The next day as storm clouds gave way to partly cloudy skies, we decided it would be the perfect day for dress shopping, since classes had been cancelled again. Although the storm surge was prevented, the wind had still caused damage to trees and anything else not bolted down. While the maintenance crews cleaned up the campus, we took the ferry to the mainland. We piled into Carmen’s black Audi and headed to some boutiques Carmen knew of in Wilmington. I honestly didn’t know what I was looking for since I’d never been to a Ball. I’d never been to the prom either, but I had a feeling the Cimmerian Shade Ball would be absolutely nothing like the dances back at home.
Considering back in Atlanta, kids only stayed at the dances as long as their buzz lasted, which ended up being about thirty minutes. Then everyone left to go to the after party, which was the real event of the evening. The actual dance was more of pit stop and an excuse to get dressed up before the real fun began. Thanks to Laura Beth, I wasn’t usually invited to the after parties, so more often than not I didn’t bother going to the dance either. Why get all dressed up for nothing?
But this was completely different. This wasn’t some high school dance with punch and streamers. It was a Ball. This was an exclusive event that had been held for countless generations. I wanted to look beautiful. Most importantly, I wanted to feel beautiful. I wasn’t just any normal human girl anymore; I was a descendent of the Nerieds. A Tyde. I was part of a legacy that had been established for centuries. I was finished hiding in the shadows, simply surviving. I was ready to live the life I deserved to live. After everything I’d been through, I was ready to be happy.
We had gone to several boutiques before we realized that unless we wanted a wedding dress or a bridesmaid dress, we’d have to look elsewhere. After we stopped at Panera Bread for lunch, we decided to go to a shop Carmen had heard about that offered a more eclectic selection of gowns. After driving to an outlying swampy area, we sat in Carmen’s car staring up at a daunting Victorian manor surrounded by live oak trees with Spanish moss draped on their branches and two sprawling cemeteries. The house itself had been neglected over the years and showed signs of wear. The paint was peeling off of the exterior and several black shutters hung from their hinges. The wraparound porch had warped in several places, giving it a wavy appearance.
“Are you sure about this Carmen?” Willow hesitated. Carmen shrugged her shoulders and looked out at the tombstones warily.
“I heard she’s off her rocker, but she makes rockin’ dresses,” she laughed at her own joke.
“I have a bad feeling some of her customers ended up with a permanent address in her cemeteries,” Phoebe scrunched up her nose.
“You guys are so dramatic,” I sighed, and opened the car door. “We’ve got her outnumbered four to one.” My stomach was a little queasy with nerves, but I tried hard not to let on.
“All I’m saying is that if she comes at me with scissors or a butcher knife, I’m out.” Phoebe put her hands up. As we walked down the winding sidewalk toward the house, I noticed a sign above the door that simply read “Seamstress”. It reminded me of an old western town with signs above the doors that just read ‘Blacksmith’ or ‘General Store’. The old weathered tombstones near the house added to the nostalgia. Before I could knock, the door swung open.
A demure woman in her early forties with long, straight black hair and large blue eyes stepped out of the door to greet us. She wore a dark red dress with a black lace overlay across the bodice, giving her a slightly medieval look. It hung on her thin figure and pooled down at her feet. Twenty or thirty bracelets hung on both of her arms and a large red stone hung from a long necklace. She was strikingly beautiful.
“Hello,” she gave us a warm smile. “May I help you girls with something today?”
“Um, we were hoping to look at some dresses?” Phoebe squeaked.
“Of course, of course.” She stepped aside and gestured for us to come in. “My name is Natasha. The dresses are upstairs, so feel free to go on up and take a look. I’ll join you shortly.” I followed her eyes to a wide antique staircase. Above it, a gothic looking chandelier with candles hung precariously. The interior of the house had been given more attention than the exterior, but I could tell nothing had been changed from the original house. Expansive wool rugs covered the hardwood floors, and faded black and white photographs watched us from the walls as we passed by. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say we had just arrived in to a different era. We made our way up the creaking stairs as she disappeared into a room that I assumed was the kitchen.
“Would you girls like some tea?” she called from below. I could tell Phoebe was trying to decide if she was going to poison us or chop us up for a stew.
“Sure, that’d be great!” Willow called back. She shrugged when Phoebe gave her a harsh look.
“If we all croak, it’s your fault,” she said in a hushed voice.
At the top of the stairs, a very shabby-chic dress shop stretched out before us. However, unlike the trendy décor crafted in mass warehouses, this was the real deal. An antique postmaster’s desk greeted us at the entrance, holding a vintage cash register that probably still worked. Beside the cash register was a modern credit card machine. Which was a plus, since that’s what I’d be using to pay for my dress. An old Singer sewing table covered in fabric, pins, measuring tape, and spools of thread took up one corner. Lace curtains hung from each of the four square windows, and a romantic white chandelier hung from the ceiling with crystals raining down from the eight arms. Large white ornate iron racks stood throughout the room holding an arrangement of different gowns. Each dress was a work of art in its own right; each one intricately sewn together shining with its own individual personality and character.
“Stasia!” Phoebe whispered at me.
“Why are we whispering?” I whispered back.
“I don’t know!” she giggled. She held up a strapless gown made up of layer upon layer of silk cascading down to the floor. The bodice was cream colored with an empire waist, accentuated by a silver band. As the fabric floated to the floor, flames of teal, purple, and orange danced up from the bottom. I pointed to a small door labeled Fitting Room and she entered hesitantly. I turned and walked right into Natasha.
“Oh! I’m sorry!”
“Do not fret child, it’s alright,” she assured me and then gazed at me almost lovingly. “What is your name, dear?”
“Stasia.” She continued to stare at me and her blue eyes darkened, taking on an otherworldly quality.
“Dangerous waters await you, but destiny breathes within you. You shine with a pure beauty all your own.”
“Um, thank you,” I mumbled, unsure of how to respond to that.
She just smiled and placed the tray of glasses down on a small sitting table.
“Help yourselves to the tea, girls, it’s a new herbal recipe I’ve created.” I heard Phoebe mumble something about six feet under in the fitting room and hoped Natasha didn’t hear it. If she did, she didn’t show it. She glided over to the sewing table and began searching through a rack of dresses.
“Ta-da!” No longer whispering, Phoebe pranced out of the fitting room and twirled around.
Accentuating her tiny waist, the different layers of fabric flowed out elegantly down to the floor from the silver band. As the cream changed to teal, orange and purple it reminded me of an exotic bird.
She looked exquisite.
“It’s beautiful!” Willow clasped her hands together.