The Wedding Dress(27)

Emily leaned to see. The gown was ostentatious. And the folds and pleats in the back looked a bit too much like the gown the willowy woman in the street was wearing.

“It’s too ghastly and heavy. I’ll suffocate wearing that much material. Please, keep my gown simple, Mrs. Caruthers.” Emily just wanted to go home, hop on one of Father’s mares, and race up to Red Mountain to clear her head, think, lift her heart to God’s.

Then, perhaps when Phillip came to dinner, she’d find the courage to speak to him about what she’d witnessed today. Though, so far since their engagement, little communication had passed between them using words. Mostly he spoke with impassioned kisses and intimate intonations.

Well, tonight she’d sit on the other side of the parlor, away from his reach. Perhaps suggest a game of cribbage or dominoes.

In the light of day, Emily blushed at what certainly must be the main issue on Phillip’s mind. Their wedding night. But if she’d learned anything from meeting up with Daniel last week, it was to get her feelings out in the open.

“What shall we do to secure your services, Mrs. Caruthers?” Mother faced the dressmaker with her chin high, her shoulders square.

“I’ll write up a work order, Mrs. Canton. You pay half as the deposit. I’ll need Emily to decide on a gown pattern and how many bridesmaids as soon as possible. Of course, she’ll need to choose a pattern for their dresses as well. We’ll also need to start sewing on her trousseau right away. I have a standard offering of gowns and lingerie that I think Miss Canton will find suitable.”

“Certainly. How generous. Do you have a brochure in case Mr. Canton and I want to add to Emily’s trousseau?”

“I do indeed. Take the Goody’s book for the evening and make your choices. I’ll expect your deposit by the end of the week. As you know, I’m quite in demand.”

Emily didn’t care for Mrs. Caruthers speaking down to Mother. After all, Father with his exchange company was fast becoming one of the most prominent men in Birmingham, perhaps even all of Alabama.

“Only one dressmaker in this city compares to me, but I’ll never have to worry about her infringing on my business. She’s quite at the disadvantage.”

“How so?” Emily stepped between Mother and Mrs. Caruthers. “Tell us her name and we’ll decide for ourselves.”

“Emily, don’t insult Mrs. Caruthers. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into her today.” Mother shot Emily a dark glance. The one that sent her running in terror as a girl.

“I’ll tell you her name. No sweat off my nose if you choose her. But I can tell you she’s not for you.” Mrs. Caruthers sat at her desk, her broad hips spilling over the side of the chair, her skirt hem piling on the carpet. “Taffy Hayes is her name. A colored woman over on 5th Avenue. Rents a workroom from Mr. Gaston’s hotel. I’ve used her from time to time for piecework. But you won’t be wanting a colored woman handling your pretty white wedding dress.”

“What difference does it make if she’s colored?” Emily picked up her reticule and parasol from the table. “I’m famished, Mother. Let’s dine. Fatten me up a bit more.”

“Emily, please—”

“Mrs. Caruthers, I’ll not be needing a wedding dress or anything from you.” Emily stabbed the air with her parasol.

“Now see here, Miss Canton. Did you hear what I said? Taffy is colored.”

“I heard you. Come, Mother.” Emily’s heels clattered against the thick wooden stairs. As she descended, Mother’s crisp whispers with Mrs. Caruthers echoed in the stairwell.

She might not be able to do anything about Phillip and her at the moment, but she could do something about Mrs. Caruthers.

Outside on the street, in the sunshine, Emily gulped in free, unprejudiced air. Since she was a girl, she never understood the division of black and white. She heard the rules, the reasons, and the whys, but when she opened her Bible and talked to God, none of man’s wisdom made sense.

“You shouldn’t be so forthcoming with your thoughts, Emily. I’ll have to smooth things over with Mrs. Caruthers, but I don’t think real damage has been done.” Mother sighed, a sure sign of disapproval. Emily looked sideways at her.

“My thoughts. Did you hear what she said about the other dressmaker? The damage has been done by Mrs. Caruthers, not me, Mother. I’m twenty-two, a college graduate, and engaged. In six months I’ll have a home of my own. I am of age to make my own decisions.”

“Lower your voice.” Mother focused on fitting her gloves properly on her fingers. “Newman’s for lunch, then?” When it was clear to cross the lane, exactly where Phillip’s friend had crossed, Mother looped her arm through Emily’s.

“Now you listen to me.” Mother spoke low in Emily’s ear as they walked. “I understand and appreciate your passion for wanting to make your own way. I understand your heart for the underprivileged and the needy. Your father and I make large contributions to causes all over the city. But you’ll not insult Mrs. Caruthers and ruin our reputation. Your father has worked too hard. Until another white seamstress of her caliber comes to town, you’ll be doing a good bit of business with her, as you’ll be a Saltonstall. And frankly, I’d like to keep her affections for me also. I, too, want to use her services. That won’t happen if you reject her for any reason. Don’t you know the woman has the mouth of a steam locomotive? Why, half of Loveman’s salesgirls probably know of your exchange with her just now. What if she tells folks you prefer coloreds?”