Jade asked me on a Wednesday.
She called at seven in the evening while I was at the Cobble Hill location finishing the week's prep — the kind of call that came with a specific quality of hesitation in the first breath, the sound of someone who had been working up to something and had decided the working up had gone on long enough.
"I need to ask you something," she said. "And I need you to know that you can say no and it won't change anything between us."
I set down the piping bag.
That was a significant preamble. Jade didn't do preambles. Jade did direct questions and then dealt with the answers. Preambles meant whatever was coming had been sitting with her long enough to require cushioning.
"Ask," I said.
A pause.
"Isabelle wants you at the dress fitting," she said. "Saturday. Mad
