyebrow.  “What’s wrong with asking about things?”

Miss Tuttlesworth’s chin trembled.  “Look, I don’t know much.  But what I do know is that no one wants me to know anymore.”  She squeezed her sewing bag tighter.  “I just want to win my prom dress contest and get out of town.   And if you’re smart, you’ll want to do the same.  I’ll see you in two days.”  Before Flora could say a word, her teacher was threading through the tables, barreling out the door of the restaurant like she had been shot.

Plopping down her own bill, Flora slid out of the booth, sliding her bag over her arm.  She stepped onto the sidewalk and paused, swiveling her head towards the direction of the school.  With a sigh, she turned and dragged her heavy feet towards her cottage, each step like swimming in molasses.   The winding sidewalk carried her to the Nottingham estate, sliding her through the servant’s entrance.  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice the golf ball flying through the air until it slammed into the lush earth between her sandeled toes.

“Flora!”  She turned, smiling at Nate’s eager face.  “I’ve been trying to get your attention for ages!”  He jogged up to her, his blue eyes twinkling.  “I can only hope you were dreaming of me.”

She couldn’t believe the next words that flew out of her mouth.  “Nate, would you take me to your grandmother’s gardens?”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a new All Hallow’s Eve tomorrow!

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