Legendary

After brunch, Damian picked me up and we did go furniture shopping. We'd made arrangements with an upholsterer to take care of the dining room chairs and the vanity bench, easy, quick fixes, but we had other things to buy. Most of the furniture we'd had in the apartment was too small for the new rooms, and my friends had volunteered to take it off our hands. There was no rush to furnish everything at once, so we started with bedroom furniture and one room we'd use as the main public room until the library was finished--we needed a couch so we could watch the news and the few programs we followed and a coffee table. Eira's ottoman would be in here as well, and the rosewood bureau from the mansion was perfect as a place to dump keys and mail and to store incidentals.

I loved the vanity for our bedroom; it was big enough that it held its own against the high ceilings. We found an extraordinary bed; the headboard was a huge round circle of highly figured wood that looked like rays erupting from the center. Around that was a narrow black circle of ebony, and an eighteen inch edge beyond that of the same wood, just stained a lighter color. And it wasn't just a flat slab of wood, either; the center part was the most prominent, with the ebony rounded and inset between the two elements as the lowest area; the outer rim was slightly less prominent than the center part. Extensions to either side integrated bedside tables of the same woods for a seamless, stunning look. The mattress itself would rest on a platform with the space underneath the bed closed in with more of the wood, and the foot had a curve to it with the darker wood inset to echo the headboard. The two pieces of furniture were placed on opposite walls for maximum impact, and we had the vanity and the bench set out to be refinished to match the bed. Aside from draperies on the windows and discreet area rugs by the bed sides, that was it for the bedroom. We didn't need a sitting room in our bedroom and the walk in closet had everything organized perfectly. Alfred had been itching to take care of it, so we asked him to plan the closet. It should go without saying that it was impeccable, a blend of drawers and open storage and hanging space for each of us, and one larger personal safe instead of two smaller ones. And a special touch--a small refrigerator that had a bottle of sparkling wine chilling and a shelf with two beautiful crystal flutes above it. For the time being, we put the rest of the furniture in the other unused rooms.

We also sought Alfred's input in the selection of the appliances for the kitchen and the washer and dryer. He came with us and explained and suggested. We went with his top choices. Eira's grooming station had been installed and she gave it the first real test that weekend. We watched as she was wetted down with warm water to combat the chill from the cold water she'd gotten into, then sudsed up, massaged, and rinsed. A special conditioner for her unique fur followed with another rinse, then she shook her fur, stepped out of the water enclosure, stood on a mat that activated the dryer, and trotted out, happy and beautiful. We had to comb out a couple of knots, but overall the setup was extremely impressive. The appliances wouldn't be delivered for several days, so we had dinner at the mansion and roughed it for the rest. "Roughing it" had a much less independent reality since Alfred dropped off picnic hampers with breakfasts. Damian's Corell plates and bowls disappeared quietly and were replaced with a classic white stoneware. Then a spare set of china appeared in the butler's pantry; I flipped over a saucer. "Darley Abbey" by Royal Crown Derby. Silver appeared in the tarnish-proof drawers. Crystal glasses in different but harmonizing shapes and patterns apparated behind the glass upper cabinet drawers and fine linen tablecloths and napkins rested in the linen press. One night at dinner Alfred remarked that we had forgotten to get a table and chairs for the kitchen. Damian and I exchanged guilty glances. We'd been eating in the living room and running the automatic vacuum cleaner on the rug each night. It was like a Roomba had been, but on steroids and could be programmed to go up stairs to attend to each rug in the place. There was an integrated vacuum through the house for the hard surface floors; three minutes and all the pet fur, crumbs, and unlucky lint were sucked away. A glitch in the pool lighting had been fixed and we'd learned how to check the automatic pool monitor and maintenance equipment. We'd started getting up early for a morning swim.

I was still feeling stung and angry from my firing, but at least it had happened before I'd really settled in and started making big contributions. The second week after, Serena called me to come look at a building.

"Holy cow," I said involuntarily, looking up. And up.

"Nine stories," she said briskly, then pushed me forward to meet the realtor. It wasn't a historic building on any registry, but it was old, had good bones, and a lot of really nice detail, an original Art Deco monument that had been spectacular in its day. Bit of a monstrosity right now, though. The realtor was frank about the damage and what it would take to get it up to code. Outside, I stared up at the sad facade.

"So are you really committed here, Serena? I understand if you've had second thoughts. It's both a risky and slightly insane idea."

"My specialty," she said flippantly. "But no, I'm in."

I stared awhile longer, ideas popping into my imagination like flowers. "So I'm thinking that the exterior can be preserved, missing elements replaced, that sort of thing. But inside we preserve the best and integrate fresh, modern design to compliment it. We can call it Hybrid Building, trademark it, and use it as a selling point for clients who have old but unlisted buildings or those buying structures that have been unlisted due to damage. Save what we can, kick ass with new ideas for the rest. Contrasting but harmonizing. I've got Tony working on a few things that will be exclusive to our business. A stabilizing agent that can be applied to old, damaged timbers, plaster, and brick. Cut costs by not having to replace them and preserve historic characteristics. An unbreakable "slate" for flooring. An insulated glass that looks like wavy old glass. And the thing I want most is a riff on techboard for the walls. But instead of just being able to manipulate color, I want it to be able to manipulate texture from smooth up to a rough plaster."

Serena looked at me, her mouth hanging open a little. "Wow."

"Nine stories is too much for us, even if everybody gets on board. So retail on the first few floors. Maybe we invite people whose services we can recommend to set up little showcases, like interior decorators. I think most of our clients will line up their own choices, we don't need to have one on staff, but we can seek out and recommend the best." I tapped my lips with my finger thoughtfully.

"We can aim to be one stop shopping," Serena said, her thoughts catching up to mine. We grinned at each other.

"We'll take it," I said briskly to the realtor, who blinked but joined in the group grin.

We went back to her office where we also put an offer in on the building behind our one. It was totally trashed and priced just at the cost of the land. We planned to demolish the structure and have Dagny design a little park for the area, whether or not she joined the firm. Leaving the office, excited and feeling a lot of determination, I said, "We should have businesses that we want to shop at in our retail space."

"Definitely a good coffee shop," Serena said, and I laughed. "Maybe a small grocery store. There are other businesses in the area, and it would be convenient to be able to pick a few things up on the way home." I nodded, and we spitballed a bit before separating. I was deep in thought when my communicator chimed. I looked at the number and answered.

"Hi, Uncle Steve," I said.

"Hi, Alex." He sounded completely tense, slightly panicked, and spoke rapidly. But then Fashion Week started in a few days. "I wondered if you'd be able to do me an enormous favor. Three of my models have been lured away by a bigger house and I'm in big trouble. There's nobody available. I've already press-ganged Emma into stepping up, and I can get by with one more model. Otherwise I'll have to cut some of my looks from the show. Your measurements are just about the same as one of the departed models. Your waist is twelve millimeters smaller, but I can work with that." I grinned; he had my measurements from when I'd helped him with his student showcases.

"Yeah, no problem." I altered my trajectory and told him I was on my way.

It wasn't utter chaos in his workroom, but there was sure a lot of activity.

"Thank god," he said devoutly, hurrying over to me and giving me a quick hug. "You're a life saver." He hustled me over to one of the clothes racks and changed the name on one section of the garments. "Try these on and I'll make adjustments. Hems, definitely, you're a little shorter." I took the first dress and stepped over to the fitting area. Nobody's street shoes were allowed in this area to avoid getting the clothes stained or damaged; a lot of snow melt was being tracked in from the street. There weren't any dressing rooms; I'd learned during the showcases that models didn't have a lot of personal modesty on the job, what with all the designers and people doing hair and makeup running around. I dropped my street clothes on an empty chair and pulled on the first garment, waiting until Steve had a moment, chatting with Emma while I waited. Steve wasn't sleeping much, two or three hours a night out of sheer nerves. He called me over, checked the fit with a practiced eye, and tried a belt to cinch in the waist. It wasn't perfect, and Steve wanted perfection for this collection above all else. He had me turn the dress inside out, put it on again, and nipped in the waist smoothly.

"I'm so grateful, Alex honey," he said, pinning the hem of the dress. "Did your work put up much of a fuss?"

"Er... no." Bucky must not have wanted to stress his buddy out any more right now. "I've actually got all the time you need."

"Great," he said on a sigh. He looked like crap, eyes bloodshot, with huge bags underneath. Forget bags, actually; he blew right past the smaller luggage and right into antique steamer trunk territory. It looked like he was subsisting on coffee and sheer nerves, and probably not the coffee because Emma had switched him to decaf. It wasn't til the third garment that his brain started ticking over on the subject. "But you're still fairly new there. I'd imagine that it's a little unusual to be able to take time off without warning."

"Er... they fired me a couple weeks ago." He kept pinning madly for a moment, then it sunk in.

"What?" he said, louder than I think he intended, sitting back and actually stopping his movement. Everybody turned to look at us and Emma hustled over.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking worried and a little worn herself.

"They fired Alex," he said around the pins in his mouth.

"What?" she said.

"Didn't want you to worry what with all this," I said meekly. "A client was upset that I was one of those freaks from the documentary," I went on, still sour about it. "But I'm going to open my own business. Just put an offer on a new building this morning, actually. I'm going to renovate it, post the progress on a website, then launch the business. Some of my other friends are interested in joining me too, so we'll get the bills paid." We'd be able to take on individual clients as well as big joint projects that involved all of us.

"Wow," Steve and Emma said at the same time.

My smile was cold. "The freaks are going to kick everybody's asses. And it's going to be my great pleasure to grind AC into the dirt in terms of the quality of work product and the innovation we can offer."

"You go, Alex," Emma said approvingly, recovering first.

I winked at Steve. "If you want to open your atelier in a truly magnificent building, you know who to call."

He snorted, then went back to pinning, picking up speed as he went. "I'm sorry that you were let go, Alex, but I'm really grateful. Can you come back tomorrow for the final fitting? Then there's a walkthrough on Wednesday, and we're showing on Thursday at noon. I need you at the library at ten." I agreed to this, and after the fitting was over, left quickly to free up space and lessen the crowd.

Damian listened in bemusement to the news, but Eira was interested and wanted to come to the show too. After dinner, we went to the building so he could see it for himself. This time I took pictures to share with my family. Two edged sword, that; when they saw the building they might think I'm either a genius or consider me for involuntary commitment. The front of the building was square, made of light stone, and featuring two large stylized sculptures of women that ran from the street almost to the roofline on either side of the entryway. Above that area was a smaller structure that would be our conference room, mostly glass between strong stone pillars, adding a little importance to the roof. The sides wrapped around smoothly and angled back slightly. The rear of the building had round structures, almost like turrets, on each corner and another shaped structure in the middle that housed the elevator. The windows back here were actually French doors that opened onto tiny balconies. Our offices were going to be a-freakin'-mazing. And the rear would overlook the garden space.

"Wow," he said. "Petal, this is going to be extraordinary."

"I've been kind of waiting for somebody to question my sanity," I said, just blurting it out.

Damian just smiled. "The thing is, there's no reason why this shouldn't work. It's novel, to show your work as it progresses, it'll create buzz, generate a lot of publicity. You have resources to help you avoid the pitfalls of a new business in this trade, and you'll be entering it gradually thanks to your plan. By planning to use some of it as retail space, you'll be generating income even during periods between your clients' paychecks, and opening it to your talented friends ensures a boutique firm that can serve a wide range of clientele. If you plan right, you can remodel the ground floor in such a way as to allow you to rent out the space for parties. Businesses are always looking for beautiful spaces to host holiday parties in, for example. Wedding receptions, maybe."

"That's a great idea," I said, adding it to my list. "But a higher floor. I want the ground floor for drop in businesses with a lot of foot traffic, like a coffee shop. Serena suggested a corner grocery."

We talked about it more on the way home, then when we got home there were other things to do. He was happy and engaged in creating the framework for Stark Industries to expand and thrive, telling me that Tony and Ann were starting to interview applicants for the new positions, and we talked about that over breakfast. We were going to go shopping for a kitchen table over the weekend but were thoroughly enjoying the guilty pleasure of eating in the living room.

The next day I showed up at Steve's workshop, right on time. I nearly recoiled; his eyes were sunken and bloodshot, black circles on the bags under them like they'd been smudged there with charcoal, and his cheeks were hollow. I frowned. Emma was frowning too, and shook her head. "He's not taking enough time to eat or sleep," she said softly. "He's put so much pressure on himself."

I discreetly pressed a pill in a blister pack into her hand. "Called J last night, explained. This is an OTC sleep aid, not particularly strong, but he's stretched so thin that it's going to hit him hard. Give him half of that. J suggested putting it into a piece of soft candy, like fudge. It'll send him off to Sleepytown within about ten minutes, then it wears off over an hour or two, no side effects the next day. His own body should keep him asleep for at least a few hours past that, given how tired he is." She smirked at me and drifted to the side where she'd left her coat and bag. I went over to the clothing racks and searched for my outfits. This time there were designated shoes for each look.

There were several new women waiting there, and it turned out that Steve had partnered with a lingerie company to fit us, making sure we had the best foundation for our particular looks. The right bra made all the difference.

"Where is your nearest store?" I asked, looking at myself in the mirror. I'd been totally buying wrong. The fitter smiled and gave me a business card. Then Steve called me over, judging critically, but had only minor adjustments, fortunately. I changed quickly, loving the clothes. Just as soon as Steve got caught up on his sleep, I was going to be tapping at his door, requesting that I be one of his first clients. We went through the other looks quickly, and none of them required much alteration.

The next day was a run through where we practiced changing from look to look quickly and in the order Steve wanted. He looked slightly better and was more peppy, and I caught a wink from Emma. He dictated the speed at which he wanted us to walk, but allowed us discretion about how long to stay at the apex of the runway and what to do while we were there; he wanted us to have some freedom so that we could respond to the crowd's reaction. What was interesting, I thought, was how wearable everything was. The everyday clothes were worn with shoes that had nothing higher than a three inch heel, and the fabrics all started off in solid colors, so there was no cheating to make a design more... oomphy... by using pattern to add interest to an ordinary design. Emma wore the first look out, black slacks with a slightly wide leg and a crease so sharp I probably could have cut myself on it. This was paired with a black jacket, highly sculptural, in raw silk. The pants could be worn during the day as a perfect look for business and transitioning seamlessly into the evening, and the jacket I could see somebody (like me) wearing to an important meeting before going to a cocktail party.

This was followed by an Edwardian-ish dress; it was in a plain cream silk that looked radiant in the light and had elbow-length sleeves and a square neckline with an asymmetrical overdress in navy chiffon, held in place with a fringed sash. Delicate embroidery and discreet beading provided interest. The model took off the overdress at her pivot, revealing that the bodice of the silk gown skimmed the figure, and a smocked detail at the waist--using contrasting navy thread--was the only detail. The dress fell to the ankle and showed off dainty plain pumps. A spontaneous "ooh" swept the workroom, and the parade continued. This first part was all clothing mainly for day and workplaces, but some of the designs were done in luxury fabrics too to show off the versatility of the design. The cream silk gown was followed by an identical one in white and dark green linen; the differences were in color, texture, and ornamentation on the overdress, which on the work version was more assertive, geometric embroidery in bands. I had two looks in this part; a blush pink cotton sundress with a tailored bodice and full skirt that held its shape with a wide horsehair braid in the hem, and deeper pink alpaca cardigan and a pair of Katherine Hepburn-inspired slacks that shaded from black at the hem to a dark gray at the waist and an aquamarine charmeuse blouse with long full sleeves ending in tight cuffs and a wing collar. My next look kicked off the summer fun part of the collection; three of us wore bikini variations and went out at the same time; one model was a tall, voluptuous woman with the most beautiful dark coffee skin I'd ever seen and an elegant long neck who wore a tiger lily orange top that held her boobs firmly in place without looking painful and tied at the neck with a flirty bow; the bottom curved suggestively over her hips and gentle V shaping provided allure without being vulgar. An Asian woman was the next tallest in our group, with delicate bone structure and fragile-looking bisque skin. She didn't have a clearly defined waist or any bosom, but she was lithe and elegant. The bottom to her suit was a plain cherry red, cut high enough on the hip to draw attention to her long legs and had a textured band along the top edge to highlight her sleekly muscled abdomen; the cropped halter top used red, white, and chameleon fabric in a complex pattern. The chameleon fabric mimicked the color of whatever it was placed on, so it looked like large parts of the pattern were the model's bare skin, but she was completely covered. It was the most arresting look. My suit was a miracle of engineering. The bottom, in an emerald green fabric that looked like heavy satin but was resistant to sand, sun, salt, sunscreen, and chlorine, was shaped just to cover the necessary area in front and about half of my butt. A luxurious twist of fabric connected front and back over my hips, but that was mostly for looks because the fabric stayed where it was put until it was physically lifted away. The top provided a gentle pushup effect without being uncomfortable and flowed over my shoulders to a racer back. The fabric between my shoulderblades had laser-cut flowers.

The last part of the collection was evening looks, a smaller number of garments but I had five of them. A slinky amethyst satin gown cut on the bias, a black faille cocktail suit that was intricately pieced and used the pattern of the weaving as a decorative element, another Edwardian style gown that used several layers of light fabric for the look of the period, but when backlit, slyly showed the wearer's silhouette underneath, a pair of flowing palazzo pants with a clinging wrap top and sash, and, finally, an uncharacteristically frothy concoction. A strapless dark green satin bodice curved around my torso to beneath my shoulder blades. A draped satin panel swooped around the hips and upper legs back over the butt, containing the skirt to about mid-thigh, when the layers of tulle and taffeta fluffed out, shading from light pink on the outside to deep pink in the undermost layer. It was spectacular and refined. "Emma's got appropriate jewelry for the looks," Steve said to me after he'd approved everything, "But I wondered if you could borrow the Wayne pearls for this last gown. I'd have a ticket for Martha if she'd like to come see."

I knew Martha was interested and called her immediately. As expected, she agreed to lend me the pearls and said she'd be at the show.

I hustled to the library the next day with a great deal of anticipation. I wasn't alone; all the models were huddled by the door by 9:30, eager to get in and play. Wearing the garments was fun; they felt good on, and you held your head a bit higher knowing that you were in something special. It wasn't so much fun for Steve, who was betting his future as a designer on the show. He arrived with the director of the NYC library system who let us in and would stay on site as a representative in case there was a problem with the facility. Steve was wound as tight as piano wire and was pale and uncharacteristically rumpled. Emma looked serene, though, so I didn't worry about him. Much.