The Time-Traveling Fashionista (18 page)

“Haven’t we, darling?” Glenda offered. “And haven’t you already known all along?”

“Why can’t you tell me?” Louise said. “You seem to have all the answers.”

“Dear, that wouldn’t be much fun, would it?” Glenda teased, getting up from the antique ivory vanity table. “You’ll be amazed,
sweet pea, that the littlest decisions of seemingly no importance, like what dress you wear to the party, end
up being the decisions that change the course of your life forever.”

And with that statement lingering in the air, the two women vanished from the room in a cloud of heavy perfume and purple
smoke.

Inhaling the lilac-scented remnants of her recently departed visitors, Louise felt a surge of intense panic; she was alone
again. She picked up the sepia-toned photograph of Miss Baxter smiling in her pink dress. In a weird way, she knew she would
miss being this glamorous lady. What if the power actually was embedded in the fabric of the dress? Could it have been that
simple all along?

She heard a knock on the wardrobe door, and Anna entered. “Mr. Baxter asked that I check in on you,” she said anxiously.

“Anna,” Louise pleaded, grabbing her hand, “if I’m right, and the
Titanic
really does sink, promise me that you’ll get on a lifeboat with as many passengers as you can. You must save yourself, since
it seems I haven’t been able to save any of us.”

“I promise,” Anna said shakily. They were both quiet for a moment. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Louise asked. “I’ve really messed up. It doesn’t seem like I’ve changed anything.”

“I don’t know,” Anna said quietly, her eyes cast downward. “Believe it or not, today has been one of the most enjoyable in
my life. I know you’d rather be in Connecticut, but I wish you could be the real Miss Baxter.”

Louise blushed, caught off guard by Anna’s heartfelt compliment. “Thank you, Anna.” She gave her a warm hug. “You’ve been
a great friend.” Anna stiffened a bit when Louise wrapped her arms around her, still not used to Miss Baxter being so affectionate.
“I know we just met each other a couple of days ago, but it seems like I’ve known you forever. I wish we could be friends
in my other life,” Louise added. She wished she could give Anna some present from the twenty-first century to remember her
by, like an iPod with her favorite music or a great pair of skinny jeans.

“Me too,” Anna said, beaming. “I’ll be right back to help you to get dressed. Mr. Baxter will be waiting.”

“Wait, Anna.” Louise had an idea. “Have you told Christopher how you feel about him?” she asked, realizing that she could
probably give Anna a few quick twenty-first-century dating tips. She was pretty good at giving advice to Brooke.

“Goodness, no. I couldn’t do that,” she replied, flustered.

“Of course you can. You’re so old-fashioned!” exclaimed Louise. They both laughed at the slip. “Forget the rules. I
mean he really helped us out today, and he could have gotten into a huge amount of trouble for doing that. He definitely likes
you, a lot.”

“I suppose that could be true,” Anna surmised hesitantly.

“If you want a modern girl’s perspective, I think if, I mean
when,
we get off this ship, you should invite him to see a play or have a picnic in the park.”

“Me? Ask him?” Anna repeated, shocked.

“Totally,” Louise replied confidently. “I mean, at this point what do you have to lose?” There was a moment of stunned silence.

“But what will I wear?” Anna finally asked. Louise laughed, the eternal female dilemma, even in the middle of a ship-sinking
crisis.

“You should wear one of Miss Baxter’s dresses,” Louise suggested eagerly, combing through the closet for something that would
look great on Anna.

“How about this turquoise one?” she asked, pulling out a stunning, long Grecian-style gown and holding it up to Anna so she
could get a better look. “That’s fabulous with your eyes.” The aquamarine silk was the exact shade of Anna’s blue-green eyes.

“I couldn’t,” Anna hesitated.

“Of course you can,” Louise encouraged, pushing the dress on her. “We don’t have much time—quickly, try it on. My
best friend and I used to share clothes all the time. It’s like the best part of having girlfriends.”

“If you insist,” Anna agreed much less hesitantly. She pulled off her shapeless brown wool shift and slipped on the new dress
over her old-fashioned undergarments. She looked amazing.

“That’s hot,” Louise squealed.

“Pardon?” Anna asked, looking alarmed.

“No, not hot.
Hot,
” Louise clarified. “It means you look, like, really unbelievably gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Anna said with a blush.

“There’s no way he’s not going to fall madly in love with you in this dress. Check yourself out.”

Anna walked over to the full-length mirror. A big smile spread across her face when she looked at herself in the gown.

“Told you so,” Louise said, satisfied.

“Perhaps I can ask him to take an afternoon stroll….”

“Definitely!” Louise said as she handed Anna a matching pair of dyed bluish satin heels. Miss Baxter definitely knew how to
accessorize.

“Ouch.” Anna painfully tried to squeeze her feet into Miss Baxter’s tiny shoes.

“Now take a spin down the catwalk. Like this,” Louise said as she did her best attempt at a supermodel walk down the imaginary
runway.

“Catwalk?” Giggling, despite the fact that she didn’t know what a catwalk was, Anna copied her exaggerated hip swagger and
strutted around in her new outfit.

“What’s going on in here?” Mr. Baxter bellowed, pounding on the wardrobe door.

“Nothing, Uncle Baxter,” Louise yelped quickly, not wanting him to walk in and interrupt the fashion show.

“Well, what’s taking you so long? We’re late for supper, and I’m famished!”

“Girl stuff,” she replied, looking at Anna, alarmed at how much time must have passed.

“Women,” Mr. Baxter said with a sigh from the other side of the closet door as he walked away.

The two girls exchanged a panicked look. Louise needed to come up with a plan and soon!

She looked at Anna for a long moment and felt a pang of something she could only describe as homesickness. Louise wanted to
wrap her friend in the pink dress and keep them both safe and go back together to Connecticut. Maybe she could?

Anna quickly changed back into her old drab outfit and walked out of the dressing room to placate Mr. Baxter.

With her eyes closed, Louise imagined that she was back in her own walk-in closet and dreaming she was in another time. Except
she knew that now, when she opened her eyes, it
would be real. She thought once more of the other women who had worn her vintage clothes before her, about the previous lives
of these garments, the way they connected her to the girls who lived before her, who went to their own dances and parties,
who had their own dreams and boyfriends.

But what if the dress was only a dress? Louise couldn’t imagine being Miss Baxter forever. She didn’t want to drown. She knew
that she needed to truly believe what Marla and Glenda told her about the power of vintage clothing, about listening to and
respecting the energy of the fabric. “Louise, are you almost ready?” Anna’s voice and timid knocking at the wardrobe door
interrupted her reverie. “Mr. Baxter is getting rather irritable.”

“Anna, come in here,” Louise whispered urgently. “I think I’ve figured out how we can escape.”

“Please, do tell!” Anna said eagerly, hurrying inside and shutting the ivory door behind her.

“Well, the last thing I remember doing before I ended up here was trying on the pink Lucile dress at a vintage sale.”

“What is a vintage sale?” Anna asked, puzzled.

“I’ll explain later—but this dress, Miss Baxter’s dress, is the link. Maybe to get back, we just need to hold hands and put
on the dress together. Do you want to check out what it’s like almost one hundred years into the future?” She reached out
her hand to Anna.

“Wait, where is Miss Baxter’s pink dress?” Louise asked, frantically eyeing the wardrobe for any hint of that iridescent pink.

“I sent it down to be cleaned and pressed. It was a bit wrinkled after your fainting spell, and so I…” Anna said and then
paused when she saw the horrified look on Louise’s face.

“You mean the dress isn’t here?”

“Well, it’s not in the closet, but it is down with the cleaners. I’m sure it’s fine. It’s probably ready to be picked up by
now.”

“We need to find that dress!” Louise interrupted. “It’s our only way off this boat!”

“You mean that dress is the link between Miss Baxter’s life now and your life in the future?” Anna asked, trying to put the
pieces together.

“Yes, I’m almost sure of it. Can you take me to the laundry room?”

Before Anna had a chance to answer, the boat made a sudden jolt. Louise heard a loud grinding noise, and then there was absolute
quiet. The hum of the ship’s engines had stopped. Everything was perfectly still and peaceful. And then the lights went out.

“It’s really happening!” Anna whispered into the still darkness.

“I guess I wasn’t able to change anything,” Louise replied in a sad and frightened voice.

“Who turned out the lights?” Mr. Baxter cried from the other room. “What the devil is going on here?” he cursed as he bumped
into the furniture.

The electric lights sizzled and hissed, and within a few seconds, they flickered back on.

“We need to go help.” The girls rushed out of the closet.

“Put your life jacket on!” Louise ordered Mr. Baxter, who was hopping around the bedroom holding his bruised toe.

“My God, does this mean you were right all along? It can’t be,” he whimpered, continuing his one-legged dance.

The girls opened the stateroom door and discovered the hallway was eerily deserted. Everyone seemed to have ignored the jolt,
as though it were just a patch of choppy water.

Two crew members rushed past them down the empty corridor.

“What’s happening?” Louise called after them.

“Everything is fine. Don’t worry, ladies. But please return to your staterooms,” one of them called over his shoulder. His
voice was calm, but there was a look of terror on his clean-shaven face.

“We need to warn everyone,” Louise declared. “Apparently we can’t leave that job to the crew. They’ll have everyone trapped
in their staterooms until it’s too late.”

When the crew members were out of sight, Louise and Anna ran down the hallway, banging on stateroom doors.

“Everyone put on your life jackets! Get to the lifeboats! We’ve hit an iceberg!” they shouted.

Within seconds, doors began opening up and down the hallway. “What is the meaning of this commotion?” confused and angry passengers
shouted at the girls.

A portly man, dressed only in a terrycloth bathrobe, half of his face still covered with foamy white cream, stepped out of
his doorway and pointed his old-fashioned shaving razor at Louise. “Don’t be absurd, the
Titanic
isn’t sinking. There’s not a drop of water anywhere,” he said, pointing his razor down at the bone-dry carpet. “Now I intend
to finish my shave,” he said in a huff, slamming the door in their faces. Louise wondered how long it would take for the water
to
reach the first-class rooms; it would probably be too late at that point!