The woman ran the fabric of the dress through her fingers and thumb. Her expression changed from the stoic mask she had been wearing at the softness of the apparently relatively rough weave of the wool frock. It certainly seemed to be a heavier thread than the cotton dress she was currently wearing.
“How is this even possible?” she muttered to herself.
Maggie stood behind the counter with her hands resting lightly on the surface. “Trade secret, Ma’am,” she said. “But I promise it will retain warmth like the heaviest wool blanket, and feel as light as a summer gown.”
“That is why I came in,” the woman said. “Your shop was highly spoken of by Lady Harkness. It took me weeks to get her to reveal the secret of her shawl.”
If Lady Harkness had referred her, this woman must be very well regarded amongst the peerage. She might even be a member of the nobility. Lady Harkness had been coming to Maggie’s shop for years, and had never referred a single customer.
“If the Lady would prefer, we do have the same pattern in both green and blue as well as the burgundy she is currently evaluating. Or we could produce a made to fit piece in any of the fabrics seen behind me here.” Maggie gestured at the bolts of fabric arrayed behind her.
They were interrupted by the ringing bell as a constable entered the shop.
“Sorry to bother you, Ma’am, Miss,” he said. “I’ve just come to check the registration.”
Had it been a month already? It always went smoothly. But she couldn’t help but be nervous. She was an unregistered smoother. She just wanted to live her life. Her magic wasn’t showy, or even very noticeable at all. And she only ever used it passively.
“Certainly, sir,” Maggie said as she pulled out the folio from under the counter. “As you can see, we employ no alters here. I can’t speak for my suppliers, but all the work coming out of this shop is purely mundane.” She folded open the folio, and handed it over to the constable. His stiff uniform rubbed noisily against itself as he reached out and took it. “This won’t take but a moment, Ma’am. Feel free to peruse our pattern index or fabric swatches in the meantime.”
The constable reviewed the list of employees, and their reported registration status. “You’ve brought on a new girl since last month. I’ll have to see the more detailed records on her.”
“Of course. Those records are in the next tab, and Stephanie’s records are on top since she is the newest employee.”
He shuffled through the papers. Stephanie’s was on top, like Maggie had said, but he was entitled to look through anything he liked. He took the duplicate copy and handed back the closed folio. “Everything seems to be in order.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door.
Maggie stepped over to the woman looking through the fabric swatches. “Are we seeing anything we like?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, of course Dear. However there are only so many dresses one can wear in a lifetime,” she replied. “I’ll take the burgundy, green, and blue dresses. Then I’ll come back on Friday for a fitting for a skirt of this tartan pattern.” She flipped the swatches back into a stack, and set them back on the counter.
Maggie’s mouth hung agape. No one had bought three dresses at once in the history of the store, let alone in addition to a custom fit skirt.
“Oh, do settle down. You keep producing quality like this, and no one needs to know you’re an unregistered smoother. There is very little use for you in national service, and your patterns are tremendously stylish.” She fished a crown out of her purse and handed it over. “That should compensate you for the dresses. I will, of course, pay in advance for the bespoke skirt, but at the time of the fitting, rather than today.”
Maggie recovered from her shock. No one had ever known about her ability before. Not even her parents. She still couldn’t comprehend how this woman had figured it out. “Certainly, Ma’am,” she choked out.
“Lady Harkness may not have wanted word of this shop to get out, but Countess Alleria, the well-known empath, will be providing many referrals.”
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