CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE SHOWROOM DOORS
Tuesday morning arrived clear and painfully cold.
The Fashion Exchange occupied a converted railway hall filled with expensive lighting and people carrying small cups of coffee.
Vivian’s presentation was scheduled for two, and the organizers had arranged chairs for buyers, journalists, and potential investors.
I attended as Hawa’s guest, while Adrian stayed home with Finn.
Rosa, Mina, and Keira entered together.
Nobody wore a hidden microphone or carried a secret camera.
They brought their own work samples and their own voices.
At one, a coordinator named Elise Grant met us by the loading entrance.
She had received Anika’s letter requesting that the event avoid presenting disputed worker biographies as established facts.
“We cannot adjudicate the entire dispute during a show,” Elise said.
“We’re asking you not to repeat claims you haven’t verified,
” Hawa answered.
Elise glanced at the samples.
“Vivian says these are her original designs.”
“Then let her explain who made them,” Rosa replied.
Nathan appeared at the end of the corridor carrying a stack of pages.
He had persuaded the accountant to review payment transfers, and several entries lacked matching receipts.
“We have enough to suspend the collection’s payment claims,” he told Elise.
“I am requesting that the presentation pause.”
Elise’s expression changed.
“You’re part of the company.”
“That is why I’m making the request,” he replied.
A voice snapped behind him.
“You have no authority to stop my show.”
Vivian stood beneath a poster of her own smiling face.
She looked from her son to the women and finally to me.
“This is what you wanted,” she said.
“I wanted answers,
” I replied.
“You destroyed my family’s water pipes to stop us asking questions.”
Several people nearby turned their heads.
Vivian’s face drained of color.
“Don’t turn a private disagreement into an accusation,” she said.
“You admitted damaging the second pipe to the police,” I answered.
“The first one is still being investigated.”
Elise raised both hands.
“We are not discussing vandalism in a loading corridor.”
“Then discuss what your guests are about to hear,” Hawa said.
She opened her bag and lifted out the embroidered cuff.
“I made this pattern at my mother’s kitchen table, and I was paid less than the cost of one meal in this building.”
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE WOMAN AT THE MICROPHONE
The hall manager allowed the presentation to begin only after removing the disputed apprenticeship description from the introductory announcement.
Vivian insisted she could still explain her vision from the stage.
Elise told her that the buyers had been notified of serious questions about the collection.
“You may speak,” Elise said.
“But nobody here can compel those women to endorse your account.”
Vivian walked onto the platform as the lights dimmed.
Behind her, a screen displayed photographs of hands stitching flowers into velvet.
She thanked the audience for supporting traditional craft and began describing her company’s commitment to local women.
Then she saw Hawa standing beside the front row.
Hawa did not interrupt.
She held the embroidered cuff against the picture on the screen.
Several buyers leaned forward.
Vivian stopped speaking.
“That is one of our beautiful pieces,” she said.
“Who made it?” June Ashcroft asked from the buyers’ section.
Vivian looked toward Trevor, who was standing near the curtains.
“Our team works collaboratively,” she answered.
“Which person made that cuff?” June repeated.
Hawa lifted her hand.
“I did,” she said.
“And I can show you how.”
Elise asked Vivian whether she would permit a brief demonstration before the sales presentation continued.
Vivian hesitated, then nodded because the audience was already watching.
Hawa sat at a table brought forward by two assistants.
She threaded her needle and recreated the bent leaf stem on a scrap of velvet.
Her fingers moved steadily despite the bright lights.
Keira stood nearby and told the audience that the biography prepared for her was false.
“I model clothes,” she said.
“I did not make the pieces attributed to me.”
Trevor approached the stage and demanded that the demonstration stop.
Nathan stepped into his path.
“Let her finish,” he said.
Trevor pushed past him and reached toward the embroidery hoop.
Rosa stood between him and Hawa.
“You have taken enough from her hands,” she said.
A security worker escorted Trevor from the platform after he refused to step back.
Hawa completed the leaf and held up the cloth.
For several seconds, nobody applauded.
Then a woman in the back of the hall stood and asked whether the makers had been paid the amounts printed in the catalog.
Vivian stared at the microphone.
“We are reviewing discrepancies,” she said.
“You told us the rates were settled,” June replied.
“You said the program was transparent.”
Vivian turned toward her son.
“Nathan, please explain.”
“I can’t explain figures I haven’t verified,” he said.
“I won’t repeat them.”
