to the dress form and shifted one of the roses several inches higher. The arrangement looked bolder, and the blue gown seemed to stand straighter. Elsie approved with a quiet nod. By three, the flowers were attached. By four, the silver leaves were secure. At five fifteen, Janelle slipped into the gown and walked the length of the empty classroom, stopping, turning, and lifting her arms while Keisha watched for pulling or drag. The hip held. The skirt moved like water around her ankles. The red roses caught the light and then fell into shadow.
She slept for ninety minutes on a narrow sofa in Elsie's office, then woke to a message from the showcase's coordinator, Rebecca Lin, confirming the afternoon check-in. Janelle called Rebecca and asked whether a designer could make a substantial change to a previously approved garment. Rebecca said changes were permitted if the designer documented the process and brought the final construction notes. Janelle explained the circumstances without naming Brielle or asking the foundation to solve her family argument. Rebecca listened carefully and said the committee cared about who had made the work, not whose name appeared in a publicity post. "Bring your original application materials," she added. "If somebody has issued incorrect credit, we can correct the event record." Janelle hung up feeling steadier than she had the night before.
The showcase took place in a renovated art museum in downtown Atlanta. Its marble entrance had been decorated with tall arrangements of white flowers, and a line of expensive cars waited beside the curb. Inside, designers hurried between fitting rooms while stylists carried garment racks through narrow hallways. Janelle arrived in jeans, a black shirt, and sneakers, with the transformed gown zipped inside a clean garment bag. Keisha followed carrying a folder of photographs and the sample fabric they had used for testing. Elsie came later by taxi, refusing Janelle's offer to pay for the trip. "You can buy me supper when they make you famous," she said, which was the closest she would come to admitting she hoped for a prize.
Brielle arrived at the museum shortly before the preview reception. Denise was with her, along with two local fashion bloggers and a photographer who had been promised a story about the family's successful atelier. Brielle moved through the lobby easily, accepting compliments and explaining that she was there to support a "new collection" developed through the business. Then she saw Janelle coming from the fitting area with Keisha. Her smile hardened. "You actually came," she said. Janelle stopped at a comfortable distance. "Of course. I was invited." Brielle looked past her toward the closed garment bag. "I hope you found a way to fix that disaster." Janelle said she had. Brielle extended her hand toward the zipper, but Janelle moved the bag out of reach. "You'll see it with everyone else," she said.
The public runway began at seven. Janelle waited backstage while twelve designers prepared their pieces. Some were showing tailored jackets made from reclaimed fabrics; others brought dramatic eveningwear, textile art, or clothes meant to be adapted for people with mobility limitations. The variety made her nervous in a useful way.