Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing (12 page)

Two young girls in the front row exchanged looks as if to agree to go first. “We will,” said a blonde in a black fedora and hoop earrings. “I’m Stephanie, I’m a junior at Apollo High. I’m here to check out my mom’s pattern for me. She thinks I spend too much time playing softball, basketball, and tennis, so she made me take this class with my sister. You know, to help me be more… girly, I guess. I don’t mind trying my mom’s way as long as I can make gym shorts. Is that cool?”

“Of course,” Scarlet said. “Tell your mom thanks! And who is your sister?”

“Jennifer. She’s your stalker.”

Jennifer, with black curly hair and a glittered rose behind her ear, scrunched her cheeks, squinted her eyes, and wagged her fist at Stephanie, then seamlessly morphed her expression into that of a teen angel. “I’m a sophomore at Apollo and I want to use whatever pattern
you
use, Miss Scarlet. I am a devoted follower of your blog. I pinkie swear we are so much alike. I love all the old movies like you do, and I love it when you talk like a retro girl. I’m ready to bebop if you are!”

“I am not related to you,” Stephanie groaned as she tipped her hat to cover her face.

“Whatever,” Jennifer said, gliding clear lip gloss across her lips.

A curvy black woman wearing a teal tracksuit, also with smoothed pin curls around her face, shoved her arm in the air. “Me next! I love your blog, Scarlet. I read it every night before I go to sleep. You’re always so cheery. Now, I’ll be honest, I’ve never stitched a thing; I’ve never even threaded a needle. I’m just here to meet you in person. If that means I get to learn how to sew something for this beautiful bod of mine, all the better!”

Scarlet immediately walked up to her new fan and put her arm around her shoulders. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. What’s your name, doll?”

“Ohliveyah!”

“Olivia!” Scarlet repeated. “I love that name!”

The woman shook her finger. “Nuh-uh. Not
Olivia
. Ohliveyah!”

“My bad. I’m sorry! How do you spell it?” Scarlet asked with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment.

“O-L-I-V-I-A. Ohliveyah! Let me slow it down.
Oh
—as in Oh, my lord! And then
Live
—as in Lance Armstrong LIVEstrong. And then
Yah!
—as in YAH! Let’s do this!”

“How ’bout we just call you Oli?” asked Mary Theresa.

Olivia turned in her direction. “In this life, every mood is a choice—or rather, a pattern. I don’t know about you all, but I’d rather have more good moods—patterns, I mean—than bad.” She swiveled back toward the rest of the room. “I dated and then married a bad
pattern
with two legs and a thick head. After ten years, my divorce is my Christmas present to myself. I didn’t only change my last name, I turned my first name into an affirmation. There are lots and lots of Olivias, but there is only one Ohliveyah. I’m working on starting all over with a new pattern, and if that means no pattern at all, so be it.”

“Right on, Olivia, my kind of chica,” Scarlet said. “What are you interested in making in the class?”

“Anything you got,” Olivia said. “Bring it on. In fact, I’ll adopt the ‘patternless’ concept for other areas in my life as well. Loosen up that daily grind.”

“Sounds good in theory, Olivia. But we can’t function without rules.”

This time everyone turned to face the condescending voice from the west side of the room.

“Mary!” Scarlet said, excited to see her again.

“Actually, it is all one name—Mary Theresa. Not Mary. Not Theresa. Together… Mary Theresa,” she corrected.

“I see you had a strict Catholic mom too.” Scarlet chuckled. “What kind of pattern do you have going on?”

Mary Theresa sucked her teeth. It took every ounce of energy not to walk out of the stupid, menial class and the crusty record shop. But Hadley had mentioned on the phone that he was proud of her for following through with the assignment.

“I have a pattern for my family, and it’s worked fine so far,” she said. “That’s about it.”

Scarlet walked over to Mary Theresa’s table. “Did your husband like the record? That was so sweet of you to come out here and hunt it down for him.”

“Yes, he did,” Mary Theresa said. “I really don’t want to discuss it, I just want to get the class over with.”

Scarlet felt awful for obviously touching on a sore spot in front of everyone, and made a mental note to apologize in private. She examined Mary Theresa: the perfectly creased mom jeans, pressed navy golf shirt, and her pretty brown hair pulled in a too-tight ponytail. All visual indicators of a stressed lifestyle. If it were another time and place, Scarlet would kidnap her, send her to a spa, and give her a movie-star makeover.

Mary Theresa kept her hands—slim fingers, trimmed,
unpolished nails—clasped together. “When you said ‘patternless sewing’—you didn’t literally mean without patterns, correct?”

Scarlet sat on top of the table next to Mary Theresa and swung her short, shapely legs. “Sweets, why did you sign up? JoAnn Fabrics is about fifteen minutes away, and they have an excellent series of classes, lots of patterns. Don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted you’re here. But if you’re less than thrilled with the free-form idea, maybe you should try there. I promise I won’t be offended.”

Mary Theresa bit her lip and nodded her head, obviously annoyed to the earth’s end. “I have my reasons to stay. I just want to know if I should bring my self-healing mat and rotary cutting set.”

Scarlet smiled affectionately. Mary Theresa would be her pet student, she could feel it. “We’ll have some patterns, but not the traditional type you’d pull out of a Simplicity envelope. And no fancy tools. Miss Scarlet teaches old-school.”

“That’s insane,” Mary Theresa blurted. “I used to be an A+ sewer in high school, and there is no way to make anything that fits or functions without double measurements, patterns developed by professionals, and proper pinning. Please tell me we are going to pin! What’s next, are we going to use needles or pull the thread through with our teeth?”

The class broke out in a fit of giggles, even though Mary Theresa didn’t mean it to be funny.

Scarlet put her hand on Mary Theresa’s sewing machine. “Trust me, it will be fun. And yes, darling. Of course we will pin. And use needles. But no rulers.”

Mary Theresa’s mouth fell open in shock as Scarlet hopped off the desk and strolled down the center aisle between the two rows of tables.

“I’m going to teach all of you how to use your hands, arms, feet, and even the size of your head to measure. As for patterns, we’ll use everyday objects and learn how to size them without tools. This is how I learned. Granted, I also know the traditional methods, but it’s much more fun this way. Just wait and see, Mary Theresa. The best part is I’ll share anecdotes about Daisy de la Flora’s life that will inspire you so much!”

“Let me get this straight,” Olivia said. “She’s Johnny Scissors’s mom, right?”

“Aunt,” Scarlet corrected.

“I see you’re wearing one of her brooches; it looks darling on you,” said the final student, a woman who had to be a bit younger than Nana Eleanor.

Scarlet dipped her chin and rubbed the rhinestone Chihuahua pin with her fingers. “Thank you. It’s my good-luck charm. I can’t believe you recognized it. You must be a fan of hers too.”

“I was at one time,” she replied in a hoarse voice. She cleared her throat. “I’m Rosa Garcia, the granny of the group, I see. Miss Scarlet, do you think you could bring Daisy’s lucky buttons next week to show us?”

“Hmmm,” Scarlet said, thinking hard. “I have them locked in my Daisy display curio. I don’t feel comfortable removing them. But I do have pictures of them on my blog.”

“That’s fine, I understand, dear,” Rosa said as a raspy cough made its way out. She grabbed a tissue and covered her mouth. “Sorry. My throat is dry this morning. Didn’t have time to take my usual teaspoon of honey.”

Scarlet jogged to a table that had a pitcher of water, poured a glass for the woman, and took it back to her. “So what’s your pattern, my fellow Daisy-phile?”

The woman nodded thanks, took a sip, and waited until it
passed through her throat. She scanned the room and acknowledged each person with a shy smile.

The room fell silent with a hint of enchantment.

“I have a pattern for a life that I love. My goal is to preserve it to the best of my ability. I lived a very adventuresome life—lots of traveling, meeting all kinds of eccentric and beautiful people. I’m too tired to continue all of that. I love to make things, always have. Miss Scarlet, I’m also impressed by your blog. It’s such a gift to people everywhere. When I read that you were teaching this class, I immediately signed up. I’m thrilled to see what you have in store for us.”

“Thank you, Rosa, I’ll do my best,” Scarlet said. She rubbed her Chihuahua pin again. “You said you were a fan of Daisy, too? She was so amazing and undervalued. She had to practically disappear in order to get any respect. Did she change your life like she did mine?”

“I guess you could say that. But not in the way you think. Scarlet, I know your online diary is dedicated to Daisy, but you really must know, she was… is… a human being like each and every one of us in this room. You know what you read, well, that is only half the story. She made many mistakes in her life, I’m sure.”

Scarlet took one giant step back. “Rosa, do you know Daisy?”

Rosa took another sip from her cup and handed it back to Scarlet. “No, no. I apologize if I’ve disappointed you. But I did grow up in the same city as she did—Coconut Grove in Miami. After she became famous, the off-color stories came out of the woodwork about her. That she was a thief and a hussy, and even stole her best friend’s husband. I know you adore her, Scarlet, but she was just as flawed as the rest of us.”

By this time, all the students, even Mary Theresa, had turned
their chairs toward Rosa, hoping for more juicy gossip about Daisy de la Flora.

Everyone except Scarlet, who felt somewhat off-put by such accusations. “Oh, Rosa, it’s all chisme. Gossip. As soon as a girl becomes successful, old friends, cousins, and especially family will turn on her.”

Rosa wagged her finger at Scarlet. “Don’t be so quick to lump family in there. Sometimes when success runs out, family is all that’s left.”

The class stayed silent.

“Anyhoo,”
Scarlet sang out, clapping her hands twice, “let’s get on with the lesson. Now comes the fun part. I have samples of all the things we are going to make in this workshop series, starting with today’s fabric collage handbag made from placemats. And… we’re going to lie on the floor on top of butcher paper and trace our bodies with a marker.”

“What?” Mary Theresa cracked.

Scarlet stepped next to her and gently gripped her elbow. “Hang on a sec,” she whispered.

“Let’s take a break first,” Scarlet announced. “I brought some yummy pastries for us to enjoy, as well as coffee and juice.”

The women took her advice and hovered over the treats. All except Mary Theresa.

“I’m so sorry for asking about the record in front of everyone,” Scarlet said, pressing her hands on her own cheeks. “I take it that the gift didn’t go over too well? How could he not like Coltrane?”

Just because Scarlet spilled her own life story to the world from her computer, didn’t mean everyone else did too. Mary Theresa had no intention of sharing any of her personal details. Ever.

“Oh, he loved it,” she replied, stiffer than a shot of gin. “Your
question took me by surprise, that’s all. Look, there’s something you should know about me. I’m a very private person. I’m not really into the patterns-as-a-metaphor life lessons. I’m a busy mom with a lot of responsibilities. I just want to get through the twelve weeks.”

“I read you loud and clear,” Scarlet said, realizing she had stepped into a minefield. “But there’s something
you
should know about
me
. If you ever need someone to talk to, or hang out with, or even sew with, I’m here for you.”

A
cross the country in his Park Avenue penthouse, Johnny “Scissors” Tijeras lay sprawled in his black silk pajamas, belly down, across his Vera Wang sheets. He snored away the midnight hour, thanks to the Flexeril pill that had worked its magic on his ailing back.

“Mijo…,”
said a voice, floating through his dream.