Philip tried on his jacket Thursday afternoon and lifted both arms before Iris asked him to.
“Habit,” he said.
“How does it feel?”
He moved his shoulders, sat in the blue chair, stood again and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Mine.”
“Good.”
“Not tighter. Not different. Just mine again.”
She smiled and checked the fall at the back one final time. The adjustment had done what she’d promised. No more, no less.
He paid forty-five dollars, accepted the receipt and put the jacket on rather than carrying it out. At the door, he asked whether he could send his daughter to her.
“Of course.”
“She has a dress she says needs something. I don’t know what.”
“We’ll discover it together.”
After he left, Iris entered the payment in her book. First completed job. The bank balance would not be transformed by it. Her day was.
Mrs. Morrow collected the trousers at four. They fitted. She inspected both hems as if expecting one to change while she looked at the other, then paid and booked a repair for the following week.
“I’m not bringing the frother,” she said. “We seem to have reached an understanding.”
“I’m pleased for you both.”
They laughed. Iris put the next appointment in the book.
Nora arrived at noon Friday with her mother and the silver shoes.
The dress was ready. Iris had kept Thursday’s other collection times, finished the lining after Mrs. Morrow left and stopped before tiredness could make the final stitches careless.
Behind the screen, Nora changed. When she stepped out, the chiffon cleared the floor evenly, both shoes showing. She walked to the window, turned and sat in the blue chair without being asked.
“It doesn’t catch,” she said.
“No.”
She stood, swished the skirt experimentally and began to smile.
Gail took a photograph. Then she crouched, examining the hem from an angle Iris had not expected either of them to manage comfortably.
“I can’t see where it was cut.”
“That’s the plan.”
Nora laughed. Her mother stood up slowly, one hand against the chair.
“The others are being finished tonight,” Gail said. “Julie and my sister are both coming. It won’t be like this.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Nora said. “They just need not to tread on them.”
Gail looked at her younger daughter, at the shoes she’d wanted to show and the skirt that let her. Some of the strain went out of her face.
“Yes,” she said. “They do.”
Nora changed back, paid seventy-five dollars and took her receipt. Iris wrote the amount in her book beneath the two completed jobs from Thursday. Three promises kept, at three agreed prices. The column was small enough that she could see the space the other dresses would have occupied.
“Can I give Sophie your number?” Nora asked at the door. “Not for tomorrow. She has work clothes that never fit.”
“Please do. Tell her to call and we’ll arrange a time.”
Gail picked up the dress cover, carefully this time.
“Thank you,” she said. No explanation or argument attached.
“You’re welcome. I hope you have a lovely day.”
After they left, Iris put the cash away and cleared the fitting space. She had lost three jobs and might have gained another.
Daniel arrived at one with a small toolbox and lunch. He asked where she wanted the shelf, held it at three different heights while she changed her mind, then fitted it at the second one without making her feel obliged to apologize for choosing.
“You look very professional,” she said, watching him tighten the last screw.
“An illusion created by the tools.”
“I’ll try it with the shears.”
He turned toward her, smiling, and caught her looking at his forearms.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll have to start charging.”
“Put it on the invoice. Distraction, one hour.”
He set the screwdriver down and came to kiss her, the practical work finished before he allowed himself to become less useful.
At three, Winnie arrived with cups, a tray and a tin she assured Iris contained biscuits. Priya followed carrying a small bunch of flowers in a jar because nobody needed to be sent looking for a vase today.
They had invited twenty people, spread over two hours.
At four, the first guest climbed the stairs.
It was Saul’s sister, Miriam, who wanted to see what the room had become and also had a coat with a lining she’d been meaning to fix since Christmas. She inspected the screen, the light and the little sign by the door, then took off the coat.
“I hadn’t planned to work,” Iris said, laughing.
“You can tell me another time.”
“No. Let me look.”
The lining was repairable. They agreed an appointment, not a rushed estimate over tea, and Miriam looked pleased enough to go downstairs and tell Saul the room was in competent hands.
Mrs. Hallet came in the red coat. She took it off only after Winnie accused her of treating central heating as an accessory. Hugh arrived late, carrying nothing but himself because Iris had specifically asked him not to find a job to do.
“I feel underemployed,” he said.
“Have a biscuit.”
He did.
The room filled and emptied in small, manageable waves. People sat, stood, looked at the tree. Priya demonstrated the screen and nearly trapped herself behind it. Winnie rang the service bell once, was told by Saul through the floor that he had heard it perfectly well, and promised to restrain herself.
Daniel stayed near the window, speaking when spoken to, looking at Iris often enough that she knew where he was without having to turn. He did not run the room for her. He did not leave when the conversation became ordinary.
At five-thirty Beth called on video from a bus stop, wind catching the loose hair around her face.
“Show me.”
Iris walked slowly around the room with the phone, pointing out the chair, the machine, the shelf. Her daughter made admiring noises at appropriate intervals and asked whether the plant had survived its first week.
“So far.”
“Excellent business indicator.”
Daniel leaned into view to say hello. Beth smiled at him.
“Be nice to her,” she said.
“Beth,” Iris protested.
“I meant the plant. He looks overenthusiastic about maintenance.”
Daniel laughed. “A fair warning.”
When the call ended, Iris stood for a moment holding the phone, overwhelmed by a happiness too mixed with ordinary things to feel fragile.
At six, the last visitors left. There were crumbs, three new inquiries, two firm appointments and no queue of strangers prepared to finance her independence by admiration alone.
It was enough for the day.
Winnie and Priya helped clear, then went downstairs with Hugh. Daniel carried the trash out and returned to find Iris sitting in the blue chair with her shoes off.
“Successful?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She smiled at him. “You can sit down. Nobody else is coming.”
He took the folding chair beside her. They looked at the room together, quiet now except for the sounds of the street.
“Thank you for being here,” she said.
“I wanted to be.”
“I know.”
He took her hand.
At home, they ordered food and ate it before it went cold. He had a flight the next afternoon, a bag to finish packing and six weeks of work he intended to do well.