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.

“Stop!”

Thrusting through the crowd of women, Mr. Grissom swam through the cloud of butterflies.  “Stop!  Mrs. Nottingham, you’ve got this all wrong!”

“Really?” Her hand still wrapped around the scissors, Eleanor sprawled over Flora.  She glanced up at her gardener, murder in her eyes.

“Yes.”  The gardner’s thin shoulders collapsed in his worn shirt.  “I promised him…The only reason…”  He sighed, holding out his hand.  “Might I show you ma’am?  Then I’ll collect my things and go.”

Eleanor hesitated, the tip of the scissors quivering over Flora’s chest.  With a curt nod, she allowed the gardener to pull her to her feet.  Nate crawled over to Flora, brushing off Astrid to help her up.  Wrapping the dummy in her arms protectively, Flora climbed to her feet, wobbling in her one high heel.

“Well, Mr. Grissom?”  Eleanor’s cool voice rang out over the garden.  “What do you want to show me?”

“This.”  He turned, holding his hands palms up as he walked to Flora.  “Flora, I need to do something.  Do you trust me?”

Without a word, Flora dropped her arms, watching as Mr. Grissom’s long fingers smoothed over the silver bodice, plucking a yellowed envelope from a small fold in the fabric.

“What?”  Eleanor dropped the scissors, the metallic shriek ringing across the stage.  “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Perhaps you better read it.”  Mr. Grissom handed the letter to Flora.  Pulling off his hat, he nodded.  “You’re just like her,” he whispered.  “Body and soul.”  Touching her cheek, he whispered, “She’d be proud.”  Clutching his hat to his chest, the old man hurried down the steps and vanished into the shadows.  As the silver butterflies floated around her, Flora smoothed out the paper and read:

“H, I know how you feel.  The butterflies say it all.  I know you raised them just for me, the Silver Oakwings.”

Mrs. Nottingham sucked in her breath, batting away a silver butterfly attempting to perch on her hair.

“But you have a wonderful wife who happens to be a dear friend.  And whether or not I love you doesn’t matter, as much as you may argue.  I am not one to break up a home or marriage.  I’m leaving, H, leaving to travel to Paris and open a boutique.  It is the only place I can mend my broken heart.  The gown is for you.  It’s always been for you.”  Flora raised her head, her eyes shining with tears.  “She sewed the dress for him.  She was going to go to Paris!  She planned to give this to him.  But then…”  She shook her head.  “Something happened.  What happened?”

“What happened was she lied!” Eleanor burst out, slamming her heel into the ground.  “She lied to him, she lied to me.  I saw them that night–ten years ago!  I saw her in that dress, saw the look on his face.”  Her face crumpled.  “He had never looked at me that way.”

“But that wasn’t her fault!” Flora cried, stepping closer to the woman.  She crumpled the letter in her hand.  “She never went to Paris.  She died three months later, miserable and sick.  What did you do?  What did you do?”

Eleanor turned away and Professor Skippy gasped, grabbing her arm.  “Eleanor, you didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?”  Eleanor spun around, ripping her arm out of her old friend’s grasp.  “You were only too eager to take over for her, if I remember!  Bowing and scraping like a peasant, picking up her leftovers like a pigeon with crumbs!”  She ripped the shoe out of Nate’s grasp and flung it at her.  Professor Skippy ducked, the shoe arching over her head and clattering to the ground.  Flora picked it up, sliding it on her foot.  Steadily, she strode to the two women.

“You did it, didn’t you?”  She turned to Eleanor, the crumpled scraps of the letter falling to her feet.  The silver butterflies flocked to her, fluttering around her head.  In the moonlight, a silver halo of incandescent beating wings arched around her bittersweet smile, the tears shining stronger than stars in her eyes.  “You drove her out, exiled her.  And she stayed here, to protect me.”  She smoothed her hand over her grandmother’s dress, a sharp pain piercing her chest.  “She left everything to me.  That’s why you hated me.  You thought I’d take Nate…”

“No, Flora.”  Professor Skippy shook her head, her tight face white with strain.  “We did more than that.”  She looked at Eleanor.  “It’s time.  It’s time we tell them.”

“Tell what?” Nate stepped to Flora’s side.  “Grandmother, what did you do?”

A mirthless smile stretched across her grandmother’s lips.  “Flora, your grandmother didn’t die of a broken heart.”  She lifted her hand, inviting a butterfly to land on her finger.  The butterfly refused, landing on Flora’s shoulder.  Eleanor stiffened, then laughed bitterly.  “Even the damned bugs like her better.”

Weary, Eleanor gathered the scarlett gown around her, turning to leave the stage.  “What does it matter,” she muttered.  “It’s ruined.  It’s all ruined.  Who cares anymore?  The Coronation is ruined, the ball ruined….This house reeks with her memories, her presence.”  Staring at Flora, she shook her head.  “She haunts me.  Through you, she haunts me.  To punish me for what I did.”

“Grandmother, what did you do?”  Nate reached out for her.  “What happened?  We can fix it.  I promise.”

Her bitter laugh rang out over the silent crowd.  “I can’t.  You can.”  Extending a hand, she turned to Flora.  “Care to come with me to the Greenhouse, dear? There’s something I must show you.”

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

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