the fabrics, accessories, and trim she wanted. He sent her down to the design room and settled her with the head designer. Sandy Mays, fortyish, seemed to be a capable and confident woman, generous with her praise of Kate's new drawings. There was an assistant named Betsy Gaines and another named Pamela Barker, both of whom Kate knew from school. The head seamstress was Dessie Cagle, a middle-aged lady with silver hair and deft hands who could make anything she saw in the finer shops without a pattern. She could copy couture with incredible ease, and had been responsible, along with Sandy, for many of the company's newer casual clothes. It was Betsy's job to coordinate the trims—the buttons and laces, ribbons and belts and buckles that complemented the designed outfits. These were as important in their way as the actual silhouettes, and Kate paid deliberate attention to their use when she put together a new outfit.
The first day was spent getting used to the new location. Kate had a lot to learn about the routine of the sample room and the way things were done. This, Dessie and Sandy were happy to show her. They discussed the fashion business, contacts, buyers, fashion merchandising, and learned a lot about each other. By the time Kate went home, she felt as if she'd become another person. She had a new and vibrant attitude toward designing, replacing the vague anticipation of the years before.
"I'm going to be famous," she told Mary over the supper table. "I can feel it. I'm going to design new lines for each season, and people are going to know my name by my label, you wait and see. I'll make the company rich. I'll make them proud of me."
"I already am," Mary said, her eyes sparkling. "Kate, you have to go and tell Jason." There was a thought. She turned away, so that her mother wouldn't see the radiance of her face. "Can I borrow the car?" "Sure. There's enough gas to get you there and back, and then some," her mother said dryly. "Our very first luxury," Kate called from the front hall, "is going to be our very own telephone!"
"I hear you!"
She rushed out the door, grabbing up her purse on the way, and was all the way to the old battered blue Ford before she realized that she didn't have the keys. She went back to ask for them with a sheepish grin, then tore out the door again.
It started on the third try, made a loud roaring sound, and clanked when it was coaxed into low gear. She pulled out of the dirt driveway, careful not to scatter dirt in her haste, and bounced off toward the Diamond Spur with barely contained impatience and delight. If Jason wasn't in jail, she knew he'd be pleased about her good fortune. She wondered if Mr. Tanner still had a bull and if not, whether he had pressed charges. Jason usually got his way, but there was always a first time.
Chapter Four
A s she drove up in front of the Donavan house Kate realized something. She had no girlfriends, unless she counted her mother. Her best friend, the only real friend she had, was Jason. It was ironic that she had no one else to share this milestone in her life with.
She smiled about that as she darted up the steps and knocked furiously at the big hand-carved oak door, ignoring the modern doorbell altogether.
Sheila opened it, her eyebrows arching. "What a nice surprise."
"I'll bet," Kate laughed. "Well, is he in jail or not?"
The older woman grimaced. "He belongs there, all right. But Mr. Tanner decided that it would be easier to reinforce his fence and move that bull to another pasture after Jason explained the situation to him."
"I wish I'd been a bug on the fence," Kate said with a mischievous grin.
"Me, too," Sheila whispered. She nodded her grizzled head toward the hall. "He's in there with
Gene and Cherry having supper. Go sit down and I'll get you a dish." "Oh, I've already eaten...." "The dish," Sheila explained patiently, dragging her inside, "is for peach cobbler. I made one tonight." "My favorite!" Kate enthused. "Fancy that,"
The first day was spent getting used to the new location. Kate had a lot to learn about the routine of the sample room and the way things were done. This, Dessie and Sandy were happy to show her. They discussed the fashion business, contacts, buyers, fashion merchandising, and learned a lot about each other. By the time Kate went home, she felt as if she'd become another person. She had a new and vibrant attitude toward designing, replacing the vague anticipation of the years before.
"I'm going to be famous," she told Mary over the supper table. "I can feel it. I'm going to design new lines for each season, and people are going to know my name by my label, you wait and see. I'll make the company rich. I'll make them proud of me."
"I already am," Mary said, her eyes sparkling. "Kate, you have to go and tell Jason." There was a thought. She turned away, so that her mother wouldn't see the radiance of her face. "Can I borrow the car?" "Sure. There's enough gas to get you there and back, and then some," her mother said dryly. "Our very first luxury," Kate called from the front hall, "is going to be our very own telephone!"
"I hear you!"
She rushed out the door, grabbing up her purse on the way, and was all the way to the old battered blue Ford before she realized that she didn't have the keys. She went back to ask for them with a sheepish grin, then tore out the door again.
It started on the third try, made a loud roaring sound, and clanked when it was coaxed into low gear. She pulled out of the dirt driveway, careful not to scatter dirt in her haste, and bounced off toward the Diamond Spur with barely contained impatience and delight. If Jason wasn't in jail, she knew he'd be pleased about her good fortune. She wondered if Mr. Tanner still had a bull and if not, whether he had pressed charges. Jason usually got his way, but there was always a first time.
Chapter Four
A s she drove up in front of the Donavan house Kate realized something. She had no girlfriends, unless she counted her mother. Her best friend, the only real friend she had, was Jason. It was ironic that she had no one else to share this milestone in her life with.
She smiled about that as she darted up the steps and knocked furiously at the big hand-carved oak door, ignoring the modern doorbell altogether.
Sheila opened it, her eyebrows arching. "What a nice surprise."
"I'll bet," Kate laughed. "Well, is he in jail or not?"
The older woman grimaced. "He belongs there, all right. But Mr. Tanner decided that it would be easier to reinforce his fence and move that bull to another pasture after Jason explained the situation to him."
"I wish I'd been a bug on the fence," Kate said with a mischievous grin.
"Me, too," Sheila whispered. She nodded her grizzled head toward the hall. "He's in there with
Gene and Cherry having supper. Go sit down and I'll get you a dish." "Oh, I've already eaten...." "The dish," Sheila explained patiently, dragging her inside, "is for peach cobbler. I made one tonight." "My favorite!" Kate enthused. "Fancy that,"
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