“I—What?” The specialized presser foot couldn’t have cost more than $20, but it’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. If she wants me to wear it to the wedding, I’ll wrap a ribbon around it and tie it to my head if I have to. “I love it!”
Margaret nods, still smiling. “Open the other one.”
I don’t really want to put the presser foot down, already imagining all the things I can embroider. I need to shop for some embroidery thread. Aurifil has some, of course, but the company is all the way in Italy, and I can’t wait that long to try?—
“Hattie, open the other one,” Mom urges. “Your sister is waiting.”
A quick glance around shows me she’s not the only one. In fact, everyone else is finished admiring their own gifts, and they’re all staring at me. Again.
“Oh.” Carefully, I tuck my precious presser foot back into the bag and retrieve the smaller bundle. I peel it open, but I don’t see how I’m supposed to concentrate on it when floral embroidered cuffs and collars are in my future and?—
“OhmyGod,” I gasp.
Voices fly at me as the other women lean in.
“What is it?”
“Is that a?—”
“It’s black.”
Grandma Eloise is right. It’s black and gold and exquisite. A vintage sewing machine brooch. I can already feel the locking C clasp against my fingers, but I flip it over just to make sure I’m not dreaming.
Yes.
Without warning. Tears sting my eyes. Turning it over again, I let myself admire the black enamel chassis, the gold hand crank, spool pin, throat plate, and needle.
It is jewelry.
But it’s the best piece of jewelry in the world! Because I can wear it without it touching me!
I launch out of my chair, already a mess of tears and snot before I reach her. I don’t even care about the tulle abrasions as I hug Margaret and cry against her neck. I don’t care that pretty much everyone in the restaurant is watching. I don’t care that some are even asking, Is she okay?
Margaret. Gets. Me.
When most of the world doesn’t—or doesn’t bother—my sweet sister does.
“For heaven’s sake, girls,” Grandma Eloise chides. “You’re ruining your makeup.”
But that’s not true because I’m not wearing any makeup. And when I finally pull back from Margaret’s hug, I see that even though her lashes are wet, her makeup is still perfect. As usual.
Margaret gives me a tearful chuckle. “Oh, Hattie. You might need a few tissues.”
“Do I have snot coming out of my nose?” I hiccup. Yeah, my voice might be too loud again. And even though Margaret, Camille, and Cecelie laugh, a few of my sister's guests squirm and look away.
Grandma Eloise twists her napkin, glares at Mom, and hisses. I don’t think I’m supposed to hear her, but I have excellent hearing, and it sounds like she says, “When is enough enough, Hillary?”
I have to laugh at myself in the bathroom mirror. But once I clean up my face, I also take special care to pin on my brooch.
Turning from side to side, I admire it. I didn’t think anything could make wearing this dress bearable, but I’m not turtling in it anymore. The red-eyed young woman in the mirror has her heart lifted in pride.
I’m so lucky to have Margaret. And now Merrick. I’m gaining a brother who might get me as much as my sister does.
The wedding is next month, and that means exactly four more events wearing scratchy clothes and enduring sound warfare. I’ve already survived two showers and three fittings. The bachelorette party, the wedding rehearsal, the wedding, and then the morning-after brunch are all I have left to face.
But I can handle them. No matter how much they might drain me. I want to be there for Margaret.
I pat the little sewing machine pinned just below my neckline. I can be sturdy and tireless just like a vintage Singer.