Ripped at the Seams Read Free Page B

Granger.”
    The woman held out her hand. “Ella Carmichael. Pleased to meet you, Sami.” Ella stepped out from behind the counter and walked toward the black leather chairs. Sami followed and sat down beside her. “Do any of the bridal companies have designers here?” Sami asked anxiously.
    Ella shook her head. “Not in this building, hon. I’m sorry. It’s all showrooms. We mostly sell to retail stores. On Saturdays we open up to the public. That’s when the brides come pouring in, looking for bargains. But the dresses aren’t designed or made here.”
    Sami blushed harder and closed her portfolio. “Oh, I should have researched this better. I’m so embarrassed.”
    â€œDon’t be embarrassed,” Ella replied. “Most kids your age wouldn’t have been brave enough to come to New York on their own, never mind march into a showroom with their designs in hand. You’ve got guts, that’s for sure. Unfortunately, you don’t have the know-how. Now I …” Before Ella could finish her sentence, the phone on the desk rang.
    Ella jumped up and hurried over to look at the number that flashed across the screen on her phone. “Excuse me, it’s my boss,” Ella said as she picked up the receiver. “Hello, Mr. Loehr. Yes. I have it right here. Of course I can bring it to you right now. I’m just finishing up with something.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Ella apologized as she grabbed a folder from her drawer and hurried off to a room down the hall. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
    â€œI think I may already have,” Sami murmured as Ella left the room. She waited for a moment, making sure the older woman didn’t return. Then she ran behind the desk and looked at the old-fashioned Rolodex that was sitting there.
    Quickly, Sami looked at the list of names printed on the Rolodex cards. Ella was certainly well connected in the design business. Most of the numbers and addresses in her Rolodex were for bridal companies, but there were some other types of design houses as well: Mollie Mack, Ralph Lauren, Tara Davis Designs, Stella McCartney, Phat Fashions, Ted Fromme Fashions. It was an eclectic mix, to say the least. Quickly, she pulled a pen and paper from her bag and scribbled down as many addresses of design houses as she could find in the Rolodex.
    Sami felt a little guilty as she speedily copied the numbers onto her paper. It was almost like she was stealing from Ella. Okay, not stealing exactly, but at the very least she was being extremely sneaky and underhanded. She could just hear her father now. “That’s not the way I raised you, Samantha Granger,” he would say.
    But this wasn’t Elk Lake, Sami reminded herself, in a desperate attempt to justify her actions. This was New York. And the only way she was ever going to get ahead was if she could point herself in the right direction. What was it Ella had said? Oh, yeah:“You’ve got the guts. Unfortunately, you don’t have the know-how.” Well, Sami had now found out everything she needed to know.
    Suddenly she heard footsteps from the room down the hall. Ella was coming back. Quickly, Sami hurried toward the elevator. Silently she made a promise to herself that she would thank Ella someday.
    Someday when she was famous.
    There was little sense in Sami hitting the pavement in search of a job that day. As she left the Bridal Building with Ella’s address list in hand, the strain of traveling for four days straight was starting to get to her. Best to get a good rest and start out fresh in the morning.
    By the time Sami returned to the Beresford Arms, the neighborhood was teeming with tourists out for pretheater dinners a few blocks away on “Restaurant Row.” They seemed happy and excited to be in the Big Apple for their vacation—just the way Sami had felt when she’d gotten off of the bus a few hours