The Allegra Biscotti Collection

by Sherri Rifkin; Olivia Bennett

  “This one’s a blend, so it’s much cheaper than that other one that the crazy-haired hyena stole out from under you,” Nidhi said with a wink. “But it’s great quality—from one of our best suppliers. I didn’t show the other girl. I’d much rather get you the better bargain. What else?”

  “I love this one, too,” Emma said pointing to a wild, Pucci-esque swirl in the gray and yellow tones from her color scheme. She rubbed the heavy silk shantung against the inside of her arm, and it sent shivers to her neck.

  “And this!” She ran her hands over a pleated silk charmeuse with narrow, uneven stripes in the same cobalt blue and canary yellow mixed with gray and creamy white.

  She then turned her attention to the gray pile, which was all about texture. Everything Nidhi had pulled hit the mark in terms of color and quality, so it was a matter of pulling three fabrics that played off one another.

  For the dress, she chose slate gray chiffon with micro sequins. She was nervous about working with the fabric—it seemed so delicate. But it was so right! For the jacket, she fell in love with a charcoal-gray jacquard in a heavy but soft cotton ripstop. For the vest, she unrolled four different dove-colored silk jersey knits and chose the one with the most stretch.

  “They’re all perfect, Nidhi,” Emma gushed.

  “Of course. I always find you what you need, yeah?” She looked pleased with herself. “How much do you want? Quick, quick, before Abe starts yelling again. I have such a headache today. Mid-terms coming up over at the design school. My least favorite times of year.”

  Emma bit her lip. “I don’t know…yet. I still have to make my patterns and figure out how much I need. But I definitely want these. I just can’t buy them…today.”

  Nidhi smiled knowingly. She was always patient with Emma, probably because Emma tried very hard never to waste Nidhi’s time or drive her crazy—unlike the design students. “I’ll put these on hold as long as you promise not to tell Abe. When will you come back? Saturday, yeah?”

  “Yes. Definitely Saturday!”

  “Wow, that’s going to be a pretty big purchase.” Nidhi’s dark eyes glinted at Emma.

  “My biggest, for sure.” Emma had already done the math in her head. She turned, then hesitated. She hated leaving the lining fabric behind. She wanted to feel the material and mix and match the linings with the outer fabrics as her designs took shape. “Could I possibly get a tiny swatch of each of these?”

  In one swift motion, Nidhi pulled a pair of fabric shears from a sheath clipped to the waistband of her short camel-wool wrap skirt and snipped little triangles off each bolt. With a cupped hand, she swept them off the cutting table and slipped them into Emma’s palm.

  As Emma wound her way back to the front of the store, a wave of excitement washed over her. Deep in the pocket of her mocha-brown velvet trench, her fingers lightly danced over the small yet precious pieces of fabric. They were the beginning. The beginning of her first collection.

  The first-ever Allegra Biscotti collection.

  CHAPTER 11

  DESIGNER 2 WATCH

  I made you a schedule,” Charlie announced at Emma’s locker Monday morning.

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” Charlie, who never got embarrassed, looked slightly uncomfortable as he handed her a chart printed out from his computer. “It’s nothing major. Just a calendar showing how many days left and when each piece should be finished.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Emma said. “It’s not like I finish one piece and then start another. They all kind of flow together.”

  “Fine, so toss it.” Charlie reached for his chart, but Emma held tight and pushed it into her locker. When her mother constantly followed up on her schoolwork, Emma found herself unendingly frustrated. But having Charlie check up on her was a nice surprise.

  On Friday, Emma had run directly from school to buy the muslin. She’d spent the entire weekend working on her collection—first draping the dress forms at her studio; then creating the patterns; then mixing and matching. After much pinning and unpinning of the tiny swatches, she was able to buy the right amount of fabric. Naturally, she’d holed up in her bedroom into the night cutting the fabric with her favorite fabric shears—which meant she was more exhausted than usual for a Monday morning.

  “The only thing I didn’t get to do was homework,” Emma admitted to Charlie. “But I have a plan for that. I’ll squeeze it all in during study hall and lunch this week.”

  It wasn’t like she loved sitting with Ivana and the ’Bees in the cafeteria anyway. Emma figured they probably wouldn’t even notice that she was gone. As for Holly, Emma wasn’t sure if the peace offering in the auditorium was just a onetime thing. She was beginning to suspect not having Emma around made Holly’s life with her new friends much simpler.

  “Any chance you’re ready for the geometry quiz this morning?”

  Emma stared at Charlie. “What quiz? Oh, no. I totally forgot.” She scrambled to find her math textbook. Maybe if she glanced at the problems right now, she’d luck out and pull off a C on that one.

  “Bees at three o’clock,” Charlie mumbled out of the side of his mouth. He nodded toward Lexie and Kayla, who were now standing at the other end of the hall.

  Emma’s mouth dropped open.

  “What?” Charlie asked.

  “I…can’t believe it!” Emma gasped, peering around Charlie’s shoulder. “Lexie is wearing the exact same outfit I styled for Holly at Bloomingdale’s. Well, she switched the pink sequined miniskirt for a pink corduroy one, but otherwise it’s the same!”

  “The one you told me they busted on?” Charlie asked, trying to take a peek without being obvious.

  “Yes! Tell me what they’re doing,” Emma demanded.

  “Holly, Ivana, and Shannon are with them now,” he reported. “And Lexie is spinning around, like she’s showing them her outfit.”

  Emma could hear the girls—especially the famously loud Ivana—oohing and ahhing over Lexie’s outfit, Emma’s outfit, all the way down the hall. She doubted that any of them was giving her a single ounce of credit. Emma stood on tiptoes to sneak a look over Charlie’s shoulder again. She had to admit Lexie looked pretty fabulous. The gray mohair sweater-vest made her long dark hair look that much shinier, and the miniskirt showed off her tanned, athletic legs.

  “Ugh—here they come,” Emma said, sinking back on her feet.

  “Later!” Charlie said. He took off in the opposite direction.

  “Coward!” Emma loudly whispered after him.

  Moments later, the girls crowded around Holly’s locker.

  “Hi, Em,” Holly said. The other girls stood talking and giggling behind her, waiting for her to grab her books.

  “Hey,” Emma replied. “Sorry, but I’m not going to be at lunch today. I need to go to the library.”

  Holly popped a bubble and shrugged. “No biggie. You ready for the geometry quiz? I think it’s going to be kind of hard.”

  “Uh, no. Not really,” Emma answered. How can Holly just stand there and pretend like this isn’t the most awkward moment ever? Emma wondered. She must realize that Lexie took my outfit combination, since Holly was the one who wore it first.

  “Cute outfit, Lexie,” Emma ventured, hoping her subtle comment might prompt Holly to acknowledge the truth. “Really cool combo.”

  Emma waited for Holly’s reaction. But she didn’t have one. Holly just continued pulling stuff out of the locker, getting ready for the first few periods of the day.

  “Thanks.” Lexie beamed with genuine delight. “It’s my new favorite. Fun, isn’t it?”

  “Super-fun,” Emma responded sarcastically. “It kind of looks like the one I styled in Bloomie’s, don’t you think?” She spoke to Lexie but stared directly at Holly.

  “Not at all.” Ivana quickly jumped to her friend’s defense. “This outfit is much more stylish.”

  Emma continued to stare at Holly. Willing her to say something. But Holly remained mute, suddenl
y intent on organizing pens and pencils in a case.

  Emma glanced down at the geometry book in her hand, then over at Lexie’s outfit and Holly fervently lining up pencils. So this was how it was going to be. She slammed her locker shut and walked away.

  She wondered if Coco Chanel had days like these.

  Six hours later, as Emma pushed down on the foot pedal of her sewing machine, laying down the first stitches to the Allegra Biscotti Collection, thoughts of her so-called best friend and quizzes on congruent triangles were blissfully forgotten. She began with the jacket, joining each piece together—left side front to left side back, right side front to right side back—with flawless seams.

  She had sewn something so structured only a couple of times before, and that had been with her grandmother sitting right next to her, coaching her like an air-traffic controller guiding in a plane. Step by step. I hope I can remember all the tricks Grandma Grace taught me, Emma thought as she worked two sleeve pieces together under the bobbing silver needle.

  Emma studied the newly sewn sleeve and the open armhole. Attaching the sleeve correctly was the trickiest part. Her hands began to flutter. If I measured and cut the patterns right, the sleeve should fit perfectly. But by the time she had re-threaded the machine, her hands were trembling.

  How she wished her grandmother was here beside her—or at least in her condo in Florida. Then she’d only be a phone call away to talk Emma through the hard stuff. It figured that the one time Emma really needed her, Grandma Grace was off on a one-month honeymoon cruise around the world with her new husband, Elliot. What was he thinking in taking her grandma on some huge ship way out in the ocean and making her completely unreachable? She wasn’t due back until more than a week after Emma had to turn in Allegra’s collection to Madison.

  Emma stood and walked around her worktable a few times. Shake it off, she told herself. You can do this. Just go slowly but confidently—that’s what Grandma Grace would say. The minute the machine thinks it’s controlling you and you’re not controlling it, you’re doomed. Be the boss!

  Emma sat back down, picked up the garment pieces, and positioned them in the machine. She pressed her foot down on the pedal to start the motor. But within seconds, the sleeve was bunched up and crooked. She yanked everything out, removed the botched stitches, and tried again. And then again. After five tries, she still couldn’t get it right.

  She needed to get these sleeves done today so she could stay on schedule. She grabbed her cell off the table behind her. She hit the speed dial and held her breath. She didn’t want to bother her grandmother on her honeymoon, but this was an emergency—and Emma was desperate. She knew her grandmother, who loved making clothes as much as Emma did, would totally understand why Emma needed to interrupt her cruise.

  The call went right into voice mail. Emma jammed her finger down on the red button. Great. No service.

  Emma debated calling Charlie. If it were a Paige issue, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But what would Charlie possibly do about a misaligned sleeve? She looked around her empty studio, the force of the realization hitting her like an oncoming city bus. I’m on my own, she thought. When it comes to making the clothes, I’m really on my own.

  She couldn’t decide if that was scary…or exciting. It might just be both.

  “Do you have the invoices from August ready?” Marjorie asked.

  “August…yes, I have them here,” Emma said, flipping through the stack on her lap. Emma had made the mistake fifteen minutes earlier of pacing out of her studio to calm herself. Caught not working at work, she had no choice but to drop the sleeve problem and deal with the invoice problem. Normally, it wasn’t a big deal—going through invoices with Marjorie—but today every minute away from her sleeve and her studio felt like hours.

  Marjorie slowly read off the names of companies and the shipments they sent. Way too slowly.

  “You can go faster,” Emma suggested. “Or maybe we can switch, and I can read off the list.”

  Marjorie took off her glasses and raised a pre-arched, penciled eyebrow at Emma. “What’s going on over there? You got somewhere better to be?”

  “Not really,” Emma said as she fidgeted in the uncomfortable vinyl guest chair. “I just have a lot going on right now.” Like sleeves that won’t align, Emma thought, and the English paper I haven’t even started yet that’s due tomorrow. And all the sewing I have to do in less than a week.

  “Anything I can help with? A big project, maybe?” Marjorie asked.

  Emma froze. Does Marjorie know something? There’s no way Marjorie could’ve figured out the Allegra thing—is there? “I don’t think so…but thanks.”

  “Okay, then.” Marjorie put her glasses back on. “Let’s see. Where was I? Do you have the one for Global Lace Mills?”

  Just then, Emma’s phone tucked in her jeans’ pocket buzzed. She slid it out slightly, peeking at the screen. A text from Paige Young. What could Paige want? Marjorie was still reading through the list no faster than before. Emma squirmed in her seat.

  “I think that covers August, unless you have any extra invoices there,” Marjorie said, looking over the top of her rhinestone-embellished reading glasses. Emma wasn’t quite sure if Marjorie wore them to be retro cool (which they were!), or if she just hadn’t stopped wearing them since the first time they were in style.

  “Nope—we’re all set. I just need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a second.” Emma tossed her pile of papers on Marjorie’s desk and dashed down the hall and into the warehouse. She pulled out her phone.

  Ms. B: Need sumthing 4 online preview of Designers 2 Watch section. Can I come by ur studio 2 see ur collection & take some digi-photos? Pls advise. Ciao, PY

  Here? I can’t have Paige come here, Emma thought. There’s nothing to see, because I’ve barely started. She gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned red. How could she possibly put off Paige without making her suspicious? Emma speed-dialed Charlie.

  “What’s up?” Charlie said.

  Emma told him about Paige’s request as she walked quickly back and forth up the dark aisles lined with boxes and bolts of lace. “What do I do?”

  Charlie was quiet for a minute. “Hmm. That’s a tricky one. How about you tell Paige that Allegra has like, a policy that she doesn’t allow editors to see her stuff while she’s working on it?”

  Emma paused as she let that idea sink in. “That sounds sort of believable, I guess. But wait—how will I explain why Paige was able to see Allegra’s dresses when she first came to Laceland?”

  “Easy,” Charlie replied. “Paige wasn’t supposed to see the dresses that time, remember? She just happened to be at Laceland and was being nosy and found the dresses herself. Not that you’d say it that way, but you know what I mean. She wasn’t invited to see the dresses. So you could just say that Allegra’s interns—meaning us—were new and didn’t know her policy.”

  “You’re right. Okay, that works. Got it. I have to get off so I can send the text and get back to Marjorie.” Emma’s eyes slid toward the hallway to make sure Marjorie wasn’t looking for her.

  “I’ll let you go right after you admit that I am a brilliant mastermind,” he said.

  “Oh, please!” Emma laughed. “Fine. Good-bye, brilliant mastermind!”

  Emma quickly typed a text to Paige explaining her “policy” and pressed send. She took a few steps back toward the reception area, and her phone vibrated again.

  OK. Can I get them 1 or 2 days early so I can c them b4 my boss does? Need 2 know what I’m working with ahead of time. I can’t afford any surprises.

  Emma frantically typed her response.

  Sorry but I need every minute until the deadline 2 get everything just right. Can’t rush the process. Will b worth the wait, u’ll c! AB

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath for sixty beats. Please let Paige be cool with that, Emma wished, clutching the phone between her hands as she counted…56, 57, 58…At 59, the phone began vibrating
furiously, one angry buzz after the other, faster than she could read through the sudden avalanche of messages.

  NOW I’m worried. U r going 2 b finished by Monday, rite? I’m counting on u! My job, no my CAREER, depends on u delivering on time & sending FABULOUS stuff!!!

  My reputation is on the line. I fought like crazy 4 u 2 b included in the feature. If u don’t deliver the spread will b empty & I will b FIRED!

  My ed-in-chief is a perfectionist tyrant in couture. She wldnt blink 2x b4 firing an editor over failing 2 produce what she’s promised. Seen it happen.

  Plenty stiletto-wearing vultures circling here 2 take my job & plenty more designers who’d kill 2 take urs! This is OUR chance. Pls pls pls don’t let me down!

  Promise me u will b done on time. If not, I’ll have 2 find a replacement, like yesterday. Not my preference AT ALL. But will do it if I have 2.

  P.S. Thank u. Ciao, PY

  Emma typed out what she hoped would be her last response for the day.

  U will get my designs on Monday, guaranteed. They will b completely finished & fabulous, guaranteed. U dont need 2 find a replacement. I AM ur Designer 2 Watch.

  “Emma?” her dad called as he entered her work space an hour later. “Emma!” he shouted over the roar of the sewing machine.

  Emma lifted her foot off the pedal. After she was finally done with Marjorie and the invoicing, she’d raced back to her studio. She’d flung the frustrating jacket sleeve on her work table and grabbed the pattern pieces for the vest. She needed to get at least one thing done by the end of the day, and she thought that she could sew together the outer fabric of the vest quickly. No such luck. She had designed it with four outside patch pockets with flaps that needed perfect seams since they’d be visible. Plus the flaps had to line up perfectly over the pockets. But so far she had only managed to finish one. She knew the construction of these pieces had to be flawless.