Something Borrowed, Something New
Something Borrowed, Something New
Coming off the Living Laboratories, Ruth and Charlotte sit down with Stevie to discuss a new outfit for Barbie: a wedding dress.
“For Barbie?” Stevie is confused, her eyes shifting from Charlotte to Ruth. “But I was under the impression that Barbie wasn’t supposed to—”
“This is all driven by the market research,” says Ruth dismissively. “I’ll dress Barbie in a clown suit if that’s what it takes to get buy-in from the mothers.” It’s true, and even though Ruth’s agreed to put Barbie in a wedding dress, that’s as far as she’ll go. There’ll be no future talk of marriage. Barbie is still going to represent what it means to be a modern, independent woman.
“The wedding dress is going to be the centerpiece of Barbie’s launch,” says Charlotte.
“It’ll be featured in the TV campaign and in all the print ads, too,” says Ruth.
“So it has to be spectacular,” says Charlotte. “Think you can do this?”
“Absolutely, I can do this,” Stevie says. Of course she can.
She has already made a perfectly enchanting wedding gown, and back at her workstation, she opens her sketchpad, ready to re-create a dress she could design in her sleep. She’s memorized every fold, knows how to work with the satin, the tulle, the cathedral train. She knows because it was her final project at Chouinard. She began working on it when she learned she was pregnant and Russell said he wanted to marry her. If he hadn’t run out on her, she would have been married in that dress; she would have stayed in school, graduated at the top of her class, had the baby and kept going. She might not even have been showing yet by the time she finished school. No one would have known a thing. Even before meeting Ruth, Stevie knew it was possible—not easy, but certainly possible—for a wife and mother to have a career. But without a husband in the picture, her plan unraveled.
She shoves what might have been to the back of her mind and focuses on the wedding dress, thinking of the best way to convert it to Barbie’s scale. She sketches ideas and drapes silk on a fitting doll, looking to see which way the fabric wants to move. It comes alive inside her head, and she’s lost in all this when she hears Jack’s voice.
“Need a coffee or anything?” he asks.
“What?”
“Coffee? Or maybe a belt of bourbon?” He half smiles and leans over her workstation, close enough that she can smell his musky aftershave. “I just thought I’d offer some moral support on the wedding dress. I know it’s a lot of pressure. And we don’t have a lot of time.”
“It’s okay. I can handle it.” She looks up and his eyes grab hold of hers. They’re a blue-green and she realizes she’s never noticed the color before.
“Okay, then,” he says, hesitating for a moment. “If there’s anything you want to bounce off me, just say the word.” He smiles and swaggers away.
Stevie is aware of everyone—the men and women alike—watching him disappear around the corner, disappointed that he didn’t stop by their workstations, too. This is the second time this week that Jack’s come to see her. Two days ago, he dropped off a fashion magazine that the mail boy would have delivered anyway. She almost gets the feeling that he’s looking for excuses to talk to her.
—
“When were you planning on showing me this?” Ruth asks Barbara as she pours her morning coffee, fingernails clicking against the counter.
“They just handed them out yesterday,” says Barbara. “You were working late. What was I supposed to do, call your secretary and schedule a meeting so I could show you? Or should I have just left it on your pillow for when you got home?”
“Don’t be fresh.” Ruth looks again at her daughter’s report card. She used to be an A student. But now she’s getting Cs and C minuses in every subject, from math to sociology. Her teachers’ comments say it all: Unsatisfactory. Needs improvement. “I want you to spend less time with Allen and more time on your schoolwork.”
“Why? What difference does it make?” She shakes out a bowl of cornflakes and uncaps the milk bottle. “I’m not going to college.”
“The hell you’re not.”
“I’m-not-going-to-college,” she annunciates emphatically. “I’m going to marry Allen.”
“Over my dead body. You’re not going to throw your future away on some boy. Especially not him .”
“You don’t even know Allen.” She slams the bottle down, and a dollop of milk escapes, landing on the counter. “Maybe if you were home once in a while…”
“Don’t start on that, Barbara. I’m in no mood, and if your grades don’t improve, I’m going to forbid you to see him, do you hear me?”
Barbara is still protesting as Ruth scoops up her keys and heads out the door. Twenty minutes later and stuck in traffic, she stews. Barbara is only seventeen; how can she even think about marriage when she has her whole life ahead of her?
By the time Ruth arrives at Mattel, she’s still agitated, and her mood hasn’t improved when she steps into the conference room for—of all things—the wedding grown presentation. She knows that putting Barbie in a wedding dress is a smart strategic move, but the whole idea of Barbie getting married makes her blood boil.
“Where’s Jack?” she asks. “Somebody tell him to get his ass in here. I haven’t got all day.” It’s warm and stuffy in the conference room. Her blouse is clinging to her skin. “And call reception and have them lower the air.”
Half a cigarette later, Jack comes in. “It’s about time,” she says. “What’s the matter, did you get lost or something?”
“Well, good morning to you, too,” he says, taking his seat.
After Charlotte sets the stage, Stevie begins her presentation. She’s been working on the wedding gown for weeks now and has incorporated all of Charlotte’s suggestions: lengthening the train, embellishing the veil, adding more embroidery on the bodice. The sample on the fitting doll no longer resembles Stevie’s wedding gown, which is a good thing. She doesn’t need to be reminded of Russell every time she works on it.
Ruth plucks the fitting doll from Stevie and examines the dress up close. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”
“What more should there be?” asks Stevie, looking at Charlotte, who’s just as confused.
“Gee, I don’t know,” Ruth says sarcastically. “What would a bride possibly need besides a dress? Maybe a bouquet? A pair of shoes?”
“But this meeting was to review the gown,” says Stevie, knowing she shouldn’t challenge Ruth and defend herself, but she can’t just sit there and take it. “I haven’t even started on the accessories.”
Ruth makes a disgusted hissing sound. “Ever heard of something borrowed, something blue, something old, something new ?”
“But Ruth—” Stevie tries again.
“Whoa, Ruth,” Jack says, cutting Stevie off. “C’mon, give the kid a break.”
The kid? Stevie glares at him. “If you don’t mind, Jack, I can handle this my—”
“She did a bang-up job on the gown, and you know it,” says Jack. “She’ll get to the accessories. Just back off.”
Ruth doesn’t say anything. Instead, she gathers her cigarettes and lighter and marches out of the conference room. She does this from time to time, abruptly walks out of meetings that aren’t going her way. She’ll make her exit, storming down the hall with that look in her eyes that makes everyone bury their heads in their work, praying they don’t do anything to call attention to themselves. It’s like being in the presence of a grizzly bear.
After the meeting adjourns, Jack stops by Stevie’s workstation to check on her. She grips her pencil tight and keeps her chin tucked, her head down. “You didn’t need to do that,” she says, refusing to look at him for fear she’ll burst into tears.
“Do what?”
“Defend me. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” he says. “But I’d do the same for anyone on my team. I’d do the same for Twist or Frankie. I’m your boss, and Ruth was being a beast.”
That softens her some, or at least enough to confess her bewilderment. “I just don’t know what I did wrong. The meeting wasn’t even about accessories.”
“C’mon,” he says, “let’s get out of here.”
“I can’t,” she mutters. “I’ve got too much work to do.”
He reaches over, pries the pencil from her fingers and sets it down on her desk. “Trust me on this. I know when someone needs to step away from their work.”
—
Stevie and Jack end up at the Brown Derby, sitting across from each other in an Old English–style booth, drinking dry gin martinis.
“Now, isn’t this better?” he says after taking a sip.
Unwilling to let him know how grateful she is that he insisted they get out of the office, she says, “I don’t usually start drinking before noon, you know.”
“Don’t worry. I plan on feeding you, too.”
“Good, ’cause I’m starving.”
“Wait a minute,” he says, leaning forward. “Is that—could it be—is that a smile I detect?”
“More like a simper,” she offers in spite of herself.
He sits back, arms folded. “You don’t like me, do you?”
“Just because I don’t flaunt myself around you like the other girls doesn’t mean I don’t like you.” In fact, she doesn’t dislike him, not like she did in the beginning. And she acknowledges that he has gone out of his way to show her a kindness or two.
“We could be friends, you know.”
“Friends?” She cocks an eyebrow. “I’ve heard you have a lot of those.”
“My, my,” he tuts. “You seem awfully focused on me and the other girls in the office.” He takes another sip of his martini. “Just so you know, I have plenty of purely platonic female friends, too. And I happen to be a very good friend.”
“If you do say so yourself.”
“Well, the way Ruth went after you this morning, I’d say you could use a friend like me.” He sits back, eyeing her. “There’s that simper again.”
She studies his face for a moment. His eyes look warm and friendly, his Irish complexion fair and smooth. “Actually, I think that was a half smile.”
He clinks his glass to hers, holding her gaze. There’s a moment of silence that is anything but empty. His pulse quickens; her breathing shallows. He’s wondering if she has a boyfriend and she’s wondering if the rumors about him being such a great kisser are true. He’s thinking she is adorable. And smart. She’s thinking that maybe he does look a little like Dean Martin after all.
Stevie clears her throat, blinks and excuses herself, heading straight for the ladies’ room. What in the hell just happened out there? She splashes water on her face and stares at herself in the mirror. Her cheeks are flushed; her heart is still thumping like a little bunny. You idiot, he’s your boss. And he has a wife . Stop it, just stop it.
When she returns to the table, they order: rainbow trout for her, the swordfish for Jack. Half an hour later, her stomach is still fluttering as she pushes the food about her plate.
“I thought you were starving,” says Jack with a rascally grin. He knows he’s gotten to her.
Stevie is quiet on the drive back to the office, and sitting at her desk, she tries to think about the wedding dress accessories, but her mind keeps ricocheting back to Jack.