Hindy frowned. “If the whole personality is on the back, you won’t see much in the pictures”
Hindy insisted on joining Shevy for her gown appointment, and I figured, why not? She helps out so much at home, she deserves a treat.
They showed up at 4:30, the last appointment of the day.
“New furniture?” Shevy asked, pointing to the square glass table at the far end of the showroom.
“Uh-huh,” Yocheved said. “It was high time for a conference table. Like it?”
“Love it. So cool.”
Yocheved threw me a smirk, her victory flag for the protest I’d put up when she’d ordered that ridiculous table. Not that the table wasn’t pretty. It was her new meshigas of conducting gown meetings that drove me batty.
She plunked a pile of catalogs onto the table. “Okay! Here goes!”
I flipped open my notepad to a blank page. My fingers tingled as I wrote the name Genuth.
Shevy slid her elbows onto the table. “For sure a tulle skirt, right?”
Hindy rolled her eyes. “Total cop-out. Everyone does tulle. Can’t we be different?”
I glanced up at Yocheved. “Nu?”
“Nu?” she echoed.
We looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Is this how our customers feel? It’s terrifying!”
“I know!” Yocheved said. “Should I—?”
She gestured at the notepad. I passed it to her.
Shevy and Hindy came around the table to watch. It was quiet while Yocheved scribbled, sketched, erased, and sketched some more. After ten minutes, she slapped the pad down on the table. “Well?”
She had drawn a gown profile, a basic bodice with princess seams, the center back panel extending into the skirt and evolving into an elaborate pattern of tiers.
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Hmmm…”
Hindy frowned. “If the whole personality is on the back, you won’t see much in the pictures.”
Yocheved chuckled. “Budding fashionista.”
“It’s interesting,” I said slowly.
“What about the fabric?” Shevy asked.
“Lace,” Yocheved said automatically. “With very special beading.” She smiled at me coyly.
My stomach lurched. “Noooo,” I whispered. “Not Anuradha.”
Shevy’s eyes were alert.
“What’s Anuradha?” Hindy asked.
“Not what, who,” Shevy corrected her. “She’s that Indian lady, she does beading work by hand.”
(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 663)