"What do you recommend?" The spot on Miriam's handbag seemed to bother her; she picked at it with a manicured nail.

"What about the twenties? I have some gorgeous dresses from that period. And you have the right figure for them."

Miriam smoothed her flat stomach complacently. "I try to keep in shape. The twenties? Yes, that could be fun. Jazz and prohibition and-and that sort of thing."

Like bootleggers and gang wars, Karen thought. Oh well, nostalgia is in the eye of the beholder.

"I have several beautiful flapper dresses," she said. "But they aren't here; they are designer originals and very expensive."

"I assumed they would be," said Miriam.

She wanted to see the dresses and she wanted to see them right away. She was perfectly pleasant about it; her excuse for insisting on immediate service-that she lived in Middleburg and did not get into the city often- was eminently reasonable. Karen did not hesitate long. She suspected Miriam was trying to do her a favor, as a way of apologizing for her rudeness the week before. If she didn't strike while the iron was hot, Miriam might change her mind, and she would lose a sale. Besides, Rob owed her for several long lunches and early departures.

At Karen's suggestion they walked to the house. This time she remembered Alexander and managed to collar him before he could sink his teeth into Miriam's leg. Miriam did not care for Alexander. She was rude enough to refer to him as a "hideous creature," and Alexander, resenting the insult, growled and struggled to free himself as Karen bore him away.

Miriam's attitude was now much more that of customer to shopkeeper; she seated herself regally in the parlor and let Karen trot up and down stairs with the dresses. They had to be carried one at a time, for the weight of the crystal drops and beads was so great that they cast a strain on the fragile fabric. Miriam seemed pleased and a little surprised at the beauty of the gowns; she wavered for some time between two that bore the names of famous designers. Both were the standard straight chemises with slit skirts. One was covered from neckline to hem with white crystal beads, on white silk. The other had iridescent Venetian glass beads on pale-aqua crepe de chine; the slightest movement bathed the wearer in a soft shimmer, like a mermaid in the moonlight. The color was flattering to Miriam's washed-out complexion, but she seemed loath to give up the white.

Finally she shrugged. "I may as well take both. How much?"

"Don't you want to try them on?" Karen asked in surprise.

"No, there's no need. You'll pack them for me, I assume."

"Oh, I can't let you have them today," Karen exclaimed. "Some of the beads are loose, and you can see they need cleaning-"

"Oh." Miriam thought for a moment. "When will they be ready?"

"I'm not sure. I'll have to ask the cleaners how long it will take. Shall I let you know?"

"All right." Miriam reached for her checkbook. "How much?"

Karen took a deep breath. "The Hattie Carnegie is nine hundred and fifty." There was no reaction from Miriam except a slight movement of impatience as she sat with her pen poised. Karen went on, "The white one is- is thirteen hundred. That comes to two thousand, two hundred and fifty. Plus tax."

Miriam stared at her. "You've got to be kidding."

"I know it seems like a lot, but the white one was handmade by Callot Soeurs."

Miriam's face was as blank as a doll's. Karen said firmly, "I could probably get more from someone else, Miriam. I'm giving you a break because I hope you will want other things-and recommend me to your friends. You don't have to pay me now. Or you can give me a deposit, if you like."

Miriam bent her head over the checkbook and began to write.

AFTER Miriam had left, Karen stood admiring the check she held. Two thousand two hundred and fifty dollars, plus tax. The full amount. That had been really decent of Miriam. One couldn't blame her for her initial protest. A woman who could casually dash off a check for over two thousand dollars might not be expected to balk at such a sum, but Karen knew from experience that the richer the customer, the more likely she was to haggle.

Of course a third of the money belonged to Mrs. MacDougal, and today's sale was an unusual event, one that wouldn't happen often. All the same, it deserved a celebration. Karen decided she would not go back to work. It was four-thirty and she felt sure Rob had already closed up.

She went flying down the hall to release Alexander from the kitchen. He almost fainted with surprise when she snatched him up and hugged him. "Steak for you tonight, my boy. And champagne for me!"

Alexander's ears pricked up. He had an extensive vocabulary, and "steak" was a word he knew.

Karen put a bottle of champagne into the refrigerator and reached for the telephone.

Cheryl was almost as excited as she was, but she reluctantly refused Karen's invitation to supper. "I've got a class. I don't dare skip it, there's a test tonight. Unless- would it be all right if I came over afterwards? I could be there by nine, unless you're set on getting drunk right this minute."

"I think I can hold off for a few hours," Karen admitted.

After inspecting the larder, she decided there was nothing on hand worthy of the occasion. Snatching her purse, she ran out to shop, treating herself to veal chops (two very small chops) from the Georgetown Market. She did not buy Alexander's steak at the Georgetown Market. She hoped he couldn't tell the difference between supermarket fare and that of a French butcher, but she did not count on it.

Cheryl arrived at 9:10, brandishing a bottle. "I figured one bottle of champagne wasn't enough for your first big sale. Let's open it right this minute."

They drank with simulated solemnity-"to Miriam and her millions." Karen filled the glasses again. "I'd like to propose another toast. Feel free to throw the wine and the glass out the window if you hate the idea, but… How about drinking to our new partnership?"

Cheryl stopped with her glass halfway to her lips. She stared at Karen; then her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. "I thought you'd never ask," she said.

AT midnight they were halfway through the second bottle and neither one of them had stopped talking.

"Might as well finish it," Cheryl said seriously, pouring the wine. "It'd be a shame to let it go flat. Here's another toast. To the greatest business brains in the state-"

"This isn't a state," Karen said, with only the slightest difficulty over the sibilants.

"And a damn shame, too," Cheryl cried. "Here's to self-gov'ment for the District of Columbia!"

"Right on!"

"No, but I mean we are the best business brains in whatever it is," Cheryl insisted. "Do you realize that in the last three hours we've figured out everything we're gonna do, even the way we're gonna decorate the shop?"

"We haven't got the shop yet."

"But I'm gonna start looking tomorrow. In all those places we talked about. You know, this town closes down and dies in August, after Congress lets out. My classes are over the end of July, and soon as your friend gets back you can give her your notice and work at this full-time."

"I think we can do it," Karen agreed. They looked at one another, at once sobered and exhilarated by the prospect. "I really think we can do it, Cheryl."

"Sure we can do it. You know, Karen, you don't know what this means t'me. I can't tell you-"

"You did tell me. About ten times."

"An' I'll say it ten more times," Cheryl declared. "Can't say it too often."

For some reason this struck both of them as hilariously funny, and they laughed until they were breathless.

"We're drunk," Karen said, in surprise.

"Maybe you are, but I'm not. I'm just a little tipsy. Here we go-this is the last. A final toast?"