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She walked around Miss Reid, aware that the seamstress watched her as she went. At the door to the reception, she paused and set her smile.

“Miss Keynes, I believe,” she said as she opened the door.

A slender woman in a light tweed suit with dark brown accents at the pockets and lapels turned around. “Yes…?”

“How may I help you?” Sylvia asked.

Miss Keynes tilted her head, not a hair on her elegantly streaked blond-and-gray head shifting with the movement. “I beg your pardon, but I don’t know you.”

“I’m Mrs. Pearsall, one of the new owners,” Sylvia said.

“New owners? But I was expecting Mrs. Shelton or her daughter.”

“I’m sorry to have to tell you that my mother died in November,” she said, crossing her hands in front of her. “I’m her eldest daughter. My sister, Isabelle Shelton, and I now own the shop together.”

At least for the time being.

Miss Keynes’s suspicion melted into compassion as she stepped forward, placing a hand on Sylvia’s arm. “Oh, my dear. I’m so very sorry for your loss. Your mother had a good soul. She will be dearly missed.”

“Thank you,” Sylvia said, twisting her body slightly to release herself from Miss Keynes’s grasp.

“And your sister. How is she coping?” asked Miss Keynes, craning her neck as though expecting to see Izzie walk through from the back of the shop at any moment.

“She’s serving in the WAAF now. I’ve taken over the management of the shop in her absence,” she said.

“How fortunate for your dear sister to have your help. Well, I imagine that you have a great many things to keep you occupied here. I’ll just take the skirt I ordered and leave you in peace.”

“Of course, Miss Keynes. I’ll just ask Miss Reid to box it up for you.” She reached to open the door to the back of the shop and found Miss Reid standing right behind it.

“Eavesdropping now, Miss Reid?” she asked in a low voice.

“Well, I never—” Miss Reid began to bluster.

In a voice loud enough for Miss Keynes to hear, she asked, “Would you please box up Miss Keynes’s order?”

“But I thought you said…” At Sylvia’s sharp look, Miss Reid trailed off. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Pearsall.”

With Miss Reid dispatched to the back, Sylvia turned once again to her waiting customer. She moved to the front counter, opening up the order book she’d stashed there in anticipation of this moment.

“I can see from our records that you’ve been a loyal customer of Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions for many years,” she commented, not hinting at the hours she’d spent poring over her mother’s scribbles to decipher the extent of Miss Keynes’s orders. While the office might be a mess, Sylvia had been grateful to learn that her mother at least marked down who had paid and whose bill was still outstanding.

“Oh yes, I’ve been coming here for eight, maybe nine years,” said Miss Keynes. “Your mother always appreciated the old ways of doing things. I’ve had my clothes made since I was a little girl. None of these department store dresses for me.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.” She ran her finger down the page to the number she’d tallied, checked, and checked again. “I believe you will find that, including today’s skirt, your bill stands at forty-three pounds and four shillings.”

Miss Keynes gave her an indulgent smile. “Thank you for reminding me. I shall be certain to stop by my bank the next time I come in. I was thinking about a green dress in wool—”

“Miss Keynes, I’m afraid I really must insist that you settle your account today,” Sylvia said firmly as Miss Reid came through the door and placed the white box tied with the shop’s signature blue ribbon on the counter.

Miss Keynes tittered. “Well, I can’t do that, my dear. You see, I don’t have the necessary funds on me at the moment.”

“The banks are open for another”—she glanced at her watch—“four hours. I’m certain that should give you sufficient time to withdraw the money.”

“But I couldn’t possibly make it to my bank and back in that time! It’s practically across town!” cried Miss Keynes.

“Perhaps Miss Keynes would be able to write a check,” said Miss Reid, her expression inscrutable.

“Thank you, Miss Reid, but I think we would much rather settle the bill in bank notes. If it’s all the same to you, Miss Keynes,” said Sylvia.