The green lace stared back at Rebekah. “A young woman, who is from the same country as my brother and me—”
“Ah-mitch?”
“Um, no ma’am, Ireland—”
“Ah, not Chinese. Go on.”
Rebekah had never met anyone like Mrs. Cheng and she liked her immensely, even though she kept interrupting her in a no-nonsense sort of way. “Well, she and her son are homeless, and she is a widow.”
“Ah yes. So sad. Mrs. Cheng widow too.”
Rebekah nodded. “She gave me that. It was her mother’s prayer shawl. She called it something, but I can’t remember.”
“I see, I see. So wedding dress supposed to be hop skitch like this?”
Rebekah had never heard the word hop skitch before, but somehow the strange term described her dress. “No ma’am. They are supposed to be plain. Like the Amish.”
“So why you not make plain?”
“Well...” Rebekah thought for a moment. “I want to let my future daughter have the hop skitch pieces of the dress. Take it apart. Use it to make a quilt or shawl, or—”
“I see. Mrs. Cheng,” she patted her chest again. “She have no daughters. Only a son. He die.”
Rebekah’s heart quaked. The way Mrs. Cheng spoke about everything, so matter of fact, so sure, took her aback.
“Mrs. Cheng?” A girl dressed in a torn red dress and black stockings knocked on the open door. “Mrs. Cheng, a customer tore my best dress. Can you fix it for me?”
“Here, you hold.” Mrs. Cheng laid Rebekah’s wedding dress over her lap.
“Mrs. Cheng tell you, stop that bad work. Get good husband. Good husband won’t tear dress, will buy you new one.” She took the dress from the young girl.
Rebekah stared at her. She was dressed immodestly, showing parts of her body in a way that made Rebekah blush just by being in the same room as her. The young girl looked to be her age too.
“Yes ma’am. I’m still waitin’ on my Prince Charmin’.” She forced a smile, but didn’t look at Rebekah.
“She getting married,” Mrs. Cheng told the young girl. “She Ah-mitch. It like Chinese. You get married too. No more work like that.”
Though Mrs. Cheng scolded the girl incessantly, she took the dress from her.
“I’m Sadie and I’m from Texas, myself. Seems the fella I was gonna marry had other ideas about what it meant to be faithful.” She shrugged. “He got me into doing this sort of work. I’ll get out of it, someday.” She flashed a shy smile to Rebekah. “How much do I owe you, Mrs. Cheng?”
“I sew for you. You pick up tonight or tomorrow. Two cents.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Cheng, you’re the best!” Sadie laid down a nickel. “Two cents for the dress, three cents for a tip for Mrs. Cheng for being the best seamstress in the Silk Stocking District.”
“Two cents is a good price for dress mending,” Rebekah offered.
Nobody spoke. Instead, Sadie turned to go.
Mrs. Cheng watched her go. “Not real price.”
“Excuse me?”
“I give girls a special price, cheap price.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “They work hard for money. Don’t need to give it to Mrs. Cheng. I charge low, low price to fix their dress.”
Sadie was gone but Rebekah still dropped her voice to a whisper. “What’s the Silk Stocking District?”
“Girls with no family, no husbands,” Mrs. Cheng explained. “Wife for many, many men. Day and night. For a price.”
Rebekah nodded. She understood the words, and understood the sadness, but didn’t quite understand the meaning behind what Mrs. Cheng said. She thought it best not to press her.
“So,” Mrs. Cheng said brightly. “Me and you. We need to make dress.”
She jerked the dress out of Rebekah’s lap and hobbled to the sewing machine.
“My little brother Thomas would love this machine.”
“I see.” She cut a thread and yanked the dress that was there before out of the way. She sat it on a chair, on top of many other dresses. Sadie’s dress was still on the table across the room.
“Um—”
“Watch how machine work.” Quicker than anything she’d ever seen, Mrs. Cheng sewed the hem of her wedding dress by pulling it under the needle and pushing a pedal with her tiny foot.
“I’ve never seen anything of the sort!” Rebekah looked at Mrs. Cheng. “I do not mean to be ungrateful, but it is a rule that we make our own.”
“Good girl to follow rule.” Mrs. Cheng nodded, a severe frown still on her face. “But you see, you follow rule. Dress already made.”
Her wrinkled face lifted into a wry grin. “Mrs. Cheng, she make it pretty.”
Rebekah chuckled. “I suppose there’s no harm in having a pretty wedding dress. Thank you, Mrs. Cheng.” Rebekah looked thoughtfully out the window and over the sea. “At least with you sewing it, I know it won’t fall off.”
“Oh goodness!” Mrs. Cheng smiled a sincere smile, revealing several missing teeth. She rocked back on her sewing stool and slapped her knee. “No, dress no fall off that Mrs. Cheng sew! The one Rebekah sew...”
Mrs. Cheng held up her hand and did a so-so motion. Then pointed at Rebekah and laughed.
Rebekah laughed too, knowing that the kind old woman was kidding. Anyone who would take care of girls dressed like Sadie, giving them discounts and trying to talk sense into them, so it sounded, and then take in someone like Rebekah and doctor her up with no knowledge of who she was, whatsoever—there was no meanness there. No. Only good-natured joking.
“I am honored to have your help, Mrs. Cheng. Thank you.”
“Honor, yes. Chinese and Ah-mitch. They know honor.”
Zip. She whisked the dress through again to reinforce the long line of stitches up the back to the buttons.
***
“Newspaper, Mrs. Cheng.” A young boy with a flat hat, like the one from the train depot, stood at the door.
“Leave it there. You look for your dime outside. Near Mrs. Cheng’s flowers.”
