Chapter 5: My Father's Name Was on Her File
Elise asked the committee to move the conversation into a private conference room.
The scholarship event continued behind us, but the applause sounded distant, as though I were listening from underwater.
I followed Elise down a corridor lined with framed photographs of past winners. Maya stayed close to my side. Brianna and Vanessa walked several steps behind us, whispering furiously.
When we entered the conference room, Elise placed the faded photograph on the table.
I couldn't stop looking at my father's face.
"How did you know him?"" I asked.
Elise removed her jacket and draped it over a chair.
"Daniel worked as a technical patternmaker when I was starting my career. I was twenty-six, broke, and preparing my first independent collection. I had spent nearly all my savings on fabric.""
She paused.
"Three days before my first major presentation, a faulty steam line flooded the studio. Half the collection was ruined. The remaining garments had warped seams, damaged linings, and fabric that couldn't be replaced.""
"What happened?""
"Your father worked through two nights rebuilding the damaged pieces. He developed a way to stabilize the seams without changing the silhouette. He refused payment until the show was over.""
I looked down at the photograph.
That sounded exactly like Dad.
He had never been able to walk away from something broken.
Elise continued.
"He also introduced me to your mother, Lorraine. She was a remarkable illustrator. Her sketches had a sense of movement I'd never seen before.""
My throat tightened.
"My mother died when I was little. I barely remember her.""
Elise's expression softened.
"I'm sorry, Nia.""
She opened a thin leather folder and removed a sheet of paper.
"I kept in touch with your father for years. After your mother passed away, he sent me a few of her illustrations. He told me you had inherited her eye for color.""
I stared at her.
"He told you about me?""
"More than once.""
A strange ache spread through my chest. All these years, I'd thought my father's world had ended when he died. I'd never imagined there were people elsewhere carrying pieces of him.
"Why didn't you contact me?"" I asked.
Elise lowered her gaze.
"Because I lost touch with Daniel before his death. I learned what had happened much later. By then, I didn't know where you were.""
She touched the edge of the photograph.
"When I saw your gown on that runway, I recognized the construction immediately. Not the entire technique, but the principles behind it. Your father taught me to look at what a garment is trying to do, not merely what it looks like.""
Maya squeezed my hand beneath the table.
I swallowed.
"What does this have to do with Brianna?""
Elise's expression changed.
"That is what I intend to find out.""
She opened Brianna's application folder again.
Several pages lay inside, including a statement describing Brianna's design process.
According to the essay, she had spent six months developing a revolutionary stitching technique inspired by vintage couture.
I read the paragraph twice.
"Six months?"" I whispered.
Elise nodded.
"Her submission describes the three-loop construction as an innovation she developed independently.""
I looked at Vanessa.
She had gone very still.
"Did you help Brianna write this?"" I asked.
Vanessa folded her hands.
"I helped her express herself clearly. That's what parents do.""
"You knew that technique was mine.""
"I knew your father taught you how to sew.""
"That's not what I asked.""
Her jaw tightened.
"Be careful, Nia. You have no idea how complicated this situation is.""
"Then explain it.""
For the first time, Vanessa looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Elise closed the folder.
"We'll return to the applications. Right now, I want to understand the ownership of the original gown.""
I explained how I had designed it, purchased the materials, and documented each stage in my sketchbook. I described coming home and finding Brianna wearing it, then watching the seam rip.
Rachel took notes.
When I finished, Brianna leaned forward.
"She's leaving out the part where she keeps everything in a shared house. How was I supposed to know what I could and couldn't use?""
I stared at her.
"You knew it was my competition dress.""
"You never told me I couldn't try it on.""
"Because I shouldn't have had to tell you not to steal my work!""
Vanessa struck the table with her palm.
"Enough! This is becoming ridiculous.""
Elise looked at her coolly.
"Then perhaps you can clarify something for us, Vanessa. Why did you tell me last month that Brianna had developed the signature stitch herself?""
The room went silent.
I turned toward my stepmother.
"You told Elise about my stitching?""
Vanessa's lips parted, then closed.
Brianna looked at her mother in panic.
Elise continued.
"You contacted my office requesting a private introduction before the competition. You said Brianna was working on a groundbreaking construction technique and that I would be impressed.""
Vanessa forced a smile.
"I was supporting my daughter.""
"Of course. But you described the technique in remarkable detail.""
She opened the folder to a page containing a technical drawing.
"You even sent me a diagram.""
Vanessa stared at the paper.
I recognized the drawing.
It was one of my old sketches.
Not the butterfly dress. Not the original gown.
A design I had made when I was fifteen, showing how the hidden knot could be secured beneath a folded seam.
I had kept that page in a notebook in my bedroom.
Someone had taken it.
I looked at Brianna.
"How did you get that drawing?""
She shook her head.
"I didn't.""
"Then who did?""
Vanessa rose abruptly.
"This conversation is over.""
Rachel stood beside the door.
"I'm afraid the committee hasn't finished.""
Vanessa looked at Elise.
"You can't seriously believe a child who lives under my roof is capable of stealing intellectual property from her own family.""
Elise's gaze hardened.
"She is eighteen. And I haven't made a final determination about anything.""
"You're humiliating us!""
"No," Elise replied.
"I'm asking questions.""
Vanessa grabbed her handbag.
"Come, Brianna.""
Brianna didn't move.
For the first time, she seemed uncertain about following her mother.
Elise slid the old technical drawing toward me.
"Nia, I need to ask you something privately.""
Maya started to stand, but I touched her arm.
"It's okay.""
She left with Rachel.
Elise waited until the door closed.
Then she asked, "Do you know what happened to your mother's original fashion portfolio?""
My heart lurched.
"What portfolio?""
Elise's expression turned grave.
"The collection of designs she created before she died. Daniel told me he had preserved every page.""
I shook my head slowly.
"I've never seen it.""
Elise leaned back.
"Then we may have a much bigger problem than a stolen gown.""
She opened the folder and showed me a photograph of a woman's sketchbook.
The cover was worn, the corners softened with age.
Across the front, in my mother's handwriting, were the words:
*LORRAINE CARTER — ORIGINAL DESIGNS.*
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
And beneath the photograph was a handwritten inventory of the portfolio's contents.
One entry had been underlined in red.
Butterfly collection — original mechanical construction and signature stitching.
I stared at the words until they blurred.
The dress I had created in three sleepless nights had been inspired by an idea I thought was entirely my own.
But someone had designed something similar decades before I was born.
Someone who had taught my father.
Someone whose work might explain why Elise had recognized my construction so quickly.
I looked up.
"Where is my mother's portfolio?""
Elise held my gaze.
"According to the last record I have, it was delivered to your family home shortly after Daniel's death.""
The room seemed to shrink around me.
My family home.
The house where Vanessa had controlled everything.
The house where Brianna had stolen my drawings.
The house where my mother's name was never spoken.
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped backward.
"I need to go home.""
Elise reached for my wrist.
"Not yet, Nia.""
"Why?""
May you like
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Because I believe someone has been selling your mother's designs under another name.""
