Chapter 6
Once I sent the message, I lifted my head.
The face in the mirror was still calm and still obliging, with nothing anyone could fault.
I put on another layer of lipstick.
I got to Emily's studio at one.
It took up an old brownstone downtown with climbing roses all over the front.
The room was quiet when I pushed the door open, and something faint and sweet hung in the air.
Half-finished gowns crowded the racks, and a row of dress forms stood by the window with white tulle falling off them like fog.
Emily stood at the far end of the room.
She wore a plain off-white shirt with her hair pinned up loosely, and even her smile was measured out to the exact right amount.
She matched the picture I had built of her.
She was the kind who had been carried through life since childhood.
Things arrived in her hands without her ever having to reach.
Richard had arrived the same way.
"Ms. Winters," she said.
She came toward me with a smile that was warm and perfectly polite.
"I've been wanting to meet you."
"Ms. Sutton," I said.
She looked me over twice, lightly, and missed nothing.
It was the way a designer reads a bolt of fabric, learning the grain before deciding where to cut.
"You're smaller than you look on camera." She frowned a little. "We'll have to take the dress in at the waist or it won't hang right."
She didn't mention Richard.
The ease in her voice said it for her.
Some part of Richard had already been signed over to her, and she handled it like it had always been hers.
I nodded.
"Thanks for taking care of this," I said.
Emily smiled and walked me back to the fitting room herself.
The bridesmaid dress was hanging inside.
It was pale champagne, fitted at the waist, long in the skirt, and the fabric had a soft shine to it.
It was beautiful, it was expensive, and I knew it too well.
It was exactly what I used to wear better than anyone.
Richard liked me in this.
It was soft and clean, it never pulled attention away from him, and it was polished enough to stand at his shoulder.
Emily stood behind me and worked the zipper up an inch at a time.
Her hands knew what they were doing and stayed gentle.
"That shade was made for you." She laughed under her breath. "You've got the coloring for it."
I looked at myself in the mirror.
The makeup was light, the hair was soft, the dress was soft, and nothing about me looked capable of causing anyone trouble.
Seven years of his shaping had produced exactly this.
Emily straightened my strap and then caught my eye in the mirror.
"Honestly, I've always been curious about you," she said.
I smiled.
"What exactly are you curious about?" I asked.
"A man like Richard keeping anyone around for seven years is rare." Her smile held steady. "I expected you to be difficult."
"Do I look difficult?" I asked.
Emily paused, considering.
"Not at all.
"You're softer than I expected."
Her eyes stayed on my face for half a second after she said it.
It was very brief.
In that half second she probably caught something.
The smile on my mouth and whatever sat behind my eyes had never matched.
She said nothing about it and only bent to smooth another inch of the strap.
The fitting room curtain lifted at one corner.
Two women came in with coffees, clearly close enough to Emily to skip knocking.
"Emily, we were just..." One of them stopped when she saw me and broke into a grin. "So this is Richard's girl?"
Emily frowned at her.
"Don't say that," she said.