Revenge of the Wrought-Iron Flamingos(28)

„Oh, I'm sure you will,“ he said.

Although it took longer than expected, for one reason or another, Michael eventually managed to lace me into the stays – not all that tightly, thank goodness. I'm not into bondage. But it did take enough off my waist that the white-and-gold gown fit like a second skin.

„I suppose we'd better go out and let Mrs. Tranh admire her creation,“ Michael said.

„And see what your mother has gotten up to,“ I added.

„That, too,“ he said.

„I like this dress already,“ I said. „It's probably an anachronism of the first order, but she's given me pockets.“

I put a few essentials in the pockets and stepped outside, where we allowed Mrs. Tranh and the ladies to ooh and ahh over their handiwork for a few minutes. Then we braced ourselves and stepped out into the party.

We must have stayed longer in the dressing room than I realized – the party had gotten crowded, and almost all of the rental costumes were in use. The effect was rather impressive, as if we'd really been transported back into colonial Yorktown.

At least from a slight distance. Closer up, women didn't look too bad – „One size fits most“ is easier to achieve with period dresses. Although most weren't wearing stays, of course, so they hadn't quite achieved what I was now learning to recognize as the authentic period silhouette.

The men, alas, looked pretty motley. Apparently, Mrs. Tranh had estimated on the small side in making the men's costumes, and a fair number hadn't been able to get into the tight knee breeches. Looking around, I could spot half a dozen men whose costumes looked perfectly fine until you noticed that beneath their blue coats you could spot denim or fluorescent polyester or garish plaid.

Luckily, Mrs. Tranh and the ladies had also made a lot of what the reenactors called „overalls“ – though to me, they looked more like long white gaiters. The overalls began at midthigh and reached down to cover the tops of the shoes, which meant that you only caught occasional glimpses of the modern pants when their wearers walked. Or modern shoes, for that matter. Evidently Mrs. Waterston hadn't even tried to provide period shoes, simply instructing people to show up in dark shoes if they didn't have proper footgear. She'd had me make a quantity of large buckles that could be clipped onto a shoe to give at least a suggestion of authenticity. I saw my handiwork gracing a remarkably wide range of shoes. They made penny loafers and black leather Reeboks look rather plausible, at least from a distance, but I wasn't sure they did anything to improve the authenticity of Air Jordans.

Fortunately, the majority of the guests came in some kind of costume. Except for the deliberate rebels, most crafters just wore whatever they'd been wearing all day. What they'd probably be wearing for the next two days, for that matter. Well, that would add to the air of authenticity. Michael had invited half a dozen of his fellow French soldiers, and a few people had burst forth with truly wonderful costumes. Tad was still resplendent in his silk and velvet, while Faulk had decided to pay homage to the Scottish side of his ancestry by wearing a kilt and was attracting a great many admiring glances.

So was I, though for rather different reasons.

„Meg, you look fabulous,“ Amanda told me. She was still in her homespun outfit, but from the look on her face I could tell she was kicking herself for not researching period party clothes. „And you've lost weight,“ she added. „I didn't notice it in that baggier dress you were wearing all day.“

„That's because I didn't lose any,“ I said. „I'm wearing a set of stays under this dress; the damned things really do take inches off your waist.“

„Where does it put them?“ she asked.

„It pushes everything up and out,“ Michael said, with an appreciative glance.

„Well, yes, actually it does,“ I said, adjusting the lace at the edge of my bodice in a vain attempt to disguise exactly how very much of me there was to push up and out.

„Isn't that a mite uncomfortable?“ Amanda asked me.

„Actually, it isn't,“ I admitted. „Sounds weird, but it gives your back a lot of support which, after standing around all day, isn't exactly a bad idea. And it doesn't feel constricting – but more regal, if that doesn't sound too weird. I mean, there's no way you can slouch in this thing.“

„Yes, it makes you look taller,“ Michael said. Which didn't bother him, of course, since at six feet four inches he still towered over me, no matter how much taller the stays made me.

„Taller, yeah; and that's not all,“ Amanda said, chuckling.

„Honey, you'd better keep your eye on her in that thing. You don't want some fast-talking redcoat to cut you out.“