Solo A Day in the Worklife

[Rosela]

Timestamp: 55th of Winter, 5th Bell

Rosela awoke before the sun and immediately groaned after peeking through slitted eyelids at the gray sky outside. She’d slept fitfully, as she always seemed to these days, awoken multiple times a night by either her bladder, or the inability to roll onto her stomach. The baby within her rolled over, and the sensation triggered a wave of nausea to ripple through her. The morning sickness seemed to be wearing off now that she was well into the second half of her pregnancy, but she could never tell what was going to send her stomach turning.

The nausea luckily passed without incident, and she swung herself upwards. The carpet was still warm from the night’s fire – the only benefit from getting up so many times – and she relished the feel of it on her bare feet for a few precious moments. These would be her last quiet, still chimes until she returned to this very spot that night. She had a lot to do.

While her bath warmed, she picked out her outfit and makeup for the day - her red, drapey dress with the leather belt, black eyeliner, and a muted salmon lipstick. She briefly considered upgrading to bolder red lips, but didn’t want to come off too bold. She could have pulled it off before the child, but now, a respectable look was more needed.

The sky was beginning to lighten by the time she was done with her bath, and she found with a hiss of irritation that her cocoa butter was out. It had been a gift from Likhren, and she’d known the day before that she’d used the last of it. It was her own fault for not making time the day before, like she’d planned, to make more. That was due to change – that day had a lot on its plate and she would not rest until it was all done.

Before leaving though, the all-important breakfast.

[Rosela]

6th Bell

The fire under her stove lit quickly, and she licked her dry lips as she swept on her apron. She was suddenly starving and the coming breakfast suddenly seemed like a gift from the gods. A potato, goat cheese, and spiced beef jerky sandwich. She’d never in her life found beef jerky so wonderful, and now it seemed she couldn’t go a day without it, the goat cheese only making it better. Likhren found it horrifying, so she was lucky it was one of the few things she knew how to make.

Waddling over to the cabinet, she heaved out the heavy skillet, cradling it over her belly as she shuffled back to the stove. The shadows flickered around her, seeming to swallow her up in the darkness. The flickering light of the stove chased them weakly away from her cooking area. As she spooned a little too much lard into the skillet, she wished she could convince them to cook for her. Soon, the sun would be up and they would retreat into the corners of the house. Realizing she should have cut the potatoes before putting the lard on, she tried to hurry in cutting them. She’d intentionally bought them small, working out two of the small, nugget sized ones per sandwich. The lard, now oil, began to pop and she quickly dumped the slices into the pan, using two other hands to heave the pan off the stove and swish it around.

”OW!”

The pan dropped back to the stovetop with a loud clatter and she lifted a hand to her mouth, sucking on the finger that had gotten splattered. Tears sprung to her eyes and she wanted to fling the pan against the wall. It was only the thought of losing her breakfast that stopped her. Hiding her hands under her apron, she approached the sizzling pan and hefted it to the next highest grate above the fire. Her finger burned like a needle stuck out of it and as soon as the pan was secure, she stuck the finger back in her mouth.

Her other hands easily handled slicing the bread and she spooned the last of the goat cheese onto them. Returning to the stove with a small amount of trepidation, she very carefully flipped over each potato medallion in the pan. She’d really used too much oil. The jerky was slipped in when the potatoes were almost done, and Rosela awkwardly tried to keep the pan at a tilt to keep the jerky out of the oil. It wasn’t entirely successful and she ended up trying to dab off some of the oil on the edge of the pan before layering each onto the sandwich. Oil or no, she was absolutely starving, and she needed to leave soon for the shop. Hudon would be there to open up, but she couldn’t afford to waste time with everything she wanted to get done.

All grace forgotten, she slouched into the kitchen nook, balancing the plate on her stomach. With the first bite, she forgot all about her injured finger, and she sighed happily.

[Rosela]

7th Bell, 30th Chime

Hudon had indeed arrived on time, and was already restocking and straightening shelves when Rosela arrived. The fire was lit, but the warmth had yet to spread to the room so Rosela kept her cloak on when she walked in. She carried two packages with her, one her familiar packet of design papers and pencils, the other a small stack of books tied with twine.

They were from the library, copied for her to keep, and she intended them to be the beginning of a collection for her philtering: Journal of the Expecting, half of which was on simply the misery of pregnancy, and the other half on various recipes for soaps and body creams for pregnant women; The Ultimate Soap and Shampoo Guide, hardly ultimate in her opinion, but it had a couple good recipes for its titled items; The Eyktolian Mystique, an odd little journal documenting a cosmetologist’s trip to Ahnatep and some cosmetic recipes they’d acquired while there; and lastly, Fun with Perfumes, an oddly titled, little book that seemed to be directed primarily at beginners and contained plenty of illustrations. The copying fee was a small price to pay to have them permanently – the time she’d have spent doing it herself was simply too valuable.

”Good morning.”

“Good morning. We’re running low on the 32/36 slacks.” Hudon didn’t look up from the folded stack of men’s shirts.

”The brown ones?”

“The gray this time.”

”I’ll make a few more today. Did you finish those hems I left yesterday?”

“All but two. I can probably get them done before we open.”

”Good.”

Their customary morning conversation finished, Rosela disappeared into the workroom, setting her effects on the table before turning to warm her hands at the fire. It was nearly a season since she’d awoken, but she was still more intolerant to the cold than she’d ever been. Her sewing would be rough and stilted if she didn’t warm her hands first.

After thawing out, she pulled the chair, the stack of unfinished pants, and her sewing instruments over to the fireplace, slouching down in it gracelessly.

”You have asked us to remind you to not slouch. Your back will hurt later.”

Huffing a sigh, Rosela sat back up, acknowledging that their point was fair. Her back would hurt later if she wasn’t careful. ”I did say that. Thank you. How was your night?”

"The night is, as always, where we are most at home."

Accepting their half-answer with the air of one well used to it, Rosela refocused on her work. With a shake of the wrist, she opened up the first pair of gray wool trousers, the only ones that were half done already. Folding them back in her lap so the unfinished seams were exposed, capped her sewing fingers, threaded the needle, and began work.

Back and forth, she ran the backstitch down the side seam, flipping the needle back and forth with the mindless expertise of one long since used to doing this type of work. The backstitch was a staple of her work, secure and neat as it was. In one side, out the other, move back, in and out again, move up, in and out again. For the men’s pants, she would do another row of them to make the seams more stable. She couldn’t remember how long ago she’d made that decision, perhaps in the wake of the Champion of Ivak’s visit? Though she hadn’t known who he was when he’d visited, Leo had inspired a revolution in the way she designed and built for men, resulting in every piece being built sturdier and tougher.

The side of the pants done, the only side that was unfinished, she moved down to the cuffs, which had already been marked for the length she’d planned. After re-threading and knotting her needle, she slipped the needle into the pinned hem and pulled it through to the top of the folded fabric, hiding the knot inside. Wool was great for sturdy slipstitches, with the thick fabric allowing her to make the stitches more dense. Turning so she was more clearly in the firelight, more out of habit than needing to see better, she picked up a few threads from the wool with her needle, pulled the thread through, and pushed the needle back down into the back fabric. With a thinner fabric, such as linen, she’d go down half an inch before making another stitch, but here, she came back up for another stitch in half that.

She continued around the hem of each pant quickly, finishing in a couple chimes. When it was finished, she snapped it out to look at it, closely going over each line of stitching to make sure. It passed inspection, and she folded it loosely over her legs. Just three more pairs to go.

[Rosela]

8th 9th Bell
Once the pants were done and out on the floor, Rosela focused on what her original goal for the morning had been. She’d intended to start this project not long after arriving, and so was now a full bell behind in her schedule.

Leaving the fire for her desk, she quickly brought back a candle to light. It wouldn’t be for seeing; it was for timing. Since she’d started timing how long she spent per design, she’d been able to fit more ideas in per session. This particular session was for a custom Ice Masquerade dress. It was a bit of a late order, but the woman had been insistent and, even better, willing to pay for the express treatment. She was returning the next day to see Rosela’s designs, perhaps go through some feedback, and pick the one she wanted to go with. That left Rosela a day to work up three designs based on the initial idea notes. Setting the pin in the candle for a bell, she set to work.

• Sleeveless, strapless, floor length
• No train but some ‘flutter’
• Emphasize small waist
• Royal purple and white

Rosela started by sketching three vague female models on separate pages in her usual format – large heads, long legs, and minimal lines. On all three, she made introductory reminders by drawing an arc across the chest, an arc at the feet, and two divots at the side for the emphasized waistline.

Focusing purely on the first, she ran through several ideas in her head for the bust. High, plunging…she went with a heart-shaped bust, and drew the pair of arcs below the collar. A couple small lines at the armpit indicated some gathering there. Creating visual wideness of the bust and hips would show the contrast in the waist between.

Moving down to the waist, she considered the numerous possibilities here. She was feeling very into layers at the time, so she mentally pursued that idea. Layers of silk, layers of ruffles, layers of other fabrics… The third was promising and she quickly sketched out the idea, drawing a pair of long lines along the outsides of the legs, and repeating the motion again further out. The dress would be silk, she decided, with a layer on top of transparent chiffon. The lightweight material would be fluttery, but not make the dress itself bigger.

That left how to tie the chiffon onto the dress itself. With such luxurious fabrics, she could easily get away with a juxtaposition of styles, tying on the wrap of chiffon as casually as one would a towel. Her gut told her the woman wanted all class though, so the idea was quickly scrapped. Going with her next idea instead, she drew the chiffon layer up in the center, creating a V in the front. At the bottom, she added a smaller V, which would have the added effect of making it easier to walk in. At the hips, she added another arc, bringing the layer of silk that made up the top of the dress down to be a shorter layer to go on top of the silk. As an afterthought, she shortened the lowest V she’d created and added an abbreviated layer of chiffon under there as well.

Sitting back and looking over her creation, she added a couple wrinkle lines here and there to recreate how the fabric would fall. She’d go over it in ink and color later, but for now, the design was the important thing.

[Rosela]

Rosela glanced back up at the candle and saw with irritation that she, as usual, had spent more time than she intended on the first design. Not all of it was a waste though; she’d already considered the options for bustlines and made the quick decision for each of the remaining designs: one had a high, chaste arc over the bust, and the other received an asymmetrical curve that crested up into a squiggly flower over the heart.

Focusing on the ‘chaste’ design, she considered how to make the dress overall more conservative, in case that was what the client was looking for. High slits were out, as well anything that form-fit down the whole body. To emphasize the waist though, it would have to fit at least through there – the rest could fall in fluttery waves.

Idea materializing, she quickly drew in the rest of the bust, flipping out the edges around the hips and drawing it in again. The top would be almost corset-like, but with a flirty little peplum at the bottom. From the hips to just above the knees, she kept the outline straight, intending to add some wiring to the site to maintain the integrity. Beneath that, the lines came quick and loose, with two long layers of light ruffles. With the edge of her pencil, she added faint, loose lines to the ruffles, intending to convey the feeling of the textured silk she knew she already had in stock. It wasn’t quite there yet though, and after some thought, she added some web-like embroidery around the edges of the top two sections, to add some visual interest. She kept these lines light, already intending to have them in white against the deep purple.

She hadn’t intended to glance at the candle as she switched pages, and cursed herself as she did so. There wasn’t much time left, and while nothing would happen if she couldn’t make it in time, she would be severely disappointed in herself. Her day was already running behind schedule; she couldn’t afford it to fall behind any further.

With the bust already done, Rosela moved immediately to the bottom half of the dress, deciding to continue a flower inspiration. A high slit up to the right thigh was added, and she drew more squiggles at its apex, intending for a large, cloth Heart of Akajia to be placed there. With a series of progressively larger interlocking arcs, she outlined each side of the slit with puffy ruffles that got longer as they approached the bottom. By the time they disappeared around the back of the dress, they were nearly the length of the calf.

With so much visual interest in the ruffles, she was hesitant to add any more, but knew the dress needed some element, likely in white, to tie it together. She considered ribbons and embroidery before settling on white sequins to be concentrated around the flowers and the edges of the ruffles and to taper off in the rest of the dress.

It was during the sequins that the pin finally fell from the candle, bringing a slight startle and exasperation from Rosela. She’d intended to have these at least colored by now… Grabbing her pencils in irritation, she resolved to color and ink in no more than half a bell.

[Rosela]

9th 11th Bell

After several interruptions from the front and tracking down a missing inkpot, Rosela was finally able to call her designs finished. Tucking them away in a folder, she paused for a jerky break and looked over her workspace. What had she wanted to do next?

Spring dresses, that was it. She’d chosen a design and had every intention of creating the entire line of them before lunch. If her morning had gone according to plan, that would have been no problem, but as it was, she was two bells behind and starving. Still, she’d said before lunch, and before lunch it would be.

Still chewing ponderously on the jerky, she pulled out the three bolts she intended to use, each a different color or pattern. Four sizes in each of three colors, with varying multiples for each size, gave her thirty dresses total. The design was exceedingly simple: a plain-cut, sleeveless dress that ended at the knees and had just enough flutter to be flirty. It was one of her consistent best sellers every spring.

Returning quickly to her ledger, she flipped through until she found her spring plan, listing everything she wanted made by spring end. This particular style called for three smalls, four mediums, two larges, and a single extra-large. More could always be made, but this was what she wanted to start the season with.

Marking out her patterns on the cutting board, she laid the first length of fabric out and began cutting. Chimes and scraps of fabric flew by as she continued to cut, pausing in between each pair of cuts to pin them together. For each, two hands pinched the fabric together as the other two pairs alternated pulling pins from her bloated cushion and popping them in and out a quarter inch from the edge. Intended to leave the hems and collar for Hudon, she had only the straps and the two sides and the straps to do herself.

By the time she finished pinning however, her back ached and she had already eaten through half her days supply of jerky. Heaving herself into the chair, she pulled the first stack over to the other end of the table and threaded a pair of needles quickly. She could only sew in tandem when the stitches were simple, and that was thankfully the case here. Between the fingers of two hands, she held the fabric taut, each seam only inches away from each other. In two other hands, she grasped the needle and pushed it through the first spot. With her final pair, she pushed it back through in the first backstitch.

Back and forth, each hand worked in symmetry with its pair to pass the needle back and forth across the fabric. Unlike when she sewed with a single hand, her progress was slightly slower and required more attention, a small sacrifice to make for the speed the technique allowed. She found herself rocking back and forth in time with the repetitive motion, eyes darting between the two seams to be sure each stitch was placed in perfect alignment.

Eventually, a pin cushion was filled and the two side seams on one dress were finished. It was a matter of a few stitches to attach the shoulder straps and the finally snapped out the pin-less dress with a flick of her wrists. A quick run of the fingers and her eyes down each side, and she was satisfied enough to put the dress aside.

Just 29 more to go.

[Rosela]

11th 13th Bell, 30th Chime

The shredded beef and goat cheese sandwich was euphoria in her stomach. The stall on the very edge of Zhongjie knew her order readily by now, and she took it, as she had been lately, in the philtering lab. Post-lunch was reserved for philtering, and then she would return to do a couple designs to round the day out. She was supposed to be done by dusk, just in time to stop off for dinner groceries, head home, make dinner, and get a good night’s sleep.

Opening the first of her new books, she started by flipping through absently, admiring Zandar’s copying skill. It seemed faithful to the original, so she returned to the front and began skimming for recipes.

First month in, so excited…Uh oh, new clothes! I feel so big….Not about to get stuck with stretch marks…

She paused at that last page and the next was a recipe for ‘body butter’, an assured fix and preventer of stretch marks.

Body butter is usually a combination of butter, like shea or cocoa, and some type of oil. Cocoa butter is supposed to be best, so that’s what I went with! Bad news though, we can’t import it way out here! We could get the cocoa beans though, so roll up your sleeves, that’s what we’re going to do! Fair warning, this was totally WAY harder than I thought it would be! And took longer! But if you’ve set your mind to it, be prepared to spend a lot of time on this…

To make one quart of butter, you’ll need all this:

22lbs cocoa beans
…

She re-read the first ingredient over again. 22 whole pounds. It seemed outrageous. Did Orabelle even have that much in stock? Pushing out of the chair, she wandered the dark room, checking boxes and shelves. Oils and spices jumped out at her, but only in a far corner did she find a massive burlap sack labelled ‘Cocoa Beans – 50lbs’. Pure stubbornness lent her the strength to drag it out from its corner, and it wasn’t until she was hobbling past a dusty shelf that she saw it – ‘Cocoa Butter’. Rosela dropped the bag fully and snatched up the jar. It had another vendor’s name on it, so she could only assume Orabelle had come to the same conclusion she had: save yourself the time, and import it.

Maybe in the future, she’d make it herself, but for now, she just needed to get products out the door. Back at the desk, she flipped through the next two pages of notes on making the butter until she reached the shockingly small section on the rest of the process.

I had to take a nap before continuing – this stuff was hard! We’re in the home stretch now, just whipping it up into butter. What you’ll need:
1 quart of cocoa butter (freshly made!)
1 quart coconut oil (I heard almond oil is okay too?)
1-1/4 tablespoon avocado oil

Avocado oil’s really good for the skin. Fish oil is too, but who wants to smell like fish? The butter and coconut oil both needed chopping up, since they solidified, but then I just whipped all this together over a flame until it was all melted. Decant, seal, and done! Enough butter to last half your pregnancy!

Rosela looked at the side of the jar and saw that there was only half a quart in there. Mentally halving the ingredients in her mind, she returned to the storage area and searched for the two remaining ingredients. After the cocoa butter, they were surprisingly easy to find, and she reminded herself to reorganize everything at some point. Whatever system Orabelle’d had was clearly not working.

Setting the two jars on the bench, she began digging at the insides of the cocoa butter jar with a wooden spatula, fishing out chunks until the last bit clinging to the bottom finally came free with a squelch, starting to melt from her hand gripping it. The coconut oil was next, and it began to melt easily around the edges were her hands held. Using that to her advantage, she scooped out half the jar into the pot with the butter. Next was the avocado oil, a small bottle with a little pipet on top. When pouring, it slopped over the edges of the tiny tablespoon and into the bowl below, prompting a quick debate as to whether she should try to scoop it out. If avocado oil was good for the skin, a little more couldn’t hurt?

All ingredients added, she waddled over to the fire and hung the pot high away from the fire, bracing herself on the wall as she hovered over and stirred. The cocoa butter and the coconut oil dissolved completely within a chime, leaving a viscous, though pleasant-smelling, oil. She stirred slowly, wondering if she should have added any kind of perfumes. The smell of the cocoa and coconut were quite strong in their own right, so it’d take a fair amount of anything else to overpower it, she decided.

Unsure of how long she needed to keep stirring, she took the safe route and swung the pot away from the fire after another chime. Rubbing her hands together, which were now soft and oily, she looked for her next project while her new ‘body butter’ cooled.

[Rosela]

12th 14th Bell, 30th Chime
OOCBeing that Orabelle is retired, I take a couple liberties with her notes and supplies here.

Soap would be next, and she knew Orabelle had notes on these. She'd try a combination of Orabelle's recipes and those from the library to see what worked. Rosela arched her back at the desk, trying to relieve the pressure, as she sifted through the small, leather bound book. The handwriting wasn’t the best and Rosela squinted down at the pages. Many pages were smudged and the pencil was rubbed around, obscuring various notes.

”Perfume, perfume, cologne, deodorant…ah, soap.” The recipe looked simple, but a couple areas were smudged.

Ingredients:
Bowl (not copper or al######um)
Wisk
Molds (not star ones, too flimsy)
Lye (SUPER caustic, use face ####, apron)
¼ cup dried lavender (note to self: find new herbs)
Coloring (ref: pg 26.5)
1 tsp oils (ref: pg 2#)

Rosela scowled down at the paper, reaching for the pencil to re-fill some of the smudges. ‘Al#####um’, she assumed was aluminum, and a quick search through the book showed a list of oils on page 25. A face something though, that eluded her. Was it another ingredient she was to add, to make it more manageable? Some sort of face cream? Was she to use her face to do something? A face mask perhaps? The last made sense, and she looked about for Orabelle’s stash of protective gear. She’d have to go over all these notes in ink, yet another expenditure of time. Maybe when Tim came in the Spring, she could get him to do it.

Moving throughout the room, she picked up what she knew she’d need and piled it amongst her many hands: a large metal bowl, two wisks, two molds, a metal canister marked ‘Lye’, a leather apron, a finely netted face mask, and a large jar of lavender. As she spilled it all out on the counter, she snatched up the jar of lavender before it could roll off the desk.

Next up was the coloring and the oils, and she carried the book with her as she roamed the storage area, looking for ingredients. The section on herbs and colors was in fact a piece of parchment folded into the book, and the handwriting, thankfully in ink, was the now-familiar script of something the library had copied for her. It was long, seeming to justify the copying fee. Rosela read sections of it softly to herself as she looked.

”Alfalfa - mid green, beet root - beige or brown, black walnut shell – speckled purple and black, that sounds nice, cloves – brown, blue cornmeal – blue/purple/brown, seaweed – green, red clay – deep red, saffron – yellow, like I’d ever use something that expensive just to color soap…”

She continued muttering to herself as she made a round of the room, picking up four jars along the way: blue cornmeal, lichen, turmeric, and red sandalwood. According to the notes, this would give her sets of blue (or purple, or brown), pink beige, golden brown, and speckled purple brown. However, as soon as she set the jars down, she snatched back up the jar of tree lichen. In web-like structures through the inside, mold had grown, heavy and thick. Stomach heaving, Rosela had the sudden urge to chuck the entire jar into the fire. This was a jar of mizas in her hand, lost to hideous, disgusting mold.

With much effort, she put the jar down on the back edge of the desk, making a mental note to scour it later, or perhaps make Hudon do it. The jar itself was mizas too, and she couldn’t afford to throw it away. The fingers of one hand drummed rhythmically against the desk as her attention slid back to the body butter cooling away from the fire. Decant, seal, done; that’s what the journal had said.

[Rosela]

Carrying a tray of small glass jars and dragging the chair behind her, Rosela settled next to the fire and peered in the pot. The butter looked solid enough, and she tentatively pressed a fingertip to the top. It was warm, and had formed a solid layer on top. She supposed it was good enough – it would be nice to actually finish the project.

She gave the pot a good stir to break up the cooler top layer, and began to slowly spoon it into the jars. Halfway through, she shuffled back to the desk and brought back a smaller spoon and a rag, the former to work out some of the air bubbles in the jars, and the latter to clean up her spills. Holding each jar up to the light, she poked and prodded at the butter inside to make it look as neat as possible. It smelled delicious; that was a plus. Before putting it out to sell, she made a mental note to test the last couple jars Orabelle had for texture and smell. It they weren’t as good, she would have to live with not putting her batch out; her reputation could not be ruined with poor product.

When she’d finally scraped the bottom of the pot for the last of the butter, she set aside the half-filled jar for testing. The rest were capped and set aside. A jar of Orabelle’s body butter was fetched from the inventory shelf and she popped the cap with some trepidation.

First, smell.

Her own smelled more strongly of the coconut oil, and she wondered what percentage of cocoa to coconut Orabelle used. There was also some undefinable scent in Orabelle’s, something nutty. It was stronger than nuttiness in avocado oil though, so Rosela wasn’t sure what it could be. Some nut-based oil, like almond? At some point, she’d have to make or find notes on the various herbs and oils they had in stock so she didn’t have to sniff and guess like this.

Next, texture.

Orabelle’s was slightly oilier, and Rosela found with some satisfaction that she liked the feel of her own formula better. The oil would likely absorb into the skin just fine, but who could wait around for that?

Last, effect.

On her left, middle forearm, she rubbed a small amount of Orabelle’s butter, noticing that it was indeed oilier. On her right, she rubbed her own butter. Besides the oily texture, there didn’t seem to be much additional difference, but she would see later when it was all absorbed into her skin.

Sighing as she set down the two jars, she looked again at the work table, spilling over with her soapmaking supplies, the box of lidded jars taking up one small corner. Distantly, she could hear the watchtower ring the sixteenth bell out over the city. She was not catching up on herself; she was falling behind.

[Rosela]

13th 16th Bell

“Rosela?”

Hudon’s voice startled Rosela out of her measuring and a small flutter of dried lavender showered over the table. Gritting her teeth, she ground out, ”Yes?”

“Customer wants some custom work. She says it’s urgent.”

She blinked slowly, trying to decide what to do. She normally scheduled appointments for design work, but if it was urgent…”Tell her I’ll be right out.” Schedule be damned, clothing was still her bread and butter and she couldn’t refuse a customer.

Tidying up herself and the work area, she moved with as much grace as her belly and tired feet would allow into the front room.

”Ialia, how are you?” Rosela greeted her frequent customer with professional warmth.

“Rosela! You’re simply glowing. Pregnancy suits you. And you smell so good too!” The Konti greeted her with an enthusiastic hug.

”Thank you, we’re working on a new line of body butter.”

“Oh, let me know when it’s ready! I’ll have to check it out. Now, about this dress…” She accompanied Rosela to the front desk, where she shooed Hudon out of the seat. “My neighbor, you know, the blonde one?”

”The one you don’t like, or the one with the dogs?”

“The one I don’t like, ugh. She’s so pretentious. Anyway, she’s having a party out at the art gallery and of course, she waited until the last minute to invite me, so I kindof need it something to wear in…three days?” At Rosela’s immediately raised brows, Ialia shook her hands consolingly. “I’ll pay extra for the express treatment! 20 percent?”

Rosela could hardly resist a 20% markup, especially if she was going to retain an admittedly excellent customer over it, but she still sighed dramatically. ”You’re lucky I like you so much.”She began pulling out her papers and pencils from under the desk.