Vivian’s lower lip protruded. “I had my heart set on the wedding dress of my dreams.”
“I’m sorry, dear, but your dream gown wouldn’t have done you much good riding the high seas on your wedding day. To think that snobbish woman refused to rush the work, as if our order was of no consequence. The reason I prefer using Carly, thereby keeping the work in the country.”
“If you’ll follow me, Miss Vivian, I’m sure you’ll find something just as beautiful,” Carly said, leading them to her stock of the finest fabric and lace tucked inside a case, protected from sun and dust.
Across the way, Lester and Lloyd stopped scrubbing the shop window to wave at her, and then returned to the task. Even from here, Carly could see smudges they’d missed.
“This is it?” Vivian’s nose wrinkled, as if picking an unacceptable pig from a poke, but then with a sigh, she begrudgingly made fabric choices from the case and cupboards.
Carly showed her several designs for gowns and day dresses, and then entered selections into a notebook under the S page for Schwartz. “Miss Vivian, I have a record of your measurements from six months ago.”
“That should be fine. Vivian never gains an ounce.” Mrs. Schwartz handed Carly a list of the number of undergarments, nightgowns, day dresses, traveling suits and evening gowns they’d discussed. “Can you finish everything in three weeks? We’ll need a week to pack her trousseau.”
Carly couldn’t risk alienating her best customer. Yet how could she finish all these garments in time?
Somehow she’d find a way, if she had to work day and night.
What if the circuit judge ruled against her, forcing her out of the shop before she could finish this order? Carly’s hands trembled. What would she do then?
She straightened her spine. She couldn’t think about that now. “I’ll have them ready before the wedding,” she vowed.
“Thank you, Carly. You’ve lifted a terrible weight off our shoulders.” Mrs. Schwartz patted the bride’s cheek. “Now come along, Vivian, and I’ll buy you a sweet cake.”
The two women left the shop. Lester and Lloyd doffed their hats and bowed at the waist, as if greeting royalty. Were they poking fun? Or merely acknowledging what everyone knew? The Schwartz family ran the town.
The bell jingled. Lester stuck his head in the door. “We finished the window, Miz Richards. See you tomorrow, first thing,” he said, then joined his brother.
They sauntered across the street toward home; their idea of a full day apparently included an afternoon siesta.
Actually a nap sounded good. Carly dropped onto the settee, surrounded by a pile of tagged fabric and laces. This order was far more than she’d expected. Her pulse skipped a beat. If the judge ruled against her, perhaps with the money she would earn, she could entice Nate Sergeant’s sister to sell. That is, if Carly could finish all those garments in time to earn payment.
No one else in town had the expertise to create Vivian Schwartz’s wedding finery. Normally nothing would please Carly more than turning lovely fabric into fashionable gowns. But this time she might’ve taken on more than she could accomplish.
Lord, I asked for a big job, but now I don’t know how I can manage. Please help me finish in time.
Carly sighed. She’d wanted more time with her son not less. But what choice did she have?
The clock on the shelf chimed three. Soon Henry’s teacher would release the students for the day. She’d walk to meet her son, give herself a chance to think of how to proceed and to ease the tension knotting her stomach. Somehow things would work out.
She flipped the sign in the window from open to closed and hustled out the door.
Into a wall. A wall of hard muscle.
Large hands steadied her.
Heart thundering, she met Nate Sergeant’s dark gaze. “If you came back here to coerce me into giving up my shop, you’ll deal with the sheriff.”
As if he believed she might bite, the bounty hunter set her away from him and took a step back. “Quite the contrary, Mrs. Richards. I brought the deed.”
Carly closed her eyes and fought to slow her breathing before she again fainted on the ruffian. “Where is it?”
He waved a hand toward a wagon. On the seat sat a pretty woman dressed entirely in black. She was wearing a stunning black traveling suit befitting a well-dressed widow that immediately caught Carly’s attention.
Carly’s stomach dipped. The newcomer looked too much like Mr. Sergeant to be anyone other than his sister, the woman who held the deed to the shop and had lost her husband at Max’s hand.
“Mrs. Richards, this is my sister Anna Hankins.”
At the mention of Carly’s name, Mrs. Hankins gave a tentative smile, her eyes filling with uncertainty. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
With every ounce of her well-honed will, Carly fought for composure, and then said the only true and nice thing she could think of to the woman who had the power to ruin her life. “I like your dress.”
“Thank you.” Anna smoothed her skirt with gloved hands. “I designed and made it myself.”
Tiny tucks adorned the bodice, each one exactly like the next. Covered buttons down the front and on the cuffs had not the slightest pucker. The buttonholes were neat and evenly spaced. From collar to waist, the bodice fit Mrs. Hankins’s slender frame to perfection.
Apparently the woman had the skill to create exquisite clothing. Skill and time and most certainly an interest, but that didn’t mean she had the know-how to operate a seamstress shop.
“I love to sew,” Anna said. “I can while away an entire day making a dress. I’ve only done a little sewing for ladies at my church. Just pin money, really.” She waved a gloved hand at the shop. “I admire your talent for running a business.”
The compliment didn’t match Carly’s image of Nate Sergeant’s sister. “Well, thank you.”
“I know the circumstances are unusual, even uncomfortable,” Anna said, shooting her brother a pointed glance. “I’m very sorry about all that’s happened.”
The bounty hunter clamped his jaw, wisely keeping his own counsel.
“Me, too. You have my sympathy,” Carly said, her face heating with humiliation that Max had not only killed this woman’s husband, he’d threatened her life.
“As you have mine.”
Did Mrs. Hankins actually believe Carly grieved for a man like Max? “From what the sheriff said, the decision on the shop’s ownership rests with the circuit judge.”
“When’s the judge expected?” Nate Sergeant said.
Carly shrugged, refusing to discuss the matter with him and turned to his sister.
“I’d love to spend a day in your shop,” Anna Hankins said. “The idea of running a business feels a lot like jumping into a dark pool without knowing what rocks lay hidden beneath the surface.” She sighed. “I know I’d be way over my head. Not that I expect to need the information,” she added quickly, her cheeks flooding with color.
Without wanting to, Carly found herself connecting with Anna Hankins. Almost liking her. Almost.
Carly didn’t want to help this woman succeed if the judge ruled in Mrs. Hankins’s favor. Still, Carly well remembered those feelings when she’d first reopened the shop.
Anna Hankins had talent and a sweet spirit. Carly’s breath caught. Could she be God’s solution