The Wishing Trees - By John Shors Page 0,115

displayed a variety of traditional and modern dresses.

The women, who looked to be twins, stopped in the center of the room. “You like Vietnamese or Western dresses?” one seamstress asked in broken English, her eyes as dark as the ceiling and the large mole next to her nose.

“Wait, sister, wait,” the other woman said, scowling. “First, we welcome you to our store. Would you like anything to drink? To eat?”

Holly looked at Mattie. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” Holly asked. “They’re happy to bring us something.”

Mattie looked at the women, who nodded. “Maybe a drink?”

The smooth-faced sister smiled. “A Coca-Cola? A Fanta?”

“A Coke, please.”

The woman looked at Holly, Georgia, and then Ian. Everyone ordered a drink, and the seamstress hurried out into the street. The remaining proprietor lit a stick of incense and picked up a measuring tape. “My sister, Kim, she be back soon. My name Binh. No one come to our shop today, so since you first customer, that mean you lucky customer, and we give you good price.”

Georgia saw Holly’s glance and nodded, sitting down on a granite bench. Ian moved beside her, a cramp in his stomach, making him realize that he hadn’t taken an antacid since arriving in Vietnam.

“What do you think,” Holly asked Mattie, “a Vietnamese or a Western dress?”

Mattie looked at the mannequins. She walked over to a traditional Vietnamese dress, which was almost ankle length and worn over white silk pants. The dress was blue, with buttons falling from the neck to the underside of a shoulder. The top half of the dress featured a variety of blurred colors, like a garden observed through rain-covered glass. Mattie thought that she saw roses, tulips, and a hundred other flowers. She liked the idea of being a walking garden and touched the soft fabric. “I love this one,” she said. “Is it expensive?”

“No,” Binh replied. “For you, only fifteen dollars.”

Holly shook her head. “But we’re your first customers, your lucky, lucky customers. I think for us, eight dollars is a better price. A much better price. With that price, more luck will come your way. So much luck that you’ll make dresses for free.”

“Eight dollars!” Binh repeated, feigning shock. “Twelve dollars for you. This my best price. Sure, sure.”

“No, no, no. Nine dollars. That’s my best price. Sure, sure.”

“Ten.”

“Nine.”

As Holly and the seamstress haggled, Mattie saw a boy’s suit and thought of Rupee. “Daddy, can we get something for Rupee?” she asked. “Something special?”

Ian followed her gaze to the suit, wondering how the other orphans would react to such clothes, and why he hadn’t heard back from the orphanage’s director, whom he’d e-mailed three days earlier. “I don’t know, luv,” he finally replied, “if the other blokes at the orphanage would fancy seeing Rupee in a suit. Maybe we could send them some soft blankets instead? Would that be all right?”

“As soft as this?” Mattie asked, again touching the dress.

“Aye, aye, First Mate. As soft as that.”

Mattie grinned and thanked him as Holly and Binh finally agreed on a price of ten dollars. Glad to see Holly smile, and that they were going to buy blankets for the children at Rupee’s orphanage, Mattie stepped forward as Binh pulled a measuring tape from her pocket. Remembering how she had fled from the seamstress in Hong Kong, Mattie stood straight, glancing at her father.

Rather than immediately take Mattie’s measurements, Binh squeezed her arms, touched the contours of her spine, and traced the outline of her collarbones. Mattie felt as if she was in a doctor’s office and looked to Holly, who smiled, placing a hand in front of her mouth as she laughed.

“You strong girl,” Binh said, unwinding her measuring tape, clucking her tongue as she recorded the circumference of Mattie’s neck and waist, as well as the length of her torso, legs, and arms.

Kim returned from the street and handed soft drinks to Georgia, Holly, and Ian. “Be careful my sister no choke you with measuring tape,” she said, smiling.

Binh scowled, replying in Vietnamese, and then adding in English, “Kim good at making dresses, but better at talking. She talk all day and night if I let her. If you let her. Go, Kim. Go outside and get them food.”

Still smiling, Kim turned to Ian and Georgia. “Binh not have many good ideas, but that one of them. You want something to eat? Some grilled chicken or squid?”

“Will this take a while?” Ian asked, gesturing toward Mattie.

“Oh, yes,” Kim replied. “If we measure

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