blue_butterfly

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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Flora squinted at the silk in her hand, holding it up to the light.

“What do you think?”  Eleanor leaned forward, her eyes sharply dissecting Flora’s every move.

“I think it’ll be fine.”  Flora laid the silk down carefully on the table, over the pattern she had designed.

“Fine, but not spectacular?”  Eleanor Nottingham frowned, settling back onto a leopard print chaise.  It was the wildest thing in the entire mansion, Flora had discovered.  In a house stuffed with antiques and classic oil paintings, the leopard print chaise roared boldness, which is probably why Eleanor had stuffed it in Flora’s grandmother’s old studio, tucked away in the back of the second floor away from curious eyes.

Much like Flora herself.

“I want something spectacular.”  The wrinkled hand slapped the chaise, diamond-laden fingers curling with frustration.  “I want something magnificent.”

“You and everyone else,” Flora muttered under her breath.  Plastering a smile on, she asked, “I still don’t think there was anything wrong with our original dress….”

“You said Astrid got a new dress, right?  She’s trying to mimic…that dress.”  Eleanor wrinkled her nose.  “And your mother is even having a gown designed, correct?”

“By Professor Skippy.”  Flora sighed, impatient.  “But I really think your gown…”

“I won’t be outdone by some 18-year-old strumpet,” Eleanor announced.  “Not on the anniversary of my dear Herald’s cornation.”

“Herald?”  Flora perked up, leaning forward.  “Your husband’s name was Herald?  I didn’t know that.”

“That’s because he hated that name.”  Nate strolled in, a black garment bag thrown over his shoulder.  “He would have died if anyone had known that was his name.  He mainly went by H, or his middle name, Lee.”  He kissed his grandmother on the cheek, her frown momentarily fading.  “Hey Flora.  I know we had an appointment later this afternoon at the shop, but I brought the tux here so you could get two things done at once.”  He handed her the bag.  “It was really nice of you to come see my grandmother so last minute this morning.  I know things are crazy for you at work.”

Flora blushed.  The exhaustion from a week of labor and two hours of sleep from sewing all night with Jackie and Miss Tuttlesworth lifted away with one flash of Nate’s smile.  Just one look from him, and she felt like she could run ten miles, leap over mountains.

And then Eleanor opened her mouth, and she felt as though someone had thrown her down a well.

“How kind of you, darling, to consider Flora’s schedule.  That reminds me, I bumped into Astrid’s mother in the market today.  She said Astrid still doesn’t have a date.  Have you not arranged your pre-Coronation details with her, darling?”  Eleanor reached over, plucking a scrap of scarlet satin from Flora’s scrap collection.  She turned it over in her spidery fingers, eying her grandson.

“Just because I’m king doesn’t mean I have to bring Astrid as my date.”  Nate frowned.  “And I definately don’t want to bring Astrid.”  Flora sat frozen at the table, watching Eleanor’s eyebrow arch to impossible limits.

“And why is that?”  Even Flora shivered at her frosty tone.

“Astrid’s just like all the other girls.” Nate’s face crinkled into the same disgusted expression his grandmother had worn seconds earlier.  “I know who I want to ask.”

“Oh?”  Eleanor leaned forward, crumpling the scarlett scrap in her hand.  “And who would this girl be?”

Nate stepped towards Flora’s work table, his hand lingering on a stack of sketches.  “A girl with talent and skill, who isn’t afraid to be herself.  A girl who is charming and fun, with a bit of mystery.”  His finger brushed her arm.  Flora held her breath, feeling Eleanor’s eyes lasering through her.  “A girl who isn’t upset if you hit her with a golf ball.”

Flora grinned automatically, glancing up at him.  “A girl like that would be hard to find.”

He winked.  “Not as hard as you think.”  Picking up a tape measure off the table, he handed it to her.  “So do you want to check me real quick before you return to Grandmother’s bidding?  I know you’ve got to get back to the shop.”

“I don’t have much,” Flora assured him, getting to her feet. Miraculously, she avoided knocking over the table with her stomach as she slid out of the narrow space.  Pulling the tux out of the bag, she handed Nate the jacket as she took the measuring tape from him.  “Astrid just needs another fitting this afternoon, and I’ve got class tonight.  After my homework, I’ll be done.”

“Homework?” Nate shrugged on the jacket, careful not to dislodge the pins.  He held up the pants over the front of his waist.  Lowering onto her knees, Flora began to pin the hem.

“We have to design our dream dress.  It’s a lot of fun.”  She flushed as he watched her scoot around the floor, bumping her knee against the table.  A sketch fluttered off and she grabbed for it as it draped itself gingerly over Eleanor’s heels.

“I’m so sorry!”  She plucked the sketch off Eleanor’s feet and placed it back on the table.  “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.”  Eleanor’s teeth snapped.  Her skin was blood red, her brow sharp and lips curled into a venomous snarl.   Stumbling back, Flora jabbed her hand on a pin.

“You must get tired of designing dresses,” Nate continued, oblivious of the tension smoldering around him.  “Hey grandmother, why don’t you tell Flora about her grandmother?  Ya’ll must have had a blast together.”

“She was hardly a friend, Nathaniel.  She was an employee.”  Eleanor rose off the leopard chaise, tossing the wrinkled scarlet silk onto Flora’s table.  “Flora, can you stop by after class tonight?  I’ve decided to go with the scarlet after all.  I’ll have the butler pick some up at the shop this afternoon so you can get started.  Three weeks isn’t much time.”

“But Grandmother, she has homework,” Nate protested.  “She’s not your personal designer.”

“It’s fine,” Flora countered, blushing as she slid the last pin through the hem.  “Really, it’s fine.”  Refusing to meet Eleanor’s stare, she hobbled to her feet.  “I’ve got to head to the shop now, but I’ll be back.”  Hanging Nate’s pants on a rack, she couldn’t help a smile.  “And your tux should be done in a few days.”

“Just in time,” Nate rubbed his hands together.  “I expect to ask my date by then.”

Eleanor’s jaw ground together.  “Nathaniel, I’m not feeling so well.  Will you go get my pills?”

“Sure, Grandmother.” Nate winked at Flora before sauntering down the hall, his jaunty whistle floating through the air.  Eleanor raised a single eyebrow, her sharp gaze slicing through Flora.  Bending her head, Flora scurried about, tossing scraps and pins and scissors into her sewing bag.  “So you’ve decided to go with the scarlett?  You’ll look wonderful in that.  I really think it’s a good color for you”–

“Your grandmother was a fabulous seamstress,” Eleanor interrupted.  “You’re better than her.”

“Thank you.”  Flora stopped, stunned.  Her fingers clutched at her apron.  “That’s very kind.”

“You want to go to design school, yes?”  Eleanor eyed her.

Flora sucked in her breath.  “More than you know.”

“If my dress turns out to my satisfaction, I can ensure you get a scholarship at Parson’s in New York.  I have several friends there.”  Ignoring Flora’s gasp, Eleanor pressed on.  “But you must focus on your work, and only your work.  If my dress is not to my satisfaction, if I’m not the star of Coronation, then I won’t bother to call my friends after all.”  Her gaze burned into Flora.  “Do we understand each other?”

Flora gulped.  “Perfectly.”

“Good.”  Turning on her heel, Eleanor strode down the hall, her footsteps silent.  “I expect you at 7:30, right after class.  I’ll have the chef fix you a salad.”

“Thank you,” Flora stuttered to the empty room.  Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the chaise, the room spinning around her.

There were more secrets than she expected in this mansion.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have the end of All Hallow’s Eve tomorrow!  Stay tuned!

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