must think we’re still little girls.”
“What if you had the hairdresser pull up the sides of your hair into a crown braid so the flowers would sit right in the middle and then loosely curl the rest of your hair?” Mitzi picked up a sketch pad and quickly drew what she had in mind.
“Wow!” Dixie exclaimed. “That’s beautiful. Can we take that with us to the hair place?”
Mitzi ripped the page off the pad and handed it to her. “Now, let’s talk style. Swing dresses are all the rage. What if we did something like this?” In a few minutes she’d whipped up a picture. “You won’t want to use heavy satin or it won’t flow right, and what do you think of cutting it off right here and doing the top in pink lace?”
Dixie frowned and finally shook her head. “No, make it all the same material, but give us wide straps instead of a high neckline.”
Tabby pulled the neck of her T-shirt to the side. “Wide enough to cover our normal bra like this so we don’t have to wear a strapless. I hate those things.”
Mitzi picked up a thick eraser and redid the top of the dress. “How about some burgundy trim somewhere to tie in those ribbons?”
Tabby pointed at the hem. “Just a hint around there. No, wait! I saw a dress last week at the mall that had a little ruffle of tulle around the bottom.”
If Mitzi had daughters, she’d want them to be just like these two girls—all up in fashion and color. She picked up a burgundy pencil, and with a few flicks of the wrist, she put in a ruffle of soft illusion. “What do you think?”
“Neither,” Dixie said. “Draw what the back will look like. I’ve got an idea.”
Mitzi tore that sheet out and quickly redrew the dress from the back. It didn’t look all that different from the front, except the back had a hidden zipper to give them dressing ease.
“Okay, now draw a burgundy bow right there with streamers that hang to the bottom of the dress,” Dixie said. “And take away that stuff on the bottom. It will draw attention to our legs and we’d rather folks looked at our faces.”
“And besides, the people will see our backs as much as our fronts,” Tabby said. “Oh! And we can have burgundy high heels. I hope we’re at least a foot taller than all the bridesmaids.”
Mitzi drew in the bow and scribbled some color on it and the dress. “Why would you want to be taller?”
Tabby tipped her chin up. “Because Mother won’t like it. She’s this little petite thing that barely comes to our shoulders. I think she left us when we were babies because she was ashamed of us. She knew we’d be bigger than her by the time we were in the third grade.”
Dixie looked a little sheepish, as if maybe she shouldn’t reveal that about her mother, but it was the truth. “Daddy kind of wanted us to play basketball, but neither of us like sports so well.”
“So what do you like?” Mitzi blinked away the tears in her eyes. Even if Rita had other reasons for leaving Graham, the girls had grown up thinking that she was ashamed of them. And then to disappoint their father, too—bless their hearts.
“Clothes, makeup, and making flower arrangements. We got to take a class in that at the vo-tech school last summer and we loved it.” Tabby pointed to the mannequin on the stairs. “You should put a bouquet in her hands. You could even change it out with the seasons. Like red roses at Valentine’s and yellow or pale pink for the summer.”
Dixie’s head bobbed up and down. “And orange daisies for fall and maybe poinsettias for Christmas.”
“If I get some silk flowers tomorrow, could you come in the afternoon and make a bouquet for her?” Mitzi asked.
“Yes!” they both said at the same time.
“Ask your dad if it’s all right, and let me know. Right now let’s go look at fabric.” Mitzi picked up her sketches and carried them into the huge old living room.
“Oh. My. God!” Tabby’s hands went to her cheeks. “Have I died and gone to heaven? Look at all this beautiful stuff.”
Dixie wiped her hands on her jeans before she touched the bolts of lace and satin. “I could live in this room.”
“This one.” Tabby immediately pointed at a bolt of soft-pink silk.
Mitzi took down a bolt of the same material in