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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The week spun around her, leaving her dizzy and exhausted.  She had worked five 12-hour days, eating a squished sandwich as she walked to Mrs. Nottingham’s estate or dragged herself to meet Miss Tuttlesworth at her garden studio.  As soon as she was done helping others with their gowns, she would work on her project for Proffessor Skippy’s class.

The project was Flora’s secret.  The assignment had been to design a gown of your dreams.  And there was only one thing Flora dreamed, night after night.  She dreamed of dancing in his arms, twirling around the gardens in a gown that defined gorgeous.

“It’s really a gown of dreams,” she confided to the butterfly, pushing back her greasy hair as her face cracked in a yawn.  She rubbed the royal blue satin across her cheek, closing her eyes as it slid across her skin.  “See, this is what it will look like.”  She held up a paper to the tiny cage.  “It’ll sweep out like this, with full skirts.  Strapless, with a lace up corset in back.  But then this wrap goes with it, so it’ll flutter like butterfly wings over my arms.  Yes, you’re an inspiration.”  She winked at the cage.  “Don’t get cocky now.”  She turned the sketch toward her, sliding her fingers over it.  “But the best part is the skirt.  I’m going to sew on tiny shimmering beads, so it looks as though I walked through a garden of stars and the light clung to my skirts.”  Sighing, she turned toward the cage.  “Don’t you think it’ll be gorgeous?”

“I think it’ll be lovely.”  Flora jumped, then relaxed as Jackie’s grinning face peered through her living room windows.

“I should have never given you that key,” she teased.

“Then I couldn’t have shown up to help you.  I brought sustenance.”  Jackie sat down a box of pizza and opened up the lid, inhaling the steam.  “One for me, one for you and Mrs. Tuttlesworth.”  She glanced around, her brow furrowing.  “Where is she? Wasn’t that who you were talking to?”

“Uh, actually,”  Flora stammered.  As if answering her prayers, the doorbell rang.  Flora fanned her burning cheeks, sliding past Jackie and going to the front door.  Mrs. Tuttlesworth swept in, clutching her sewing bag and a garment bag nearly the size of a small country.

“That’s the dress?”  Jackie wiped a string of cheese off her chin, taking another huge bite of pizza.  “Are you serious?  It’s huge!”

“It’s a prom dress.  All prom dresses are huge.  Don’t you remember yours?”

Jackie grinned, reaching for a second piece.  “You should have seen it, Mrs. Tuttlesworth.  It was great.  Flora and her grandmother made it for me.  Long, silver, sleek.  I looked so hot.  I played lacrosse then so I had gorgeous arms.  My date drooled the whole night.”  She picked off a pepperoni and flicked it in her mouth, cackling.  “And went home disappointed.”

Chuckling, Mrs. Tuttlesworth unzipped the bag, pulling out her gown.  Jackie’s indrawn breath was reward enough for the hours she and Flora had already poured into the dress.  “Wow!  When do you have to send it in?”

“At the end of the week,” Mrs. Tuttlesworth replied, running her fingers over the skirt lovingly.  “That’s why I was so happy you and Flora could help me.  It’ll take me at least that long to do all the hemming.”  She pressed her lips together, turning to Flora.  “Are you sure that’s going to leave you enough time to finish your gown?  It’s due Friday.”

“I’m sure,” Flora lied, swallowing a yawn threatening to engulf her.  “Mrs. Nottingham’s gown is almost done.  Astrid’s gown just needs detail work–the second one, that is.  I got most of the prom and Spring Fling gowns from various clients done this week.  And proffessor Skippy is doing Heather’s gown, so that’s fine.”

Jackie rolled her eyes.  “I can’t believe she’s entering Cornation.  That’s so gross.”  She reached for her third slice, then paused.

“Too much?” Mrs. Tuttlesworth ran her tounge over her teeth, eying her own slice.

“No, I just realized.  Cornation is in three weeks exactly from today.”

“So soon?”  Miss Tuttlesworth shivered.  “It seems so far away still.”

“Not for me.”  This time, the yawn escaped, her eyes watering.  “I can’t wait for it to be over.”  She groaned, slapping her forehead.  “Oh God, Nate’s tux.  I forgot to pin it and he’s got a fitting tomorrow.”

“I can come back,” Mrs. Tuttlesworth offered halfheartedly, clutching the skirt of the half-finished teal gown.

“Oh no.  I’ll get it done.  Just give me one of those cokes.”  Flora forced a smile, grabbing a paper plate and loading it up with pizza.  She plopped down next to Jackie, who had discovered the bag of bread sticks.  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll start sewing.”

“Just tell me what to do to help.”  Jackie took a long swallow of her soda, popping the last bite of breadstick in her mouth.

“Wipe your hands,” Miss Tuttlesworth replied, yanking the fabric away from Jackie’s glistening fingertips.

Smearing her legs across her overalls, Jackie wiggled her eyebrows.  “Who is Nate taking, Flora?”

“Where?”  Flora mumbled around a mouthful.

“To Cornation, duh!”  Jackie swatted at her.  “I mean Astrid is a princess, but he’s not going there with her, is he?  It’s so obvious he’s into you.”

Flora swallowed.  “He’s just nice.”  She chewed on her lip.  “Last time I saw him it was weird.  I asked him to show me the gardens–I was looking for the butterfly dress.”

“Flora!” Miss Tuttlesworth gasped.  “Why?  I told you to be careful!  Just drop the butterfly dress!”

“I still think it’s weird all those dresses are in the garden,” Jackie muttered.

“I can’t.  It’s all anyone talks about and I want to know why.”  Flora frowned.  “We found the glass case in his grandfather’s shed, but then Mr. Grissom started yelling us.  He was acting really strange, talking about history repeating itself and me staying away from Nate.”

Jackie snorted.  “Why should you stay away from a hot rich guy that likes you?”

“I don’t know,” Flora replied, watching Miss Tuttlesworth carefully turn away, hiding her face.  “It was weird.”

“Shall we get started, girls?”  Miss Tuttlesworth suggested, her voice squeaking. “Time is getting away from us!”

Flora frowned, watching as Miss Tuttlesworth bustled within her bag.  Swallowing her superstition, she polished off her pizza. The mood had turned tense, the quietness pressing down on them.  Flora stood and tossed the plate in the trash.  “Dare me?”

“Do it.”  Jackie stood, grinning.  It was a ritual they had for years.

Draining the coke can, Flora tossed it in the trash.  It bounced off the lid, smacking her sketch and knocking her grandmother’s sketchbook to the ground.  Dozens of papers and sketches slid across the room, including the one for the butterfly dress.

“You missed!” Jackie crowed gleefully as Flora bent, sweeping up the sketches.  Her eyes roamed over them, drinking in the beauty of her grandmother’s designs.  Placing the butterfly dress carefully on the top, a tiny mark on the corner of the page caught her eye.

H.N.

A man’s signature, two tiny initials.  Her stomach began to curl, and she knew it wasn’t the pizza.  It was as though someone had laid the pattern out for her and handed her a needle and thread.  All she had to do was stitch it together.  Glancing back at the sketchbook, she chewed on her lip.

“Hey Flora!  Teach me how to hem!”  Jackie’s voice jarred her from her thoughts.

“Sure,” she replied automatically, turning and picking up a sleeve of Miss Tuttlesworth’s gown.  As her fingers nimbly crossed the silk, her mouth explaining without her, her thoughts floated away to the Nottingham gardens, to the gowns encased in glass, their secrets pinned tightly under satin and lace.

There was more to her grandmother than she could have ever imagined.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  There’s more whimsy coming up!

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