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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“What do you want?”  Flora squared her shoulders, facing her mother.  In the soft light of the brass lamps on her rustic end tables, her mother’s face looked more haggard and drawn than ever.  Harsh lines and shadowed angles of her sneering face, emphasized by her puffy cheeks and triple chin, more ridiculous than terrifying.  She looked like a cross Pillsbury dough boy stuffed in a red velour robe, scowling at Flora from the back of her slipcovered couch.

“Professor Skippy called me.”

“What’s your point?”  Flora ignored her mother’s gloating smirk.

“My point?”  Her mother gaped at her.  “Flora, she’s going to flunk you!  And she’ll keep you from getting your degree, you know she will.  She’s the dean’s right hand professor.  What on earth made you storm out like that?”

Flora grit her teeth.  “Did she tell you what she did to my dress?”

Her mother waved a plump hand.  “So what?  She said if you turned in another dress by Friday, you could still pass with a B.”

“A B?”  Flora snorted.  “The Coronation is on Friday.”

“So?”  Her mother cocked her head.  “Astrid’s dress is done and so is Nate’s tux.  All you have is Eleanor Nottingham’s dress.  You can do it.”

“Of course I can do it.”  Flora dropped her sewing bag in a chair, whirling around.  “But why should I?  My dress was gorgeous, the best in the class.  And she just destroyed it!”

“She’s the teacher.”  Her mother pursued her lips, her holier-than-thou attitude locking into place.  “It’s not your place to judge.”

“It’s not your place to defend her!”  Flora flung her arms in the air.  “Why are you here, mother?  Do you really care about me graduating or are you worried about how this will make you look?  Are you worried how Professor Skippy will tell all her friends how your daughter flicked her off and stormed out of class?”

“You flicked her off?”  Heather’s eyes bugged out.  “Flora, what has gotten into you?  You used to be such a nice girl.”

Flora cackled bitterly.  “Nice?  Oh yeah, I was nice.  Nice enough to get your extra large pizzas, nice enough to work my fingers to the bone while you made money off of me.”  She folded her arms over her chest.  “You know in five years of working for you, I’ve barely saved enough to pay for one semester  at Parson’s?”

“Then you better pray for a scholarship,” Heather hissed, sliding off the couch with a thump.  “Because as of now, you’re fired.”

“I’m fired.”  Flora let the harsh words burn into her tongue.  “Who’s going to make your dresses?”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of students Professor Skippy can recommend.”  Her mother flung the belt of the bathrobe around, tossing her head.  “Grateful students who will appreciate the experience I can give them.”  She marched down the hall, louder than a perturbed rhinoceros.  “When I win the prize at the Coronation ball, I do hope you’ll be gracious enough to applaud.”  The door slammed behind her, the walls trembling with tension.  A picture fell to the floorboards and cracked, angry slivers across the glass.

“The day you win is the day hell freezes over!” Flora shouted back, slamming her fist into the counter.  Swallowing back a wave of anger, she picked up the picture and tossed it onto the couch.  She didn’t want to see Jackie’s smiling face right now.  She didn’t want to see anyone’s smiling face.  Not when there was nothing to smile about.

Well, maybe Nate’s.

Leaving her sewing bag sprawled in a chair, she hurried out to her garden, letting the cool evening breeze brush back the hair clinging to her temples in damp strings.  She plopped into the hammock, turning towards the butterfly in his cage.

“You won’t believe who asked me to the Coronation Ball.”

***

“Flora, this is amazing,” Astrid breathed, taking in the gown peeking out of the plastic wrapping.  “I can’t believe you did this.  I’ll win the prize at the ball for sure.”

“Well, you’re Queen of the Coronation.”  Flora smiled.  “We couldn’t have you competing in any old gown.”

“It’s gorgeous.  Absolutely gorgeous.”  Astrid glanced up at Flora, her smile slipping.  “My mom told me what happened at Proffessor Skippy’s class.”

Flora’s smile froze, but stayed fixed on her cheeks.  “Considering that was 24 hours ago, news travels fast!”  She laughed, the hollow sound echoing around the quiet studio.

“Well, if she tries to fail you, my aunt works in LA as an actress,” Astrid said.  She gave Flora a hopeful grin.  “Maybe she could help you get a job as a stylist.”

Flora resisted gagging.  “Maybe.  Thanks.”

“So, you really won’t be working here anymore?”  Astrid glanced around, taking in the bare studio.  Flora had already removed all her gowns, all her sewing boxes and bolts of fabric.  Everything lay in the back seat of Jackie’s SUV down the street, waiting to return to her cottage.

“My mother wants to move in another direction.”  Flora’s teeth ground together.  “So it’s better if I move on.”

“Can I tell my friends?”  Astrid asked, delicately touching her own butterfly gown.  “I mean, I know as Queen I’ll have a lot of formal events.  And I’m going to be competing for Miss America soon…and then there’s my formal…”

“Please do.”  This time, Flora’s smile was real.  “I’d love to keep making dresses for you and your friends.”

“Good.”  Astrid exhaled in relief.  “You’ll probably get more business now that your stupid mom”–  She clapped her hands over her mouth as Flora laughed.  “I didn’t mean…”

“Yes you did.”  Flora’s eyes crinkled at the corners.  “And I appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s true.”  Astrid picked up her dress, draping it over her arm.  “So I’ll see you tomorrow at Coronation?”

“I guess so.”  Butterflies fluttered around her stomach, whirling through the twisted knots and jams.

“I have to tell you…”  Astrid paused in the doorway, her lips curved into a wistful smile.  “I envy you.”

“Me?”  Flora snorted, giggles pouring from her lips.  As Astrid stared at her steadily, the laughter faded.  “Are you serious?  Why?”

“You’ve got a serious talent, Flora.  You’ve got a real chance of making it.  Don’t ever forget that.”  Astrid raised the gown, fingering the silk skirt.  “Tomorrow night, people won’t remember me.  They’ll remember the gown.  I’m just the girl wearing it.”

“Don’t say”–

“Plus, you’re going to Coronation with Nate.”  Astrid winked.  “Do you know how many of my friends would kill to be in your spot?”

“I didn’t…”  Flora trailed off as Astrid held up a hand.

“I know.  We all know.  That’s what makes it so great.”  She pushed open the door, sliding through just as Jackie appeared through the glass.  “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Flora echoed, still plucking at her skirt with nervous fingers.  She stared at Astrid’s retreating figure stupidly as Jackie slid through the open door, poking her head inside.

“You got everything?”

“Oh.  Yeah.”  Flora forced herself to her feet.  “That was the last dress.”

“For now.”  Jackie grabbed her elbow, propelling her to the door.  “You know what you need?”

Flora grinned.  “Pizza and gossip?”

“That’s my girl.”  Winking, Jackie pulled her down the street.  Slinging her sewing bag over her shoulder, Flora marched ahead, her feet lighter with every step.

This time, she had left her mistakes behind her.

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