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 had designed dresses for beauty queens.  She had designed dresses for rich 16-year-old debutantes and their mothers who thought they were still 16, or at least wished it.  She had designed for friends, for enemies and for total strangers.

And even with the warmth of Jackie’s laugh in her ears and delicious pizza resting happily in her belly, she had never been as nervous as she was at this moment.  Her hands wrung together, plucking at her skirt as Eleanor Nottingham examined her gown.  “Do you like it?”

Eleanor raised the scarlet skirt, her sculpted face void of any expression.  She peered at the delicately scalloped boat neck, the chiffon sleeves.  Running her finger over the delicate beading on the bodice, she turned towards Flora.  Flora winced, her teeth slamming down on the soft inside of her cheek.  Squinching her eyes, she waited for the verbal lashing to begin.

Instead, Eleanor smiled.  “It’s gorgeous.  I love it.”

Flora exhaled, her shoulders falling.  “I’m so glad.  I was so worried.”

“So was I,” Eleanor admitted bluntly.  She stroked the chiffon sleeve, rubbing the thin fabric between her fingers.  “But I must say…this is wonderful.  Better than your grandmother.”

Flora blushed, glancing down at her shoes.  Against the Oriental carpet, they looked clunkier than ever.  “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”  Eleanor turned towards the sewing desk, sliding open a small drawer.  She pulled out a plump envelope and handed it to Flora.  “For you.”

“Thank you.”  Flora slid the envelope in her bag without glancing at it.  “Is there anything else I can do for you?  Are you sure you don’t need any alterations?”

“That envelope contains more than your fee,” Eleanor said, acting as though Flora had never spoke.  “It also contains a copy of the letter I shall fax to my friend at Parson’s tomorrow.  I know you and Professor Skippy have had a falling out–no, that’s all right,” she said as Flora winced.  “She is a hard woman, and bitter at her own lack of success.”  A thin smile crept across her papery lips.  “With luck, that shall not happen to you.”

Flora tried to force the lump in her throat down, her mouth as dry as the Sahara.  “Um…thank you, ma’am.”  Picking up her sewing bag, she backed towards the door.  “I hope you have a wonderful time at Coronation.”

Eleanor’s eyes gleamed, and Flora resisted the urge to shudder.  “Twenty years, Flora.  For twenty years, I have waited for this Coronation.”  She picked up her gown, pressing it to her thin body.  “And now, on the night my grandson becomes king…now, I shall finally be the true Queen.”  She snorted.  “That little Astrid…she’s sweet, but she’s not a Nottingham.  And tomorrow night…tomorrow night the Nottingham name shall regain it’s former place.”

“Because of the butterflies?”  Eleanor’s sharp gaze turned toward her, and Flora clutched her bag until her knuckles cracked.

“How did you hear?” she hissed. “Who told you?”

“Nate, ma’am.”  Flora gulped.

The dress still pressed to her lean frame, Eleanor crept towards her.  “When?” she snarled.  “When did he tell you?”

“When we were working on his tux, ma’am.”  Flora stepped back, holding up her bag as a shield.  “My friend Jackie works at a nursery and gave me a butterfly…he knew how much I liked them.  He told me you had special ones, silver ones.”  She was babbling now, nervous words dropping from her lips.  “Butterflies that shone in the moonlight, shimmered in the evening.”

Eleanor’s face relaxed.  “Oh, of course,” she said smoothly, hanging her dress on the garment rack as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.  “Of course, dear.”  She glanced at her watch.  “Well, I know it’s early, but this old bird needs to get her beauty sleep for the Coronation.”  She smiled.  “You know your way out?  The servant’s exit is to the left.”

Flora didn’t mention she’d been going out of that door for weeks.  “Yes, ma’am.”  Tilting her head, she backed into the hallway.  “Please let me know if you need any more gowns.”

“I’ll call you directly.  It’s fabulous I won’t have to deal with your mother anymore.”  As Flora’s jaw dropped, Eleanor chuckled.  “You must know dear, I know everything.”

“Apparently,” Flora muttered.  Waving a final goodbye, she waited until she was out of Eleanor’s sight to bolt down the hall.  Instead of slipping out the servant’s exit, she scurried through the kitchen and down the hallway, bursting out into the gardens.  Grinning at the stolen chocolate croissant clutched in her fingers, she raised it to her lips with a pleased sigh.  Just as she raised it to her lips, she saw a tall lanky shape emerge from the shadows of a cluster of mountain laurels.

“Mr. Grissom!” she called, waving her croissant.  “Mr. Grissom!”

The old gardener glanced back, anxious wrinkles fading when he spotted Flora.  “What are you doing here so late?”  In a few short strides, the old man had closed the distance between them.

“Well, I was wondering if you could help me with something…” Flora began, jumping as an arm slid around her waist.  Whirling around, a pair of lips planted against hers before she could speak.  Pulling back, she found herself bathed in the glow of Nate’s grin.

“Mr. Grissom!” Keeping Flora pinned firmly to his side, Nate reached forward and pumped the gardner’s hand.  “How are you?  Listen, Flora and I need your help.  We’re trying to find one of her grandmother’s dresses–the butterfly dress.  And after we went to my grandfather’s greenhouse”–

“You did what?”  The old man’s face turned ashen.  “Nate, why would you ever go there?  Especially right before Coronation?”

“What’s wrong with going to my grandfather’s greenhouse?”  Nate’s brow crinkled, his arm tightening around Flora.  “Mr. Grissom–what’s wrong?”

Mr. Grissom’s mouth opened and closed like the koi by Flora’s feet, his eyes darting around wildly.  “I tried–I tried–but it’s too late. You…him… It’s too late now.  The Coronation is tomorrow….”

“Mr. Grissom, I don’t understand.”  Flora shook her head.  “What’s wrong?”

“Everything, apparently.”

Flora watched as the last shades of color drained from the elderly gardner’s face.  He pulled off his floppy hat, bending his head.  “Mrs. Nottingham, I tried….I told them…”

“I know.”  Eleanor cringed as Eleanor Nottingham’s cool words sliced through her.  “I know.”  She turned, cringing under the older woman’s icy gaze.  “I always know.”

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a new Sidewalk Dreams tomorrow!

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