Salvatore returned to take over the Butcher Shop seven weeks after he buried his daughter. His wife, Sophia, had come with him, because she wanted me to return the dresses I had altered during her pregnancy to what they had been.
During her pregnancy I had opened seams, added panels. After she had given birth I could not remove the entire panel as her waist was an inch larger.
The black dress Sophia had worn to her daughter’s funeral she wanted totally changed, as if to eradicate every memory. I only gave advice as to cuts and styles, not on personal issues.
It took all my talent to make it into something one could wear to a dance and Sophia was pleased with the results.
I had a strange feeling about the relationship between Salvatore and Sophia which was spoken by the other women of her generation who came to me for alterations and the occasional creation.
Then, as if designed for her personal pleasure, World War II began.