“Not that one.”
“Good. She’s decisive,” the modiste said, not missing a beat. “An important trait to have for a young lady.”
“I’m not wearing something that makes me look like a bruised grape,” Odette muttered. “Please, show me another color.”
Madame Bellamy chuckled and reached for the lavender. “You looked at this one earlier. It's a strong choice, and I think it will complement your skin tone nicely.”
Penelope could see Odette hesitate. It was obvious that she liked it, but did not want to admit it outright .
“We’ll set it aside,” Madame Bellamy said, catching on quickly. “Now, what about the shape? Do you like something more fitted or something easier to move around in? Sleeves?”
“No ribbons,” Odette said flatly. “That is my only request.”
“Dear lady, what is wrong with ribbons?” The modiste looked at her incredulously.
“Too girly,” Odette said, rolling her eyes. It prompted a chuckle out of Penelope.
“My dear, do you forget that you are a girl?” Penelope said. “I think a ribbon would look lovely.”
“No,” Odette asserted immediately, “no ribbons, and that is my final decision.”
“Well,” Madame Bellamy said, not offended in the slightest, “there are plenty of lovely gowns without them. We'll manage.”
They moved on from the table to the rows of gowns on display. Penelope followed at a slight distance, careful not to hover. Odette needed space, and Penelope had learned better than to crowd her when she was trying to make up her mind.
They walked in silence for a while. Odette seemed unimpressed by most of the dresses on display. She wrinkled her nose at a butter yellow. “Who would wear this?”
But then she came to a stop in front of a soft lavender dress hung quietly at the end of the rack.
“You know,” Penelope said, stepping closer, “if one were to pick a dress simply by accident… this one would be a very fine mistake.”
“I’m just looking,” Odette was immediately defensive.
“Of course.” Penelope carefully took the hanger, lifting the gown from the rack. “But sometimes we look because we’re curious. Why don’t you try it on?”
“I didn’t say I wanted it,” Odette said, stubbornly as usual.
“I won’t tell your father,” Penelope added with a small smile. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“It’s not that,” Odette shook her head. “I was just… I do not know how he will react to seeing me in this.”
Penelope didn’t rush to respond. Instead, she waited for Odette to continue.
“He’s used to me looking a certain way,” Odette went on. “And doing certain things. This”—she held up the dress a little—“this doesn’t feel like something he’d expect.”
“Do you want to surprise him?” Penelope asked.
“Oh, I am not sure,” Odette shook her head. “It is not as though Father has forbidden me from wearing these things…”
“He was the one who suggested we make the trip,” Penelope added .
“Yes, but perhaps he does not know what he is asking,” Odette replied. “We have never really spoken about these things before.”
Penelope could imagine Alexander and Odette awkwardly skirting about topics that concerned girlhood.
“Well, you know, Odette,” she said with conviction, “just because you wear a dress does not mean you change who you are.”
“Does it not?” Odette barely sounded convinced. “I do not wish to change my entire identity.”
