The Green Lace Corset, стр. 83
Anne hung up.
Fay hugged her. “I’m so proud of you! Of course we’ll work out childcare.”
She checked her phone. “I need to get to work soon, but I’ll help you get started first.” Fay began to fold a sweater rumpled on the dresser.
Anne shooed her out. “No, no. I’ll do it. I promise. You go to work.”
“Thanks for watching Paul and the girls this evening so we can have a date night.”
Anne walked her to the top of the stairs. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Maybe you’ll putter in your studio a bit today too. Cheerio,” Fay said, as she traipsed down the stairs.
“Maybe.” Anne dragged a box filled with shoes into the walk-in closet. She’d never dreamed of having a closet this big. She pulled out the silver shoes, held them to the overhead light, and admired the sparkles. She remembered the first time she’d seen them, in the New York antique shop. They truly turned out to be magic. She slid them onto the built-in shoe rack and slipped the Ferragamos beside them. Too big to fit on the rack, she put her cowgirl boots on the floor underneath.
After she finished unpacking all her shoes, she returned to the bed and looped the green boa over the corset outfit hanger, in hopes she’d be able to fit into it again to entice another man someday. Maybe it would be Sergio; then again, maybe not. She hung it in the closet with a smile. She and Sergio would be seeing each other often enough, whenever he came to see the baby and stayed in his condo here. So who knew?
She unpacked the green lace cocktail dress she’d worn the first night she met him and hung it in the closet. Collecting the black coat from the bed, she touched the snowflake pin and ran her hand along the smooth velvet. She held it up to her nose and imagined for a moment she caught a whiff of gardenia, then hung it in the closet too.
Opening another box, she saw the finance jars Sergio had sent. A good mother would actually use these to teach a daughter how to be financially responsible. Perhaps Anne could even use them to keep her own finances on track and set a good example for Sylvie. She lined them up on the dresser: SAVE, SPEND, GIVE AWAY.
She peeked at the girls in the nursery, both still sleeping peacefully, and made her way upstairs to the spacious attic that was now her studio. She twirled around like Julie Andrews on that mountaintop in The Sound of Music as bright sun streamed through the casement windows. Anne opened one and let the salty, cool breeze float inside. The bay below sparkled in the beauty of the day.
Anne pulled the lucky key from her jeans pocket, put it on her altar, fingered her father’s dog tags, and rubbed the Buddha’s belly.
“Thank you for all my blessings.” She stared up at the ceiling and promised to write them down in her journal before the day was done.
Fay had surprised Anne by having shelving installed in the studio, and together the women had placed knickknacks on them, sorted the found objects into plastic bins, and loaded them neatly onto the shelves. Chipped and broken dishes were stacked there as well. Four six-foot tables had just been delivered. She placed them in the room’s center and positioned oilcloth covers on top. A dream-come-true studio all Anne’s own.
Fay had lined up all the finished and someday-to-be-finished pieces around the space. Anne curled up on the daybed, resting on a far wall, and listed them in her journal:
Southwest Sky Collage
Hugs and Kisses Washboard
Things People Pray For (with Lady of Guadalupe)
Cast-Away Stones
Our Lady of the Garden
She paused and added, You Glow, Girl! (Would put “NFS” on it.)
Without realizing it, she had intuitively made many pieces with female figures as focal points. She could combine the whole series to express the theme: female empowerment. Her fingers itched to add more to the collection.
These past months had been the longest period since she’d worked on her own. Uncertain where to start, she moved to her altar, rang the Tibetan chimes, lit a gardenia candle, and closed her eyes. She saw herself in the green lace corset and scrolled through her photos from the Southwest print until she found the one Lola had taken of her at the resale boutique. Anne printed it out, cut around it, and adhered it to the sky collage with a smile.
Inspired to keep going, she intuitively selected a ceramic statue of a girl wearing a headscarf. Anne glued it in the center of an antique oval tray, carried over her container of shells and one with pearls, and began to glue them around the girl. She added two fish chopstick holders she’d bought on sale in Chinatown, and blue-and-white dishes. She added Sally Sells Seashells by the Seashore to the list of pieces in her journal, sat on the daybed, and kept writing:
Gratitude for All My Blessings
Sylvie
Mom
Pootie
Tootie
Michigan nature
Sergio
Paul
Fay
George
San Francisco
Bay Breeze
Art
Sylvia
And the list could go on and on and on.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First, I want to thank the San Diego Writers, Ink community for nurturing me through all these years while I created this trilogy, especially Executive Director Kristen Fogle for her dedicated leadership, and Nicole Vollrath for the prompt that started this novel’s train on its tracks.
Brooke Warner, Crystal Patriarche, Samantha Strom, and my She Writes Press sisters, I so appreciate your wholehearted support and guidance. Enchantress Julie Metz, your book covers are more beautiful than anything I could ever have dreamed. Jordyn Smiley, thank you for the gorgeous green lace corset design and construction. I can’t wait to wear it! A shout-out to my editors Tracy Jones, Judy Reeves, and Annie Tucker for your enthusiasm and much-needed keen eyes. Jen Coburn, publicist extraordinaire, your humor, perseverance, and