Read Online Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing by KATHY CANO-MURILLO - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: KATHY CANO-MURILLO
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“You guys look a lot alike.”
Marco wasn’t big on chitchat. He had his own idea for a conversation starter. “What happened back there? You’re not the type to lose it over broken records.”
Scarlet squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to hide from the memory. “I’m so embarrassed. Sorry about that,” she said. “That poor little girl…. She only wanted to make earrings. Who am I to crush her creativity?”
“Pffft.” He shrugged. “That kid is in the store every day, begging for freebies. Don’t worry about her. So what’s up? I’ve never seen you on edge. Can I help with anything?”
“No one can help but me. It’s stupid,” she said. “I made all these plans and they fell like dominoes. So I set them up again… and they tumbled again. I finally cracked. Unfortunately, on your showroom floor.”
“Hey, no worries.” Marco pulled his desk chair a little closer to Scarlet. “Are you OK?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I have no choice but to bounce back up and keep going.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, as if he thought he might be able to help.
What did she have to lose? When the cute guy from the record store offers a life raft, a girl has to at least give him a shot.
“Well, I come from a family of engineers,” she explained.“I grew up thinking it was mandatory to follow in their footsteps even though I love making clothes. I followed their plan and graduated with two engineering degrees; I had some jobs lined up. And then I ditched it. I put that life on hold and gave myself a few years to pursue fashion. It’s been more misses than hits, and my family is watching every move, waiting for me to fail so they can say ‘I told you so.’ But I’m going to prove them wrong.” Scarlet scraped her finger up and down his pocket as if it were a scratch-n-sniff sticker. “Hey, it’s dry, and as good as new!”
“I know what you mean,” Marco said. “Family are the ones who should lead your fan club. A lot of times, they don’t even believe you have one.”
“Exactly.” She wondered if his comment came from personal experience, but since he didn’t elaborate, she didn’t ask.
Marco stood up, grabbed a pen, licked his finger, and pulled a piece of paper from his desk printer.
“Scarlet, what would make your life easier right now?”
“I don’t even know where to start!” Scarlet half-joked, then she sat up tall. “All right. I’ve told you about my Daisy de la Flora blog? Well, her nephew is Johnny Tijeras—you’ve heard of him, right?”
Marco nodded. “Yeah, go on.”
“Well, he holds a mentor program for emerging artists….” She paused and tossed her hands in the air. “Oh, I’ll cut to the chase. I need a space to hold a weekly sewing class to raise cash.”
She watched for a frown of solidarity on Marco’s face. Instead he just stared at her, as if he hadn’t comprehended a word she said. Tossing down the pen, her curled his pointer finger for her to follow him. They exited the office and walked through the main floor of the store into a separate room that had a huge window facing Fifty-eighth Avenue.
“Has this room always been here?” Scarlet asked, astonished. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she had a feeling what he was leading up to.
“Sure has. It’s where we hold our listening parties. It’s nothing fancy and needs better lighting. But there are plenty of outlets and I have extension cords and tables you can use. If it’ll work for your class, it’s yours.”
Scarlet put her hands on her hips and walked around the edges of the area. Black-and-white-checkered tiles covered the back wall. The other two were papered with concert posters, autographs, framed portraits of ’80s stars, and ticket stubs.
“Are you serious?” she asked, still surveying the memorabilia on the wall and tapping her lips with her fingertip. “I can make this work. All I have to do is postpone the first class by a week and we’re good to go. I’ll
Marco wasn’t big on chitchat. He had his own idea for a conversation starter. “What happened back there? You’re not the type to lose it over broken records.”
Scarlet squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to hide from the memory. “I’m so embarrassed. Sorry about that,” she said. “That poor little girl…. She only wanted to make earrings. Who am I to crush her creativity?”
“Pffft.” He shrugged. “That kid is in the store every day, begging for freebies. Don’t worry about her. So what’s up? I’ve never seen you on edge. Can I help with anything?”
“No one can help but me. It’s stupid,” she said. “I made all these plans and they fell like dominoes. So I set them up again… and they tumbled again. I finally cracked. Unfortunately, on your showroom floor.”
“Hey, no worries.” Marco pulled his desk chair a little closer to Scarlet. “Are you OK?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I have no choice but to bounce back up and keep going.”
“Tell me about it,” he said, as if he thought he might be able to help.
What did she have to lose? When the cute guy from the record store offers a life raft, a girl has to at least give him a shot.
“Well, I come from a family of engineers,” she explained.“I grew up thinking it was mandatory to follow in their footsteps even though I love making clothes. I followed their plan and graduated with two engineering degrees; I had some jobs lined up. And then I ditched it. I put that life on hold and gave myself a few years to pursue fashion. It’s been more misses than hits, and my family is watching every move, waiting for me to fail so they can say ‘I told you so.’ But I’m going to prove them wrong.” Scarlet scraped her finger up and down his pocket as if it were a scratch-n-sniff sticker. “Hey, it’s dry, and as good as new!”
“I know what you mean,” Marco said. “Family are the ones who should lead your fan club. A lot of times, they don’t even believe you have one.”
“Exactly.” She wondered if his comment came from personal experience, but since he didn’t elaborate, she didn’t ask.
Marco stood up, grabbed a pen, licked his finger, and pulled a piece of paper from his desk printer.
“Scarlet, what would make your life easier right now?”
“I don’t even know where to start!” Scarlet half-joked, then she sat up tall. “All right. I’ve told you about my Daisy de la Flora blog? Well, her nephew is Johnny Tijeras—you’ve heard of him, right?”
Marco nodded. “Yeah, go on.”
“Well, he holds a mentor program for emerging artists….” She paused and tossed her hands in the air. “Oh, I’ll cut to the chase. I need a space to hold a weekly sewing class to raise cash.”
She watched for a frown of solidarity on Marco’s face. Instead he just stared at her, as if he hadn’t comprehended a word she said. Tossing down the pen, her curled his pointer finger for her to follow him. They exited the office and walked through the main floor of the store into a separate room that had a huge window facing Fifty-eighth Avenue.
“Has this room always been here?” Scarlet asked, astonished. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but she had a feeling what he was leading up to.
“Sure has. It’s where we hold our listening parties. It’s nothing fancy and needs better lighting. But there are plenty of outlets and I have extension cords and tables you can use. If it’ll work for your class, it’s yours.”
Scarlet put her hands on her hips and walked around the edges of the area. Black-and-white-checkered tiles covered the back wall. The other two were papered with concert posters, autographs, framed portraits of ’80s stars, and ticket stubs.
“Are you serious?” she asked, still surveying the memorabilia on the wall and tapping her lips with her fingertip. “I can make this work. All I have to do is postpone the first class by a week and we’re good to go. I’ll
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