Someone at the gossip sheets had figured out -- probably from a more knowledgeable source -- that Jorge's information was a complete farce.
That phone call that had him so upset had been a major reaming, and probably a demand to return whatever money he had been paid for his "inside information."
And this woman had read that gossip sheet, and was so incensed that she hadn't been consulted to design a dress for Carlo Vincente's daughter, she hadn't bothered to get enough information. She knew to come to Tabor Heights, and she knew about Homespun Theater, but didn't know where the theater was or even pay attention to Max's real name.
"Besides," Audrey continued, "Miss Emily is making Max's wedding dress."
"Whoever she is, this Miss Emily doesn't have the reputation or the experience to qualify for the importance of this occasion!" For punctuation, she slapped her hand down on the edge of the counter again. Several of the people waiting in line took steps back or sideways, as if whatever was wrong with this woman was contagious.
"Emily Keeler, mother of the bride, with twenty years of experience designing clothes. Lots of people are proud to wear Emily Keeler originals."
"She can't be that wonderful," the woman said with another sniff, "since I've never heard of -- Keeler? Emily Keeler? The actress? She's here?"
"Uh, yeah," Saundra said. "Considering she's Max's mother?"
"Can I help you, Ma'am?" Simon said, stepping up to the counter. Finally.
Audrey took the opportunity to turn and beat it double-time for the kitchen while the snooty woman's attention was off her.