Chapter 19 - THE DRESS
The question of Celeste’s wedding gown returned four days before closing.
Patrick wanted a decision.
The gown belonged to Celeste under the contract once final payment cleared.
That part was easy.
Completion was not.
Two seamstresses assigned to the gown had said they did not feel comfortable continuing direct fittings with her.
That mattered.
A third employee, Bernice, volunteered.
I looked at her.
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“Because I’m seventy percent spite and thirty percent tailoring.”
I laughed.
“Seriously.”
“I am serious.”
“Do you want to work with her?”
“I want the gown finished correctly.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
Bernice threaded a needle.
“I also want to see if the girl can sit in a fitting room and behave like an adult.”
I stared at her.
“That sounds like a test.”
“It is.”
“You told me not to turn people into victims for my moral story.”
“And now I’m telling you not to turn workers into fragile saints either.”
I hated how often she was right.
The solution came from employee choice.
No one would be assigned to Celeste.
Anyone could volunteer.
Premium hazard-style service pay for the remaining rush work, funded by Celeste.
Security available but unobtrusive.
Written conduct agreement.
One violation ends service.
I sent the terms.
Celeste accepted within twenty minutes.
Her first fitting back was with Bernice.
I did not attend.
That mattered.
Not every consequence needed me in the room.
Later, Bernice called.
“How was it?”
“Girl stood still.”
“That’s a start.”
“She apologized.”
“To you?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“Hold your arm up.”
I laughed.
Bernice continued.
“She cried a little.”
“Did you comfort her?”
“No.”
“Bernice.”
“What? I was pinning silk.”
The second fitting went well.
So did the third.
Celeste paid the additional service charges without complaint.
No redemption montage.
No friendship.
A transaction conducted under boundaries.
Sometimes civilization is exactly that.
Two people do not need to love each other to agree on rules that preserve dignity.
On the final fitting, Celeste asked Bernice:
“Does Mara hate me?”
Bernice later told me her answer.
“I don’t know. Ask Mara.”
Celeste apparently laughed.
May you like
Good.
Employees were done carrying messages between wealthy women.
