Sunny's Togs, Fanny's fledgling business started in her sewing room, had grown slowly, profitably, over the years, thanks to Fanny's diligence, Sallie's business expertise, and Billie Coleman's knowledge of the textile business.
Fanny referred to Sunny's Togs as a contained business, selling her children's clothing only in Nevada and Texas. Limiting sales to certain states had been BiUie's idea, for better quality control, she said. Sallie had taken it one step farther. When something is unavailable, she said, people will do anything to get their hands on it. Expand one state at a time had been her advice. Be good to your employees, be smart enough to know when enough money is enough, and share the rest. It was sound advice, advice Fanny followed to the letter. The result was that in 1955 Sunny's Togs took ofTlike a rocket and exploded into the retail market. A corporate office was established in downtown Las Vegas. Bess Noble, with absolutely no experience, stepped in and took over the operation armed only with Fanny's confidence in her ability. "We're both dumb as dirt, Bess, that's why it will work. We'll both learn from our mistakes, and you know I'll never come down on you for doing something wrong. Someday, Bess, we're going to be known nationally. Mark my word!"
Six years later, net revenues were in the double digit millions.
Sunny, her father's look-alike, was a boisterous, gangly, curly-headed kid who loved to swear and torment her brothers, all the while wearing a perpetual smile. She could shinny up the cotton-woods faster than either one of the twins, and shinny down even faster, laughing uproariously as the boys got tangled in the branches and, more often than not, fell out of the tree. She could pedal her bike faster, run longer distances, swim twice as far, and in general, best her brothers in every endeavor.
Young BiUie was an outgoing child whose main interest in Ufe was her mother's business. At the age of six, she discovered paper dolls. Never satisfied with the few cutouts on the pages, she made her own, her chubby fingers drawing and cutting until she had exactly what she wanted. At seven she started designing clothes for her dolls— clothes Fanny sewed for her until the day Sallie showed up on their doorstep with a sewing machine just for Billie. From that day on, every outfit she designed and sewed for her favorite doU Cissie was a work of art. She loved sewing buttons on the sample garments for her mother, loved copying the whimsical suns that went on the patch pockets or shoulder straps, loved packing up the boxes to be taken to United Parcel. When she was twelve and in bed with a vicious cold, she designed a romper suit that she'd cut and stitched by hand. The romper, banded at the legs with miniature sun decals, was the following year's best-seller. The original, tacked, matted, and framed, hung in the workroom with all of her mother's original designs.
Fanny's studio, or workroom as she preferred to call it, was the cottage Chue had lived in before his family started to grow. Sallie had built him a house farther down the mountain the year she deeded the house to Fanny. With Billie and Bess's help, Fanny had renovated the cottage. The workroom was a bright cheerful space filled with easels, drafting tables, stools, and hassocks. Four deep, bright red chairs flanked the fieldstone fireplace. A round oak table covered with swatches, designs, catalogs, and design books sat in the middle. One corner was designated as kitchen area, with a small stove, mini refrigerator, colorful cabinets, and a small wrought-iron table with four chairs. To the far left, twin beds with a small dresser in between welcomed Fanny when she felt the need to catnap or spend the night if she was working late. But it was the fireplace area that was Fanny's favorite place, especially when Billie and Bess were visiting. They would talk about their husbands, their children, their
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desires, and when they finished widi that, they'd switch to business. Other times, it was a gathering place for her and her children when a problem surfaced and needed to be talked out and resolved. Cocoa, a fire, and an open mind made it a sanctuary.
Often she crept dowai here to "her place" in the middle of the night to sort things out when Ash would come home on one of his rare visits, drunk and angry.
Fanny knew she should have gotten a di^orce years ago. Ever hopeful, she'd thought things would change, but they hadn't. Once she'd mentally criticized Sallie for staying in a loveless marriage, professing not to understand the strange relationship, and now she was doing the same thing. Did she still love Ash? The children asked her that all the time, and her standard stock answer was always the same: "of course." Children needed stability, two parents. Not that Ash ever acted like a parent. Oh, he was a big giver, arridng on an occasional weekend with new bicycles, games, toys, outrageous jewelry for the girls. If an item was buyable. Ash bought it and handed it over with a flourish. Then he'^ suggest a game of tennis with "the old man" and played the game to the bitter end. It wasn't a game to Ash, it was a batde and there could only be one winner. Ash Thornton. The twins hated the games, but Sunny practiced dili-gendy, went to a month-long summer tennis camp, and walloped her father soundly at the age of thirteen. The twins cheered her wildly, their fists shooting in the air each time she made her father race for her serve. After that there were no more tennis matches.
Fanny's heart started to race the moment she heard the sound of Ash's car on the gravel driveway. She tried to remember the last time he'd been home—six weeks ago, maybe longer. It was the middle of the day. What was he doing here? She ran to the powder room and quickly fluffed her hair and added fresh lipstick. At the last second .she spritzed some perfume on her wrists and hated herself for doing it. Her husband was home.
She saw Sunny walk around the corner of the house, wheeling her bike. Even from this distance she could see the smoldering anger on her daughter's face. It could only mean trouble. She remembered that Sunny hadn't been satisfied with her tennis win. She'd challenged Ash to a father/daughter bike race up and down the mountain roads. The twins had set up an obstacle course, a start line, and
a finish line with strips of red satin ribbon. She'd heard them planning it.
She watched now as Ash, fit and trim, embraced his children, grinning as he pummeled his young sons. He cocked his head to the side and grinned as the boys raced off to stretch the finish fine ribbon between uvo trees. Sunny was leaning against a tree, stretching her legs and doing squats.
Fanny walked outside just as Ash gave his famous thumbs-up salute and took ofi'like a whiz. Sunny started out slow, her long muscular legs pumping steadily. Every time she passed her father, she gave him a raspberry, crossing the fmish line ten seconds ahead of him. She was leaning against a tree, sipping a Coca-Cola, a botde in her hand for her father, when he finally crossed the line. Ash, his eyes murderous, knocked the soda out of her hand as he threw his bike into the bushes.
Fanny ran after her husband, shouting his name as he headed for his car. She was forced to step back when he ignored her and backed up his car so fast that gravel spewed up, striking Fanny's chest. Still she cried, "Ash, wait, come back!"
Fanny held out her arms, gathering her children together, and headed for her studio, where they sat on the red chairs, not to discuss their father's poor sportsmanship, but to console her, to try and wipe away the devastation they saw in her eyes.
"I did it for you. Mom," Sunny said. "At least I thought I did. I hate the way he treats you. I hate it that you put up with it." She turned on her brothers like a tiger. "If I ever see you act like that, Fll punch you silly. You hear me! Look at the both of you, you're six feet tall, you weigh as much as Dad. It's time for you to start acting like the man of the house around here since we don't have one we can count on on a daily basis. There's two of you, how hard can it be?"
"You know what, litde sister, you're absolutely right. For once in your life. Starting right now, we are assuming Dad's role." Birch rubbed his hands together gleefully. "This is the way it's going to fly. Sunny, you will set the table every night. Billie, you will clear. Starting tomorrow, you girls will make our beds, meaning me and the other man of the house."
"And while we're doing all of that, wha
t are you two jerks going to be doing?" Sunny demanded.
"Acting like the man of the house. Nothing! It's what you wanted. You should have paid more attention when Chue was telling us
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about all those old Chinese proverbs. Remember the one that goes like this ... be careful what you wish for because you might get it. I rest my case."
"That's not what I meant and you know it," Sunny sputtered.
"That's enough," Fanny said. "All of you, I appreciate all you've done and said. You worry too much. Your father . . . isn't happy, that's the best answer I can give you. I don't know what it is that can make him happy. I've asked, but he's never given me an answer. He loves all of you. I know this in my heart. Sunny, you're too hard on him.''
"In a pig's eye."
"Time to go in and see about dinner," Fanny said, getting up from the hearth.
"I think we should have a big plate of. . . C/?OHTor you guys!" Sunny shouted as she barreled out of the studio, her brothers in hot pursuit.
"I wish I was more like her," BiUie said, following Fanny to the house.
"If you were like Sunny, then you wouldn't be you," Fanny said, putting her arms around her younger daughter. "I love you just the way you are."
"Mom, did you ever nodce that Dad can never remember my name? He has to do that mental thing, his face goes blank, he starts to fumble for his words and just when you think he's going to give up, he remembers. That doesn't say much for me, does it?"
Fanny was tired of lying to her children about their father. There would be no more lies. "Uh-huh. I think he resents your name a lit-de. As you know, I named you after Billie Coleman, and your father thinks BiUie ... he blames Bilhe for making me independent. Your father thinks women should stay home to cook, clean, sew, have babies, and wait on their man hand and foot."
"That's slavery," Billie said.
"Some women like doing that, and some don't. I am one of the don'ts. So is your grandmother. I think that part of it is all mixed up in your dad's head. He likens me too much to your grandmother."
"He should be proud of Grandma, and you too. You never told me what he said when my romper turned out to be our best-seller last year. Did he say anything? If he didn't, you won't hurt my feelings."
"Sweetie, your dad doesn't concern himself with what he calls my
piddly-assed business. Sunny did show him the romper and sang your praises, as did your brodiers. He said it was very nice. For your sake I wish he'd been as excited as we all were for you. Sometimes you have to swallow hard and take the good with the bad."
"I understand that, Mom. But where's the good?" Her shoulders slumping, Billie walked over to her drafting table and started to sketch. "Call me when dinner's ready. It's my turn to clear, so you and Mazie don't need me right now. What kind of Chinese neime is Mazie anyway?" she muttered.
"Show me what you're working on, honey. You've been so secretive these past weeks. You're starting to make me curious. If you don't want me to see it, it's okay."
"It's an idea. I was cleaning out my closet a few weeks ago and I found my old doll. I started to think, wouldn't it be a super idea to make an outfit, a new one like the coverall I'm working on, and make a doll to go with it? A boy doll and a girl doll with the exact same outfit. A small doll to utilize the scraps of material. If we made the coverall a patch garment of different colors, we'd have lots of leftovers. It really has to be a small doll, though, the kind you can stuff into the patch pockets. A bigger doll would be good too. If we made a bigger doll, you know, the kind kids love to cuddle with the way I did, we could sell them separately. A wardrobe for the bigger dolls using the scraps. What do you think. Mom?"
Fanny took a step backward and stared at her young daughter in wide-eyed amazement. "My God, and you're only fourteen! That is one of the best ideas I ever heard. We'll do it! Do you have the sketches?"
"Sort of I don't want to show them to you yet. Do you really think it's a good idea?"
"Honey, it's a stupendous idea. Is it okay to mention it to Bess, Sallie, and Billie?"
"I'd like to hear what they have to say. Sure, Mom. Promise to tell me exactly what they say, okay?"
"I promise a verbatim report. Are you going to tell your brothers and sister?"
"I already did. Birch said I was a genius. Sage said I was a genius plus, and Sunny said she was glad I was her sister because she doesn't know anyone as smart as me. That's exacdy what she said. They all hugged me and then Birch pushed me in the pool. He said it was my christening into geniushood. Is there such a word, Mom?"
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"Who cares. The title fits you perfectly. Honey, there are no words to tell you how proud of you I am."
"Do you think it will be another best-seller?"
"Absolutely. Now, get to work!"
Fanny walked out into the clear bright sunshine. Just minutes ago she had wanted to kick and scream, to smash something, but her anger had dissipated, the way it always did when her children took over her heart. The looks on their faces after the bicycle race would stay wdth her for a very long time.
She should have taken matters into her own hands years ago. She made her way to the litde cemetery that had always given Sallie such comfort. She sat down under the cottonwoods and hugged her knees.
It was time to make decisions, time to shelve her aching heart and get on with her life. Thirty-six wasn't too old to start over. BiUie Coleman was attempting to do the same thing, why couldn't she?
Fanny wept then, for the lost years.
"She's crying," Sunny said as she elbowed her brothers at the kitchen window. "We should do something."
"I think you did enough. Sunny. You started this whole thing. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone? You knew you'd beat him, you knew what he'd do. Why'd you do it? You need to back off a litde and get rid of all those burrs in your undies that are pricking you."
"That's easy for you to say. You guys are leaving in a few months for college. Then it will be just Billie and me. It won't be the same without you here. Your size alone always gave me some comfort."
"Oh, my God, she gave us a compliment, Birch," Sage said, his voice full of awe.
"She's getting up," Sunny said. "Look busy."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Sage said, saluting smartly.
Fanny entered the kitchen, her face stony. "Listen, I'm going to clean up and go into town. I'm not hungry, so eat without me. I'll probably stay with Sallie and come back in the morning. Billie told me about her doll idea. It's so good I can't wait to tell everyone and set the wheels in motion. I want to thank all of you for being so encouraging. I don't think you needed to dunk her in the pool, though."
"Yes we did," Sage said. "She loved it!"
"All right, all right. Make sure you eat all of your dinner, not just the dessert. I'll see you before I leave."
As one, Fanny's children looked up from their sprawled positions on the living room floor when their mother came back into the room. For once, the four of them were speechless. Dressed in a simple pale yellow linen sheath that hugged every curve, with matching shoes, Fanny could have posed for a fashion magazine ad. Her hair was arranged high on her head in artful swirls to show off her diamond earrings. A matching diamond pin in a starfish design graced the linen dress a little below the shoulder line. She carried a small clutch purse with a diamond clasp. "What's wrong? Is the pin too much? Is it my hair?" Fanny asked anxiously. "I hardly ever get dressed up anymore. Billie Coleman designed this dress, and she said it would never go out of style. Say something."
"Mom, you look gorgeous. I guess we aren't used to seeing you dressed up. Can you walk in those shoes, the heels are pretty high."
"You look like one of those models in the magazines," Billie said.
"Yeah, yeah," the twins said in unison. They always said things in unison when they were at a loss for words. This gorgeous creature standing in front of them was their mother.
"If you're sure I look okay, I'
m off". Sage, you need to clean your side of the room. Tomorrow is laundry day. Billie, in bed by ten and no cheating. You're on your honor. Sunny, no fried egg sandwiches at midnight. Absolutely no swimming once it gets dark. Agreed? Come on, you're not too big to give me a kiss good night."
When the door closed behind Fanny, her children looked at one another. "She's going to blow his socks right off his feet. And then she's going to walk away," Sunny said. "She's angry. Very angry."
"You're imagining things," Birch said. "She didn't look angry to me."
"Trust me. I'm a woman, I know," Sunny said.
"Woman my ass. You're only fifteen," Sage said.
Birch swallowed his own retort when he noticed that Sunny had started to cry, her shoulders shaking. He stared at her helplessly.
"Why can't we just be a family? Why does it have to be him against us? He goes out with other women. He cheats on Mom. Did he ever kiss you. Birch, or hug you, or even say he was proud of you?"
"Guys aren't into that mushy stuff. Sunny. But to answer your question, no."
"He's not a guy, Birch, he's our father. Mom does all those things
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every day. I think we take it for granted sometimes. Do you want to end up like him and be estranged from Mom the way he is from Grandma?''
"No," Birch muttered.
"He doesn't care, Birch. He doesn^t care about any of us. In your heart you know it's true."
Birch watched as Sage and Billie headed for the kitchen to start supper. WTien they were out of earshot, he went to Sunny and put his arm around her. "Sunny, I want to talk to you like a big brother. Look at me," he said, cupping her freckled face in both his hands. "You aren't alone in all this. I want you to stop pretending you're this . . . tough guy. I know why you do it, but the others, they think you're really what you're pretending to be. It makes you less a girl if you know what I mean. I'd like it if you'd muzzle that mouth of yours too. I don't want you to get a bad reputation, you're my sister. It's okay for you to excel in athletics, in fact that's good, but you need to temper that win-win attitude of yours. Yeah, you can beat the pants off me and Sage, and yeah, you whopped Dad's butt, but look what happened. You set him up. Sunny, and he walked right into the trap. Don't be proud of that. Jesus, he's old, he must be at least^^, and you're fifteen."
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