Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

37. Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Five

I t was not all smooth sailing with Diana’s sewing business. There were some hiccups along the way.

“Oh no, Ma, not her,” Diana groaned. “Anyone but her.”

Vicky Vesta, one of their neighbors, needed a dress taken in. She was the same age as Diana and lived with her mother, Pearl, at the end of Peony Lane.

“She approached me at the butcher’s. I could hardly say no,” Millie said.

“She needs a dress taken in like I need a hole in my head,” Diana griped. “She’s only coming over here because she’s nosy.”

“I know that. But you can handle yourself.”

When Diana and Millie had first moved to Lavender Bay, Vicky and her mother had brought over a welcoming basket with some baked goods. They were invited in, and once inside, their gazes swept around the room, noting the contents of the house. They’d been bold enough to ask for a tour. They touched things, picking up knickknacks and inspecting them. Diana thought they might as well have rifled through her underwear drawer. They had little to say about Millie’s aunt, and Diana suspected they weren’t frequent visitors. Maybe Great-Aunt Lavinia had figured them out.

Having realized that Vicky and her mother walked the neighborhood in search of news and gossip the way one would scour a strawberry field for the biggest, reddest, and juiciest berries, Millie never invited them in again. Millie and Diana would always wave to the Vestas to be polite, but that was as far as their neighborliness went.

Diana was anxious for this Vicky visit to be over with.

Vicky was right on time. She was an attractive woman, slightly taller than Diana, with a long trunk relative to her shorter legs. Her hair was sandy brown, and she wore it in the latest style, a chin-length bouffant.

“It’s so good of you to fit me in,” she said. Her eyes landed on Diana’s headscarf and stayed. At her side, she carried a large bag that appeared full. Diana’s heart sank.

“No problem,” she said. She turned her back and said over her shoulder, “Follow me.”

She led the way to her sewing room, aware of Vicky behind her, taking everything in.

“Oh, that wasn’t here the last time I visited,” Vicky said of a new picture on the wall. Diana was glad now that she’d closed the doors to the bedrooms and the bathroom.

Diana stood at the door of her sewing room and with a wave of her hand, indicated to Vicky that she should step inside.

“How can I help you?” she asked politely.

Vicky stared at her for a moment as if she didn’t understand the question. But it wasn’t that. She wasn’t paying attention because her gaze was swinging around the room.

Diana nodded to the bag and held out her hand.

“Oh, yes, this.” Vicky pulled a large pile of dresses out of the bag. There had to be six or seven. “I need all these taken in at the waist and the bust.” With a deliberate smile, she said, “I’m getting married next month, and I’ve lost a lot of weight, but these dresses are too nice to throw out.”

“Hmm,” Diana said, inspecting the dresses. They weren’t old but they weren’t colors she would have chosen. Too garish. Again, she was aware of the other woman’s gaze on her head.

She’d heard about the upcoming nuptials. The Vestas had made sure everyone knew that the reception was being held at the Lavender Bay Country Club, located on the second biggest hill in Lavender Bay, the first being occupied by the Gibson mansion.

“Slip the first dress on and I’ll take your measurements.”

“Oh, sure.”

Diana stepped out of the room and closed the door while Vicky changed. She waited in the hall. When it seemed to be taking Vicky a long time to get the dress on. Diana gave a quick, short rap on the door and opened it. Vicky stood at the bookcase, examining the contents of the shelves.

Through gritted teeth, Diana said, “Shall we start with that dress?”

Hurriedly, Vicky shoved the book she was looking at back onto the shelf. “Yes.”

“You don’t want it hemmed, do you?” Diana asked.

Vicky shook her head. “No.”

Diana moved the step stool from the corner to the middle of the room and turned to eyeball the dress. She waved for Vicky to step up onto the stool. Vicky had indeed lost a lot of weight; the fitted dress was shapeless on her. The bodice sagged around her smaller breasts with the extra material, and it could have been tighter in the waist.

“Lift up your arms, please,” Diana said.

Vicky lifted her arms and Diana pulled the sides in, securing them with straight pins. Her neighbor never removed her gaze from Diana’s head. It was unnerving.

“Ow!” Vicky said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I get you with the pin?” Diana asked innocently.

“Yes,” Vicky said with a frown, rubbing her side.

Diana hurried through the rest of the dresses. When she was finished, she made notes in her book and laid the dresses over a chair. When she stood, she said to Vicky, whose gaze once again was fixed to the side of Diana’s head, “You can pick these up next week. I’ll call you.”

Vicky seemed to hesitate and finally she asked, “Does it hurt?”

Pretending not to know what she was talking about, Diana said, “Does what hurt?”

“Your head.”

“It depends.” She put her hands to the scarf where it knotted at the top of her head. “Here, let me show you the scar. Maybe you’d like to touch it.”

Vicky recoiled. “That’s not necessary.”

“Are you sure? You might be interested in the skin graft they applied after my scalp was ripped off. They had to take skin off my thigh for the first graft. When that didn’t work, they did a second graft, taking skin off my other thigh. Did you want to see that too?”

Vicky reddened and said in a shaky voice, “Thanks, Diana. I’ll wait for your call.” And she rushed out of the room and the house, slamming the front door behind her.

“What was that all about?” Millie asked.

Diana laughed. “It turns out nosy Vicky actually doesn’t want to see that side of my head.”

“Oh, Diana, you’re terrible.”

“Maybe so.” But this was Diana’s business and for her to stick it out, it would have to be done on her terms. Her rules. And she wasn’t going to be the object of curiosity or ridicule. This wasn’t a circus.

“Doesn’t matter, we won’t be seeing her again,” Diana said with finality.

She finished Vicky’s dresses finished a day earlier than promised. She folded them neatly, put them in a brown paper bag, walked down to the corner, and left them on the Vestas’ front porch with a note attached that read “No charge.”