“She actually listens.”
“She actually learns.”
“She actually has patience.”
Diane swallowed.
Those were phrases she had used.
Not maliciously.
Comparing technique.
Explaining why Olivia’s construction improved.
But Brooke had heard something else.
Diane whispered:
“I am sorry I compared you.”
Brooke laughed.
“Don't.”
“No.”
Diane kept her voice steady.
“I did.”
“I thought because you had left design behind, it wouldn't hurt.”
“That was careless.”
Brooke stared.
Then Diane continued.
“But that does not make what you did to Olivia acceptable.”
Brooke’s face hardened again.
“Of course.”
“Both things are true.”
“Therapy sentence.”
“Reality sentence.”
Brooke grabbed the keys from the counter.
“Where are you going?”
“My apartment.”
“Yes.”
Diane nodded.
“Good.”
Brooke stared.
“What?”
“You need to leave tonight.”
Her face changed.
“You’re kicking me out?”
“You have an apartment.”
“I stay here whenever I want.”
“Not tonight.”
“For cutting fabric?”
“For cutting her work after she told you to stop and then lying about it twice.”
Brooke laughed bitterly.
“Dad's going to love this.”
“Michael will see the video.”
“Of course.”
Brooke moved toward the door.
Diane said:
“Leave the house key.”
Brooke stopped.
“That is dramatic.”
“Leave it.”
“Mom.”
“You can have it back later.”
“Why?”
“Because Olivia asked me to review the camera history.”
Brooke turned completely.
Too fast.
Diane saw.
“What will I find?”
“Nothing.”
Another answer arriving too quickly.
“What will I find, Brooke?”
“Nothing.”
Diane’s voice changed.
“Leave the key.”
Brooke took it from her ring.
Placed it on the counter.
Hard.
Then walked out.
The front door closed.
Diane stood alone in the kitchen.
For several seconds she stared at the key.
Then her phone rang.
Mara Ellis.
Olivia’s mentor.
Diane answered.
“Can you save it?”
Mara sighed through the speaker.
“Save is a generous word.”
“What can you do?”
“Bring the dress.”
“Bring matching thread.”
“Bring the original pattern.”
“We can stabilize the cut from behind and make the repair visible.”
Olivia’s voice came from the stairs.
“Visible?”
Diane turned.
Mara heard.
“Yes.”
Olivia approached.
“Will that disqualify me?”
“No.”
Mara answered.
“The rules require original work.”
“They do not require undamaged work.”
“The judges may ask what happened.”
Olivia’s face tightened.
“I don't want sympathy.”
“Then don't ask for it.”
Mara’s voice remained calm.
“Say the garment was damaged shortly before presentation.”
“Explain the repair if they ask.”
“Then discuss the design.”
Olivia looked toward Diane.
“Can the repair become part of the design?”
Mara laughed softly.
“There is my student.”
They had fifty-six minutes.
They worked.
Not miraculous.
No montage magic.
The cut remained.
Mara’s assistant met them at the venue loading entrance with fusible support, silk organza, hand needles, and emergency lighting.
Olivia sat in a dressing room wearing leggings and a T-shirt while Mara examined the damaged section.
“This is clean.”
Mara said.