As we crowd around her, however, Sonya shouts, “Wait!” We freeze. “Everyone needs to put on gloves, then you can hug the bride.”
We laugh and hold up our gloved hands. We’re seasoned professionals here. We wouldn’t be touching or working with a white dress without gloves. Gathering around the bride-to-be, we assemble in a huddle, like we’re a sports team figuring out our strategy for the next play of the game, and hug.
There is so much love and joy in this room. I know deep in my heart that continuing to work with this wonderful group of people is exactly what I want to do with my life. At least for the present. I’m valued and appreciated here. I have two bosses who are committed to helping me grow and become the best I can be not just as a designer, but as a person.
When we break apart, Clarissa clears her throat, and the room grows silent. “Both of the dresses you all made are brilliant. I am so thrilled to be able to be wearing original designs by Minerva Hana.”
“And Lea Wong,” I add.
Lea’s cheeks grow bright red.
“Yes, and cousin Lea.”
My team laughs.
“I have no doubt that once these gowns, and the ones you’ll create for me later this summer, appear in public, it’ll only be a matter of time before their talented designer is sought after by every major design house in the country.” Clarissa nods to Sonya.
“I suppose that’s my cue.” Sonya holds out a rolled piece of paper wrapped in a bow that reminds me of a diploma. “Min, Clarissa and I have been so impressed with you, and how you’ve handled yourself, that we’d like for you to become a permanent member of the Clarissa Lee design label.”
My breath hitches. “A permanent job? Really?”
“Not just a permanent job, but a full-time member of our design staff. Every member of the team says you’re brilliant to work with. They’ve all agreed that if you decide to accept, they’ll stay and continue to work under you,” Clarissa says.
My had flies to my mouth. “My own team?”
Sonya and Clarissa nod.
“What would I design? Evening wear? Wedding gowns?”
“Whatever you fancy,” Sonya responds. “We don’t believe in boxing our designers in to any one thing. We learned early on that you need to continue to flex your creative muscles to keep from getting bored.”
I can’t believe it. This is my literal dream come true. “Yes, I accept.” I pick up the rolled paper, which I assume is a contract, and stare at it.
“Brilliant!” Clarissa shoots me a million-watt smile. “Now that that’s taken care of, all that’s left is for me to have all of you help me pick out the flavor for the weddingcake for tomorrow.”
In what is quickly turning into the strangest day here, we spend the remainder of the afternoon sampling about twelve different wedding cakes.
On Saturday,Sam uses his only day off this week to accompany me to view two flats located on the outskirts of London. I’d had my heart set on the one in Belsize Park, but it wasn’t meant to be. So today, we’re starting with one in Queen’s Park, north of the city, and ending with one in the east London neighborhood of Forest Gate.
I don’t know either of the areas well, but I’m not letting that put me off. As long as I have the basic amenities around me, like a coffee shop and a grocery store, I’ll be a happy girl. It doesn’t take much to impress me.
“I still can’t get over how quickly the Belsize flat wentwithall those mold problems.” I drop my chin to my chest and shake my head.
Sam glances at me from the driver’s seat, then back to the road. “Same. I didn’t think anybody would willingly pay fifty thousand quid over the asking price to secure a property that needs so much work.”
“According to Dad, London property always moves at lightning speed,” McMillian says from the back seat. “Developers are keen to buy a property low, fix it up, and resell it. There’s a never-ending demand for housing.”
He’s a soldier from Sam’s squadron who grew up in a family that runs a construction business. From our brief conversations, I’ve found he’s like a Wikipedia page when it comes to anything related to home renovation.
“McMillian, I never asked, but what’s your first name?”
“Chester.”
Sam sniggers.
“That’s why I prefer going by my surname,” McMillian mutters.
“Ignore him.” I elbow Sam hard.
