Remedy for Romance

By F. R. Lee

Aileen Benay Farley under the pen name of F. R. Lee
was born July on 28, 1917, in Illinois. At a young age,
she and her parents and sister relocated to Vero Beach,
Florida. In 1926, Aileens father built the house where
Aileen continued to live into her later years. Aileen went
to college in Chicago where she studied Dress Designing.
During this time, she was discovered, and became a high
fashion runway model during the 30s and 40s and into
the early 50s in New York City. She was also a model for Elizabeth Arden
Cosmetics, and was frequently on magazine covers, such as McCalls. Some
of her modeling pictures are also in the Library of Congress.
Over the years, Aileen drove back and forth from New York City to Vero
Beach in a 1956 Ford she called Henry, since she spent the winters in
Vero Beach avoiding the cold winters in the North. Aileen was not married
and had no children, and in later years, became very eccentric living in
the house built by her father. Aileen owned property in Vero Beach,
part of which was an orange grove, and another part of the property
had a natural hammock. At her propertys sale, she requested that the
hammock was not to be destroyed. While Aileen was in Vero Beach,
she would spend long hours tending to her citrus grove and property.
This property is an up-scale, gated community located in southwestern
Vero Beach and presently called Lost Hammock. In addition, the main
street through the community is named, Farleys Court after Aileen. The
original manuscript of this book Remedy for Romance, which Aileen
typed on a manual typewriter, was included among numerous pictures
of her modeling days, and discovered after her death in 2003.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514419618

F. R. Lee

F. R. Lee was born on July 28, 1917, and died on April 30, 2003, at the age of eighty-five. Aileen last resided in Vero Beach, Florida.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

I couldn't sleep. I had serious doubts if I could ever sleep again. So I tried thinking instead. I wasn't much more successful at that. Nothing made real sense. But I had learned one valuable lesson, that you never really know the other person, no matter how well you think you do, and it was ridiculous trying to. I suspected I would forget this lesson in short order, like I have forgotten most of the lessons I've learned. But I know I could never fall asleep until I had gotten everything straightened out in my own mind, so I decided to start right at the first day. I mean the first day that this whole thing began, as far as I was concerned, the thing that ended tonight. At least the first part of it had ended and I couldn't bear to think of the next part. I could always think about that later. There was enough on my mind now to give me insomnia for years. I thought it would be therapeutical if I reviewed everything in my mind, starting right at the beginning. From the day I became part of a situation I wanted none of, but had no choice in the matter. The garlic breath of reality.

I needed that whole day and evening like I needed another half a head. Since I wasn't doing too well with the one I had, another half would have just been excess baggage. The day had started out all right. At least as right as a day can start when you've only had a few hours sleep and you can't operate well on less than eight, combined with all the earmarks of a hangover. But after I had popped a couple of Dexedrine and three cups of black coffee in my mouth the wheels began to turn slowly and I was ready to roll. Even so, I was over an hour late getting down to work.

But it didn't make much difference, for Jayce was in a high old humor sitting around the show room regaling our two salesmen with some new versions of some old dirty stories. He was waving his hands about frantically to illustrate every word as usual, the long white cigarette holder bobbing around in his mouth like an excited candle and shrieking with laughter at his own wit. Jayce made quite a picture. But then Jayce always made quite a picture. A strange one at that, even in a town like New York where strange sights are commonplace and hardly warrant an eye glance, Jayce could turn whole heads. His head of heavy snow-white hair, that was his pride and glory, he wore much too long and in deep-set waves. With the aid of a sun lamp he kept a deep suntan all year round. His face, with its little pug pushed-up features, was strangely unlined for a man of his age, which must have been around fifty. I wasn't sure though. Age was a taboo subject with Jayce, his own that is, but he was always adding about five years to everyone else's age. Some said he had his face lifted, but I suspected it was due to all of the facials and massages that he had several times a week at a swank east side beauty salon. I know, for I used to call and make the appointments for him. And I am sure that he used to lather his face with all sorts of expensive creams at bedtime. He spent more money on his face and figure than any woman I knew, and most of my friends were models whose business was beauty.

But that was Jayce's affair, and I was used to him. I was even extremely fond of him. Though most of the time I felt like taking a rope and tying him to a chair with a gag in his mouth just to keep him still. He was a human study in nervous perpetual motion and that's enough to drive anyone crazy just being around, much less working for.

Jayce was loaded with artistic talent in all directions. Besides being one of the finest designers of women's clothes in the whole garment industry, he was an accomplished musician, sculptor, decorator and painter. He had dabbled in them all, but had settled where the most money was...the wholesale garment industry. He loved money, it was the one security he understood and had never failed him. Though he was independently wealthy from family sources he wanted more and more and more. It was handy in buying friends.

A bona fide Southern aristocrat who pretended he hated the South and its bigotry, but would never let you forget he was a Southerner or came from one of the first families of Virginia. And had nearly all of his money, no small amount, invested in Southern real estate. After a new real estate purchase he would always say, Just bought myself another burial plot when I go back South to die. I wouldn't want to be caught dead in the North, you know.

He was an experienced traveler, who had been nearly everywhere at least once, but he hated to leave home. He would cancel and make new reservations about six times, or miss at least that many planes when he was headed away from home. But if it was on a homeward bound flight he was at the airport hours early for fear he would miss his flight. And then he hated the whole bother of travel, the packing and un-packing, the nuisance of transportation, making connections and the grim punctuality demanded by travel timetables. But he insisted on Tripping, as he called travel, at the drop of a hat.

'Tripping it' is so broadening, Doll, he would inform me, with those bright little blue-button eyes of his peering at me, as if he were instructing me in lesson No. 6 of the Charm School Manual. Broadening for other people, that is. Nothing impresses the peasants like a little travel and a few foreign phrases. And that's so very important, you know, impressing the peasants. Keeps them in line. They are really quite civil and most respectful when I go back to Richmond now. I noticed what a difference travel made years ago. When I came home from my first 'tripping it' around the world. I was only eighteen, before that, they had made my life a living Hell, ragging and taunting me to death. But what a change, then it was 'yes sir' and 'no sir' and 'what did you see sir'. With sweetness and light. With a sharp note of bitterness he added, Children are such horrible and cruel little monsters they should be kept in a cage until grown, and visited only at feeding time.

Jayce didn't brood too often on the unpleasant aspects of his childhood in Virginia. For there seemed to be a lot of advantages to being James Carr Lee, one of 'the' Lees. An only child with a doting mother and a confused but fond father. In spite of being considered peculiar and a sissy and having to wear a long Buster Brown haircut until he was seven when some of the school bullies clipped all his hair off in short jagged ends and Jayce ended up with one of the first crew cuts against his will. Mama and Jayce wept bitterly for days, but Papa thought it was all for the best. Mama never really forgave either Papa or the Public School System so Jayce had a tutor for years. Papa finally put a stop to that, insisted his son would have to learn to get along with other children if it killed them all and he was sent back to regular school. That was when Jayce learned to protect himself with his caustic wit and homing barbs. He became a master of ridicule. And he learned to move very fast. If he couldn't out scream you, he could out run you. He became very adept at both activities and carried them right into his adult life. In any hassle, personal or professional, when his caustic tongue and screams couldn't accomplish what he wanted, he just turned his back on you and went trotting away with that rapid little running step that he affected. Frustrated, you were left talking to thin air. After a while he sent someone else back to straighten out the damage and usually that someone was me.

I was supposed to be a designer myself as well as being Jayce's assistant. But since Jayce was the designer I was working with, my true role in his life seemed to be that of a well paid errand and public relations girl; union go-between; part-time model and show room head; full time audience and confidante. Also being dragged around socially whenever a female presence seemed to be required and being a hostess for him when it was necessary for him to do any entertaining. That is when his great good friend and true love Willard Powell didn't seem to fit the social situation. Like last night for instance.

Jess Mangle and his wife were in town. They owned a chain of smart exclusive dress shops in the Southwest that catered only to the wealthiest women. So we catered to the Mangel's. They were a very good account with our wholesale house. 'Loved' Jayce's clothes and thought him fascinating, 'so amusing and gay', wished he lived in Texas, 'just can't get enough of that darling boy'. As much as Jayce loved praise and approbation they were a little thick for even him to swallow, and he generally got more than enough of them during their New York buying trips. We had them on our hands the night before until three o'clock in the morning. Jess Mangle had stamped my feet flat and wrenched my back dancing Texas style but since it was against the rules to kick him back I had to suffer in silence. Jayce had behaved himself and been nothing but attention while Mrs. Mangle had told him of newfound talents and cute doings of the grandchildren. Nor did he explode when she told him he should get married and have some 'darlin babies' of his own. I was worried he might let fly a few needling remarks or dirty jokes just to stir things up to keep himself from being too bored. But there was really no need to concern myself. For the Mangle's had put in a large 're-order' order, beside the fact we were just about to show our new line for the coming season. If you couldn't win or earn Jayce's civility, it was very possible to buy it. If there was enough money involved in it for him. Since he was half owner in this new firm and venture he was finding it much easier to be charming for the sake of business. He was being serious about it and taking his responsibilities very pleasantly so far, boredom hadn't set in yet. God help us when it did.

Most mornings Jayce would tear into you like an old bear with fresh meat if the slightest thing went wrong, generally moody and touchy in the A.M. He begins to mellow about mid-day, felt better and became increasingly pleasant as the day progressed. When it was really time to close shop for the day, he was at his top peak and most creative. So my working day could be pretty erratic. The only reason he ever showed up in the morning was to make sure that everyone else was there working as they should be. Owning half of a business, with half of the risk involved, had made a lot of difference in Jayce's working habits. And mine too, I might add.

Things had been different when we worked for Nat Simon, a block further up Seventh Avenue in the 530 Building. Then I had what would be considered a thirty-hour workweek. Now I didn't even bother to count the hours anymore. I had left the firm of 'Simons Suits' with Jayce when he decided to go into business for himself with Little Abe Ginsburg. And I had never regretted it, the fact that I got a lot more money was only incidental. Being around Jayce was a liberal education in itself, in more ways than one. The new firm had been a great success right from the start. Jayce had the reputation and talent, Abe had the business acumen. We were in a clover field.

Jayce ignored the fact that I was late coming to work and greeted me with his five P.M. brand of charm, which took me unawares for I was primed for a fight and had my shoulder chips ready.

"Doll! I was just telling the boys how wonderful you were with the firemen from Texas last night. I think that dear old toad Mangle wants to trade in his old female saddlebag for you. But I won't hear of it. We'll let him buy you by bits and pieces. I can see a lot more business from that direction. I'm glad I made you get that dress you wore last night, Doll, it couldn't have been more becoming....'

And it couldn't have been more expensive. I wish you would pay for some of these clothes you insist on my buying. Or double my salary. I have about three cents in the bank and dress as if I had a million. I retorted with exasperation.

On the salary I pay you, you've got no beef coming. You just don't know how to manage money. If you would stop letting every stray cat borrow from you, you might keep your hands on some. But I can't have you going around looking like a small brown wren, Kitty. You're lucky enough to be associated with Jayce Lee, and you must be a credit to me. You're not just anyone, you know. I think of you as one of my own dear family. You should be glad I take such an interest in you and insist you live up to all of your potentialities. You're probably the best-dressed girl in the whole dress market, and you know it. You should be proud, instead of rebellious. You were such a little mouse when I found you. With those little belted potato sacks you doted on wearing. I shudder to think what will happen if you ever get in a position to dictate women's fashions.

They'll be comfortable at least, I snapped, and they might even have a few dollars left in the bank after they finish covering their backs, since they don't have to be a credit to you. Which is more than I can say for myself.

Boys, Jayce said, walling his eyes in mock horror to the two salesmen sitting there impassively, Our Kitty Kat is bitter this morning because she was born righteous instead of rich. She would really love to be like that little bitch mantrap that rooms with her and bounce gaily from bed to bed-gathering gold dust on the way. But she just can't swing it. The burden of her out-moded morals weigh her down too much to bounce. And you do have to bounce, you know. Frustration is bound to set in. We must be kind. But don't you worry, Doll, you know I have you down for a big nugget in my will.

If I keep working for you, Jayce, I won't need to worry about any will. You'll end up dancing on my grave for twenty years before you give up the ghost to become one and decide to join me.

But when I come I promise to bring a whole new wardrobe for you, he chortled. You must be a credit to me at all cost.

I know, at my cost. I'm sure you will bring summer clothes for the very warm climate you'll expect, and I'll try to be there to wear them. I should go to any length to be well dressed for you. I've already gone broke. I snapped, belying my so-called sunny disposition. I didn't feel like I had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, I just felt I shouldn't have gotten up at all. And I was right. What trial by fire do you want me to go through today, Master? I'm dead on my feet and I don't need to tell you I'm irritable. I'm not asking for pity but my feet still hurt from carrying Jess Mangle around the dance floor on them. So lets make it something sitting down like sketching.

You must be careful, Kitty, or your natural charm will show. And in front of the boys too. You can complain later on your time, but first you have to call Operator 22 in Boston. It might be something exciting like business, we don't want anything to stand in the way of business, now do we? Jayce smiled at me benignly, looking all the world like a crafty old fox, Or maybe it's someone on the phone that would like to hire you for as much as I pay you. Hum? Do you think that's possible? I hope not. I would so hate to lose you. I doubt if anyone would be interested in the pittance I give you, so I might have a wee bit of trouble replacing you. Just a wee bit.

The men just smiled, they were used to anything around the show room. Threats were the least. But we still presented a united front to the public and were held together by strong ties of affections in the new business. All of the staff were hand picked and had all the qualities necessary to work around someone of Jayce's temperament in peace and contentment...

I went into the private office without bothering to answer Jayce and picked up the phone to be connected with whoever was trying to reach me from Boston. It was a vague courtship of mine, Ed Keller. Ed was a typical straight-laced New Englander but he labored under the delusion he was a real sport. He told me he was leaving for his vacation that afternoon and had decided to fly to Florida in the off-season when he could get the very best accommodations at a price he considered reasonable. Leave it to Ed to be practical, he didn't have much imagination, but he was practical. He wanted to stop off in New York for the evening, see me, take in a good show and then catch a late flight out. He said he knew he was letting me know at the last moment and I probably already had plans, but it would mean a lot to him if he could see me. He had decided to go on the spur of the moment, or he would have given me more notice.

He was right. I had made plans. I was to drive out to Long Island with my old friend Laura Benhamn and get a good four-day rest at a boarding house her friend Mamie Tower kept in Huntington. The house was a half block from the water and the price was right. It suited me fine, since I was always kept so broke buying clothes Jayce thought I should have I couldn't afford to vacation at any fancy resort. Laura would be disappointed if I didn't drive out with her, but I could come on the train the next day if I wanted to. My life was so devoid of any romance at the present it just might lift my spirits to go out with someone for a change that was crazy about me and had only marriage on his mind. I was dead tired, knew I shouldn't have another late night, but I agreed against my better judgment. I didn't get to see Ed very often and though he was pretty stuffy for my taste I never doubted his sincerity. And it is nice to feel you are loved and cherished even if you would rather it were someone else doing the loving. And I was fond of him in my way. I just found him a bit of a strain to talk to. As a result I knocked myself out making gay conversation. I even agreed to stop by the ticket broker he used at the Plaza Hotel to try to get some seats for a show. That is if I wanted to see a show. I decided that was just what I wanted to see. I was too tired to think of making conversation with him for hours when it was such a strain on me. I could gab for hours on end with most people and feel stimulated and refreshed, but after an hour of straight dialogue with Ed I had had it. But he loved me. That was important and reassuring to me. Jayce needed money to feel secure; I needed to feel people cared about me. Any people. I loved to be loved.

I went back to the showroom and confronted Jayce. That was a social call for me for a change. Ed Keller is coming down from Boston this evening and we are going to the theater. I was going out to the island with Laura, but I decided to heed the call of love. I do wish you would let me off early so I could catch a nap first. I was working in your interest until three in the morning, remember? An evening like last night was work for me and don't you forget it. It's no wonder Ed wants to marry me and take me away from all this.

I walked into the model's dressing room. Jayce followed me, storming and waving his arms, his voice hitting the upper keys.

You can't do this to me, Kitty! You know I'm having the Mangles over for cocktails at my apartment this evening. You know that. You heard me invite them after their broad hints. What could I do? I need you there to help me entertain. They expect you. I just can't take them on without you. They're too narrow minded to understand Willard. You've got to call that Keller back and tell him you can't make it. I'm desperate! Why that man's been dead for years. He's just too stiff necked to lie down so they can cover him up. Of all the Zombies I've seen you with, and I've seen some beauts, Keller takes the prize. He has about as much animation and spark to him as a lead balloon.

I tried to explain to Jayce that I had no knowledge of any plans he had for me. That if he had bothered to consult me, something that would never have occurred to him, he would have found I had already made previous plans to leave for the Island right after work. Where I certainly wouldn't have changed any plans for the prospect of more of Mangle and his wife, I would and did change them to see Ed Keller, and that was that.

I'm sorry, Charmer, that you got your signals crossed and will have to go through this alone. It won't be so bad. It's not as if the Mangles were strangers. I told him sympathetically.

I really did feel sorry for him. I knew how impossible he felt it was for him to do any entertaining alone. He was a wonderful guest, gay and amusing, the life of a party, but he ceased to exist when he became a host for any gathering over one person. I think when I was there being the hostess for him he pretended he was really a guest too, instead of the real host, everything went along beautifully and he was the spirit of graciousness. But if he had to be alone, with the whole burden of entertaining right where it belonged, he became a nervous wreck. He dried up like a prune and became speechless. A psychiatrist could probably figure out why, I had long ago given up trying. I just accepted the fact he was the way he was. There was nothing I could do about it anyway.

He sank into a chair in front of the dressing table and buried his face in his hands. With the drooping shoulders he was a picture of complete dejection that was suppose to wring my heart. He realized browbeating would get him no place this time.

I didn't think you would fail me. You of all people, he mumbled. You know what important customers they are and that I am totally incapable of entertaining alone. Well, I'll just have to call them and cancel the cocktail. I only hope they understand and aren't antagonized to the point we might lose their good will and account. You know how sensitive those Texans are if they feel they are being slighted. Let's just hope for the best. That' the only thing I can do. And he heaved a great sigh to emphasize his desperate situation.

I watched his phony dramatics with exasperation. But I did know one thing. The Dollar Bill had lost this round. Jayce would not entertain them alone. He would call up and cancel the date as he said, he would dream up a very excellent excuse that would leave everyone happy, except me. For I knew if anything happened that we should ever lose the Mangle account for the next ten years, Jayce would attribute the first step of the loss to the cancelled cocktail date. All because I was too selfish to help him when I knew he had a complex about entertaining.

I recognized I was fighting a losing battle and gave in as gracefully as I could. I was a fool to think I could lead my own life if Jayce had other plans. I wondered who had been his stooge years ago before I came into his life and what had been his or her fate. He wasn't always unreasonable; sometimes he just demanded a pint of blood.

Alright, Jayce, I'll come up to your apartment early, before the Mangles come, and play hostess until time to leave for the theater. I'll have Ed pick me up at your place, but he's not going to like it. He takes just as dim a view of you as you do of him. And sometimes I think you're both right.

Wonderful, Kitty, that will solve everything! He bounced up beaming and planted a wet kiss on my forehead. You are a living Doll and I adore you! It is no wonder that I have dedicated my life to your happiness and well being.

He skipped out of the door and I couldn't keep a smile off of my face. The games we played. He was so obvious and I was such a jerk. And he always got his way. It must have been his effeminate quality that made him so crafty.

He popped his head back between the velvet curtains hanging in the arch that separated the model's room from the showroom. I'll expect you a few minutes before six, Doll. The Mangles are coming a little after six and they are very punctual. I want you to wear that lovely beige sheath outfit I picked up for you at Manson Frocks. It should be so becoming and I've yet to see you wear it.

You know the girl they make their sample models on is thinner than I am. I don't know why you couldn't have gotten one from the stock room that wouldn't be so snug on me. I just don't feel comfortable. I complained with cause. I had it several months and worn it once. It was a beautiful dress, but it was so tight I felt like Madam Sex Pot in it and to sit down with it on was a major operation.

It is a beautifully made sample, and they didn't make it up for their line. I was able to get it for a song for you, you should be pleased.

It had been for a song all right, depending on who sang it. I still hadn't paid for the dress completely. I only hoped he wouldn't 'pick' out anything else for me for a while, until I had finished paying for what he had already 'picked'.

Check on how the fittings are getting along in the workroom, Kitty. I'll expect you to wear that dress, I wouldn't let a little thing like discomfort bother me.

And he wouldn't. As long as it wasn't his discomfort, but mine. But I knew I would struggle into a tight girdle and wear that dress.

CHAPTER 2

I went in the back to the workroom to check on the fittings on some of the suits for the new line we were going to show in June. Our Fall and Winter line. All of our samples were made in the two partitioned off sections of the large loft like space in the back. These were our sample rooms and were staffed by expert seamstresses and fine tailor hands. And well-paid ones. Your sample room hands could make or break you if they didn't know what they were doing and you didn't know what they were doing. Mistakes could be very expensive. Labor costs constituted your biggest overhead.

Once a coat or suit was on the line and ordered by buyers in quantity, they were made up in large numbers in a factory further down town. A factory that did nothing except make up garments for wholesale suit and dress houses on consignment. We made only the original garment at our place of business; we farmed out the mass production.

Most of the larger and well established wholesale houses owned their own factories. But we didn't. That would have meant more money and responsibility than either Jayce or Mr. Ginsburg cared to go in for. And they had a good contract and were very well satisfied with the factory we used which turned out only the finest workmanship. Every garment looked custom made, they had mastered the art of finishing touches that make all the difference in making a suit look custom instead of mass produced. All of their work was with the most expensive houses, where fabric used at fifteen and twenty dollars a yard wholesale, was the rule rather than the exception. Of course, Jayce's suits were priced right out of most peoples pocket-book range. But if you did own a suit with a James Carr Lee label in it, you could wear it with the label showing with pride and know you were on the quality side of the street.

The working section in the back was a land of different sounds as well as sights. There was no quiet subdued elegance of the showroom here. The babble of voices melted into the whirl of the electric power sewing machines and the buzz from the motor of the electric scissors. No one sound cut out over all the rest except the blast of a motor horn that floated in through the open window from the street below.

I walked by the long cutting tables and exchanged a few words and smiles with the working cutters and checked their progress. All of our suits were cut out right in one section of our large barn like workroom, from our own graded patterns before they were sent down to the factory to be made up. I picked my way through scraps of material on the floor, and around bolts of it stacked up with the paper coverings half torn off.

I looked at the bent heads over the sewing machines. The male cutters with their black work aprons and the rolled up shirt sleeves. The stockroom men checking out the latest arrival of suits from the factory. The long line of coats and suits hanging from pipes suspended from the ceiling, representing all our stock of suits that had been delivered by the factory, or merchandise on hand. Graded as to size, style, fabric and color, waiting to be sent out to the various stores and shops that had ordered them.

I saw the three Puerto Rican boys busy over in a far corner of the room, folding suits carefully between tissue paper into the large packing boxes they were shipped out to the stores in. We called it our mailroom, though there was nothing around to partition it from the rest of the room. Still it was a complete little unit, as were the machine workers and the cutters. They might have been in separate offices, floors apart, for all the social exchange that existed between the groups. All of this, with its seeming disorder, surface confusion and untidy hardworking men and women with various accents appeared connected with an entirely different world from the elegant showroom a few feet away that I had just left. With its white leather, gray plush and mirrored beauty and exquisite taste. But the workroom was the tail that wagged the dog. The heart of the business was behind the fancy facade. And that was where I spent most of my time.

I found Nora Winters, our only steady model at the present, standing on a stool in the middle of another partitioned section that was known as the designer's room. Ida, the head of the sample rooms, and her assistant were checking the fit of a skirt on Nora. Nora was taking advantage of the fact Jayce wasn't around and was vigorously popping and chomping on a mouth full of gum while placidly staring at the ceiling.

Put your shoes back on, Nora. Ida was fussing, "It throws your whole body out of line when you're in your stocking feet. How many times must I tell you I can't fit a skirt unless you have your heels on? We'll never finish these fittings if you don't cooperate a little more. You're not the only one with sore feet, young lady. And you're not the one that gets the blame if these suits don't fit perfectly. I'd just like to see you move around and stand like this if Mr. Lee were back here. Here, slip the jacket on, Nora, we haven't got all day. You've got to put more padding in that left shoulder and build it out, Etta. You know her left shoulder is lower than her right.

Ida always kept up a running line of dialogue in a thin complaining voice. With extra pins caught between her lips most of the time while she droned endlessly on. We were always sure that she was going to swallow the whole lot and kill herself someday. But nothing like that ever seemed to happen. The place the pins disappeared was in her nimble fingers, as her hands flew back and forth between her mouth and the skirt or jacket she was pinning in.

Jayce tried to break her of the habit of talking with a mouth full of pins by going through an elaborate ceremony of putting pink wax earplugs in his ears to cut off his earring. He said he refused to listen to anyone talk with their mouth plugged up with pins, but he would accept a written message, and would shove a pencil