much simpler.

“Any chance you’re ready for the geometry quiz this morning?”

Emma stared at Charlie. “What quiz? Oh, no. I totally forgot.” She scrambled to find her math textbook. Maybe if she glanced at the problems right now, she’d luck out and pull off a C on that one.

“Bees at three o’clock,” Charlie mumbled out of the side of his mouth. He nodded toward Lexie and Kayla, who were now standing at the other end of the hall.

Emma’s mouth dropped open.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“I…can’t believe it!” Emma gasped, peering around Charlie’s shoulder. “Lexie is wearing the exact same outfit I styled for Holly at Bloomingdale’s. Well, she switched the pink sequined miniskirt for a pink corduroy one, but otherwise it’s the same!”

“The one you told me they busted on?” Charlie asked, trying to take a peek without being obvious.

“Yes! Tell me what they’re doing,” Emma demanded.

“Holly, Ivana, and Shannon are with them now,” he reported. “And Lexie is spinning around, like she’s showing them her outfit.”

Emma could hear the girls—especially the famously loud Ivana—oohing and ahhing over Lexie’s outfit, Emma’s outfit, all the way down the hall. She doubted that any of them was giving her a single ounce of credit. Emma stood on tiptoes to sneak a look over Charlie’s shoulder again. She had to admit Lexie looked pretty fabulous. The gray mohair sweater-vest made her long dark hair look that much shinier, and the miniskirt showed off her tanned, athletic legs.

“Ugh—here they come,” Emma said, sinking back on her feet.

“Later!” Charlie said. He took off in the opposite direction.

“Coward!” Emma loudly whispered after him.Moments later, the girls crowded around Holly’s locker.

“Hi, Em,” Holly said. The other girls stood talking and giggling behind her, waiting for her to grab her books.

“Hey,” Emma replied. “Sorry, but I’m not going to be at lunch today. I need to go to the library.”

Holly popped a bubble and shrugged. “No biggie. You ready for the geometry quiz? I think it’s going to be kind of hard.”

“Uh, no. Not really,” Emma answered. How can Holly just stand there and pretend like this isn’t the most awkward moment ever? Emma wondered. She must realize that Lexie took my outfit combination, since Holly was the one who wore it first.

“Cute outfit, Lexie,” Emma ventured, hoping her subtle comment might prompt Holly to acknowledge the truth. “Really cool combo.”

Emma waited for Holly’s reaction. But she didn’t have one. Holly just continued pulling stuff out of the locker, getting ready for the first few periods of the day.

“Thanks.” Lexie beamed with genuine delight. “It’s my new favorite. Fun, isn’t it?”

“Super-fun,” Emma responded sarcastically. “It kind of looks like the one I styled in Bloomie’s, don’t you think?” She spoke to Lexie but stared directly at Holly.

“Not at all.” Ivana quickly jumped to her friend’s defense. “This outfit is much more stylish.”

Emma continued to stare at Holly. Willing her to say something. But Holly remained mute, suddenly intent on organizing pens and pencils in a case.

Emma glanced down at the geometry book in her hand, then over at Lexie’s outfit and Holly fervently lining up pencils. So this was how it was going to be. She slammed her locker shut and walked away.

She wondered if Coco Chanel had days like these.

Six hours later, as Emma pushed down on the foot pedal of her sewing machine, laying down the first stitches to the Allegra Biscotti Collection, thoughts of her so-called best friend and quizzes on congruent triangles were blissfully forgotten. She began with the jacket, joining each piece together—left side front to left side back, right side front to right side back—with flawless seams.

She had sewn something so structured only a couple of times before, and that had been with her grandmother sitting right next to her, coaching her like an air-traffic controller guiding in a plane. Step by step. I hope I can remember all the tricks Grandma Grace taught me, Emma thought as she worked two sleeve pieces together under the bobbing silver needle.

Emma studied the newly sewn sleeve and the open armhole. Attaching the sleeve correctly was the trickiest part. Her hands began to flutter. If I measured and cut the patterns right, the sleeve should fit perfectly. But by the time she had re-threaded the machine, her hands were trembling.

How she wished her grandmother was here beside her—or at least in her condo in Florida. Then she’d only be a phone call away to talk Emma through the hard stuff. It figured that the one time Emma really needed her, Grandma Grace was off on a one-month honeymoon cruise around the world with her new husband, Elliot. What was he thinking in taking her grandma on some huge ship way out in the ocean and making her completely unreachable? She wasn’t due back until more than a week after Emma had to turn in Allegra’s collection to Madison.

Emma stood and walked around her worktable a few times. Shake it off, she told herself. You can do this. Just go slowly but confidently—that’s what Grandma Grace would say. The minute the machine thinks it’s controlling you and you’re not controlling it, you’re doomed. Be the boss!

Emma sat back down, picked up the garment pieces, and positioned them in the machine. She pressed her foot down on the pedal to start the motor. But within seconds, the sleeve was bunched up and crooked. She yanked everything out, removed the botched stitches, and tried again. And then again. After five tries, she still couldn’t get it right.

She needed to get these sleeves done today so she could stay on schedule. She grabbed her cell off the table behind her. She hit the speed dial and held her breath. She didn’t want to bother her grandmother on her honeymoon, but this was an emergency—and Emma was desperate. She knew her grandmother, who loved making clothes as much as Emma did, would totally understand why Emma needed to interrupt her cruise.

The call went right into voice mail. Emma jammed her finger down on the red button. Great. No service.

Emma debated calling Charlie. If it were a Paige issue, she wouldn’t have hesitated. But what would Charlie possibly do about a misaligned sleeve? She looked around her empty studio, the force of the realization hitting her like an oncoming city bus. I’m on my own, she thought. When it comes to making the clothes, I’m really on my own.

She couldn’t decide if that was scary…or exciting. It might just be both.

“Do you have the invoices from August ready?” Marjorie asked.

“August…yes, I have them here,” Emma said, flipping through the stack on her lap. Emma had made the mistake fifteen minutes earlier of pacing out of her studio to calm herself. Caught not working at work, she had no choice but to drop the sleeve problem and deal with the invoice problem. Normally, it wasn’t a big deal—going through invoices with Marjorie—but today every minute away from her sleeve and her studio felt like hours.

Marjorie slowly read off the names of companies and the shipments they sent. Way too slowly.

“You can go faster,” Emma suggested. “Or maybe we can switch, and I can read off the list.”

Marjorie took off her glasses and raised a pre-arched, penciled eyebrow at Emma. “What’s going on over there? You got somewhere better to be?”

“Not really,” Emma said as she fidgeted in the uncomfortable vinyl guest chair. “I just have a lot going on right now.” Like sleeves that won’t align, Emma thought, and the English paper I haven’t even started yet that’s due tomorrow. And all the sewing I have to do in less than a week.

“Anything I can help with? A big project, maybe?” Marjorie asked.

Emma froze. Does Marjorie know something? There’s no way Marjorie could’ve

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