by Taki Drake
Nicholas tried one more time, “Ho, ho, ho.”
“Better, but it needs to be louder!”
Frustrated, Yoko had Genevieve pin the leaves of the pincushion to Nicholas’ belt. Staring down at the elegant piece of sewing art, the old man asked, “Why do you want to be there?”
“You will see. Just try your phrase again, please,” the soft voice of Yoko said.
“Ho, ho… OW!”
In stunned disbelief, Nicholas stared down at Yoko and said, “You stabbed me!”
“Hai, you need immediate feedback to correct improper behavior. Try again, please.”
It took Nicholas multiple tries before he got to the point that he could execute his mantra without shedding blood. With Yoko pinned to his belt, he knew immediately if his laugh wasn’t loud or full-body enough. With her assistance, he quickly improved.
“HO, HO, HO!” he belted out.
The room erupted in cheers as everyone signaled enthusiastic approval. Even Genevieve found herself clapping until her hands hurt. A harsh mistress, Yoko insisted he practice it again and again. To motivate him, she allowed him to eat a cookie after each perfect belly laugh.
Henri said quietly to Genevieve, “Motivation is a key to altered behavior.”
The Clothier who was fascinated by the whole process nodded her head in agreement. Struck by a thought, she said, “Nicholas likes his cookies with milk. I had better go pick some up at the BHB, or he’s going to dry out.”
“Non, madame! I insist that you allow me to run an errand for you.”
With Doucet’s assistance, Henri looped his tape measure over the tea cart and rolled through the door and down the walkway toward the BHB. Genevieve was not too sure what to make of all of it, but since she was learning new things about this world every day, she just decided to accept this new facet that had been revealed.
<< <> >>
A short while later, Henri returned with the tea cart. Nestled along the top in an encompassing tray packed with a small amount of ice, were four glasses of milk. Courteously, the tape measure handed one of the glasses to Genevieve first, followed by one for Nicholas.
“I am supposed to tell the two of you that Najeer will be along shortly with another drink. He and Brechal are busy doing some sort of specialty drink for you, to celebrate the occasion of your meeting.”
Cheered inordinately by the refreshing milk, Nicholas enthusiastically practiced more of his belly laughs. They came more easily as he practiced and sounded more natural. Genevieve noticed that he looked happier, with his smiles and expressions extending into the twinkle of his eyes.
It had been more than ten minutes before Najeer arrived, bringing glasses and a pitcher of thick creamy golden liquid. Smells of nutmeg and cinnamon perfumed the air around the fluid. The Cook smiled broadly as he poured each of them a glass, raising his own glass of water to join them in a salute.
Genevieve asked, “What is in it? It looks a bit like a drink I had once at a party. I think it was called “eggnog,” or something like that.”
The Cook answered, “It is based on eggnog, but we have added a little bit of the specialty liquor from the Dirty Bucket Brewery. Brechal says that is quite tasty.”
Both Genevieve and Nicholas sampled the drink and enthusiastically agreed. The Clothier waxed quite eloquently on the subject, while Nicholas made sure to keep both of their glasses filled.
Looking over at Nicholas, Henri whispered to the others, “Notice how Nicholas now has cheeks that looked like red apples and a nose that is definitely pinkish red?”
Yoko added, “I believe that is the first time I’ve heard Madame Genevieve giggle.”
“It would seem that the addition of a small amount of Madhoney Brandy is a roaring success.”
Chapter 9 – Makeover
Genevieve’s magic was surging through her body and into her hands like waves beating on a shore. The Clothier had tried to remain patient while Nicholas had gotten his hair trimmed and during the entire practice session as he learned how to be jolly. She didn’t think that she could hold back much longer.
The lure of creation was too great, and the Clothier found herself with her sketchbook in her hand and a pencil gliding over the paper. Shapes were growing from the strokes of the pencil and Genevieve could see the soft blue light that trickled behind them. As she drew, the form of the garments that fit the man in front of her almost seemed to spring to life.
Leaning back, she stared at the paper and let her mind expand. Like a loosened pack of hounds, her thoughts whirled in and out, up and down. Fabric. She needed fabric.
Smoothly, supportingly, her thoughts were joined by another’s. It was Doucet. With no words exchanged between the two of them, their creative magics joined in an explosion of energy. His structure, her form, it all combined into a summoning. It was a powerful call across time and dimension for the perfect fabrics to make the garments live.
Once again, the Clothier experienced that huge tornado of energy that seemed to generate a massive wind that only she could feel. Her papers, loose threads, and other small things were not bothered, but the woman herself felt bathed in a river of high-velocity air.
First, it swirled around her and then disappeared into unimaginable distances. There was time for her to draw two labored breaths and once more the wind returned. Only this time, it was slower and burdened.
Piling high on one end of her worktable was a delectable pallet of fabrics. Deep saturated colors and strong patterns fought for space with nubby weaves and pile fabric. Genevieve’s hands itched, and she ran her fingers and palms over each one of those scrumptious, luxurious bolts of cloth.
A sound from beside her drew her attention, and she saw Nicholas staring wide-eyed at the magical appearance of a thousand yards of textile. Genevieve smiled at his reaction, and said, “For a man who carries bags and a casket bigger on the inside than the outside, you are not comfortable with magic use, are you?”
“Not like this! Is this all for me?”
Laughing out loud, with a wild and free note in her voice, the Clothier raised her hands above the fabrics and let the magic within her swirl out to penetrate the very structure of each of the textiles. Her voice steady and bright, she said, “I don’t know yet. We will have to make our choices, but all of these are candidates.”
Awed, Nicholas said, “They all look too grand, too fancy. After all, I’m only a delivery person. These fabrics belong on someone who is very important.”
Genevieve was annoyed, snapping her words out like bullets from an organic gun, “You are important! Every individual is important. And if this man does create an advertisement using your figure, you will be a symbol, something that stands for cheerful nature and joy.”
Henri continued the thought, saying, “You must, absolutely must, believe in yourself if you truly want to be an ambassador of cheer. How you feel about your place in the world and who you are is picked up immediately by others. So, when you agreed to speak with this man, you signaled your willingness to be important.”
Nicholas looked a little dumbfounded, but he reluctantly nodded his head. As Genevieve turned over the bolts of fabric, running lingering hands down each and every one of the textiles, she could see him out of the corner of her eyes sometimes wince.
In some ways, the Clothier was feeling playful, and the fabrics that he shied away from she perversely looked more closely at. Doucet sent an image into her brain that had her laughing in a moment. The picture of a cat with her face playing with a white-headed and bearded mouse was almost more than she could handle.
Drawn by a strong instinct, Genevieve pulled a deep, true red fabric from the pile. This one felt right to her hands and resonated with the harmonics of the music that surged through her blood. The woman heard an involuntary yelp of protest from Nicholas, but she ignored it. His protests fell unnoticed under the wild celebration of her magic as the perfect textile was chosen.
Glancing back down at the sketch of her design, the C
lothier moved immediately to a bolt of thick tanned leather. Here was the perfect material for the wide belt that was needed. It would also work for the sturdy boots that would protect his feet and shins. Then onto the furry white trim that was necessary to accent the glowing red.
By now, Nicholas had learned not to try to slow her down. He recognized the creative urge that drew her to the fabrics, and his magic spoke to hers as she left lines of blue light through each of the bolts.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, the Clothier paused in indecision. Something was missing, but what? << He needs a hat. The same color scheme as the suit, but slightly different lines, >> added Doucet.
“Yes! That was what was missing!”
Leaning over her sketchbook one more time, Genevieve sketched in a hat. A much-improved version of the conical hat Nicholas had worn into the BHB, it was soft and in a vaguely triangular shape with trim on its open edge and a closed point. Now she was ready to create.
Moving back into the center of the room, the Clothier closed her eyes and raised her hands in the air, extending them away from her body. She felt her magic surge through her core drawing energy from the building to explode out toward her pile of selected fabrics.
There was a loud roar as the wind swirled through the studio. This time the gale was felt by all, and it playfully nipped fingers and toes, noses and other parts of the bodies of all that were inside the studio.
For just a moment, the wind ran freely around the room and then it seemed to funnel into a cloud over the fabrics, hovering there for a long minute. Genevieve could feel and see the energy that was gathering inside her cone of magic.
It was beautiful in its power, intriguing in potential. Then, just when Genevieve thought she couldn’t hold the force back any longer, the young widow opened her hands and let the magic blast away from her. Explosions of light, sound, and feeling answered her.
There was a shout of triumph from one of the mannequins and Genevieve felt drained. Slowly, she opened her eyes, knowing what she would see. A smile immediately grew on her face because she was looking at her vision become reality. A completed suit of red fabric trimmed in wide strips of white with a thick belt and sturdy boots. That is what her idea had been, that’s what her magic had produced.
“Incredible!” The word was mumbled by Nicholas as he moved shakily to stand in front of the mannequin and touch the suit with trembling hands. “This is really for me?” he asked.
“Yes, this is your costume for your role as a symbol.”
The Clothier and her client, Nicholas, spent a few minutes just examining his new garments. Genevieve saw exactly what she had thought to see, the match between the design in her eyes and the plan in her head were identical. She was pleased and content. Nicholas now had his interview clothes.
Stretching till her back crackled and popped from tension released, Genevieve smiled slightly at Nicholas, “This is good for a role, the symbol of jolly cheerfulness, but we have other garments that you need.”
Nicholas’ eyes grew huge, and he looked the tiniest bit scared. Stuttering, he asked, “What do you mean? What more would I want?
“What sort of life do you live when you’re not delivering goods? What other areas of interest do you have?”
The old man seemed to freeze for second and then said, “Well, pretty much all winter is when I deliver. When I’m not dealing with snow and ice, it’s usually spring to fall. Then I like to travel. I love to go to the tropical islands, go sightseeing, do a little bit of sunbathing, perhaps even tourism, and architecture. Good food, good company, interesting things to see and do.”
Genevieve immediately started making a list. As she wrote things down, she talked, “Definitely need cotton print shirts, perhaps some of those short pants, also the funny little slippers that you use for the beach.”
“Madame, he will need a tuxedo. Every important man needs a custom-fit tuxedo,” contributed Yoko.
The Clothier nodded in agreement and added it to her list. The others in the room contributed various items including several smoking jackets, a fishing vest, and hip boots. Nicholas was overwhelmed and just kept silent. He couldn’t believe they were doing all of this for him.
Finally, he spoke, “Are you going to make all of that right now?”
Genevieve answered, “No. We will have all of this ready for you when you come back from your meeting. I know that you probably have to leave soon and I don’t want to slow you down.”
Nicholas agreed, saying, “I do need to leave soon. Even with time tripping, it would be hard to judge the time displacement exactly.”
“Time tripping? That sounds dangerous.”
“It can be, but when you have as many deliveries as I have to make in a short period of time, you learn how to accomplish what other people think is impossible. With the BHB being so conveniently located, it is easy to slip into this universe and reenter at a different geographical place and point in time.”
“You must have a lot of experience with that if it doesn’t frighten you.”
“It ceased to scare me years ago when I first began to build up my business. Right now I am a specialty delivery service that manages to cram more deliveries into blocks of time than anyone else can possibly do.”
“That is amazing,” said the Clothier.
Nicholas indicated the contents of the studio with one hand while smiling at Genevieve, saying, “No, that’s just business. What you did here was amazing. It was magical, and it was sheer artistry. Thank you!”
Chapter 10 – Gifts from Nicholas
It had been a busy couple of days for Genevieve and her crew. Additional mercenaries had come in for their uniforms and Wynn had wanted to talk about a new type of curtain for the BHB. The Clothier had wondered how well Nicholas’ meeting had gone, and she hoped that he would let them know.
All of his clothing was ready to be picked up. They had packed it into easy to carry bundles tied with fancy little bows to give them a festive look. All they were waiting for was Nicholas’ arrival.
The only warning that they had was one that brought a smile to Genevieve’s face and pleased sounds from all of her assistants.
“HO, HO, HO!”
Bustling through the door with the brisk energy of a cool winter breeze, Nicholas was transformed. The man looked happy and jolly. He still seemed to have the reddened cheeks and nose that he had gained from Najeer’s eggnog, and that energized expression and cheerful smile let everyone felt his warmth and enjoyment.
The old man was carrying a bag over one shoulder, and he laid it down on top of the studio worktable and grabbed the Clothier by the elbows. Spinning around as she made sounds of protest, he caroled, “It went wonderfully! It was a major success! Everyone loves the costume, everybody seemed to love me.”
Genevieve responded, punctuating her question with a smile, “Why would they not love you. You’re a very friendly man.”
“Before all of the work you and your crew put in on me, they would not have loved me. Some of them would’ve been scared of me, and the others would’ve been dismissive. I didn’t realize before how much of a difference it makes when you present yourself well and where you’re dressed for how you expect people to treat you.”
“People think that fashion is frivolous, unimportant, and pointless. Sometimes no matter how much you talk to them they never see past the point that fashion is a way of drawing people together and also defining one’s place in any society.”
“It certainly helped with my interview and the artist couldn’t have been happier!”
Henri and the others crowded around Nicholas, ask him excited questions about the meeting and listening, enthralled, as he gave them practically a blow-by-blow. Genevieve was awash with feelings of satisfaction and the warm glow that comes from executing one’s skills well. Doucet was watching over her shoulder once again, and she could feel his excitement and joy also.
Nicholas exclaimed, “What is wrong with my brain? I know who’s responsible f
or my turn around and I thought after the great gift you had given me, that you deserve to get gifts back.” The old man grabbed the bag sitting on the worktable and reached into it, beginning to pull more and more items out.
The first thing that came out was an intricately embroidered thick wool felt blanket. Turning to Isaac, Nicholas told the old Singer treadle machine, “This gift is for you. I hoped it would enhance your already beautiful cover and that its thick, soft weight might keep your gears from stiffening up from cooler oil.”
Isaac was so surprised that the usually smooth growl of his gears seemed to stutter, “Thank you, my friend. It is a wonderful gift and not one I would’ve ever expected.”
Turning next to Yoko, Nicholas opened a small light blue box and pulled a piece of silk carefully onto the table. Unwrapping the little bundle, he laid five exquisite jeweled butterfly-headed pins in front of her.
Genevieve heard the pincushion catch her breath in wonder as Nicholas said, “And for you, my charming little tutor with the rapier wit, I found these small items that were made by a young jeweler by the name of Charlie T. He and his good friend John opened a store that is quickly developing a reputation for exquisite items. Not as exquisite as you are, but I thought that you might like the decoration.”
Yoko caught her breath once more in an odd little hiccup that sounded almost like a sob. Concerned, Nicholas said, “If you don’t like them, I won’t be offended. So please don’t be upset.”
The small pincushion answered him back, saying, “It is not that. They are beautiful, and I love them. It is just that these are the first gifts I have ever been given.”
Genevieve had come close to examine the gorgeous pins with the jeweled heads and felt her heart ache for a moment at the idea that this was the first gift that Yoko had received. She wondered how many of the others could also make that claim.
Right then and there, she vowed that she would be different in her expression of appreciation. Everyone needed to be acknowledged, and she remembered the way she had felt working in someone else’s shop and never being given credit.
