Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
On Friday morning, I rub my eyes. Clarissa stands on a platform in front of three mirrors, admiring her cheongsam reception dress from every angle. It’s a sleek, form-fitting sleeveless garment that hugs her body. From the top of her bun to her rhinestone ballet flats, she’s glowing.
Sonya, Lea, and the entire team of seamstresses are passing around boxes of tissues and snapping photos of the boss from every angle.
“You’re so beautiful.”
“Stunning.”
“Paddy is going to go weak in the knees when he sees you.”
My own legs are quivering. I can’t believe how everything has come together so beautifully.
It truly has been a team effort. Every single lady standing in this room has given one hundred and ten percent of themselves the last few days.
We’ve come in early and stayed late, all to make Clarissa’s dream dress come to life.
“This is beyond anything I could have hoped for,” she says softly, wiping a tear from the corner of her cheek.
That’s all it takes for my waterworks to begin flowing too. “It’s all Lea.” I grin as I accept tissues from my intern.
Clarissa spins around. Her dress catches the light. I don’t remember who suggested it, but we ended up using iridescent-colored thread for the designs within the fabric. Whenever she moves, the dress shimmers and catches the light.
“No, it was all of you.” Clarissa signals for us to surround her and give her a group hug.
As we crowd around her, however, Sonya shouts, “Wait!” We freeze. “Everyone needs to put on gloves, then you can hug the bride.”
We laugh and hold up our gloved hands. We’re seasoned professionals here. We wouldn’t be touching or working with a white dress without gloves. Gathering around the bride-to-be, we assemble in a huddle, like we’re a sports team figuring out our strategy for the next play of the game, and hug.
There is so much love and joy in this room.
I know deep in my heart that continuing to work with this wonderful group of people is exactly what I want to do with my life.
At least for the present. I’m valued and appreciated here.
I have two bosses who are committed to helping me grow and become the best I can be not just as a designer, but as a person.
When we break apart, Clarissa clears her throat, and the room grows silent. “Both of the dresses you all made are brilliant. I am so thrilled to be able to be wearing original designs by Minerva Hana.”
“And Lea Wong,” I add.
Lea’s cheeks grow bright red.
“Yes, and cousin Lea.”
My team laughs.
“I have no doubt that once these gowns, and the ones you’ll create for me later this summer, appear in public, it’ll only be a matter of time before their talented designer is sought after by every major design house in the country.” Clarissa nods to Sonya.
“I suppose that’s my cue.” Sonya holds out a rolled piece of paper wrapped in a bow that reminds me of a diploma. “Min, Clarissa and I have been so impressed with you, and how you’ve handled yourself, that we’d like for you to become a permanent member of the Clarissa Lee design label.”
My breath hitches. “A permanent job? Really?”
“Not just a permanent job, but a full-time member of our design staff. Every member of the team says you’re brilliant to work with. They’ve all agreed that if you decide to accept, they’ll stay and continue to work under you,” Clarissa says.
My had flies to my mouth. “My own team?”
Sonya and Clarissa nod.
“What would I design? Evening wear? Wedding gowns?”
“Whatever you fancy,” Sonya responds. “We don’t believe in boxing our designers in to any one thing. We learned early on that you need to continue to flex your creative muscles to keep from getting bored.”
I can’t believe it. This is my literal dream come true. “Yes, I accept.” I pick up the rolled paper, which I assume is a contract, and stare at it.
“Brilliant!” Clarissa shoots me a million-watt smile. “Now that that’s taken care of, all that’s left is for me to have all of you help me pick out the flavor for the wedding cake for tomorrow.”
In what is quickly turning into the strangest day here, we spend the remainder of the afternoon sampling about twelve different wedding cakes.
On Saturday, Sam uses his only day off this week to accompany me to view two flats located on the outskirts of London.
I’d had my heart set on the one in Belsize Park, but it wasn’t meant to be.
So today, we’re starting with one in Queen’s Park, north of the city, and ending with one in the east London neighborhood of Forest Gate.
I don’t know either of the areas well, but I’m not letting that put me off. As long as I have the basic amenities around me, like a coffee shop and a grocery store, I’ll be a happy girl. It doesn’t take much to impress me.
“I still can’t get over how quickly the Belsize flat went with all those mold problems.” I drop my chin to my chest and shake my head.
Sam glances at me from the driver’s seat, then back to the road. “Same. I didn’t think anybody would willingly pay fifty thousand quid over the asking price to secure a property that needs so much work.”
“According to Dad, London property always moves at lightning speed,” McMillian says from the back seat. “Developers are keen to buy a property low, fix it up, and resell it. There’s a never-ending demand for housing.”
He’s a soldier from Sam’s squadron who grew up in a family that runs a construction business. From our brief conversations, I’ve found he’s like a Wikipedia page when it comes to anything related to home renovation.
“McMillian, I never asked, but what’s your first name?”
“Chester.”
Sam sniggers.
“That’s why I prefer going by my surname,” McMillian mutters.
“Ignore him.” I elbow Sam hard.
“Ow.”
“Tell me about your ideal woman.” In return for McMillian’s help today, I’ve agreed to help him set up his dating profile. He’s from Sheffield and doesn’t know anyone in London.
“Um . . . someone who’s strong, unconventional, witty, crafty, and doesn’t mind putting up with me playing video games in my spare time.”
“That’s a lot, mate,” Sam quips.
“Once again, ignore him.” I twist around from the front seat to look at McMillian. “You know, there’s a gorgeous, single woman I know who meets your criteria. If you’re up for it, I could set you guys up on a date straightaway.”
“Who are you thinking of?” Sam side-eyes me.
“Focus on the road, Sam I Am.”
“I am,” he huffs.
“You haven’t officially met her yet, Sam, but it’s my bestie, Liz.” I turn to McMillian again. “She’s definitely not your cookie-cutter woman. If you want unconventional, she’s perfect for you.”
“I’m afraid to ask what you mean by that,” McMillian muses.
“Liz is a designer, like me. Only she works with men’s clothing. She also comes from a large family that loves spending nights playing video games.”
“Do you have a photo?”
I unlock my phone and open an album of photos of us goofing around our flat on a day not long after we moved in, when we were attempting to do up our furniture so it looked high end. “Here. There’s about a hundred you can scroll through.” I pass him my phone.
McMillian’s eyes widen, and I think he’s taken by Liz. “She is gorgeous. I’d love to take her out for dinner.”
“Perfect. I’ll text her later.”
Little does he know, McMillian is just Liz’s type.
He stands about five foot nine and has dark brown hair and hazel eyes.
But more importantly, he’s a soldier who can ride horses.
Liz has been dropping hints nonstop for me to ask Sam if he has any friends who are single.
I think seeing how happy I am has made her determined to find a steady boyfriend of her own. I know she’s tired of dating apps.
“Looks like we’re here.” Sam stops the car on a residential street packed tightly with a mixture of Edwardian and Victorian flat-fronted brick terrace homes.
“It’s right on the corner, that’s a good start.” I climb out of the car and close the door. “The street looks quiet too. More brownie points.”
“Looks can be deceiving, let’s reserve any judgements until we see the inside of the flat.” Sam clicks the key fob and the alarm sounds. “What number are we looking for?”
“Twelve.” We walk up to a highly polished black door with a gold number twelve on the front. Instead of a door handle, however, there’s a keypad. “Hang on, let me find the code.”
I read off the four-digit number to Sam. He enters it into the device and the door clicks open. We enter into a foyer. There’s a staircase to the right and the door to flat 12B on the left.
“There’s a note taped to the door for you, Fashion Guru.”
He passes me an envelope with swirly writing, and I break open the seal. A key falls into my hands. Unfolding the pages, I begin to read aloud.
“Dear Minerva, sorry I couldn’t be here in person to show you the flat. I had a previous engagement I couldn’t get out of. I thought I’d share a little information with you in hopes it may answer some questions you might have.
“The building you’re standing in is a converted three-story Victorian terrace home.
I live on the second floor. The flat you’ll be viewing today is divided over the ground and first floors.
The kitchen was fitted out with all new appliances last year; however, the remainder of the flat might need some doing up.
“The garden, foyer, and stairs are the property’s communal areas. Please feel free to inspect the outside. You will find a mature garden and, likely, an English springer spaniel sunbathing near the summer house. Her name is Lillian. She’s friendly and loves belly scratches.
“If you keep a car, there is also plenty of off-street parking. Otherwise, the nearest train links are only a ten-minute walk away. I think that about covers it. Please don’t hesitate to text or ring me if you have any other questions. I hope you enjoy your viewing. Regards, Alice.”
“That was kind of her,” Sam muses.