She’d been criticized for her shyness as a child. Skipped over at adoption fairs and overlooked by her peers. Now she must put herself out there again.
Face more judgment.
And the stakes—they were nerve-wrenchingly high this time.
Her past was supposed to have prepared her, not defined her. Those were the parting words of her last caseworker. As if all her experiences had somehow strengthened her. Why, then, did she feel so weak? Her fingers shook. Panic pressed against her chest, dislodging her breath.
The bells chimed at the shop’s entrance. Mia’s greeting contained the opening lines of “A Holly Jolly Christmas.”
Failure wouldn’t be only hers this time. This time if Josie fell short, the descent would take down her friend, too.
Josie fixed her focus on the dress form, flexed her back and willed away her panic. She hadn’t broken down at the adoption fairs. She wouldn’t melt down now, especially not in front of Mia. Her past had taught her the importance of keeping things to herself. If your mother had wanted to dry your tears, she would’ve kept you. Trust me, no one here wants any more tears. Josie’s foster brother had imparted that wisdom the first night in her third foster home. Josie had dried her tears then and imprinted that lesson deep inside herself.
As for her silent muse, Josie always preferred to rely on herself, anyway.
She stopped to watch her friend in the floor-length mirror. Mia finished her Christmas song, added a spin and curtsy, then dropped her camera equipment near the couch. She stepped beside Josie, her hands on her hips. “You really couldn’t talk your customer into something different.”
Josie shook her head. But she’d have to convince Theo and Adriana that they wanted her designs. She’d have to speak up. She’d have to speak out. The wallflower would have to step into the spotlight and defend her right to be there. Josie widened her stance, bolstering her balance.
“That many jewels looks like country gone rogue.” Mia’s festive mood had evaporated. She picked up Josie’s design book and sat on the couch. “It was a striking dress. Now it’s edged into gaudy.”
“My customer wanted more.” Despite Josie’s suggestions for a jeweled headband and coordinating bracelet. Despite Josie’s assurance the dress already sparkled enough. Josie had finally conceded to her headstrong client. She threaded her needle and stepped toward the dress form. Sunday she’d channel all her resolve into Adriana’s dress. No concessions. “I agreed to give her more.”
“More isn’t always better.” Mia’s fingers drummed on the blank page of the design book.
“It’s what my client wants.” Josie silently apologized to the gown and threaded her needle into the fabric.
“But you’re the dressmaker,” Mia argued.
In this instance, Josie was the seamstress. And she needed happy customers. Happy customers returned. Happy customers paid and helped boost Josie’s checking account. “I’m here to give my clients exactly what they want.”
“Speaking of which, where are the designs for Adriana Taylor?” Mia flipped through the design book.
The needle stilled as if Josie had stabbed into metal. Josie pointed at her forehead and stretched the truth. “In here.”
“We need to get them on paper first, then fabric.” Mia smiled and ran her palm over the blank page as if she already pictured the finished wedding gown. “I’m sure they’re fabulous. And I’m certain that Theo and Adriana will love them.”
She hoped so. Josie secured the last section of the jeweled belt, knotted the thread and her doubt. Every project starts with one stitch.
Mia studied the dress and glanced at Josie. “You don’t like it, do you?”
Her opinion didn’t matter. Only the customer’s happiness. Still, Josie’s fingers twitched, wanting to grab her seam ripper and remove the jewels. “That’s not the point.”
“What would you have done?” Mia persisted.
Josie leaned down, stretched out the full skirt and checked for pins she might’ve missed in the hem. “She was stuck on adding a belt. A simple sequined sash would add a subtle, but interesting waterfall of shimmer if it draped down the side of the gown and blended with the side slit.”
“You should do that,” Mia encouraged her. “Once your client sees the finished gown, she’ll fall in love.”
“It’s not what we discussed.” Josie shook her head. “Or what she requested.”
“But it’s so much better.”
“I’m not the one paying for the dress.” And if her creative choices were wrong? And the customers refused to pay? That was a risk she couldn’t afford.
“It’s past time you gave your clients more than what they asked for. Give them what they need to shine. What are you afraid of?” Mia picked up Josie’s design book. “Your talent exceeds a lot of folks who’ve been highly trained. Your sketches dance off the pages. And your bridal clients...name one bride who wasn’t breathless and amazed at her final fitting.”
Josie touched the too-thick jeweled band and avoided looking at the crumpled paper filling the trash can. She’d started over a dozen designs for Adriana, then quit. So many starts and stops in her life—it was something of a theme. She had to finish tonight for Adriana to have something to try on by Sunday. Mia was depending on Josie. “Nothing feels right for someone like Adriana Taylor.”
“Then don’t think of her as Adriana Taylor,” Mia said. “Think of her as your ideal winter bride. The one radiating a love that lights her from within. And wrapped around her in the tulle and lace are the magic and joy of the season.”
Winter was a tricky time for Josie. December had been the month Mimi had learned about her diagnosis. It had also been the same month Mimi had taken Josie to get her first public library card—a card she still carried in her wallet. It was a reminder that even seemingly small moments were precious. One year, she’d moved from her second foster home to her third the week before Christmas. Yet Josie could still tap into the delight that had seized her Christmas morning when she’d opened colored pens and reams of paper from her foster parents. They’d urged her to continue drawing, no matter what happened. That was a gift. Even more special was they’d noticed more about Josie than her reserved, withdrawn nature.
“It’s dinnertime. One thing I know—nothing ever gets accomplished on an empty stomach.” Mia jumped up and zipped up her coat. “I know the perfect place and you should come with me.”
“Where?” Josie touched her stomach. She hadn’t eaten much at lunch.
“My mother-in-law’s house.” Mia held up her hands and rushed on, blocking out Josie’s argument. “It’s only the moms. A small group. Well, not even a group, more like a collection.”
Josie squinted at Mia. “A collection?”
Mia grinned. “It’s been said that if you own three pieces of art by the same artist, then you have a collection. My mom, my mother-in-law and I are all family now. So, we’re like a collection.”
Family. How easy the word rolled off Mia’s tongue. How safe the word sounded coming from her friend. Josie knew so little about being part of a family. Knew only that she’d always wished for her own. But she realized wishes weren’t always meant to come true. Now Mia wanted Josie to spend time with her family. But Josie couldn’t even accept Adriana’s trivia-night invitation without overthinking the evening. “I should—”
“Come with me,” Mia said, cutting her off. “Eat because Helen and my mother don’t know how to cook for less than a dozen people and food that good should never be wasted.”
Josie twisted a piece of thread around her fingers. She had designs to create. A deadline to meet in four days. And not a minute to lose not sewing. Her stomach growled.
“My mother is making homemade spring rolls and egg rolls.” Mia pointed at Josie. “Don’t deny those are your favorite. You order takeout from Ginger Sun at least once a week.”
“That’s not fair.” Josie had already considered placing a to-go order from the Chinese restaurant on her walk home.
“Helen made homemade white-chocolate raspberry cheesecake.” Mia picked up her camera bag and laughed. She knew full well that cheesecake was one of Josie’s other favorites. “I bet they’ll give you all the leftovers you can carry.”
Josie could very well disappoint Mia in the next few days. She’d most likely disappoint Theo, too, and confirm that the critical look on his attractive face at lunch had been warranted. But tonight, she could take a small step to being unfettered by debt and expectation and join her friend. “I’ll get my coat. But I can’t stay long.”
“You can eat and leave. The moms are happy just to share their food.” Mia grabbed Josie’s design book and headed toward the door. “Always good to have it within reach. The muse doesn’t always play fair.”
The muse disappeared a while ago. As for her insistent worry, she refused to let it affect her right now. She also refused to overstay her welcome with Mia’s family. She glanced at her watch and calculated the appropriate length of her stay. One hour and twenty-five minutes. Long enough not to appear rude. Short enough not to forget she didn’t belong.
CHAPTER FIVE
THREE HOURS LATER, spring rolls made—thanks to a lesson from Mia’s mother, Jin—and devoured, Josie dried off the last sauté pan and handed it to Mia to put away. Dinner was long since complete, but the debate about the best holiday events offered in the city continued through dessert and cleanup.
Helen, Mia’s mother-in-law, gathered the scraped-clean paper dessert plates and plastic forks, then dropped them into the trash. “The light exhibit at the Conservatory of Flowers is on the top of my list.”
“Evening ice-skating on one of the outdoor rinks.” Mia twirled around the kitchen, then dropped into her chair and touched her stomach. “Perhaps not on such a full stomach.”
Josie was full, too. The food had been delicious. The secret to decadent pumpkin cookies revealed by Helen: chocolate. Yet the true pleasure came from being surrounded by Mia’s family. Josie sipped her hot tea and lingered, cherishing her time with these women. She couldn’t imagine Theo on ice skates, but strolling through the lights at the conservatory...perhaps. But only if a business function brought him there.
Jin dried her hands and shook her head. “I’m torn between the annual Dickens Fair, the symphony and The Nutcracker.”
“The upcoming gingerbread house exhibit at the Silver Monarch Hotel is my favorite,” Josie offered. The women approved. Would Theo?
Jin sat across from Josie and grinned. “We have quite the list of holiday events to attend, ladies. We’re going to be busy.”
“Josie is already busy.” Helen picked up the coffeepot from the kitchen counter and returned to the table. “I hear you’re designing for Adriana Taylor.”
Josie curved her hands around the coffee mug and watched the steam disappear into air. Much like her contentment. Good things never lasted. She avoided glancing at her design book on the chair beside her. Mia had set it there earlier, as if the book deserved a place at the table. Josie cleared her throat. “It’s not official yet.”
“It will be once the Taylors see Josie’s sample dresses on Sunday.” Mia squeezed a generous portion of honey into her tea.
Drops of panic oozed through Josie, instead.
“I adore the special-edition holiday dishes at Coast to Coast Living,” Jin said. “I was at their store yesterday and purchased the entire merry-and-bright themed serving set. We can use it at the next Second Winders widow club meeting.”
“Christmas paper plates and napkins are just as festive.” Helen dabbed the edge of her Santa-print paper napkin to the corner of her mouth as if proving her point.
“I agree.” Jin toyed with her napkin. “With less to clean up at the end of the evening, we have more time to visit with each other.”
Or more time to avoid awkward personal questions. Yet there hadn’t been any awkward moments this evening. With these women. They’d welcomed Josie as if she’d been there the day before and the one before that. As if she’d always been with them.
Jin glanced at Josie, her voice as softly gentle as her smile. “Can we see your designs?”
“They’re...” Josie clutched at her tea mug as if grasping for her words. All she pictured in her mind was Theo’s censure for reaching too far.
“Not ready yet.” Jin refilled her coffee cup, understanding flowing through her quiet voice. “Mia and her father always told me—‘it’s a work-in-progress, Mom. You can’t view the documentary until it’s totally ready.’”
But Josie’s dresses weren’t in progress. The dresses hadn’t even been started. Josie shifted her focus from Jin to Helen. Kindness wove through both women and it showed in their patience with Josie in the kitchen earlier—she’d never learned to cook—and in their attentive gazes as they listened...really listened. And in their encouraging advice that dropped into the conversation like the surprise bites of chocolate chips in Helen’s pumpkin cookies.
Mimi had radiated the very same kindness. Josie missed Mimi so much. Perhaps even more now. She could’ve used her guidance. Or her reassurance. Josie imagined the fluffy whipped cream as frothy trim on a coat. Would a top designer use food as inspiration?
Josie worked her words free. “It’s not that they aren’t ready. It’s that I have nothing.”
“We understand.” Helen reached over and patted Josie’s arm. “It’s hard to talk about your art before it’s finished.”
The warmth from Helen’s hand looped through Josie, curving deep inside her chest. Comforting and considerate. Would Theo’s hand feel the same inside hers?
“We’re unbearably nosy,” Helen continued. “We didn’t mean to pressure you.”
A pressure built inside Josie. Panic and grief generated. For her lack of inspiration. For all she’d missed growing up. For all she refused to admit she still wanted. Acceptance. A husband. A family like the one she’d seen on the street yesterday. The little girl had held onto her father’s hand, and her mother’s, skipping happily between her parents. The love had swirled around them like silk ribbon binding them together as one.
Now everything felt like it hinged on the success of her designs for Adriana. Clearly Josie had overstayed her welcome. She should’ve declined dessert and fled.
Helen’s hand remained on Josie’s arm like a steadying anchor. Like a promise that all would be fine. Josie wanted to believe her. Wanted to grab Helen’s hand and hold on. She had to leave. Now. Instead, Josie blurted, “No, really. I have nothing.”
Silence circled the table.
Josie lifted her design book from the empty chair beside her, opened it and pointed at the blank page titled Adriana Taylor. The truth spilled out of her like an overturned glass of milk. “I really have nothing. Nothing.”
Josie’s pulse stretched against her skin as if trying to burst free. What had she done? How could she burden these wonderful women like that? Surely Helen would escort her to the door and wish her well. Jin would suggest she keep such heavy worries to herself. No one wants to dry your tears, Josie. Josie clutched her sweaty palms together under the table. If she could move her numb legs, she’d run to the front door herself.
The three women around her jumped in as if more than accustomed to spilled glasses of milk and after-dinner confessions.
Mia picked up a clean dessert plate, handed it to Helen and announced, “We’ve got this.”
Helen nodded, her chin firm, her movements steady. She sliced a second piece of white-chocolate raspberry cheesecake and slid it onto the plate.
Jin added two tall dollops of whipped cream beside the cheesecake slice and said, “Of course we do.”
“I’ve solved many problems with extra whipped cream.” Helen motioned for Jin to add another swirl of whipped crea
m. “I trust you all won’t tell my son.”
Josie rubbed her damp palms across her jeans. She’d just trusted these three women with her horrifying truth. She’d unloaded on them as if she had the right. As if she belonged. And they simply served her another piece of cheesecake with extra whipped cream. Surely she’d disappointed Mia. Surely Helen and Jin considered her an imposter.
“Your secret is safe with me, Helen.” Jin swirled whipped cream onto the top of her coffee with the skill of a seasoned barista. “It’s the best part of my coffee.”
Helen eyed Josie and Mia. The older woman tipped the end of the whipped-cream can toward them, as if readying to attack.
Mia glanced at Josie and back to her mother-in-law. “We won’t tell Wyatt about your whipped-cream habit if you share your recipe for your pumpkin cookies.”
“Deal.” Helen handed a clean fork to Josie. “Now, where were we?”
“Wedding dresses.” Jin slid another plate toward Helen. “It’s impolite to make Josie eat alone.”
It was even more impolite for Josie to dump her worries on strangers. Then again, Josie had never taken a class in etiquette. And these women apparently preferred their own customs. Josie picked up her fork. The numbness eased. Yet her stomach twisted, not quite convinced all was well.
“Wedding-dress shopping was my least favorite part of the wedding planning.” Helen served Jin a piece of cheesecake and shook her head. “It was my height.”
“You’ve a lovely stature.” Jin swirled more whipped cream onto her plate, making a floral pattern around the edges. “I would’ve given anything for several more inches.”
“You’re a dear, Jin.” Helen beamed at her friend. “The bridal shops were not as kind.”
“What did they do?” Mia took the whipped cream from her mother and frosted several pumpkin cookies with it.
“Suggested I was too tall and would never find a nice dress.” Helen poked her fork into her cheesecake as if poking at a distressing memory. “My limited budget wasn’t appealing or worth the effort, either.”
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