The Memory Dress

Chapter Twenty-Seven

TWENTY-SEVEN

Meredith

1992

There is no time to plan a wedding. It’s a simple ceremony in the anteroom at Chelsea Old Town Hall. Two witnesses are pulled off the street and asked to spare them half an hour.

Meredith doesn’t care. Why would she? She has her William and the gift of an incredible piece of dove gray silk embroidered in French needlepoint lace from Catherine. There will never be another dress like it.

They spend the afternoon sipping champagne, eating spaghetti with lobsters and clams at a Kensington bistro, just the two of them. After dessert comes a heartfelt promise from William that as long as they are together, everything else can be figured out. “I know this was sudden, but I’ll sacrifice everything I can for you and our baby, Meredith.” He wants to say more, she can tell by the way he’s shifting on his chair, stopping midsentence like he’s unsure of himself. Should he go on or not?

There is no honeymoon. Not even a long weekend. Deadlines demand their presence in the workroom. Overtime is mounting up. Weekends off no longer exist. Private commissions have pushed William to the very edge of what anyone can feasibly achieve in the course of a day and night—but still he won’t say no, determined to save for their future.

And now last-minute changes are needed to a dress that was finished a week ago. A fleeting moment of relaxation when they thought they were ahead of the deadline.

“The venue has changed. It’s no one’s fault, it’s just one of those things and we have to be able to respond to it,” explains Catherine. It’s not quite eight thirty a.m. and William is surrounded by the design team. “The scale of the event demands full-length, the proportions of the dress are now inadequate as it stands. What are your thoughts, William?”

He looks at the finished dress, back on its stand, all the detailed embroidery that sits across the bust, perfectly aligned bands of simulated pearls and glass beads that took several days to finish. The flattering outline of the sleeveless bodice that cuts in low under the arms. To change this would mean more hours than they have available to them.

“We could keep the bodice as it is and simply add a longer skirt, but I think we might like to find a way to ensure the shape is defined. If we drop the skirt from the existing bottom of the bodice, it will lack definition, the silhouette may be too fluid. Meredith? Do you agree?”

“Yes.” She has to, even though she can see the hours of extra work ahead. “It feels like it may need something that sits between the two elements, to soften the join, the movement from one to the other. The bodice silhouette feels quite daring—is there a way to elongate this into a longer skirt?”

The design team disappear to discuss the options while William and Meredith await their instructions, too tense to pick up other tasks in the meantime.

“Are you okay, William? You came to bed so late last night.” Meredith rubs her hands across the back of her husband’s shoulders, watches as he closes his eyes, melting into her touch.

“I’ll manage,” he says. “It’s just my eyes are tired, so I’m having trouble focusing on anything.”

“Well, let me cook you something special for your birthday dinner tonight.” She smiles. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“My birthday?” He looks at her quizzically for a moment. “Oh my goodness, it is, isn’t it? So, is this what I can expect from my fifties? Forgetfulness and extreme tiredness. Not much to look forward to, is it?” He smiles. William is not the sort of man to feel low. He always rallies and pushes on. But it’s the first time Meredith silently wonders how much of it is for her benefit. William protecting the woman he loves, the mother of his only child, from any need to worry. He hasn’t spoken much about the baby, but the situation is obviously weighing on his mind.

In the end, the dress is a success. The pale blue-gray chiffon is newly ruched from the waist to below the hip before the fabric falls away into the full-length skirt they all know is needed. It’s the perfect solution, conceptualized and performed in under twenty-four hours. A success, if you discount so little time for sleep and a canceled birthday dinner.

But it’s the last one, Meredith reminds herself. Soon she can relax. She’ll be at home and she can catch up on all the sleep she needs. But when will William rest? She’s praying the baby will hold on. Let them have a couple of weeks’ grace before the sleepless nights begin and shatter what little energy the two of them have left.