A House of Tailors by Patricia Reilly Giff

saying, “A tailor is only as good as his scissors and thread.”
    But never mind that. I stabbed at the inside of the drawer, the dresser groaning and trembling as if it were alive.
    When I was finished, I knelt on the floor to draw a circle on the heavy piece of cardboard, then cut it out. I plopped it over my head and stood up to see myself in the dresser mirror.
    I could cover this with the pink lining, cut petals from the pink fabric, and dye them a deep rose.
    I dropped the circle on the dresser, thinking it was a wonderful plan, a perfect plan, and while I was congratulating myself, there was a tremendous bang on the door. The health department men were there, coming into the house, down the hall, looking into the kitchen, the bedroom, to make sure we harbored no one sick with smallpox.
    I drew myself up. “We are healthy,” I said. “Don’t you worry about that.”
    And later, to make a perfect day, the Uncle came home and told me that Aunt Ida had a place for me at Mrs. Koch’s house. I was to replace a helper who had left for the West.
    14 July 1871
    Dear Dina,
    I write this on your birthday, dear sister. We have not forgotten you! I think of you all the time, but I have given up the idea of coming to America. Don’t feel sad for me, Dina; it was just a childhood dream. I have taken down the picture of the Fifth Avenue Hotel and Madison Square and have given it to Friedrich. Perhaps he will go to America someday.
    But now the really important news. With Mama’s permission, Krist has given me a ring. We will be married in September. Such a few words, but my heart is beating with excitement as I write them. You can see now why it’s possible to give up my lovely dream.
    Hugs and kisses,
Katharina
    Dina dear,
    I add this quickly so Katharina won’t see. Do you remember the lace handkerchief you made for me? With your permission I will add Katharina’s initials and yours for her to carry on her wedding day. She is so happy, Dina, smiling often, singing. And I approve of her choice. Krist is a good man, loyal and upstanding.
    Happy birthday and love,
M.

twelve
    Katharina to carry my handkerchief! I remembered the day I had found the perfect pieces of lace to sew around the fine lawn fabric. Thinking of her wedding made me happy even though I wouldn’t be there. I pictured her as a bride. Together we had sewed many wedding dresses . . .
    But now I had to pay attention to the Uncle’s mutterings as we walked toward Mrs. Koch’s house.
    â€œHow is this going to work?” he was saying, as if I weren’t there. “She can’t even speak a word of English.” He took long steps so it was hard for me to catch up.
    â€œI know
pliz,
” I said, trying to keep my new skirt out of the dusty street. “I know
tenkyou
.”
    He stopped and waited for me to catch up.
“Please,”
he said in such a loud voice a woman ahead of us turned around to see what was the matter with him. “And
thank
you
.”
    To me it sounded as if there weren’t any difference, but I said the words under my breath all the way to Mrs. Koch’s house. I knew more than those two, of course. I knew at least a dozen words,
door
and
stairs
and
greenhorn,
which was what the iceman had called me yesterday, and
izecrim,
which was now not only my favorite word—I loved the sound of it—but my favorite food as well.
    And
Fifth Avenue Hotel
. I knew those sad words now. It made me think of Katharina’s dream that was gone. And here I was in America, and I had never seen that hotel myself.
    The Uncle looked at me. “That hat.”
    I raised my hand to my head. The hat was a disappointment. The cardboard wasn’t stiff enough, so the sides curved down under the weight of the lace and ribbon.
    â€œAnd I thought . . . ,” the Uncle said.
    I raised my chin.
    He sighed. “You are not a hat maker, I can see that.”
    We turned the corner.