Chapter 12 #2
Devyn descended the steps, pausing at the bottom to take in the scene.
Bingo on the sewing machine. It sat against the far wall on a long table, Lauren in front of it. The rest of the surface was filled with colorful fabric.
“I got dinner at the Myrtle. What are you doing?” Devyn crossed to her.
“Trying to sew. Emphasis on trying.” Frustration scored her words. “I should be able to do this by rote, but I have to think through each step and double-check everything.”
“Be patient. Everything will smooth out in time.” She picked up a half-finished quilted item in an intricate, contemporary pattern that looked like it was destined to be a shoulder tote. “This is beautiful. I didn’t know you sewed, let alone quilted.”
“I used to make all my own clothes.”
“Seriously? I have trouble even sewing the ribbons on my toe shoes.”
“Necessity is the mother of invention.” Lauren flipped off the light on the machine, covered it, and reached for her cane. “Or in this case, of sewing.”
At the hard edge to her voice, Devyn hesitated. It might not be wise to pursue the subject . . . but her sister’s comment begged for a follow-up. “What does that mean?”
Lauren shifted around in her seat to face her, resentment emanating from her.
“It means that while you were wearing fancy tutus and prancing across the stage in tulle, I was making my own prom dress from discount fabric on a sewing machine I bought at a garage sale.” She pushed herself to her feet.
“There wasn’t money for pricey clothes in our budget. ”
Because the money had gone toward ballet expenses.
Devyn took a slow breath.
How on earth was she ever going to get past the simmering anger that seemed to boil up whenever the two of them talked?
Especially since Lauren’s antagonism was justified.
The truth was, her training had been expensive. Too expensive for a man who’d driven a truck for a living, even with the scholarships she’d received that had helped offset some of the costs.
At the same time, it wasn’t like she and Mom had lived an extravagant lifestyle in San Francisco or New York. Far from it.
And maybe she ought to share that with Lauren.
“I didn’t realize money was that tight here, Lauren.
Dad never said a word about it when we talked.
” She smoothed her palms down her slacks.
Swallowed. “But Mom and I lived a frugal life too. You know she worked as a concierge while I was in training, and we lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. What you may not know is that when I joined the corps at eighteen after my apprenticeship year, I shared a small two-bedroom apartment with three other dancers. I only got my own place—also tiny—after I was named a principal dancer. I’ve never had the money for pricey clothes offstage, either. ”
Lauren gave her a skeptical look. “You earn more than I do.”
“I also live in New York City, where the cost of living is super high.”
“I’m sure there are other perks, though. You’re famous, Devyn. You get roses on stage, for crying out loud. I’m lucky if I get a box of candy from my boss once a year at Christmas.”
Oh, boy.
Starting this discussion tonight may have been a mistake.
“I can’t argue with anything you’ve said. I’ve been able to live my dream, and that’s a huge blessing. On the flip side, my job won’t make me rich and it has a very short life span. Your career, on the other hand, will last as long as you want to work in your field.”
Lauren studied her, eyes narrowing. “So what will you do after ballet?”
“I don’t know yet, but for years I funneled every extra dime of my salary into tuition to get a degree in business so I’d have a fallback after I take my final bow. That’s how I spent my free time. Going to school through a program the dance company sponsored.”
Her sister flexed her fingers on her cane. “You never said anything about that.”
“I didn’t want you to think I was looking beyond ballet, after all the sacrifices everyone made for me.
And I don’t mean to diminish my success.
I’ll always be thankful I had this opportunity, but I’m sorry it came between us.
And that it may have cost you your own dreams.” She swallowed. “Is that what happened, Lauren?”
Her sister gave a stiff shrug. “My dreams were never as lofty as yours. All I wanted was a family and a creative outlet of my own. I failed big-time on the family part.” She picked up the half-finished tote bag and stroked a finger over a seam. “But my sewing projects have found an audience.”
“You sell your work?”
“Yes. I design and sew these totes and placemats and other quilted items for Eye of the Beholder. That’s the gift shop on Main Street. They have an online shop too.”
“I saw it when I stopped in at the hardware store.” Devyn surveyed the fabric spread over the table again. “That’s impressive.”
“Not as impressive as being a principal dancer with one of the most famous ballet companies in the world. It’s hard to compete with that.”
“Does it have to be a competition? Can’t we just accept that we each found different ways to express our creativity?”
Lauren shrugged. “I guess. Besides, while I’d love to get roses on a regular basis, the mere thought of performing in front of thousands of people makes me break out in a cold sweat.
And I do like working with my hands, creating pretty things.
Except it’s hard to concentrate right now.
I did more ripping than stitching today. ”
“Your focus will improve, along with your stamina. I see giant leaps forward every day.”
“It can’t happen soon enough for me.” She set the tote bag down.
Devyn motioned to it. “Would you make me a dance bag before I leave? With a side pocket for my pointe shoes? I’ll pay you for it. You do amazing work.”
A soft flush rose on Lauren’s cheeks. “I’ve never sewn a bag like that.”
“It might be a new market for you. I could work with you on the design.”
“Yeah. I guess I could do that.” Lauren stepped away from the sewing machine. “Did you tell me you have a show meeting today?”
“Yes. Seven o’clock. First cast get-together to lay out the schedule and pass out scripts and music. Would you like to come along and sit in?”
“Why? So you can keep an eye on me?”
Yes—but admitting that would only ruffle feathers.
“I just thought you might enjoy a change of scene.”
A beat ticked by. “I am going a little stir-crazy. But I’ll have to see how much energy I have later.” She checked her watch. “You want to eat?”
“Yes. I’ll follow you up.”
That earned her an eye roll. “I’m not going to fall, Devyn.”
“I hope not. I’ve had my lifetime fill of visiting the ICU. Humor me, okay? I’ll get you a fancy pastry from Sweet Dreams this week if you do.” She called up a grin.
“That’s a hard bribe to pass up. Emma’s baklava is to die for.” She set off toward the steps, the slight tease in her tone heartening.
Spirits lifting, Devyn glanced again at the quilted tote and the sewing supplies spread over the long table.
Hmm.
As an idea began to percolate in her mind, she followed her sister up the stairs.
Lauren might nix the notion, but it could be worth broaching—after she discussed it with a couple of people.
In the meantime, she’d nuke their dinners, which had surely grown cold by now.
But something more important was beginning to warm up.
Namely, her relationship with her sister.
And if all went well, perhaps by the time she had to wing back to New York for the fall season, the two of them would be on their way to smoothing out the bumps in their long-troubled relationship.