“What about quality control?” Oona asked. “We don’t want anything shoddy going out.”
“We’ll have everything go through the shop. Nothing leaves without our approval,” Kate said. “We’ll have set designs, as well as limited editions.”
“What about special orders?” Moira asked.
“Yes,” Kate said, details of a business plan taking shape in her mind. “But only for those who can afford the fee.”
“Let’s put a gold-edged card in each package, written in Gaelic and English, ‘Made for You by Sheer Delights,’” Bernie said. “I’ll place an order with the printers this afternoon.”
“I hate to mention this,” Aileen said, and for once she seemed truly loath to be the one to point out a problem. “Where will we get the seed money? We don’t have any funds coming in yet.”
“I’ll talk with McClaren at the bank. He must have seen the news. He’ll see the potential,” Bernie said.
“Not without someone to guarantee the loan,” Aileen said.
“Da and Niall have been taking up a collection. You wouldn’t believe how many people from the village have been chipping in.”
“It won’t be enough—”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” said Bernie. “Let’s take it one step at a time. It will work out. I know it will.”
“I can help,” Kate said. She thought of her mother’s house, which she’d yet to put up for sale, the modest inheritance she’d hardly touched.
“We can’t ask you to do that,” Bernie said.
“It’s what my mother would have wanted.” She felt Lu there with her in the room, beautiful once more, the scars of the cancer gone at last, showing her how to sew the straightest seam, tie the strongest knot to keep everything from unraveling. This way. “She would have loved being a part of this, and this way she can—” Kate brushed away tears.
She didn’t have to finish. The women put their arms around her, understanding now, even Aileen laying a hand on her shoulder.
They wouldn’t consider Kate’s offer seriously until she let them design a set of lingerie for her. They didn’t allow her to contribute a single stitch. When they were finished, it was as if there were something magical in the thread. It was the color of light, woven into the most complex and delicate of Celtic patterns, a story of her life, in America, in Ireland, everything that had been, everything that would be. How could they have known? And yet somehow they did, their fingers guiding them with a knowledge, a creative instinct, they didn’t know they possessed.
When Kate put the pieces on, she felt her mother there too, her essence, a flash of radiance in the room, one last time.
And she knew, finally, what she would do.
Chapter 33
Finishing Work
“I’ll have to fly to Ireland, won’t I?” Ella said over the phone. She hated to fly, but for Kate, she’d make an exception. She’d have to. “You’re not coming back. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Of course I am, eventually,” Kate said. It was good to talk to her, really talk. E-mailing was quick and convenient, but it wasn’t the same. Kate pictured Ella in the shop, the display case of costume jewelry and accessories glittering beneath her: the rhinestone peacock, the Lisner and Coro necklaces from the 1940s, a Schiaparelli brooch, a Hattie Carnegie bracelet, Pucci and Hermès scarves, treasures from the golden age of design.
“But not to stay,” Ella said. “You’ve gone all Irish on me, haven’t you? Next thing I know, you’ll be speaking Gaelic and I won’t be able to understand a word you say.”
“I’m learning.” She didn’t ask about Ethan, the way she used to any time she communicated with Ella. She hardly thought about him now, only sometimes, a small tug, the anchor still catching, every now and then, on the sinking wreck of the past. But she was pulling free, finding, if not calmer waters, at least another place to call home. “About so many things.”
“I miss you,” Ella said. “The shop isn’t the same without you. Everything is full of holes.”
“Everything?”
“The sweaters and the gowns.”
“You only like me for my needle.”
“You’re using it for far better things than alterations these days from what I hear,” Ella said. “Who would have thought modest you would go in for designing thongs and panties—when do I get a pair, by the way? It’s all over the Internet. You and the Lace Makers of Glenmara, that’s what they’re calling you in the news.”
“It is? We knew there was coverage in London, but—”
“No, it’s international, honey.”
“We’ll have to enjoy our fifteen minutes of fame.”
“I have a feeling it’s going to be more than that,” Ella said. “What is it about the place that made you want to stay? The creative inspiration? The lace?”
Yes. No. How could Kate describe her journey from one place to another, one self to another? “Come visit. You have to meet everyone. There’s Bernie, Oona, Moira, Aileen, Denny, Niall, William, Mrs. Flynn,” she said, “and Sullivan.”
“I thought there’d be a Sullivan,” she said. “He doesn’t have any eligible friends, does he?”
“He might.” She laughed.
“I’ve heard Irishmen are charming.”
“They certainly aren’t dull,” she replied.
“There must be something in that Irish rain.”
“There must be,” Kate said, thinking back to the day she first arrived in town. “You never know. You might like it here too.”
“Would I?” Ella mused. “Starting a reverse migration to the old country, are you?”
Yes.
Maybe you’ll find yourself on a deserted lane and a man driving a colorful cart will offer you a ride and bring you to a village where the land runs down to the sea, a place where everything is waiting to begin. It doesn’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be perfect. All you have to do is be.
You’ll take up the same needle and thread and see that they’re magic, or could be—if only you let them, if you try—that the women, who gossip like sparrows and bite like midges and laugh so hard they cry, will teach you something new and you will teach them too, and it won’t be all bitterness, not all, no, and the man walking up the road to see you is someone you could spend time with, make a life with, if you take a chance.
It all remains to be seen.
Acknowledgments
To those who have offered help and encouragement along the way: Kyle Lindskog, from the time we were children, the best friend a girl could have; Jeannie Berwick, for years of laughter, adventure, and good counsel; Juan Alonso, for his artistry and soulfulness; Monica Prevost, for sharing the stories, old and new; Maura Hayes, for her free spirit; Marcellina Tylee, for her creative flair and friendship; the Doran and Barbieri clans, including my dear sisters, Tessa Effland and Robbi Anderson; parents, Bob and Michelle Doran, Kay Barbieri, Jan McAvoy, and Letty Pericin; the members of the Red Shoes Gardening Society, Jeannie, Tina Albro, and Korina Layne-Jones; Bob and Paula Rohr, Carol Carlson, Grace Van Zandt, the Fridays at Vic’s crew—Kit Bakke, Mary Guterson, Randy Sue Coburn, Garth Stein, and especially Stephanie Kallos, for her kindness and support, and Jennie Shortridge, who was so generous with her time, reading early drafts and offering sage advice and reassurance when I needed it most. Special thanks to Sara Nickerson, for being such an excellent reader and friend; J. J. Cariaso-Hughes, for making me look good; my miracle worker of an agent, Emma Sweeney, for her unwavering belief in and passion for this book; her associates, Justine Wenger and Eva Talmadge, for connecting the dots; and Jennifer Barth, for helping me find the heart of the story and being the best editor a writer could ask for.
And with love to Mark, Sian, Connor, and Sera, most of all. Every day begins with you.
About the Author
The author of Snow in July, HEATHER BARBIERI has won international prizes for her short fiction. She lives in Seattle with her husband and three children.
&
nbsp; www.heatherbarbieri.com
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Also by Heather Barbieri
Snow in July
Copyright
THE LACE MAKERS OF GLENMARA. Copyright © 2009 by Heather Barbieri. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition May 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-188879-3
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
55 Avenue Road, Suite 2900
Toronto, ON, M5R, 3L2, Canada
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Contents
Learning to Sew
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Books by Heather Barbieri
Copyright
About the Publisher
The Lace Makers of Glenmara Page 23
