Mitzi was talking about patterns and what would be the easiest one for them to start with. She even gave them some advice on how important ironing was when they were sewing. Four pieces of fabric were stretched out on the bed along with a couple of packages that must be patterns. Mitzi picked up one long piece and gathered it in her hands, then held it up to Tabby’s face.

“Beautiful color for you. Brings out the color in your eyes and the floral pattern is small, so it won’t overpower you,” she said.

Tabby took the fabric from Mitzi and draped it around her neck like a scarf. She crossed the room to look at herself in the mirror. “It does bring out my eyes. I love big flowers, but I feel like I’m a whole botanical garden when I try on a shirt with them. Why do companies make big girls things in horizontal stripes and huge roses, anyway?”

“I know, darlin’.” Mitzi patted her on the shoulder. “And heaven forbid, buying a bathing suit. The designers think if we wear anything bigger than a size ten, it should have flowers the size of dinner plates on it.”

“Or like you say, stripes that go around our bodies,” Dixie said. “That’s why we want to design and make our own things.” She turned and flashed a bright smile at her father. “Oh, hi, Daddy. We didn’t hear you coming up the stairs.”

“I avoided that squeaky step,” he said.

“Tabby and I’ll have to remember that when we’re old enough to date next year and break curfew,” she teased.

“I don’t intend to be late.” Tabby elbowed her sister.

“And I’ll be waiting in the living room with the lights on until you get home, so you don’t need to worry about that step.” Graham shifted his eyes over to Mitzi. “Did you get the house tour or were they so excited about all this that you came right up here?”

“I got the tour,” she answered. “You have a lovely home.”

“Thank you,” he said. “We would have liked one more bathroom, but the girls are learning the art of sharing.”

“Not gracefully.” Tabby shot a look toward Dixie. “She takes like for . . . ever to do her hair. Even to come to work at the shop, it takes her hours to put it up in a ponytail. Every hair has to be just right.”

“Well.” Dixie popped her hands on her hips. “Miz OCD here takes even longer to make her bed. If there’s a wrinkle it drives her crazy.”

“You’re going to waste your time with Mitzi by arguing?” Graham asked.