Page 51 of Summer Ever After
Tara’s garment bag hung on the hooks by the door. “Come on, let’s get changed. We need to be there when cocktail hour starts.”
I followed her into the bunkroom and went to get my uniform from where I’d left it, carefully folded on the bottom bunk.
There was nothing there but a perfectly made bed. “No.” I patted the bed, even though it was obvious that the clothes hadn’t been tucked underneath the patchwork quilt. “Come on.” I dropped to my knees and peered under the bed.
“What’s going on?” Tara clipped her bowtie around her neck and smoothed out her button-down shirt.
“My catering uniform, I left it here this morning. Right here.” I patted the bed.
“Maybe Mrs. Graham hung it up.” Tara went to the closet and slid open the bifold door. “There’s nothing in here.” The wire hangers jangled against each other as Tara peered into the dark corners of the closet. “We have to find it. We’re going to be late.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Everything had been going so well. “I’m positive that I left it here. Why would Mrs. Graham move it?” My voice wavered. I rarely cried from sadness, but frustration drove me to tears more often than I’d like to admit.
I went into the lunch room. “Has anyone seen my uniform?”
The staff looked at each other and most just shrugged. “Aren’t you wearing it?” One of the other cottage keepers pointed to my embroidered shirt.
“No, it’s one of the black catering uniforms, I left it on my bed this morning.” My voice had started to become frantic. Mrs. Graham had recommended me to the caterers, and I was going to let her down.
“There has to be an explanation.” Tara took one of the radios from the command center. “No one is going to steal a crappy black uniform.”
The door to the staff cabin opened and Trey stepped inside with a huge garment bag draped over his shoulder. “Rosie. This is for you.”
“Oh, thank God. I thought that I lost it.” I rushed to Trey and took the bag from his hand. It immediately dropped to the floor. “What is this?” It was way heavier than a pair of pants and a button-down shirt.
“It’s your gown.” Mrs. Graham stepped out from behind Trey. “It was too heavy for me to carry.”
“My gown? What are you talking about?”
Mrs. Graham pointed to Trey. “Take the gown into the bunk room and hang it on the back of the door.”
Trey had a wry grin on his face. “You got it.” He took the hanger from my hand, it was so heavy it had already cut the circulation off to my fingertips.
“I don’t understand, Mrs. Graham, what’s going on?”
“Rosie. I talked with Jessica this morning. We think it’s better for the event if you fill the chair. I was wrong, the caterers aren’t short-staffed. In fact, you will be helping everyone out if you attend the ball, rather than work clearing plates.”
“You two decided what was best for me?” I pointed to my chest. “Did either of you think to ask me whether or not I wanted to go to this ridiculous event?”
Mrs. Graham’s face turned as white as all the napkins we’d steamed the day before. “Well, no. I guess you’re right, Rosie. We thought that it would be a nice surprise for you.”
Tara elbowed me. “Don’t be an idiot, Rosie. Go to the damn ball. If you don’t, I will never forgive you.”
“But, I don’t…belong.”
This time it was Trey who spoke up. I had forgotten that he was even in the room. “Rosie. You have more class in your pinky finger than most of those people out there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the tent.
“I should work.”
Mrs. Graham rested her hand on my arm. “You’re going to get paid. You can consider this work. It’s just as important, they need someone in a pretty gown to sit at the table beside Jessica. You’re her friend, I know that she respects you, and she has asked that you help out. Can you do it for Jessica?”
Tara’s hands were clasped in front of her. “Do it, Rosie. Do it.” She was bopping up and down like a teenager waiting for the Taylor Swift concert to start.
“Are you sure the caterers won’t be short-staffed?”
Mrs. Graham made a crossing motion across her chest. “I promise.” She turned and unzipped the dress bag. A hint of blue silk peeked out from the cloth bag. She held up a small basket. “This is my sewing kit, we’re going to need to do a few alterations. If that’s a yes, we’re going to have to get to work right now.”
I stepped forward to touch the dress. It was a ball gown with a sweetheart neckline and off-the-shoulder sleeves. “Is that a cape?” I pulled the extra fabric out of the bag.
