Chapter 5 - The Showroom Invitation
Rejection did not sit well with my sister Vanessa. Two days after our phone call, my mother drove over to our apartment unannounced.
Eleanor stood in our living room, her arms crossed, surveying the busy workspace. Rolls of pattern paper sat neatly in baskets, a professional adjustable dress form stood in the corner, and Amy’s newly purchased heavy-duty sewing machine gleamed under bright LED task lights.
"Clara, this is getting entirely out of hand," Eleanor declared, her voice laced with stern disapproval. "You're letting a ten-year-old child run a sweatshop out of your living room! And refusing to help your sister? Vanessa was humiliated!"
I didn't lift my eyes from the accounting ledger where I was logging Amy's business tax deductions. "Amy works six hours a week, Mom. She has straight A's in school, she has a growing college fund, and she is learning financial independence. What exactly is the problem?"
Eleanor huffed, pointing a manicured finger toward the dress form. "The problem is that you are creating a rift in this family! Your father and I built a respectable reputation in this city. Having my granddaughter take in laundry work and seamstress chores like a servant is embarrassing!"
Amy stepped out of her bedroom, holding a sketchbook. She didn't look hurt by Grandma’s harsh words anymore; she looked empowered.
"It's not servant work, Grandma," Amy said quietly, holding up her portfolio of sketches. "It's sustainable design. Mrs. Vance says upcycling is the future of the global fashion industry."
Mentioning Evelyn Vance’s name acted like a sudden splash of cold water on my mother's face. Eleanor swallowed hard, her jaw twitching.
Before my mother could construct another sharp retort, a sleek silver sedan pulled up to the curb outside our apartment building. Through the front window, I saw Evelyn Vance herself step out of the vehicle, carrying a garment bag and a sleek leather folder.
Eleanor gasped, quickly smoothing her hair and adjusting her coat. "Evelyn? What is she doing here?"
I opened the front door just as Evelyn reached the porch.
"Good afternoon, Clara! Hello, Amy!" Evelyn greeted us warmly, stepping inside with an energetic smile. She stopped brief upon noticing my mother. "Oh, Eleanor. I didn't realize you were here."
"Evelyn! What a pleasant surprise," Eleanor stammered, offering an overly eager smile. "I was just visiting my granddaughter to support her little hobby."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. "Hobby? Eleanor, if this is a hobby, then Michelangelo was just playing with rocks."
Evelyn set the garment bag on our dining table and opened her leather folder. "Amy, my dear, the Board of Directors for the Ohio Fashion Institute met yesterday afternoon to review the preliminary submissions for the Spring Youth Showcase."
Amy held her breath, clutching her sketchbook against her chest. "Did... did they like my designs?"
"They didn't just like them," Evelyn declared proudly. "They voted unanimously to make your collection the opening feature of the showcase!"
Amy let out a squeal of pure joy, jumping up and down before throwing her arms around my waist. I laughed out loud, holding my daughter tight, tears of pride brimming in my eyes.
Eleanor stood frozen in the corner, her mouth hanging slightly open. "The... the opening feature? But that event is covered by the Cleveland Plain Dealer and regional fashion press!"
"Indeed it is," Evelyn said crisp, turning her sharp gaze directly onto Eleanor. "The showcase theme this year is 'Reclaimed Luxury.' Amy’s story—how she transformed discarded, unwanted hand-me-downs into high-end architectural fashion—is the exact headline the media is looking for."
Evelyn turned back to Amy, completely ignoring my stunned mother. "The event is in three weeks at the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel. You will need to present five complete runway looks. I've brought high-end deadstock silk, organic linen, and hardware trims for you to use."
"I already have four looks completed!" Amy said enthusiastically. "And for the fifth look... I know exactly what I want to make."
"Splendid!" Evelyn smiled. She handed me an official invitation packet stamped with silver foil. "Clara, as her business manager, you have four VIP front-row seats reserved for your family."
Evelyn walked back toward the door, turning back just before stepping outside. "Oh, Eleanor... I assume you and Vanessa will be sitting in the front row to cheer on Amy’s success?"
Eleanor forced the stiffest, most uncomfortable smile I had ever seen on a human face. "Of... of course, Evelyn. We wouldn't miss it for the world."
After Evelyn left, Eleanor stood in our living room for a few moments, looking at Amy's high-tech workspace, then at the silver-stamped VIP invitations lying on the table. Without saying another word, she quietly gathered her purse and walked out the door.
May you like
Amy looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Mom... for the final runway look, I'm going to use the blue sweater you bought me for Christmas."
I pulled her into a warm embrace. "It's going to be the star of the show, baby. It's going to be the star of the show."
