Page 23

"Good, because I don't like repeating myself." The woman narrows her eyes and Claudia lets out a smile full of longing. "I'm going to show you how to draft the base lines and what you use for each type of curve. If anything's unclear, stop me and ask—I love this stuff, and once I get going I could talk about it all day."

Claudia listens and absorbs every piece of information with an ease that surprises her. She doesn't know whether it's intuition or whether the work is simply straightforward enough that anyone could pick it up, but nothing Remei explains gives her any trouble. She gets everything on the first try; the names stick because, even though she's never done this professionally, she's followed the fashion world her whole life—she follows designers' accounts and has spent years looking at patterns, sketches, and collections on her iPad.

"And this curve is used for…"

"The armholes, right," Claudia finishes, focused.

Remei glances at her sideways and keeps going, with Claudia joining in more and more, completing sentences before Remei finishes them because it's all so clear in her head that she finds herself able to anticipate every step. When the woman shows her a modification to the pattern, she immediately understands how it will affect the garment, and when Remei talks about a curve, Claudia is already looking at the section of the pattern where she thinks it will be applied—and that's how two hours pass, gone like minutes.

"I thought you didn't work in this field," Remei says, and Claudia looks up.

"I don't. My job is updating the stores' website."

"I'm sorry, what?" Remei swivels on her stool to face her.

"Well, not only that. I handle the incoming questions, route budget requests to the right department, forward supplier inquiries to another one, and pass orders on to sales for processing. It's not bad—although my parents don't want me there, of course. They want to put me in charge and groom me to run everything when they retire."

Remei stares at her, stunned.

"I'm not following any of this. Don't you want to design anymore? When you were little, it was all you talked about. You were so obsessed with it that I always figured that's what you'd ended up doing—that some of the designs that came through here were yours."

Claudia clenches her jaw.

"That was a kid thing, Remei. I got over it," she lies, opening and closing her hands on her thighs.

"Okay, but then why are you still doing the website thing if your place is in management?"

"Because I don't want management. That's not who I am."

"Then who are you?"

Claudia goes quiet and shrugs.

"Word around here is you're not very disciplined—that you're late a lot. Is that true?" the woman presses.

"Yes."

Claudia's ribs ache when she sees the disappointment in Remei's eyes, even though the woman says nothing.

"So why are you here, then? If you want to keep your current position, rotating through here doesn't make much sense."

"My parents think it'll be good for me," she says, leaving out the details. "And it's easier to do what they say than to fight them on it."

Remei brings her eyebrows together.

"Are you happy, Claudia?"

The question hits her like walking into a wall without warning. Claudia draws a breath and it gets stuck in her chest for a few seconds before she manages to let it go.

"I can't complain about the life I have."

"I didn't ask you that. I'm asking you where the hell that curious, open little girl I knew went."

"Kids grow up and change."

Remei shakes her head and looks at her steadily, searching this woman's face for any trace of the happy child she once knew, and finding nothing.

"Can we keep going?" Claudia asks, unable to hold that gaze.