To do a bridal gown on my own, not as a paid worker— it was a dream. But… but. My job. Yocheved. She was my boss, and this was her design
Lieba Dratler looked beautiful.
I stepped back, studying the gold leaves along her dress’s neckline. “Should we remove these leaves?” I suggested.
Lieba, Tzirel, and their mother thought a moment and then agreed. I lifted a seam ripper and started plucking at the stitches.
“Oh, wow, much better,” Tzirel exclaimed. “No, Lieba?”
Lieba nodded in approval.
“Gorgeous,” said Mrs. Dratler. “Much softer.”
I continued picking at the threads. Mrs. Dratler stepped closer.
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