His candy was nothing short of charming. It was what made the goods unique, special, and what had made him a billionaire in the first place. His boutique stores speckled the East Coast, but it wasn’t like these kids could venture out to one, no matter how close it might have been.
Too bad he couldn’t bring an Ever After Sweet Shoppe to them.
“Unless,” he said, pausing mid-step as a new idea began to form.
What if he did just that?
He didn’t know exactly what health condition each child was battling, but so many of them had probably been a resident for a while. They probably missed their homes, missed little things most people took for granted. Like shopping.
Pausing just before reaching his office door, he pulled out his phone. There wasn’t much time to get this going.
“Clary,” he said when she answered. “What’s your favorite part about going into an Ever After Sweet Shoppe?”
If his assistant was confused by his question, she didn’t evidence it. She was used to his antics, random as they sometimes were. “The candy is amazing, sir. But it’s even more appealing onsite. It reminds me of Honeydukes when we went to Harry Potter World last summer. Except you have a bit wider selection with your Italian soda bar.”
This was exactly what Hawk was thinking. It was one thing to order something from a store online. But going there? Experiencing the atmosphere of a store, of seeing something on a shelf and having the satisfaction of picking it out for himself? That was what he wanted to give these kids.
“Delivering candy to these kids is all well and good,” he said. “But I thought we should bring the Sweet Shoppe to them.”
“What? How?”
Energy whirred inside of him the more he spoke. “We could set it up in the hospital waiting room. Bring the kids out and let them pick whatever they wanted. Can you imagine how amazing that would be for them?”
Clary didn’t respond with the enthusiasm he was hoping for. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said. “But why go through all the trouble? We have our hands full with preparations for the ball. You’re going to need extra hands with this. Who are you going to find to help out? Everyone has taken the holidays off. Some have already left town, and a number of your staff are knee-deep in—”
“I get it,” Hawk said, settling into one of his leather chairs and trying not to let defeat settle in. “You’re absolutely right. Why don’t you let me worry about finding help? I know you’ve got your hands full.”
“Thanks, boss,” she said too quickly. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just—”
He rested his head in his free hand. “A lot all at once. I get it. Don’t worry about anything else, Clary. You know how much I appreciate you.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.”
Hawk ended the call and ran his hands through his hair. Clary was right—he couldn’t add one more thing to her plate on short notice.
His friend, Adrian Bear, still hadn't responded affirmatively to the official invitation Hawk sent to him and his wife, Gabby. They had discussed the two of them coming a few months ago, and the Bears had seemed more than excited to attend. But apparently, Gabby was expecting a baby, and morning sickness was making travel difficult.
Hawk was happy for them, but it was too bad they couldn't make it. He was sure Adrian and Gabby would have helped with this.
After several ticks went by, he dialed the next person who darted into his mind.
His sister, Gemma, answered after the third ring. “Hawk?”
He rose from his chair and began to pace the rug. “Hey, Gemma. I have a last-minute idea, and I’m wondering if you can help me pull it off.”
Gemma ran a prestigious party planning company and organized everything, from high-end wedding receptions to twelve-year-old girls’ debut parties. He explained his idea.
“I don’t know,” Gemma said. “That’s a lot to put on the hospital staff, especially this late. It’s December twenty-third. Have you called them about this? You need to get their approval.”
“I will,” Hawk assured her. “But what do you think? Can you get everything set up for me?”
“What happened to Clary?”
“She’s already doing enough,” he said, resting a hand on his hip.
“So naturally you thought of me,” she said sarcastically.
“Come on, sis. Can you help me out?”
She hesitated. He clenched a fist, hanging onto her answer.
“I’ll try,” she finally said.
Hawk pumped his fist in the air while trying to mask his enthusiasm.
“I’ll stop by one of the stores on my way home; see what I can scrounge up.”
“Thanks, you’re a gem,” he said, knowing exactly the reaction he’d get.
“Ha, ha. Like I haven’t heard that before.”
Animated with excitement, he hung up and dialed the hospital himself. He wasn’t the heel-clicking type ordinarily, but in that moment he could sympathize with the urge to do something so over-the-top. This was a victory. This was really going to happen.
“It’s time to work a Christmas miracle,” he said while the hospital’s ringback tone sounded.
If only he could contact her somehow and let her know about it too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ella’s last conversation with Stina tormented her the rest of the day. Stina’s nasty words, her derisive tone, the insult of the whole situation was an uncomfortable echo hammering through her brain as she sorted and pinned fabric, as she sewed stitch after stitch. The perfect comebacks replayed at just the right points of the conversation—the way they hadn’t done earlier.
Shame was a barnacle on the inside of her sternum. She should have known not to give way to hope. Leopards couldn’t change their spots, and Stina was as speckled as they came.
If only she had the courage to find a new job. The courage to tell Stina off. What better way to do that than to quit? Then she could go to the ball. None of this midnight curfew madness. No working all night Christmas Eve so she would be too tired to even celebrate her favorite holiday.
“That’s just it,” she said to her vacant, excessively messy, conjoined dining and kitchen area. “Christmas is my favorite. I’ve let Stina push me around for far too long. She may have my father under her thumb, but not me. Not anymore.”
She could lose her job, but what if she was ready to lose it? She could find daytime work. Other people did it. Sleep during normal hours. Work while the sun shined. Enjoy life instead of living like a servant, always at Stina’s beck and call.
Her phone rang, interrupting her triumphal musings. With that one sound, the fleeting bravery that had taken root withered and died. At least it wasn’t Stina’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Grammy,” Ella said.
Grandma Larsen’s voice chimed through, elderly and chipper. “How’s my favorite granddaughter?”
Ella smiled. The sound of her voice was enough to nudge Ella from the morning’s melancholy. There was always something good to be found. “You say that to whichever granddaughter you’re talking to. What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk about Christmas morning. Why don’t you stay the night at my place tomorrow? Several of your cousins will be here as well. It’ll be a great chance for you girls to catch up with one another.”
Ella wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered that Grammy remembered the fallout between her and her family, or hurt at the assumption that it was still the case. Flattered. Definitely. How awesome of Grammy to think of her again this year.
She had an idea which cousins Grammy was referring to. As children, Ella and Adelie had been the best of friends, chatting it up at family gatherings in Grandma’s backyard while her uncle grilled hamburgers and Grandpa Larsen made homemade ice cream with fresh strawberries from his garden. They’d connected over books, over boys, over board games and jump rope.
And then they’d grown up and grown apart. Happens to the best of us, Ella mu
sed. She would actually love an afternoon with Adelie, to hear how her life was going. She’d always been so shy, so reserved. Though Adelie hadn’t ever really dated anyone, Ella always hoped she’d find a good guy, someone who would support her, help her step out of her comfort zone just a little bit. Last she’d heard, Adelie was going to nursing school, which was completely amazing.
Her heart sank as the fleeting dream she’d just savored made way for reality. There would be no seeing of cousins. No participating in festivities. Only buckets and brooms.
“That would be great, Grammy, but I might already have plans.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, there’s this dance I want to go to tomorrow. It’s supposed to be amazing. Formal dress and everything. I’d like to take a shot at making my own gown.”
“Sounds fabulous,” Grammy said. “Need any help? I was quite the seamstress in my day.”
Ella knew that well enough. “No, thanks. I’m going to get the pattern all finalized this afternoon. I hope.”
“That’s Christmas Eve then? What about Christmas morning.”
Ella winced. She supposed it had to come out sometime. “Stina scheduled me to work.”
“What?”
“It’s okay, really. I’ll get holiday pay. I’ll—”
“Don’t put your bright-side spin on this, Ella girl,” Grandma interrupted. “That woman takes advantage of you because of it.”
Ella didn’t know what to say. Her mouth gaped open.
Grammy went on. “You need to find a new job. You need to get out from under that woman’s thumb. You—”
“It’s not that easy,” Ella argued. “You should have heard her when she thought I told her I wasn’t going.”
“Ella.” Grammy spoke her name like an exasperated exhale. She was right, but Ella couldn’t just walk away.
“You have a point though,” Ella hurried on, plastering on a smile to keep the tears from stinging her eyes. “Maybe if I wasn’t so busy scrubbing up after everyone else I’d have time to clean my own place.” She added her most sparkling laugh, hoping Grandma would accept the lighthearted direction she was trying to take the conversation.
Grammy muttered under her breath. “Making you work on Christmas. What is that woman thinking? It’s bad enough she’s uninvited you from your own family home.”
“It’ll be okay, Grandma,” Ella said. “I’m going to a ball.”
A pause. Ella suspected her grandmother’s blood was at boiling point.
“It’s your choice, Ella. But you don’t owe that woman anything. You can find another job where they’ll gobble up that perky attitude of yours, where they’ll actually appreciate all your hard work. Just think about it, okay? All it takes is a text. Send that woman a message. Tell her you deserve to celebrate Christmas just like everyone else, and you’ll be spending it with me.”
Ella swiped at her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”
Grandma sighed. “Make that dress of yours. Go to the ball, and then start living your life for you instead of for Stina Malus. Just make sure you tell Stina first.”
Her lower lip trembled. She forced away the tightness in her throat. How did her grandma always manage to say exactly what she needed to hear and exactly what she didn’t want to hear all at once?
“Thanks, Grammy. I’ll keep you posted.”
Ella ended the call and thought of all the times she’d tried standing up to Stina. All the times she dreamed of telling her how she really felt. She’d like nothing more than a civil conversation over a job shift, the way she might have with any other employer. But nothing about Stina was civil.
If only her mom was still here. She’d never have been in this mess.
But her mom wasn’t here.
Start living your life for you instead of for Stina Malus. Ella didn’t live for Stina. It was more like self-preservation, to do what Stina demanded in order to keep the status quo. But while she tried to look at the bright side of things, silver linings were few and far between these days.
Suddenly, Ella knew why her grandma’s words struck her so deeply. They were what her mother would have said if she were here.
Stina didn’t care about her. But Ella knew, somewhere, wherever she was, her mother did. She got the sense that Mom was cheering her on, encouraging her in words similar to what Grandma Larsen had used.
Warmth drizzled through her entire body. Fueled by Grammy’s words, it paired with determination. Ella set her mind to it. She would go to this ball and hopefully see Hawk there. And then she would stand up to Stina.
But she wouldn’t do it just for herself.
She’d do it for her mother.
CHAPTER NINE
Ella pulled out her old sketchbook. She sharpened her drafting pencil, eager and disbelieving all at once that she finally had an excuse to use it again. To really use it. It’d been too long since she’d allowed herself to get lost in the drafting process.
Chloe and Brandy had delivered Stitches for Sierra’s last set of pillowcases to Harmony Children’s that morning, which not only cleared quite a bit of space in Ella’s dining room-slash-sewing room but also freed her calendar to do nothing but sew.
Energy zinged in her fingertips. She started with a single swoop. Then another and another, until the lines blended together and formed a gown. She hadn’t been imagining anything in particular—she’d just let the pencil do its work.
Ella held the sketch back, taking in the full view.
“This is going to take some work,” she said, doing a mental calculation. Fabric dimensions, amounts, style. For the lace and satin, in the amounts she was figuring, this would be anything but cheap.
How was she going to afford this? Stitches for Sierra had regular donations they used to buy the things they needed. Ella didn’t exactly have a fund to provide cloth for herself.
She did have savings, but that was for things like rainy days and emergencies. An exquisite, luxurious gown wasn’t exactly an emergency. It wasn’t like it could put food on the table. She supposed she could sell the dress when she was done, and if she was going to be quitting, she’d need the money to tide her over until she found a new job.
“What the heck,” she told herself, slipping into her boots and warm coat. She only lived once. She only got invitations to esteemed, romantic gatherings once. Something inside her told her she only had one shot at dancing with Hawk. At showing him she was more than just a custodian who scrubbed toilets. She wanted to be able to answer his questions this time, to let him see her as she wished to be. Strong, confident, and capable. Someone he might want to get to know better.
***
Mallory Fabric and Textile on December Twenty-third was in a word, a nightmare. Crowds packed along the streets all the way there. Lines snaked from the front of the store to the back. What typically took her maybe an hour had instead taken four.
This fabric, though. This was worth it.
Ella created a brand new pile in the corner near her hand-me-down couch, relocating stacks of magazines and clothes waiting to be folded to make room on the table to lay out the fabric. She wiped her table clean, dried it, and then fanned out the material, running her hands along the creases.
Light played on the silver flecks swirling along the flowers embroidered into the lace. After working with the soft cotton from pillowcase after pillowcase, this lace—and the satin chiffon material for the underdress—was delicate and seemingly opinionated. It refused to stay where she put it.
The yardage for a sweep-train gown would have been expensive enough, but with the satin underdress, and the lace flowing over it, she was essentially making two dresses. Ella pictured its trumpet shape, its dipping V-neck, which she would modestly cover with an additional swatch of glittering fabric so it would leave just enough to the imagination.
“It’s going to be perfect,” she informed the quiet room. She retrieved her Ginghers from their cloth case and lost herself in the cutting. First, the large bolts for the skirt a
nd train, then the bodice, and finally, the long sleeves, which would be kept sheer.
The motion, the concentration, the busyness, was enough to keep her mind from wandering to conversations and should-have-saids. She thought of Hawk. Of their brief, but jam-packed interaction in the elevator, of how it’d felt to be held by him, if only briefly, and of the chance she’d thrown away to get to know him.
He’d tried. He’d asked her name, but she’d been so embarrassed at not knowing how to answer that she’d blown it. The air between them had sizzled. She had the feeling, even now, that he would have kissed her if he’d had the opportunity.
This, though. This was a second chance.
In this dress, she could be a different person. Or rather, the person she’d always wanted to be. The person she’d been before her mom died. Before her dad had written her off for a woman like Stina.
She wasn’t write-off-able, Ella told herself. She was loveable. She deserved to be loved.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs outside, and the door to her apartment busted open. Chloe hustled in, breathless and flushed, her cheeks red from going from severe cold to extreme warmth.
“Ellie, we’ve got a problem, and oh my stars, is this your dress?”
Ella smoothed a hand over the skirt piece. The anticipation of wearing it made her fingers prickle. “It will be once I finish.”
Chloe stroked the lace, pinching it between her fingers before shaking herself back into the moment. A few snowflakes drifted from her black hair. “This is so gorgeous. I shouldn’t even tell you.”
Ella had heard this tone before. This had the knell of bad news. Chloe was planning on flying home to be with her family in Illinois in just a few hours. Maybe it was something to do with that. Snow had been blowing like crazy all over the northeast.
“What? What happened? Is it your flight?”
Chloe pressed her lips. “There was an accident. The hospital misplaced the first pillowcases we brought over. You know that new nurse? She didn’t put the box where she was supposed to. They think they’ve been thrown out.”
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