Dahlia reached for the gown, unfastening the buttons that ran down the side. “Now, as Eduardo said, it’s not done yet. We’ll be pinning up the hem today, so I hope you’re wearing heels.”
“Oh, I am.” Carrie showed us her beautiful gold pumps and Eduardo gasped.
“Exquisite.”
“We’ll also be looking at several alterations on the waistline, I think,” Dahlia said. “So don’t be disappointed if the fit isn’t perfect just yet. It will be, I promise. And the draping will need some adjustment. We’ll also need to check the back to make sure the fabric plunges to just the right spot.”
Turned out the fit was nearly perfect already. Inside the small dressing room Dahlia and I helped Carrie into the gown and fastened the buttons, then we examined the glorious dress from every angle.
“This is about as close as we’ve ever come to perfection,” Dahlia said. “Just a couple of nips and tucks . . .” She pulled three straight pins out of the pincushion on her wrist and stuck one in the right shoulder and one on either side of the waistline. “Have you lost a little weight since your first fitting?”
“Nerves.” Carrie turned to look at the dress’s train. “Oh, but I had nothing to worry about. This dress solves everything. My father will finally have to admit that we made the right decision, and Mama will be happy because she’ll get to brag to her friends that she bought my dress from Cosmopolitan. It’s a win-win situation.”
“But how do you feel about it, Carrie?” I asked. “I mean, factoring your parents out, how does the dress make you feel?”
Another glance in the mirror and her eyes flooded with tears. “It makes me feel like bursting into a Doris Day song. Something joyous. Something positive.”
“‘Que Sera, Sera’!” Alva’s voice rang out from the other side of the dressing room. Seconds later she and Eduardo were both singing at the top of their lungs in perfect harmony.
“Well, there you go.” I laughed. “Your dress has musical powers.”
Dahlia opened the door and led us back to the studio. Eduardo took one look at Carrie and burst into tears. “It’s not manly to cry, I know.” He sniffled. “But I cannot help myself. This is one of the finest moments of my life, and you, my dear, are the picture of perfection, the ideal bride-to-be in the dress of any man’s dreams.”
“When you put it like that . . .” Tears brimmed over Carrie’s lashes.
Alva went to find some tissues and returned to press them into Eduardo’s hands. Minutes later he’d gotten things under control and was busy pinning the hem of the dress.
“When should I return to pick up the dress?” Carrie asked.
“The week after Christmas,” Eduardo said. “If that works for you.”
“It does. Oh, I can’t wait until Jimmy sees me coming down the aisle in this gown. You’ve saved the day, Eduardo. Everyone will be so happy.”
They continued to chat as he tucked the right shoulder seam. After she changed back into her regular clothes, she lingered in the studio to fill us in on the details of her big day, describing in detail the venue, the flowers, even the music.
“January 8th. It’s going to be the best day of my life.” She sighed. “And nothing and no one can stop it.”
“Who would want to, beautiful girl?” Alva wrapped her in a warm hug. “You deserve the very best.”
“And I’ve got it.” Her eyes flooded again. “The best groom, the best dress . . .” She looked at all of us. “And the best design team on the planet. You’ve truly become friends to me, and I’m so happy to have all of you in my life.”
She left a few minutes later, but her joy had lifted us all to a new level. I could feel the energy in the room.
“And that’s how we do it in the Cosmopolitan studio,” Dahlia said and then laughed.
Everyone went back to work, and Eduardo put Carrie’s gown back on the dress form. He seemed a bit distracted, though.
“Are you all right, Eduardo?” Alva asked.
He turned to face her. “Yes. But when will you stop being so stubborn, old woman?”
“W-what?” Alva stopped in her tracks. “What did you call me?”
“Stubborn.” He fussed with the buttons on the dress.
“No, the other part.”
He turned to face her and reached for her hand. “When will you come to my house for tamales? I invited you, but you didn’t give me a proper answer. You argued with me about basketball, but you never agreed to spend the evening with me. What do I have to do to make that happen?”
That stopped her in her tracks. I’d never seen Aunt Alva speechless before, but that pretty much did it.
“The invitation stands. You are all invited to Eduardo’s place on Saturday night for dinner. Seven o’clock. There will be no basketball. None. We will watch Doris at her finest, wearing the gown that I re-created for our beautiful bride. And you . . .” He gave Alva’s hand a squeeze. “You will be my guest of honor.”
“Well then.” Alva giggled. “How could a girl say no to an invitation like that?”
How indeed?
24
Teacher’s Pet
I grieve for Doris Day and the ignorance that regards her as old-fashioned.
David Thomson
I’d seen my aunt in an agitated state before, but nothing compared to the days leading up to her date with Eduardo. She must’ve gone through every item in her wardrobe a dozen times, looking for just the right ensemble. In the end I took her shopping for a new blouse and slacks. Then I took her to the salon to have her hair styled. When the stylist finished, I gasped. “Alva! You look like Queenie.”
“I do, don’t I?” She fussed with her hair as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. “We are sisters, after all.”
“This style is so becoming on you. It’s perfect.” I nudged her with my elbow. “You’re going to knock Eduardo off his feet.”
“Oh, I hope not. I’d like to keep him upright. At our age, a fall like that could break a hip.”
On Saturday afternoon I thought she was going to back out. She made herself sick with nerves. But when it came time to leave to pick up Brady, she hopped into my car, ready to roll. Well, hopped might not be the most accurate word to describe it, but at least she landed in the passenger seat.
“Now, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Katie Sue, but please don’t turn on the radio today, all right? I don’t think I have the energy to get caught up in that program. I’ll spend the whole evening wondering what’s going to happen next instead of focusing on our host.”
As if anything could keep her mind off Eduardo.
We stopped at Brady’s condo to pick him up, and I had to laugh when he came out dressed in a rather dapper outfit from the fifties.
“Don’t ask.” He groaned as he got into the backseat. “I’m under strict orders from Eduardo to wear this . . . or else.”
“Or else what?” I asked.
“Who knows.” Brady tugged at the scarf around his neck and closed the door. “But I wouldn’t go against it. I’m surprised he didn’t give you some sort of dress code.”
“If he did, we missed it.”
My GPS led me straight to Eduardo’s house. I’d never given one second’s thought to the kind of home he might have, so I was stymied when we pulled into the most magnificent neighborhood I’d ever seen.
“Wow.” Alva sat up straighter in her seat. “Do you think we’re in the right place?”
“Yeah, it’s right,” Brady said. “Eduardo had quite the life in Los Angeles. Worked in movies for years. So he accumulated quite a bit of wealth.”
“That would be an understatement,” I said.
“Oh dear.” Alva looked as if she might be sick. “I hadn’t counted on that.”
“What should it matter, Alva?” Brady asked.
“Why would a wealthy bachelor with all of the beautiful starlets from LA to choose from be interested in a middle-class gal like me, one who can’t even pick out her own outfit?”
/> “You’re a prize catch,” Brady said. “He’s lucky to have you.”
She giggled. “He doesn’t exactly have me just yet. This is just our first date, after all. And I’m so thrilled you two were willing to double with us.”
Brady nodded. “Happy to be of service.”
To enter the gated community I had to show my ID to a guard. He nodded and let us through. Moments later we pulled up in front of a glorious Spanish-style home with wrought-iron embellishments and grandiose windows.
“Wowza.” I let out a whistle.
“Here goes nothin’.” Alva opened her door before I even had a chance to put the car into park.
“Hold your horses there, Alva,” Brady said. “Let me be a gentleman and get your door.”
“Hurry it up, then.” She sat in place until Brady hobbled to her door in his walking boot.
We hadn’t even made it to the front door when Eduardo met us on the front patio dressed in the most interesting getup, a pink cardigan and wool flannel pants in a dark gray. Even the loafer-style shoes were costume-like. But nothing came close to the hair. I’d seen it televangelist style, smoothed over to the side, but never slicked back in James Dean fashion.
“Ooh, you look just like Rock Hudson!” Alva said as she headed his way.
“That’s the idea, my dear.” He extended his arm and she looped hers through it. “Now, let me show you inside.”
I’d come across some eccentric houses in my day, but nothing like Eduardo’s world. On nearly every wall hung photos of women in beautiful dresses from the 1930s to present day. He had it all.
Brady let out a whistle. “Man. No wonder Mom wanted Eduardo to come to Texas so badly. This is all right up her alley.”
“Yes, up her alley, all right.” Eduardo reached to take Alva’s coat. “She knows that I specialize in dresses from the old days. My life was—and is—the movies. I just adore the women of old.”
“Then you’re in luck tonight,” Alva said.
That got a laugh out of everyone.
He showed us around the fabulous home and then led us to the dining room where a waiter—Really? A waiter?—tended to our every need while we ate homemade tamales. They were, as he’d said, the yummiest I’d ever eaten. And the taco soup was divine.
Alva didn’t manage to eat much. I had a feeling this whole thing was a bit much for her. The poor old girl was a nervous wreck, though Eduardo did everything possible to put her at ease. After we ate our dinner, we topped it off with homemade sopapillas.
Then Eduardo rose and gestured for us to join him. “Now, my friends, let’s go to the theater.”
“Oh, I’ve been asking Katie for weeks to take me back to a picture show,” Alva said. “A good clean one this time, of course. None of that hanky-panky. So where are we headed? One of those newfangled places with the seats that recline?”
“The seats recline, yes,” Eduardo said. “But we won’t have to go far, I assure you.”
He led the way down the hall and up the massive rounded stairway to a hallway upstairs. There, to our right, was a flashing marquee. “Welcome to the Theater de la Consuela,” Eduardo said.
“For pity’s sake.” Alva leaned against the wall. “You have a theater in your home?”
“Certainly. I couldn’t live without it. I spend a lot of hours in here, dreaming up dress designs and reliving the old days. Like the day I met Doris for the first time, for instance. We were on the set of Pillow Talk together, you know.”
“I think I might have to sit down.” Alva fanned herself with her hand. “You actually worked on that movie? I had no idea.”
“I worked in the costume department. Then again, I was a peon at the time. A nobody. But I met them all. Do you need to sit, Alva?”
“Eventually. Give me a minute to let this sink in.”
“You met Rock Hudson?” Now Brady seemed genuinely interested.
“I did. But I worked on the costumes for Doris alongside Jean Louis, one of the greatest designers ever to grace the movie world.”
“He’s making all of this up.” Alva looked my way. “C’mon, Eduardo. Seriously?”
“I assure you, I am not. And I have the proof.” Eduardo pointed to a photo just outside of the theater. Doris Day. A signed copy. Next to her stood a startlingly handsome young man who looked just like a younger version of . . .
“Eduardo?” I pointed to the photograph. “That’s you?”
“Well, twenty pounds and fifty-six years ago, yes. I was young. Invincible. Nothing could stop me.” He appeared to drift off into his thoughts. Until he happened to gaze at my aunt.
“I don’t know what to say.” Alva stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Who else did you meet?”
“It might be easier to tell you who I didn’t meet.” He paused. “Back then, everyone knew everyone. We were all one big happy family on the movie sets. So before we watch the show, please allow me to show you my photos from the old days.” He led the way into the theater and I gasped as I saw three rows of upscale theater seats. And the walls! They were decked out with signed photographs. Nearly every famous star from the fifties, sixties, and seventies made an appearance.
“Eduardo, you knew all of these people?” I stood in front of an exquisite photo of Audrey Hepburn surrounded by a gilded frame.
“But of course.”
“John Wayne?” Brady pointed to an elaborately framed picture of the great actor.
“Quite a challenge to fit into costumes, but yes. Wonderful man. Very talented.”
“And of course . . .” Alva squinted as she took in a photo of Doris Day. “Just as you said. You really knew Doris Day.”
“We were closer than most,” he said. “I haven’t spoken to her for some time, but she was once a true friend, which is why I was so pleased to work on the bridal gown for Miss Sanders.” He paused next to Alva. “You see what she’s wearing? Doris was such a role model for young women of her day.”
“Women of this day too,” Alva said.
Eduardo pointed at the photo. “She became known for the sheath dress—or the wiggle dress, as many called it.”
“Wiggle dress?” Brady looked perplexed.
“Yes.” Eduardo chuckled. “It fit to the woman’s figure in such a way that every wiggle showed. Thanks to Doris, this style really took off. Before we knew what hit us, women all over the country wanted the wiggle dress. Quite popular in its day, I daresay.”
“I owned quite a few myself.” Alva laughed. “Back when my wiggle was a bit . . . well . . . less wiggly.”
“I would love to create a gown for you, Alva.” Eduardo gazed into her eyes. “It would be my great honor.” He took hold of her hands and held them tight.
“Is it warm in here?” Alva looked as if she might faint.
“I will adjust the thermostat.” He did so and then showed off several more photos of Doris, each in a different dress or coat. “She was the original urban sophisticate,” he said. “And the queen of turtlenecks. Did you ever notice how many turtlenecks she wore?”
“Never paid much attention, I guess.” Alva gave the photos a closer look.
Eduardo’s right eyebrow elevated. “What do you suppose she was trying to say with those turtlenecks?”
“She was cold?” I tried.
“Hardly. It was a symbol of her purity. Covered up from the chin down. See what I mean? An article of clothing can speak volumes.” Eduardo went on to talk about her penchant for little bobbed hats, beautiful coats, and glorious collars. I’d never given a moment’s thought to any of this, but I made up my mind to pay attention as we watched the show.
“Before we begin, I want to fill you in on Doris. Her last name wasn’t Day originally. She was born Doris Mary Ann von Kappelhoff.”
“That’s quite a mouthful,” Alva said. “No wonder she went with Day.”
“She was born in Ohio and started as a singer with Les Brown in the forties. Anything else you want to know?”
“
You’ve sure memorized a lot of facts about her,” Brady said.
“I study a film’s actors before I ever watch it and try to commit to memory their real-life stories, which, to my way of thinking, are even more fascinating than the characters they play.”
“My goodness.” Alva shook her head. “I just go to the movies, eat my popcorn, and watch the show. Never thought about all of that.”
“Just my habit,” Eduardo said. “Now, are we ready for the movie? I’ll pop some popcorn, if so.”
“You have a popcorn machine?” Alva asked. She mouthed, “Wow.”
“I’m a sucker for movie popcorn,” he said. “It’s my weakness.”
“Mine too.” They gazed at each other in complete silence as if frozen in time. Well, until Brady snorted. I didn’t blame him. The whole thing was pure cheese, but what fun!
Eduardo told us to choose our seats. Alva settled on one in the second row and Brady and I took a couple of seats in the third. Eduardo got the popcorn going and soon the luscious scent filled the room. Not that I had room in my stomach for one more bite of food, but I never turned down popcorn.
Minutes later he settled into the recliner next to Alva. I peeked over the edge of the seat and caught a glimpse of him taking her hand. The lights in the room went dim as the movie started. Before long we were all laughing . . . and sighing . . . and laughing. I found myself caught up in the moment, and all the more when Doris appeared in that glorious white dress.
“Ooh, she looks just like our young bride,” Alva said. “Only the dress you made is even prettier, Eduardo.”
“Bless you, lovely lady.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.
A few minutes later Alva began to squirm in her seat. “Would you mind pausing the movie for a minute or two so this old lady can take a little break?” She tried to stand but couldn’t get the recliner into the correct position. Eduardo rose, adjusted her seat, and extended his hand.