Her Heart and Her Business Are on the Line
Dressmaker Ruth Fox gave up her dream of a husband and children long ago. Her family’s floundering dress shop, her ailing father and her two younger sisters require Ruth’s full attention. Though the handsome new stranger in town is intriguing, Ruth is certain he wouldn’t look twice at a plain spinster of twenty-six.
Sam Rothenburg’s connection with the shy young woman next door is immediate, but he knows Ruth will be crushed when she discovers his real purpose in town. Sam is secretly working to open one of his father’s large department stores in Pearlman, Michigan, which will surely put Ruth out of business. How much is Sam willing to sacrifice to claim Ruth’s heart?
The Dressmaker’s Daughters: Pursuing their dreams a stitch at a time
“Miss Fox! Ruth! Wait a minute!” Sam called out.
Her pulse accelerated along with her steps.
I can’t face him now. I’m not ready.
Sam touched her shoulder. Ruth shrugged him off and stepped into the street.
A horn blared. She turned her head in time to see a car bearing down on her. Then someone yanked her back onto the boardwalk. Only after her heartbeat slowed did she realize that the arm wrapped around her waist belonged to Sam.
“You could have been killed.” His voice shook.
She was only aware that he still held her. “Please…let go.”
He released her. “Where are you going in such a rush?”
She could not look at him. “I suppose I should thank you for saving my life.” But she did not feel thankful.
“Didn’t you hear me? Didn’t you see the car? You acted like you were running away.”
I was. But she couldn’t say that. “I’m in a hurry.”
“I can see that, but nothing is worth risking your life.”
My heart is.
CHRISTINE JOHNSON
A small-town girl, Christine Johnson has lived in every corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. She loves to visit historic locations and imagine the people who once lived there. A double-finalist for RWA’s Golden Heart award, she enjoys creating stories that bring history to life while exploring the characters’ spiritual journey—and putting them in peril! Though Michigan is still her home base, she and her seafaring husband also spend time exploring the Florida Keys and other fascinating locations.
Christine loves to hear from readers. Contact her through her website at christineelizabethjohnson.com.
Groom by Design
Christine Johnson
To give unto them beauty for ashes...
—Isaiah 61:3
To God, the Author of everything, belongs all the glory.
Contents
Chapter One
Pearlman, Michigan
July 1923
“No, no, no. I won’t do it.” Ruth Fox glared at her younger sister Jen. “We have enough to do without chasing after rich men.” She glanced at the dress shop’s clock before pressing another seam on Mrs. Vanderloo’s tea gown. The wealthy client wanted her dresses by five o’clock, and Ruth was running late.
“But think how it would help Daddy.” Jen, perched on a stool at the worktable, twirled a pincushion between her hands while their youngest sister, Minnie, hung on every word. “Three daughters at home costs money. If even one of us married a wealthy man, we could help Daddy get the treatment he needs.”
“Yes, we could,” Minnie echoed. Ruth’s baby sister would go along with anything Jen suggested, no matter how ridiculous, and this went far beyond ridiculous.
Ruth finger-pressed the next seam and reached for a hot iron off the old stove. On hot summer days, she wished for an electric iron, but those cost money, and every cent was needed for the hospital. “You could best help by basting that blouse for me.”
Naturally, Jen ignored her request. Of all the sisters, she possessed the least skill and interest in sewing. Her dreams leaned more toward the adventurous, like flying airplanes.
Jen plunked the pincushion down on the worktable. “You heard the doctors. Daddy needs that electrical treatment.”
“Electrotherapy.”
“Whatever they call it. The point is it’ll cost more. After this latest episode...” Jen’s voice drifted off in concern. “Did you see the look on Mother’s face? And then she left for the sanitarium that very afternoon. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Ruth had to stop this conversation from escalating into hysteria. “We don’t know that.”