Chapter 5 - The Red Gown
Clara had no dress.
Adrian had made certain of that.
For several minutes after Malcolm left, she stood in her bedroom surrounded by clothing that suddenly seemed wrong for the evening ahead.
She did not want to appear wounded.
She did not want to look like a grieving wife seeking sympathy.
She needed to enter the ballroom as the person Adrian had worked so hard to erase.
Then she remembered a cedar chest in her mother’s old apartment.
Clara had not opened it since the funeral.
Inside were letters, photographs, jewelry, and several unfinished designs created by her mother’s closest friend, Elena Moretti.
Elena had once been a celebrated dressmaker. After retiring, she continued creating gowns for a small circle of friends.
Clara called her.
“Elena, I need your help.”
The older woman heard something in her voice.
“What did he do?”
Clara almost asked how she knew.
Instead, she told her everything.
Elena was silent for several seconds.
Then she said, “Come to my studio.”
The studio occupied the top floor of a narrow building downtown.
When Clara arrived, Elena was waiting beside a garment form covered in red satin.
“I began this for your mother,” she explained. “She wanted to wear it to your first board meeting as chairwoman.”
Clara touched the fabric.
“She never showed me.”
“She became ill before I finished it.”
The gown was elegant without being delicate. Its deep-red satin fell in clean lines, and the fitted bodice gave it a quiet strength.
“I can’t wear her dress,” Clara said.
“It was never hers.”
Elena opened a small envelope attached to the hanger.
Inside was a note in Clara’s mother’s handwriting.
For the day my daughter finally understands she does not need permission to take up space.
Clara’s eyes filled with tears.
Elena placed both hands on her shoulders.
“Do not cry for a man who was frightened by your light.”
“I’m not crying for him.”
“Good.”
For the next hour, Elena and two assistants adjusted the gown.
Clara’s assistant brought gold heels from her office. Malcolm arranged for the Bennett family diamonds to be delivered from the bank vault.
As Clara sat before the mirror, Elena carefully pinned her hair.
“Are you going to destroy him?” Elena asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he has already done that himself.”
Clara looked at her reflection.
“I’m only going to stop protecting him from the consequences.”
At eight thirty, a black car arrived.
Before leaving the studio, Clara placed the surviving embroidered flower from her mother’s burned gown inside her handbag.
She did not need to carry the ashes.
May you like
She only needed to remember what had survived.
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