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“Yes,” she said, shaking hands with her.
“I’m Stella. Molly O’Connor was a dear friend of mine.” A tinge of sadness was palpable in her voice. “I still consider her a friend. She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, “Finn told me he’s taking you to the Family Dignity Foundation Gala and he wants a special dress for you.”
“That’s what I understand.”
Stella gave her a sly smile. “Come with me,” she said, turning on her heel and heading toward the back of the store. “Natalie, hold my calls and appointments. Find Fran and send her to me.”
Colleen scurried to keep up with Stella’s impressive pace. She must have been close to seventy years old, but the woman could move.
When they arrived at the dressing room, Stella ushered Colleen inside. The room was painted a light shade of buttercream with enormous floor-to-ceiling mirrors covering three-quarters of one wall, a raised platform, and overhead lights. It was large enough to have three cream-colored upholstered chairs and a small accent table. This room was of a scale she’d never seen before.
The door burst open. “Sorry I’m late,” said a tall woman with frizzy dark hair. Unlike everyone else in the store, she wore frayed jeans and an untucked white button-down shirt. “I’m Fran,” she said, shaking Colleen’s hand vigorously.
Stella handed the measuring tape to Fran. “Take Colleen’s measurements while I look through these dresses.”
Fran whipped the measuring tape around Colleen’s bustline, waist, and hips, muttering the numbers to herself. “She’s standard,” Fran said over her shoulder to Stella.
“What does standard mean?”
“It means we won’t have to do a lot of alterations. And that’s always a good thing,” she said with a thumbs-up.
Stella walked around Colleen, studying every inch of her. “Get undressed. We’ve got a lot to try on.”
Colleen undressed and stood in her underwear while Stella crossed her arms across her chest and continued her scrutiny.
“What do you think?” Stella asked Fran.
“In terms of color, I think something bold—not red—but something bright. I’m tired of the neutral tones,” Fran said, her eyes studying Colleen. “She has a small waist, so a cinched-waisted dress would be great.”
“I agree. Let’s see what we’ve got,” Stella said, returning to the rack, browsing through gowns and handing them to Fran.
A couple of hours later, Colleen had tried on every dress on the rack. She loved most of them, but Stella and Fran weren’t satisfied as they fussed over her, turning her around to inspect the dress at every angle.
Stella slipped on a pair of bold red glasses and scrolled through an iPad. “The gala is next Saturday.”
Fran shoved her hands in her pockets. “That’s not enough time to design and make a new dress. You’re already behind on the spring line.”
“I found it,” Stella said, her voice animated. “Fran, go to the storage room and get dress number 2155 from last year’s spring collection.”
“Okay,” Fran said, dashing from the room.
Stella’s phone rang. She squinted at it and then up at Colleen. “This will only take a minute.”
While Stella barked orders at a supplier, Colleen took a moment to admire the blue satin gown she had on. It was her favorite of all Stella’s dresses. The more Stella talked on the phone, the more uncomfortable Colleen became that she was interfering with the designer’s busy schedule.
Stella ended her call but kept tapping away on her phone.
“I’m sorry,” Colleen said, running her hands over the satin gown.
“For what?” Stella asked, never taking her eyes from the phone.
“I’m taking up a lot of your time.”
“Nonsense. This is what I do. I design dresses, but I’m very particular. It just takes time to find the right one.” Stella looked up over her glasses. “How do you feel about wearing a yellow dress?”
“Yellow?” Colleen could hardly believe it. Yellow had become a symbolic color for her and Finn.
“Not everyone likes yellow, but with your blond hair and skin tone, I think it will be striking.”
