“It’s, uh, an art project for school, and I really need an A. I didn’t complete some other assignments, and the teacher said that if I didn’t—”
Marjorie rolled her eyes and waved Emma off with her hand. “Spare me the soap opera. Who do you think has been dodging all those calls from Paige Young? Who didn’t let her back here when she came by the other day demanding to see Allegra Biscotti? I know I wasn’t born yesterday, but seriously, I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Emma gaped at Marjorie. Did she hear that correctly? Paige was looking for Allegra—here? Of course! It suddenly made total sense that Paige would come back to the place where she first saw Allegra’s designs to find her. No wonder Paige was having a total text-message meltdown.
“Don’t bother denying it,” Marjorie continued. “I’m not mad or anything. While you were in school, I saw what you had going on back here. I put two and two together. I’m smart like that,” she said, tapping her finger to her temple.
So Marjorie did figure it out!
After Noah had given Emma her work space, Marjorie had never once asked Emma what she was up to when she brought in shopping bags from Allure. Emma thought Marjorie hadn’t even noticed—or cared.
“Does…does my dad know?” Emma stammered.
“Nah.” Marjorie shrugged. “I figured you had your reasons not to tell him. Besides, I make it a rule never to get involved in office politics…or family matters,” she added with an arch of her eyebrow.
Emma felt her shoulders slide down a couple of inches away from her ears. “Oh, thank you!”
Marjorie reached for her reading glasses, which hung from her neck on a beaded chain, and placed them on the bridge of her nose. Then she picked up Emma’s design sketch of the vest, as well as the close-up sketches of how the pockets were meant to go, wrinkling her nose as she studied them.
“Slide over,” Marjorie commanded.
Still in shock over all the new information she just learned, Emma did as she was told, abandoning the chair in front of the sewing machine. Marjorie leaned over to inspect the two pockets Emma had sewn on.
“I think I see what’s going on here…” Marjorie said. Then she fiddled with some settings, lowered the presser foot and then the needle, revved up the motor, and let it rip.
“What are you doing?” Emma cried in horror. “Wait! Stop! You’ll ruin it!”
Chapter 12
It’s Technical
“Don’t worry!” Marjorie shouted over the hum of the sewing machine’s motor and the rapid-fire clack-clack-clack of the needle going up and down and in and out of the fabric. “I’m a professional. In my old life, I used to be a seamstress in the alterations department at Bergdorf Goodman.”
“Are you kidding me?” Emma stared in amazement as Marjorie whizzed over the seam, expertly going around the edge of the pocket piece at what seemed to Emma like hair-raising speed. “Why haven’t you ever told me?”
“Because you never asked,” Marjorie replied. “I did have a life before Laceland, you know.”
When Marjorie finished, she let up on the foot pedal, raised the needle and the presser foot, and pulled the vest out to the left. Then she took Emma’s scissors and snipped the two threads.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Marjorie said, examining her own seam, as well as Emma’s work on the rest of the piece. “Not bad here, honey. Nice even seams. Pockets can be tricky, so don’t beat yourself up.”
Emma leaped forward and grabbed the vest from Marjorie’s hands. “This is amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Sure thing. If you’d like, I can sew the other one so you can see how I’m doing it…without mutilating my fingers in the process.” She nodded down at Emma’s Band-Aid covered hands. “I can even help you with those jacket sleeves.”
“How did you know I was having trouble with those?” Emma asked.
Marjorie pointed with a bony finger at the worktable where the body of the jacket and the still unconnected sleeves sat in a heap.
“They’re the worst if you’re not used to them. Used to trip me up all the time, too. Besides, from the looks of it, I’d say there isn’t much room on your fingers for more Band-Aids.”
Emma wanted to hug Marjorie. But Marjorie didn’t strike her as the embracing type. Instead Emma handed her the pieces of the fourth vest pocket.
“I think I’m going to be a vampire,” Kayla announced the next day by Holly’s locker. “My mom said she could have one of the makeup artists from her company do my face for the party—you know, white skin, charcoal around the eyes, long fake lashes, and blood-red lips. How cool would that be?”
“What are you going to wear?” Lexie asked.
“Who cares?” Kayla replied. “My makeup will be killer— literally!” she giggled. “Ivana, did you decide on your costume yet?”
“A Hollywood starlet,” Ivana said smugly. “Very retro, you know…early sixties Marilyn Monroe glamour. I’m borrowing my mother’s low-cut black gown, and I bought some superlong white leather gloves. I’ve already booked a blowout.”
Emma tried not to eavesdrop, but that was technically impossible with her locker next to Holly’s and the ’Bees overflowing into what little space she had. She was shocked to realize that Halloween was this Saturday. She’d been so focused on her deadline. And she was kind of surprised that she hadn’t heard about Kayla’s Halloween party.
True, she had been ditching lunch in the cafeteria to spend it in the library in a desperate attempt to keep up with her homework, but she realized she must have totally tuned out life at Downtown Day to miss something so obviously huge on the school’s social barometer.
“What about you, Holls?” Ivana asked.
“I don’t know yet. Maybe an angel or a devil or something like that. I was going to go shopping after school at the costume store near my apartment, if anyone wants to come.”
Lexie and Shannon said they’d join since they were still undecided. The bell rang, sending Ivana and her entourage sauntering to class. Holly hung back.
“You’re coming to the party, right?”
“Maybe.” Emma gathered her things, closed her locker, and headed down the almost empty hall. Holly was two steps behind her.
“Emma, you should totally come to the party,” Holly urged. “I bet with all the cool things in your closet you could put together an outrageous costume.”
“I didn’t think I was invited. Besides, it doesn’t seem like Ivana and the ’Bees want me there.”
“Of course, you’re invited! Everyone’s invited!” Holly protested.
Emma stopped and turned to face Holly. “Really? I know I’ve been busy and all, but I don’t remember getting an invitation— or even hearing anything about it before a few minutes ago.”
The encouraging smile faded from Holly’s face. “Well, um, technically? You weren’t invited like separately or anything because everyone assumed you’d be coming. None of us got invitations either. Plus I can bring whoever I want because I’m practically co-hosting the party. And according to me, you’re invited. Technically.”
Emma was confused. But she had a feeling that was exactly the reaction Holly was going for as a way to cover up the technical lack of invitation. “Well then, thanks, I guess.”
The smile instantly returned to Holly’s face. “So does that mean you’ll come? You wouldn’t want to miss another chance to hang out with Jackson now that you guys have actually spoken, would you?”
At the sound of his name, Emma remembered the feel of his shirt against her cheek during the assembly the week before. Holly didn’t even know that Jackson had walked by Emma’s locker the other day and actually said hi to her—in front of a couple of his soccer buddies.